My hands are still gripping her waist, thumbs pressed against the strip of bare skin where her shirt has ridden up. I can feel her pulse racing under my fingertips. Can feel the heat of her body. Can smell arousal mixing with smoke and blood and fear, a scent cocktail that makes my dragon roar with possession.
Her hands are fisted in my hair, holding me close, like letting go might make this moment disappear.
"Lila." Her name comes out rough, scraped raw by need. "Either you tell me to stop or accept that I won't."
"Why?" She doesn't pull away. "Because claiming me makes you vulnerable? Because Mikhail was right about love being weakness?"
"Once I claim you, there's no going back. The bond completes. You'll be mine in ways that transcend human marriage or partnership. Other shifters will know, especially dragons. Mikhail will know. You'll have a target on your back for as long as you live... and you will live a long, long time."
"I already have a target on my back." Her hands slide from my hair to frame my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. "Mikhail made that clear when he cut me to bait you. So the question isn't whether I'm in danger. The question is whether I face it alone or with you."
She's smart, brave, refusing to be protected from choices that are hers to make.
My dragon roars approval.
"With me means immortality. The claiming bite rewrites and overrides your DNA and you become a dragon-shifter. Faster healing, longer life, abilities humans don't have. But you lose your humanity."
She's quiet for a moment, processing. Then she asks the question I've been dreading. "What happened to Saoirse? Did you claim her?"
"No. She asked me to wait. To give her time to understand what immortality meant, what she'd be giving up." The truth still cuts. "You have to understand, this was centuries ago. Saoirse had no real understanding of immortality. I recognized that, but in the end, she'd decided to leave everything she'd known behind and join with me. Mikhail killed her before I could claim her."
"So you respected her choice. Gave her time. And Mikhail took that from both of you."
The truth of it settles between us. "Yes."
"I'm not asking for time." Her voice is steady, certain. "I know what I want."
"You've known me for days. Saoirse had years to understand what she was choosing."
"Saoirse lived centuries ago, in a world where immortals were myths and shifters were stories." Her hands tighten on my face. "I'm a scientist in an age of information. I've seen you shift. Watched you fight a phoenix. Felt the beginnings of the bond lock into place. I know exactly what you're offering and exactly what it costs."
Smart. Too damn smart. She's not wrong.
"Mikhail will come for you."
"He already did." No fear in her voice. "We're stronger together than apart. You bring centuries of combat experience and dragon fire. I bring scientific analysis and disruption tactics. He wants us separated because that makes us easier to kill. So we stay close, we get stronger, and we end him."
Partnership. She's not asking to hide behind me. She's demanding to stand beside me.
The bond pulls between us, strengthened by contact, demanding I claim her before logic overrides instinct. My dragon is roaring, my control is fracturing, and Lila is pressed against me like she has no intention of leaving.
"The claiming is permanent. No going back. You'd be mine until death, and dragons are nearly impossible to kill."
"Sounds difficult to achieve."
"It is."
"Good." She rises on her toes, bringing her mouth close to mine. "Then claim me, Finn. Make me yours. Give me the strength to fight beside you instead of hiding behind you."
I don't ask again.
My mouth crashes down on hers, all teeth and demand. This isn't the careful kiss from before. This is possession. My hands grip her waist, then slide lower, fingers digging into the flesh of her ass as I lift her. Her legs wrap around my hips instantly, and the friction when she grinds against me rips a growl from my chest.
The cave walls pulse brighter, bioluminescent algae responding to the magic building between us. The claiming isn't gentle. It's a tide crashing against the shore, inevitable and destructive and impossible to fight. Power surges through the bond, mine flowing into her, hers answering back with fierce acceptance.
Mine. The word roars through the connection.
Yours. Her response blazes back, no hesitation, no doubt.
