“Brothers as in actual family, or brothers as in?—”
“Warriors. Guardians. We’ve fought together for centuries.”
Centuries.The word lands with the weight of a boulder. “How old are you, exactly?”
“Old enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
I file that away for later. “Fine. What about the rogue dragons? The ones who want to kidnap me for their mysterious master?”
“They’d kill you for sport.” No hesitation. No softening. Just brutal honesty delivered in that deep, rough voice. “Or worse.”
“Cheerful.” I stand, gathering the bloodied cloths and the basin. “You’re really selling the whole dragon thing. Great recruitment pitch. Come to the mountains, get terrorized by flying lizards, possibly die horribly.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I know it’s not a joke.” I dump the water in the kitchen sink, watch it swirl pink down the drain. “Jokes are funny. This is terrifying. I just process terror through sarcasm. It’s a coping mechanism. My therapist says it’s unhealthy but effective.”
When I turn back, he’s standing. The movement was silent—I didn’t hear him rise, didn’t hear him cross the room. But now he’s there, six and a half feet of barely-contained power, close enough that his heat washes over me in waves.
“You need to leave.” His voice is low. Urgent. “Tonight. I’ll escort you to the main road.”
“Absolutely not.”
“This isn’t a request.”
Something hot flares in my chest. Not fear. Anger. “And this isn’t the eighteenth century. I don’t take orders from men who think growling counts as conversation.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I never asked for protection!” The words come out louder than I intend. “This is my grandmother’s cabin. My inheritance. My choice whether to stay or go. You don’t get to swoop in and make decisions for me just because you have wings and an attitude problem.”
His eyes flash. That inhuman glow, there and gone. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Then explain it to me!” I throw my hands up. “Use your words, Drayke. Communicate like an adult instead of issuing commands and expecting me to fall in line.”
“You’re being reckless.”
“And you’re being arrogant!” I step closer, refusing to be intimidated by the wall of muscle looming over me. “Controlling! Who the hell do you think you are?”
“The Guardian King.” The words come out sharp. Hard. “The one responsible for protecting this territory and everyone in it. Including stubborn humans who refuse to see reason.”
“Oh, so now I’m just a stubborn human?” I jab a finger at his chest. Bad idea. His skin is scorching through the air between us. “Five minutes ago, you were trying to protect my special Fire-Bringer blood. Make up your mind.”
“I’m someone who’s seen Fire-Bringers die.” The words are a snarl, torn from somewhere deep. “Someone who watched the last one burn because she refused to listen. Because she thought she knew better. Because she was stubborn and brave and absolutely certain she could handle whatever came for her.”
That stops me. “The last one?”
“Centuries ago.” His hands are fisted at his sides. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “She was powerful. Confident. Refused to be protected. And when they came for her—” He breaks off. Looks away. “There wasn’t enough left to bury.”
The cabin feels very quiet. Very small.
“I’m sorry.” My voice comes out softer than I expect. “That must have been?—”
“Don’t.” He cuts me off. “I’m not telling you this for sympathy. I’m telling you because you need to understand. The rogues who attacked you today were scouts. Testing our defenses. When they report back to their master?—”
