“Mate bonds don’t care about age, Luke,” Caleb says, his voice taking on that calm, diplomatic tone he uses when mediating Council disputes. “They transcend it.”
“My mate is a phoenix who was human until recently,” Dorian adds, jabbing a finger at me. “You think age or experience mattered when I knew she was mine? Hell, Juno couldn’t even shift when I first met her.” He pauses, eyes raised in thought. “And technically, she’s older than me. So I guess I bagged a cougar.” He grins in spite of the tension around us, because fucking Dorian can never keep a straight face.
I shake my head, throat tight. The truth hovers there, terrifying in its simplicity.
Caleb steps closer, his expression softening slightly, uncharacteristic for him.
“The signs are all there, Luke. The pull. The need to protect beyond logic. The physical response when she’s threatened.”
“The fact that you’re miserable as hell without her,” Dorian adds.
“That doesn’t mean it’s right,” I say, my voice almost drowned out by the distant sound of younger dragons training on the flight plateau above us.
“It means it’s inevitable,” Caleb replies, his steadiness a counterpoint to Dorian’s restless energy. “Mate bonds aren’t chosen. They’re recognized.”
My shoulders slump against the cool wall, the dragon magic embedded in it humming against my back. “She deserves someone who hasn’t failed everyone they cared about.”
“She deserves someone who respects her choices,” Dorian counters, resting a palm against the wall beside me. “Which you’re not doing.”
Caleb’s eyes find mine, his voice dropping to that quiet intensity that commands attention more effectively than Dorian’s volume ever could.
“You’re making the same mistake I almost made with Elena, trying to protect her from herself instead of trusting her to know what she wants.”
The memory stirs; Caleb pushing Elena away, thinking he knew better than she did what she needed. How he nearly lost her. How Dorian nearly lost Juno and seemed to die a little himself when it happened.
“It’s not the same thing,” I mutter, still in denial.
Caleb’s expression shifts, growing serious. “There’s something else you should know.”
My stomach tightens. “What?”
“Ember volunteered for the tomb strike team,” Dorian says, watching me carefully, his restless movement suddenly stilled.
The words don’t make sense at first. When they do, my dragon surges beneath my skin, clawing for freedom. My vision edges with black.
“She what?”
“Viktor briefed the team this morning,” Caleb explains. “Ember insisted on joining.”
“Vanya would never allow—”
“Vanya doesn’t get a vote,” Dorian cuts in. “Viktor approved it.”
Caleb delivers the final blow, his tone implacable. “We deploy at dawn. Twelve hours.”
A wave of nausea hits me so violently I have to brace myself against the wall, feeling the rough texture beneath my palms.
“She can’t. She’s not ready!”
“That’s exactly what Vanya said about you two,” Dorian says pointedly. “And you let her words control you.”
The realization hits me like an icy wave. This is what Vanya felt. Terror of losing her daughter. Helplessness watching her walk into danger.
And I abandoned Ember to face this alone because I was too much of a coward to fight for us.
“You feel sick at the thought of her in danger,” Caleb says simply. “Can’t breathe when she’s out of sight. Your dragon recognizes her even when you’re trying to deny it.”
“That’s just—”
