She lives?Auren’s voice in my mind, sharp with concern.
She lives.I tighten my hold on her.We both do.
Zyphon pulls alongside, violet-shadowed gaze taking in the collapsed fortress, the ash drifting on the wind, the woman sleeping against my chest.
The Relic?
Dormant. For now.I bank toward the cabin—or what’s left of it.We need to rebuild. Prepare. This isn’t over.
Veylor escaped.Zyphon’s voice carries dark promise.But he won’t get far. I marked him.
Good.I file that away for later.But tonight, we rest. Regroup. Tomorrow, we hunt.
It never ends.Auren falls into position on my flank.But tonight, brother, you’ve won. Enjoy it.
I don’t respond. Can’t. The words stick in my throat, tangled with emotions I haven’t felt in four hundred years.
Selene stirs against me as we fly through mountain peaks. Her hand finds my scales, fingers tracing patterns she can’t possibly see in the darkness.
“Still here?” she murmurs.
I rumble—the dragon equivalent of laughter, low and warm in my chest.
Always.I push the thought toward her through the mark, letting her feel everything—relief, love, fierce protective fury.Rest. I have you.
She does.
And I carry my mate home, my brothers flanking us through the night sky.
SIXTEEN
SELENE
Iwake to warmth.
Not the feverish heat of blood loss or the borrowed fire Drayke poured into me during the battle. This warmth is different—settled deep in my bones, radiating outward from the mark on my chest. Steady. Permanent. Like a second heartbeat that’s been there all along, just waiting for me to notice.
The room is unfamiliar. Stone walls, high ceilings, a massive bed that could sleep six people comfortably. Furs piled thick beneath me, soft against my bare skin. Morning light streams through narrow windows, catching dust motes that drift lazily through the air.
The Brotherhood’s fortress. We made it. Go me—survived ancient blood magic, got kidnapped by a one-winged psychopath, and still managed to wake up in a bed that probably costs more than my student loans.
I press my palm against my chest, fingers finding the claiming mark without looking. The skin is smooth now—no longer raw or tender. When I glance down, the mark has settled into its final form: dragon scales and flame, intertwined in a pattern that seems to shift when I tilt my head. The glow hasfaded to a subtle shimmer, visible only when light catches it at certain angles.
Beautiful. Permanent. Mine.
And underneath it, steady as a drum, Drayke’s heartbeat echoes through my ribs. Which is either incredibly romantic or mildly concerning. Jury’s still out.
“You’re awake.”
His voice comes from somewhere behind me. I roll over, sheets tangling around my legs, and find him standing by the window. He’s dressed simply—dark pants, loose shirt, feet bare against the stone floor. The light catches the hard angles of his face, softens the tension around his jaw.
He looks... peaceful. For the first time since I met him, the constant edge of danger that clings to him has eased. The dragon isn’t prowling beneath his skin, straining for release. It’s there—I can see it in the way his muscles coil with restrained power, a banked fire waiting to be called—but it’s calm. Content.
“How long was I out?”
“Two days.” He crosses the room, each step deliberate, controlled. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. “Your body needed time to integrate the Fire-Bringer power. The claiming accelerated the awakening.”
“Two days.” I push myself up against the headboard, ignoring the lingering ache in my muscles. “You’ve been watching me sleep for two days? That’s either sweet or serial-killer territory. Haven’t decided which.”
