“I love you.”
“I know.” His mouth curves against my skin. “I love you too. Even when you scare the hell out of me.”
“Especially when I scare the hell out of you.”
“That too.”
By the third night, the abandoned fortress rises from the mountains—a black scar against the moonlit peaks.
“He’s inside.” Zyphon’s shadows stretch toward the structure, tasting the darkness within. “Along with his rogues. They know we’re coming.”
“Let them.” Drayke’s voice is gravel and fire. His dragon prowls just beneath the surface, eager for blood. “Formation alpha. Rurik takes the east wall with six. Auren takes west with six. Zyphon, you’re with me and Selene. We go through the front.”
“Subtle,” Rurik drawls.
“Veylor knows we’re here. Subtlety is pointless.” Drayke’s gaze finds mine, burning with protective fury and reluctant pride. “Stay close. Channel your fire. And if anything goes wrong?—”
“Burn my way out. I remember.” I kiss him hard and fast. “Let’s end this.”
The attack begins.
TWENTY-THREE
DRAYKE
The fortress gates explode inward under combined dragon fire.
I shift mid-charge, bones cracking, scales erupting, wings tearing free as I launch through the burning debris. Rogues scatter before me—smaller, weaker, terrified. These aren’t warriors. They’re survivors, desperate enough to follow a wounded general into a doomed last stand.
I tear through them without mercy.
The fortress courtyard becomes a slaughterhouse. Our twelve young dragons fan out beside me, cutting off escape routes, herding the rogues toward the center where they can be dealt with efficiently. They fight well—better than I expected. Weeks of training paying off in blood and fire.
Behind me, Zyphon moves through shadows—appearing, killing, vanishing before his targets can scream. His curse makes him deadly in darkness, and this fortress has plenty of it. Rogues fall in pools of their own blood, throats opened by claws they never saw coming.
From the east wall, I hear Rurik’s battle roar—wild, joyous, the sound of a dragon in his element. From the west, Auren’scoordinated strikes cut through the rogue defenses with surgical precision.
And Selene—my Fire-Bringer, my mate, my warrior queen—burns through everything that dares approach her.
Fire erupts from her palms in concentrated bolts, each one striking with lethal precision. She’s not the woman who stumbled into my territory a month ago, scared and stubborn and utterly unprepared. She’s something else now. Something magnificent.
A rogue launches at her from the shadows. She spins, flames coiling around her like living armor, and the rogue dies screaming.
Another comes from behind—larger, faster, claws extended for her throat. I roar a warning, already moving, but she doesn’t need me. Fire explodes outward in a defensive ring, incinerating the attacker before he can touch her.
She catches my eye across the burning courtyard and grins.
Pride roars through my chest. Possessive, fierce, overwhelming.
MATE FIGHTS WELL.The dragon’s approval rumbles through my mind.MATE BURNS BRIGHT.
Yes. She does.
“Drayke!” Zyphon’s voice cuts through the chaos. “The great hall! Veylor’s making his stand!”
I shift back to human form, grab Selene’s hand, and we run.
TWENTY-FOUR
