Had taken her.
Had tried to take his mate away from him.
He tightened his hold on her, needing to feel her, needing proof that she was real, that she was his, that they would never be apart again.
Her body molded against him, soft and perfect, the heat of her sinking into his very bones.
And his dragon?—
His dragon purred.
Purred.
The deep, thunderous rumble vibrated through his chest, through his ribs, through every cell of his body.
Because for the first time in centuries, his beast was at peace.
She had touched him. Kissed him, not just as a man, but as a dragon.
She had accepted the beast.
And now?—
Now, dragon was sharing his magic with her.
He could feel it sinking into her, wrapping around her like molten threads of dark red fire and power, making her stronger, faster, healthier—nearly immortal.
He had been wild before he found her. Untamed. Mad with power, magic building inside him, with no outlet, no relief. A storm trapped in a cage.
And then—mate.
The moment she touched him, the moment she chose him, it had been like fire meeting air.
Explosive.
Unstoppable.
Fated.
He breathed her in, his mate, his love, his life.
And the need to claim her fully slammed through him like a tidal wave.
With a single flick of his fingers, magic surged?—
And her clothes vanished.
Raven gasped against his lips, a shocked breath that turned into a low, needy moan as he crushed her against him, skin to skin, fire to fire.
She was so perfect, so soft, so utterly his.
His dragon wrapped around his magic her, its presence coiling through their bond, infusing her with its power, ensuring that she would be forever part of him.
His hands moved over her, memorizing every inch, every curve, every delicate plane of her body.
Her nails dug into his back, her body arching into him, her breath coming faster, sharper, filled with need.
He groaned, head dropping to her throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there, his control cracking, crumbling, burning to dust.
