“You’re my fated mate, Serenya.” The words came out rougher than intended, weighted with denial finally cracking apart. “I knew it from the moment you touched me in the Council chamber that first day you were summoned here.”
His curse surged upward, hungry and possessive. But his dragon slammed down over it like wings shielding precious treasure, forcing the corruption back into submission. She was his to protect—even from the darkness inside him.
“That seems impossible,” she whispered, but her voice carried wonder instead of fear. “But it makes sense now. Everything I’ve been feeling for you...”
The admission hit him like dragonfire to the chest. Want. Need. The bone-deep certainty that she was meant to be his, and he hers.
“I want you,” he said, voice dropping to something raw and honest. “But I have to train my dragon to overcome my curse’s hunger, or I could hurt you.”
Her green eyes blazed with defiance. “I’m not afraid. Maybe our magic and your dragon already know what to do.”
One more breath and he’d kiss her again. One more heartbeat and he’d test every boundary they’d carefully maintained.
“Maybe,” he murmured, leaning closer until her warmth ghosted across his lips, “we should try and find out.”
FIFTEEN
SERENYA
Serenya tried not to stare at Vaelrik’s naked body, but it was impossible not to. He sat on his bed, blood drying around the gash on his side, and his arousal becoming evident—every line of him cut from restraint and raw power. The sight sent heat flooding through her veins and her pulse thrummed in her throat like a caged bird.
Maybe we should try and find out.
His words struck something deep inside her—a point of no return that made her lumen magic flare beneath her skin. The golden light responded to his curse’s hunger, but something else entirely overwhelmed it. His dragon’s hunger was stronger, more ancient and more powerful than any curse could ever be.
His fated mate. She could hardly believe it. A witch being the fated mate of a dragon?
It should have been impossible. But it made perfect sense with everything she’d been feeling—this safety around the most dangerous man in the Ashen Realms, this want that defied logic, and this sense that he truly saw her in ways no other person ever could.
And then there were their ancestors’ sigils carved into the ground at the Gloam, where both their bloodlines had fought together many centuries ago to stop the Gloamrot.
This must have been written in the stars long before they ever existed. There surely had been other fated pairs of dragons and witches before them. But time and fear had split their peoples apart.
Maybe it was up to them to bring peace and understanding back to this place.
“I need to bandage your wound first,” she said softly, reaching for the clean cloth with hands that trembled only slightly.
He nodded, but as she leaned closer to tend to the gash on his side, he began kissing her neck—soft, testing brushes of his lips that made her breath hitch. His hands traced along her back and arms with the most tender reverence, as if testing his dragon’s power and control over his curse.
She believed his dragon already knew how to do this, but Vaelrik didn’t trust himself yet. He’d told her days ago that no woman had come near him since his curse, that she was the first to touch him in a century. That fact sent a thrill through her—she wanted to be the one to show him pleasure, to show him how much he was starting to mean to her.
“There,” she whispered as she finished securing the bandage, her fingertips lingering against his warm skin.
He caught her wrist gently, his eyes searching hers. “Are you ready to be with me now?”
“Yes, I’m ready,” she breathed.
Something shifted in his expression—hunger and reverence tangled together in a way that sent shivers through her body. With careful hands, he began removing her blouse, his fingers brushing her skin as the fabric fell away. Then he gently laidher back on his bed, removing her leather pants with the same deliberate care until she was bare before him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly as he drank in the sight of her in the dim light of his quarters.
With an unsteady breath, he began exploring her body with his hands and mouth—so slowly, so carefully, like she was something precious he might break. When she looked down, his expression was pure hunger and pure worship tangled together, his dragon recognizing what belonged to him.
Her lumen magic sang beneath her skin, wrapping around his shadowfire in perfect harmony. The curse snarled somewhere deep inside him, but it was no match for this—for a dragon claiming his fated mate. Some things were just more ancient and powerful than corruption, and the mate bond was one of them.
She pulled him up to her mouth, and their kiss was passionate, hungry, and inevitable. His dragon was running the show now, and her magic did everything it could to help by keeping his curse at bay. The balance between his dark and her light felt natural. Perfect.
Like they’d always been designed to do this. His dragon had always recognized her and would never harm her, even cursed.
