The image hits me like a physical blow. Selene strapped to an altar, her blood draining into carved channels, her screamsechoing off stone walls while Veylor watches with patient satisfaction.
My dragon erupts. Fire blazes from my skin, scorching the pine needles at my feet, sending my brothers back a step.
“I’ll kill him.” The words aren’t entirely human. “I’ll tear him apart scale by scale. I’ll?—”
“You’ll claim her.” Auren cuts through my rage with surgical precision. “Tonight. Before Veylor arrives. A claimed mate can’t be compelled, can’t be drained for blood magic. The claiming mark protects her in ways your patrols never can.”
“You know why I can’t.” The fire dies as quickly as it rose, leaving cold dread in its place. “My dragon is too powerful. The claiming fire?—”
“Could kill her. Yes. You’ve said.” Auren steps into my space, close enough that I can see the frustration cracking his icy composure. “But listen to me carefully, brother. If you don’t claim her, she dies anyway. Not quickly. Not cleanly. Veylor will make it last. He’ll make you watch.”
“And then he’ll use her power to destroy everything we’ve built.” Rurik’s voice is quiet. Deadly serious. “The Brotherhood. The territories we protect. Every human and dragon who depends on us for safety. All of it, gone, because you were too afraid to try.”
“This isn’t about fear.” But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. “This is about not wanting to be the one who kills her.”
“Then let Veylor do it instead?” Zyphon’s shadows coil around him, reflecting his disgust. “At least your hands would be clean. Is that what you want? To stand at her grave knowing you could have saved her, but you chose to let her suffer instead?”
“That’s not—” I stop. Breathe. Force myself to think past the dragon’s roaring fury and the cold terror beneath it.
They’re right. I hate that they’re right.
If I claim her and lose control, she dies. But it would be quick. Merciful, compared to what Veylor has planned.
If I don’t claim her, she dies anyway. Slowly. Screaming. While I watch helplessly from whatever cage they throw me in.
“How long do I have?” The words scrape out of my throat.
“You don’t.” Auren’s expression doesn’t soften. “Veylor could arrive tonight. Tomorrow. An hour from now. There’s no time to train her power, no time to prepare her for the claiming. You have to decide, Drayke. Now. Tonight. Before they come for her.”
He grips my shoulder, hard. “Claim her or lose her. Those are your only options.”
They disperse after that—Rurik taking the northern patrol, Zyphon melting into shadows to hunt the scouts, Auren heading back to decode more intercepted messages. All of them preparing for a battle that could come at any moment.
I stay behind. Stare at the scorched earth where my fire erupted.
No time. No preparation. Just a choice that could kill the woman I?—
I stop the thought before it completes. But the truth of it burns in my chest anyway.
The woman I love.
I think of her. The stubborn courage. The dark humor in the face of horror. The way she scrubbed blood from the porch boards this morning without flinching.
The way she looked at me last night—not with fear, but with trust. With want. With a certainty that should have terrified her but somehow didn’t.
Complete trust.
The claiming requires absolute trust, the old texts say. If the Fire-Bringer resists—even unconsciously—the dragon’s fire will overwhelm.
But Selene doesn’t resist. Selene challenges and demands and pushes, but she doesn’t resist. Not me. Not us. Even when I gave her every reason to run, she stayed. She fought. She chose.
Maybe that’s enough. Maybe her trust and her fire and her stubborn refusal to break are enough to survive what I am.
Maybe.
I head back toward the cabin as the sun sinks toward the mountains. Through the window, I can see her silhouette—sitting by the fire, waiting for me.
Claim her or lose her.
