But it won’t be forgotten. Not by either of us.
Definitely not by me.
Chapter 23
Ember
I lean against the rock outcrop, hastily pulling my shirt back over my head, fingers fumbling with the fabric. My skin still feels flushed, the places where Luke touched me burning like gentle brands in the chilled air. My dragon senses catch the scent of him lingering on my skin. And I love it. Want to revel in it.
But we can’t. Something’s shifted.
Luke stands a few feet away, his back to me as he methodically buckles his vest, shoulders rigid with tension that wasn’t there minutes ago. The controlled precision of his movements is so at odds with how his hands felt on my skin just moments ago—desperate, urgent, almost worshipping.
The atmosphere between us feels charged, changed in some profound way that I don’t have words for. Neither of us speaks. The only sound is our breathing slowly evening out in the mountain quiet, occasional wisps of steam rising in the cold air between us.
We just—
That actually happened.
And now what?
I want to reach for him, say something that makes sense of what just occurred between us. Something to acknowledge the shift, to understand what it means. But the words tangle in my throat, trapped by uncertainty and the creeping realization that reality is closing back in around us.
The mountains. The mission. Aurora. My mother. Everything we left behind when we found each other in that frantic moment now rushing back like a tide I can’t stop.
Luke turns to face me, finally. His expression is guarded but not cold, his eyes meeting mine with something careful in them. There’s a light in his eyes, like his dragon is closer to the surface than it has been for days.
“You said you gathered intelligence.” His voice is all business now. Professional. Detached. Like his body wasn’t pressed against mine minutes ago, like we hadn’t shared breaths and whispered each other’s names in passion.
My throat tightens with something that might be disappointment, but I force myself to match his tone. This is what we know, after all. The mission parameters. Our defined roles. Clean lines that make sense.
I reach for my pack, pulling out the stolen comm device, the metal cold against my still-sensitive fingertips. “Everything Aurora needs.” I tap the casing.
I repeat the details I learned: ritual specifications, the hybrid purge plans, the seventy-two-hour window they’re working with. I tell him about the facility maps I photographed, describe the ritual diagrams I saw, recite the list of identified hybrid locations.
Luke listens in silence, jaw tightening with each new piece of information I share.
When I finish, he’s still for a long moment. “You got all this. Without being detected.”
It’s not a question but a statement of fact, weighted with something I can’t quite read. Impressed? Angry? Both?
I nod, anyway.
“This is… significant.” He pauses, running a hand through his hair in a rare gesture of uncertainty. “Viktor will—” He stops himself. “You took an insane risk.”
I lift my chin, refusing to apologize for what I know was the right call.
“It paid off.”
His eyes finally meet mine fully, intensity crackling between us like static electricity. The connection feels almost tangible; something beyond physical attraction, beyond the mission, something that buzzes between us like a live wire.
“This time. Next time you might not—”
“There won’t be a next time,” I cut him off. “Because Aurora will stop them from doing this.”
Something shifts in his expression, the anger fading into something that looks almost like pride, reluctant but unmistakable.
“You’re right. They will.” He pauses, the acknowledgment seeming to cost him something. “Because of what you did.”
