She is too light and so cold.
Her head lolls against my chest, and as I gaze at her ravaged but still beautiful face, my heart, dormant for centuries, awakens.
Her magic stirs weakly at the contact, brushing against my own like a question asked too softly to hear.
“She needs warmth,” I say, as I let my dragon fire rise through my skin despite the riot inside me. “Water. Food. Clean clothes. Comforts. Now.”
Kelan’s jaw tightens. He’s the alpha of our group, but positions and status don’t matter when our mate’s life is at stake. His eyes flick to my hands, where they cradle our woman. “What about her magic?”
Does he doubt I can control it on my own when she is in this bedraggled state? I'm insulted. “She’s fading,” I whisper, stroking strands of fire-colored hair from herforehead, willing her eyes to open so I no longer have to wonder what color they are.
Ronyn growls, the sound vibrating through the cave. “He’s right. Look at her.” His gaze never leaves her face, and something fundamental shifts in him as he studies this fragile, half-starved thing who unleashed staggering power and then collapsed beneath its weight. “That kind of magic should have torn her apart.”
“But it didn’t,” Kelan says quietly. “Which means we will have a task to contain it.”
“If we cage it now, she’ll die.”
Kelan nods, as our mates' lashes flutter faintly. A whisper of breath escapes her lips.
I tighten my hold instinctively, curling her closer, letting another controlled wash of dragon heat seep into her without overwhelming her fragile human body. My wings that are still half-formed wrap around us both like a golden shield, keeping the warmth close.
Ronyn’s hands clench at his sides. “She’s our mate,” he says, voice gravelly with wonder and confusion. “I feel it. In my bones.”
“So do I,” I admit, pressing my forehead briefly to her tangled hair. She smells like frost and smoke, and so deeply right that I sigh with contentment.
Kelan straightens. “Our mate… but she’s also our mission, which means we act fast. Darial, stay with her. Keep her stable.”
How can he be so focused when we’ve found the missing part of ourselves, the craving that’s ached like a shard of glass beneath our skin? How is he not reaching out to touch her?
“And tether her magic?” I ask quietly.
“Only if you must,” Kelan says.
“She’s too powerful,” Ronyn says.
I gaze at the woman in my arms, at the scars visible even through the grime, at the hollow beneath her cheekbones and the blood leaking from wounds, and I marvel at the strength it must have taken her to survive alone under such conditions.
“Go,” I tell them both, taking Kelan’s usual tone. “Get what she needs. I’ll keep her safe.”
For a moment, neither moves, and I understand why. The instinct to hoard her, keeping her hidden and safe between us, pulls hard.
Then Kelan nods decisively. “We can’t take her into the human world. Her magic’s too volatile.”
Ronyn nods in agreement. “This cave will do. For now.”
They move as one to the mouth of the cave, shifting fluidly, dragon and man blurring as they vanish back into the sky to provide for our mate.
And I'm left alone with her to marvel at this strange turn of events.
Our existence has been long, and our promised mate has remained elusive. And now, unexpectedly, the first powerful release of magic in decades brings her to us. It’s a strange twist of fate that the female we seek to adore will be the one we have to leash.
She is human, so there will be no hatchlings in our future. What purpose will this connection serve in a world where no future dragon generations can be born?
The questions sit uncomfortably in my gut.
I adjust her position carefully, wishing I knew her name, drawing her fully against me. Her head fits perfectly beneath my chin, and my dragon hums, satisfied despite theawkward and precarious situation.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” I whisper, remembering the human fairytale of the girl cursed to sleep. I brush a knuckle across her cold cheek. “You’re not alone anymore.”
