“We implement new protocols immediately.” Auren rolls up the map, tucks it under his arm. “Zyphon handles internal security—anyone entering this fortress gets vetted personally.Rurik takes external patrols, expands our network of watchers. Drayke...” He pauses, glances at Selene. “You focus on your mate. Her power is unstable. She needs training.”
“Unstable?” Selene’s eyebrow arches dangerously. “I prefer ‘enthusiastic.’ Or ‘spontaneous.’ ‘Unstable’ makes me sound like I’m going to explode.”
“You might,” Auren says flatly. “Uncontrolled Fire-Bringer power responds to emotion. You need to learn to separate the two, or you’ll burn down something important. Like this fortress. Which has stood for eight hundred years.”
“No pressure or anything.”
“He’s not wrong,” I admit, squeezing her hand. “Your fire flared three times during this meeting alone.”
She glances at the scorch marks on the table edge—marks I’d noticed her leaving but hadn’t mentioned. “Oh. That’s... probably not ideal. In my defense, Rurik is very annoying.”
“Hey!”
“Training tomorrow.” I stand, pulling her up with me. “Tonight, I have other plans.”
Rurik’s grin returns full force. “I bet you do.”
“Not that.” Though heat stirs at the suggestion. “Something else. Something I’ve wanted to show her since the first night.”
“Mysterious.” Selene tilts her head. “Should I be worried? Is it a dungeon? A trophy room full of ex-girlfriends’ skulls? A really disappointing wine cellar?”
“Better.”
“That’s not reassuring at all, but fine. Lead the way, Dragon King.”
EIGHTEEN
SELENE
He takes me to the highest tower of the fortress.
The wind hits the moment we step onto the open platform—cold mountain air that whips my borrowed shirt against my skin and tangles my hair across my face. The sun hovers low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and gold. Mountains stretch endlessly in every direction, peaks dusted with snow, valleys lost in purple shadow.
“Beautiful.” I step toward the edge, stone railing solid beneath my hands. “This is what you wanted to show me? A really nice balcony? I’m touched, truly.”
“Part of it.”
I turn. Drayke stands in the center of the platform, sunset light catching the amber of his gaze, turning his golden hair to fire. He’s stripped his shirt—the sight still makes my mouth go dry, which is annoying—and his muscles shift beneath tanned skin as he rolls his shoulders.
“The view from the tower is impressive.” His voice drops, rough with anticipation. “But it’s nothing compared to the view from above.”
“From above—oh.” Realization hits. “Oh. You want to?—”
The shift takes him before I can finish the sentence.
I’ve seen it before—the violent beauty of man becoming dragon—but it steals my breath every time. Bones crack and reshape. Muscles expand, skin splitting to reveal bronze scales that catch the dying light. Wings unfurl from his back, spanning the width of the platform, membrane stretched thin enough to glow gold where the sun shines through. His jaw elongates, fangs emerging, eyes blazing with inner fire.
Massive. Magnificent. Terrifying.
Mine.
The dragon lowers his head, brings one enormous eye level with my face. A rumble rolls through his chest—the dragon equivalent of a question, a request, an invitation.
“You want me to ride you.” Not a question. The way he crouches, the angle of his wing, the eager rumble in his chest—it’s all invitation. My weight on his back, the wind in my hair, the two of us soaring through sunset skies.
Another rumble. Confirmation.
“Hell, yes. This is way better than the skull trophy room.”
