As if sensing my gaze, Luke turns his head. His chocolate-brown eyes lock onto mine, and something jolts through me; sharp, electric, completely involuntary. For half a second, his expression shifts. Something shifts in those eyes—surprise?Recognition?—before his features smooth into professional neutrality.
I jerk my attention back to the window, heat flooding my face.
Smooth, Ember. Real subtle.
“Relax,” Mara murmurs, her grin widening. “He doesn’t bite. Probably. Though honestly, who knows? Maybe dragon dudes are into that.”
“Not helping.”
She laughs and returns to her tablet, leaving me to wrestle with my mortification and the lingering awareness prickling across my skin. I pull out my own tablet—standard-issue, loaded with mission briefs and encrypted comms—and try to focus on the files Viktor sent earlier. Satellite images of the Carpathian foothills. Reports of “localized thermal anomalies.” Witness statements about strange roaring sounds.
Dragonfire leaves a signature that lingers. It’s not just heat; it’sintention, magic woven into flame. If you know what to look for, you can trace it weeks later. If there’s anything there that shouldn’t be, I’ll find it.
I can do this. Iwilldo this.
An hour passes. The cabin lights dim as most of the crew settles in for the night flight. I’m deep into a file on magical residue detection when I hear footsteps; deliberate, measured, the sound of someone who moves with purpose.
Luke stops beside my seat, and his scent wafts around me. Warm, smoky in that way of dragons, with something sharper underneath. Something that makes my nerves fire in ways that have nothing to do with anxiety.
I look up, startled. Up close, he’s even more imposing; tall, broad-shouldered, his brown eyes darker than I expected. Warmer, too, though his expression gives nothing away. There’s a faint scar along his jaw that I’ve never noticed before, barely visible in the low light. My fingers itch to trace it.
Stop.
“Ember.”
His voice is a low rumble, clipped and professional. But there’s something in the way he says my name that makes my stomach flip.
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t call me sir.” His tone is curt.
“Okay, um… Mr. Kenan… Commander Kenan?” I try to correct myself.
“Luke will do. We’ll be on the ground as civilians. We can’t have people realizing you’re my subordinate.”
Subordinate? Seriously?
“Right. Sure,” I say, biting my tongue to avoid adding something snarky. I get that he’s aloof, but he doesn’t have to be a dick on top of it.
“You’ve reviewed the mission parameters?” he goes on.
“Yes, uh… Luke. I—”
“Good. When we land in Bucharest, we’ll transfer to a secondary vehicle. We’re traveling under civilian cover; geological consultants conducting fieldwork. You’ll carry forged credentials. Do not deviate from the cover story, even with locals who seem friendly. Understood?”
“Understood, but I have a few questions about—”
“Save them.” His tone sharpens, slicing through my enthusiasm. “You’ll receive further briefing during the drive. Right now, I need you focused and quiet. This isn’t a sightseeing trip.”
Heat flares in my chest. Not excitement this time, but something sharper. Embarrassment. Frustration. And underneath it, something I don’t want to examine: the way his voice wraps around me like rough velvet, the way my body seems hyperaware of how close he’s standing.
I bite the inside of my cheek and force myself to nod. “Yes. Of course.”
He holds my gaze for one more second. Something tightens in his cheek, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. His eyes drop—just for a moment—to my mouth before snapping back up. Then he steps back, putting distance between us so deliberately it feels like a statement.
“Get some rest,” he says, his voice flat again. “Long night ahead.”
He turns and walks back to his seat without another word, leaving me staring after him with my pulse racing and my skin too warm.
