We’re so close. Inches apart. His heat wraps around me, and I’m leaning in without meaning to, and his hands are fisted at his sides like he’s fighting every instinct to reach for me.
“This isn’t—” His voice is rough. Strained. “We can’t?—”
“Maybe I don’t want you to stop.” The words come out low. Certain. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this. Whatever this is.”
“Selene...” My name sounds like a warning and a plea all at once.
“Kiss me.”
His resolve cracks.
His hands come up—finally, finally—and frame my face with a gentleness that makes my chest ache. His thumbs trace my cheekbones. His fingers thread into my hair. His whole body trembles with restraint, with want, with the effort of holding back.
He’s so warm. That impossible dragon heat seeping into my skin, making me want to press closer, to melt into him until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
“You have no idea what you’re asking.” The words are barely a whisper against my lips.
“Show me.”
His mouth descends. Hovers. A breath away from mine. I can taste him on the air—smoke and want and centuries of loneliness.
And then his eyes flash.
Not the subtle glow I’ve seen before—the hint of dragon fire behind human irises. This is brighter. Hotter. His pupils elongate into vertical slits, and the gold of his eyes burns with an intensity that’s beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
“No.” The word rips from him like it’s being torn out. His hands drop from my face. He staggers back, putting the lengthof the room between us in three lurching steps. “I can’t. Not like this.”
“Drayke—”
“The dragon.” He grips the back of a chair, knuckles white, shoulders heaving. The glow in his eyes is fading, but slowly. Too slowly. “When I’m near you—when I want—” He breaks off. Shakes his head violently. “It takes everything I have to maintain control. If I kissed you, if I touched you the way I want to?—”
“You might what? Lose control?” I take a step toward him. He takes a step back.
“I might hurt you.” His voice is raw. Broken. “The dragon wants to claim you. To mark you. And the claiming fire—” Another violent shake of his head. “It’s too powerful. I’m too powerful. If I lost control even for a second, I could burn you from the inside out.”
The words hit me like ice water.
“Is that what you’ve been afraid of? This whole time?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No deflection. Just raw, painful honesty. “Every time I touch you, the dragon roars. Every time I’m near you, it demands that I claim what’s mine. And if I give in—if I stop fighting it?—”
“What if I’m stronger than you think?” I stay where I am, not advancing but not retreating either. “I’m a Fire-Bringer. Fire is literally my thing. Maybe the claiming wouldn’t?—”
“The last Fire-Bringer died in the claiming.” The words fall like stones. “I watched her die. Watched the fire consume her from within because her dragon couldn’t control himself. And she was trained. Prepared. Had years to develop her power.” His gaze finds mine—anguished, desperate. “You’ve had days.”
I don’t have an answer for that.
He straightens. Pulls himself together with visible effort, the glow fading from his eyes until they’re just amber again—just beautiful, just heartbreaking.
“I need to secure the perimeter.” He’s already moving toward the door. “I’ll be back before nightfall.”
“Drayke, wait?—”
But he’s gone. The door closes behind him with a quiet click that somehow sounds louder than a slam.
I standin the middle of the cabin, heart pounding, body still humming with thwarted desire.
My lips tingle where his almost touched them. My skin burns where his hands held my face. The fire in my blood has gone haywire—surging and retreating, confused by the sudden absence of his heat.
