I approach slowly, giving her time to hear me coming. She doesn’t turn. Just keeps watching the stars as I stop beside her, close enough that our shoulders brush.
“It’s over.” Her voice is soft. Wondering. “Really over.”
“Yes.” I slide my hand over hers where it rests on the parapet. Her warmth seeps into my cold fingers. “Ulrik is dead. The Shadow Clan is broken. The war is finished.”
“Four Relics sealed.” She turns her hand to lace her fingers through mine. “Four brothers claimed. The threats that haunted dragonkind for centuries, ended.”
“Not all threats.” I step closer, letting my body press against her side. “There will be others. There are enemies who covet Fire-Bringer power. Dragons who resent the Brotherhood’s influence. The world is never truly safe.”
“No.” She looks at me finally, amber eyes luminous in the starlight. “But for now—for this moment, this night—it’s enough.”
“What happens now?” I ask the question even though I know the answer. Want to hear her say it.
She turns to face me fully. Her free hand rises to rest against my chest, over my heart, where I can feel the beat accelerating beneath her palm.
“Claim me.”
Two words. Just two words, and they shatter six centuries of control.
I don’t hesitate. Don’t question. Just pull her into my arms and kiss her with everything I have—every feeling I’ve suppressed, every want I’ve denied, every piece of myself I locked away after Lyric died. She opens for me immediately, her mouth hot and welcoming, her body molding against mine.
The kiss is claiming before the claiming has begun. Deep and thorough and possessive, my hands fisting in her hair, her fingers gripping my shoulders. I pour six hundred years of loneliness into it, decades of grief, the fierce joy of finally finding someone worth burning for.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Inside.” My voice is rough, barely recognizable. “Now.”
She takes my hand and pulls me toward my quarters.
The doorbarely closes before I have her pressed against it.
Her back hits the wood, and she gasps—not from pain but from the intensity of my mouth on her neck, my hands sliding beneath her shirt to find heated skin. She’s burning against me, her fire responding to my nearness, her whole body trembling with the same need that’s consuming me.
“Auren—” My name comes out broken, desperate. Her hands tear at my clothing, yanking at laces and buttons with none of her usual grace. “Please?—”
I pull back just enough to strip her shirt over her head. The Crown tumbles free, and she catches it, sets it aside on a nearby table without looking away from me. It glints in the low light—dangerous, beautiful, part of her—but for now, it’s forgotten.
She’s bare beneath the shirt. I knew she would be—felt the absence of bindings when I held her earlier—but seeing her steals my breath anyway. The soft swell of her breasts, the copper highlights in her skin, the way her chest rises and falls with each rapid breath.
“You’re beautiful.” The words come out reverent. True. “Do you know that? Do you know how beautiful you are?”
“Show me.” She reaches for me, pulling me back against her. “Show me how you see me.”
I show her.
With my hands, tracing every curve and hollow. With my mouth, mapping the geography of her skin. With the cold that seeps from my fingers and makes her gasp, makes her arch into me, makes her say my name in ways I’ll remember for the rest of my existence.
She pulls at my shirt, and I let her strip it away. Her hands spread across my chest, warm palms against cold skin, and the temperature contrast makes us both shudder. Her fire. My ice. Opposites that somehow create perfect balance.
“Bed.” She pulls at me again. “I need—I want?—”
I lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist, her heat pressing against me, and the sound she makes when I carry her to the bed is enough to break what’s left of my restraint.
I lay her on sheets that have never held another person but her. She looks up at me in the low light—amber eyes blazing, dark hair spread across my pillows, lips swollen from my kisses. Mine. She’s mine. And I’m hers.
The rest of our clothes disappear. I don’t remember removing them—just know that suddenly there’s nothing between us. Skin against skin. Cold against heat. Her body opening for me as I settle over her, as I position myself where I need to be.
“Look at me.” The command comes out rougher than I intend.
