“The fire responds to emotion.” I watch the flames shift color, deepening to bronze as warmth spreads through my chest. “Gentle with love...”
“Fierce with protection.” Drayke’s thumb traces my cheekbone. “The claiming bound more than our souls. Our fires merged. What you feel, I feel. What burns in you, burns in me.”
“That sounds exhausting for you. I have a lot of feelings. Most of them are sarcastic.”
“I’ve noticed.” But his mouth curves, the first real smile I’ve seen from him. “It sounds like everything I’ve wanted for four hundred years.”
“You wanted a mouthy Fire-Bringer with impulse control issues?”
“I wanted you.” Simple. Direct. Devastating.
The flame flares brighter. I let it fade, close my fingers around the warmth until it’s just a glow beneath my skin. Then I kiss him—slow, deep, a promise made flesh.
The claiming mark pulses between us, and I swear I can taste his fire on my tongue.
SEVENTEEN
DRAYKE
My brothers are waiting in the war room.
Selene walks beside me, her hand warm in mine, her scent bright with the fire that now burns in her blood. She’s dressed in borrowed clothes—one of my shirts, pants that had to be rolled at the ankle—and she looks more at home in a dragon fortress than any human has a right to.
The war room is carved from mountain stone, maps covering every wall, a massive table dominating the center. Zyphon lounges in the shadows near the far corner, violet-cracked scales catching the torchlight. Rurik sprawls in a chair, boots propped on the table, bandage still wrapped around his head. Auren stands at the map, posture rigid, expression unreadable.
They all turn when we enter.
“Well, well.” Rurik’s grin spreads wide across his face. “The Guardian King and his mate. Guess I owe Zyphon twenty gold pieces.”
“You bet on this?” My eyebrow arches. “I nearly died, and you were placing wagers?”
“I bet he wouldn’t claim you until after the battle.” Rurik shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “Zyphon has more faith in true love.”
From the shadows, Zyphon’s voice carries dark amusement. “I had faith in desperation. Same result.”
“Charming. I see why you’re all single.”
Rurik barks a laugh. Zyphon’s shadows seem to ripple with amusement. Even Auren’s mouth twitches before he schools his expression back to neutral.
“Enough.” Auren’s command cuts through the banter. His attention fixes on Drayke, analytical and assessing. “Your dragon. It’s... different.”
I know what he means. For centuries, my dragon has been at constant war—rage barely contained, violence always pushing toward the surface. My brothers have seen me lose control more times than any of us care to count. They’ve watched me tear rogues apart with my bare hands, felt my fury shake the foundations of this very fortress.
Now, for the first time since my first shift, the beast is quiet.
“The claiming settled him.” I pull out a chair for Selene, then take the one beside her. Our knees brush under the table, and warmth spreads where we touch. “Her fire balances mine.”
“She tamed the untameable.” Zyphon steps from the shadows, violet gaze settling on Selene with something approaching respect. “Impressive.”
“I didn’t tame anything.” Selene’s chin lifts. “His dragon and I came to an understanding.”
“And what understanding is that?”
“That we both want the same thing.” Her hand finds mine under the table, squeezes. “Him. Whole. Happy. Not fighting himself every second of every day.”
Silence falls over the room. My brothers exchange glances—Rurik’s grin softening into something genuine, Auren’s rigid posture easing by a fraction, Zyphon’s shadowed expression shifting toward approval.
“Lucky bastard.” Rurik shakes his head. “Four hundred years of trying to control that beast, and all it took was one mouthy Fire-Bringer with more attitude than survival instinct.”
