You wince as the pain flares through your side, each breath sharper than the last. Kija’s eyes lock onto you with a sudden, fierce intensity, a predatory gleam that is far removed from his usual calm, measured demeanor. His dragon instincts the part of him that rarely shows flare to the surface, sharpening every sense. His jaw tightens, and the air around him seems to thrum with barely contained energy.

“Do not move,” He commands, his voice low, almost vibrating with the weight of his power. It’s not just a suggestion it’s an order laced with instinctive protectiveness.

He steps closer, every movement careful, deliberate, yet charged with the tension of a coiled predator. His hand hovers near you, trembling slightly not from fear, but from the raw surge of adrenaline and urgency coursing through him. The usual composure, the calm control you’ve come to rely on, is gone, replaced by a focused, almost desperate intensity.

“I will handle everything,” He says, his gaze scanning the area like a hawk ready to strike. “Just stay within my reach. Do not even think of stepping out of it.” His words are firm, unyielding, but beneath them lies a subtle tremor an acknowledgment of how much he cares, how much he refuses to let anything happen to you.

Kija crouches slightly, lowering himself to your level, the heat of his presence washing over you. Every instinct in his being screams to protect, to shield, to fight off anything that dares come near you.