Then he was gone.
And it’s just us.
Kaia and me.
The bond hums between us — warm and golden and finally,finallyfree of the guilt I deserve. No more walls. No more distance. Just her, nestled against my chest, and me, holding on like I’ll die if I let go.
My dragon stirs.
Ours, he rumbles, then settles back. Content to watch. To wait.
I close my eyes.
Yes. Finally.
She stirs.
At first I think it’s another nightmare — another restless twitch, another whimper I’ll soothe with my hands and my voice.
But then she shifts against me. Really shifts. Her breath changes — deeper, slower, the rhythm of someone surfacing from sleep.
Her fingers uncurl from my shirt. Curl again. Like she’s checking that I’m real.
“Kieran…”
My entire body goes still.
Her voice is soft. Muzzy with sleep. But she said my name.My name.
“I’m here.” The words come out rougher than I intend. “I’m right here.”
She makes a sound — something between a sigh and a hum — and nuzzles closer. Her lips brush my throat. Warm. Soft.
“My dragon…”
My heart stops.
“My oldest love…”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but lie perfectly still while she mumbles against my skin, half-asleep and completely destroying me.
“I remember you,” she whispers. “From back then…”
Back then.
The field. The first time she touched my scales and somethingzippedthrough both of us — recognition, belonging, the bone-deep knowledge that we were connected in ways neither of us understood.
She was six years old. I was just a boy, finally able to shift. And she looked up at my dragon form with those violet eyes and saidprettylike it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I’ve never recovered.
“The field,” she murmurs now, still groggy, still half-dreaming. “Your beautiful dragon…”
My hand trembles against her back.
“The way something zipped through me when I touched your scales…”
She tilts her head, presses a sleepy kiss to the underside of my jaw.
