“I had pepper spray too.”
“And pepper spray.” His mouth curves. “You threatened a dragon with pepper spray. That was when I knew I was in trouble.”
“To be fair, I didn’t know you were a dragon at the time.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
I consider the question. Remember the first time I saw him—emerging from the tree line with glowing eyes and an attitude that made me want to punch him and kiss him in equal measure. Remember the terror of watching him shift, watching a man become a dragon, watching a nightmare become a protector.
“No.” The answer is honest. “I still would have threatened you. I still would have stayed. I still would have fallen for the brooding mountain man who turned out to be an ancient dragon king with a savior complex and terrible communication skills.”
“Terrible communication skills?”
“You growled at me for three days before using actual words.”
“Growling is communication.”
“Growling is you letting your dragon do the talking because you’re too emotionally constipated to form sentences.”
His laugh is startled, genuine—the kind of laugh that transforms his face from fierce to beautiful. “I missed out on centuries of companionship. My social skills are a work in progress.”
“Good thing you have me to practice on.”
“Good thing.” He pulls me closer, wrapping me in warmth and dragon fire and the scent of woodsmoke that’s become synonymous with home. “Because I plan to practice for a very long time.”
“How long is ‘very long’ for a dragon?”
“Eternity, if you’ll have me.”
The words hit differently out here, under the stars, with the weight of everything we’re facing pressing down on us. Eternity. An actual, literal eternity, because I’m not just human anymore. The claiming changed me. Fire-Bringer blood, awakened and bonded, extending my life to match his.
“Ask me again,” I say. “Properly this time.”
He pulls back enough to look at me. Really look at me—not just with his eyes, but with everything he is. Four hundred years of loneliness. Four hundred years of fighting. Four hundred years of waiting for something he didn’t believe he deserved.
“Selene Ward.” His voice is rough. Reverent. “Fire-Bringer. Mate. Pain in my ass.”
“Off to a great start.”
“Will you spend eternity driving me insane? Fighting beside me? Burning everything that threatens us to ash? Will you be my partner, my equal, my Fire-Bringer, for as long as there’s breath in either of our bodies?”
Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back—mostly—and grin up at him through the blur.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Do I get to keep setting things on fire? Because that’s become one of my favorite hobbies.”
“Selene.”
“Yes.” I grab his shirt, pull him down to my level. “Yes, you impossible, brooding, overprotective dragon. Yes to eternity. Yes to fighting beside you. Yes to burning everything that threatens us. Yes to everything.”
His kiss is fierce. Possessive. Burning with a fire that matches the one in my chest. His hands tangle in my hair, tilting my head back for better access, and I give as good as I get—pouring weeks of love and frustration and determination into the press of my lips against his.
When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping.
“No regrets?” he asks.
