But claiming takes more than a kiss, more than contact, more than mutual agreement. The full bond requires blood and consent and time.
I pull back before instinct overrides the choice she deserves to make with full knowledge.
"Not like this. Not running on adrenaline and fear. When I claim you, you'll be fully present for it."
Lila makes a sound low in her throat but doesn't argue. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."
"No." I set her on her feet, forcing myself to release her despite every instinct screaming otherwise. "It's not."
She sways and I catch her elbow, steadying her. Exhaustion catching up now that adrenaline is fading.
"You need rest."
"I need answers." But her voice carries less certainty now, exhaustion bleeding through stubborn determination. "About the drownings. About what Mikhail was building toward. About what comes next."
"Tomorrow." I guide her toward the sleeping area I've carved into the cave wall, the nest of blankets and furs that's served as my bed for decades. "Rest first. Answers after."
She wants to argue. I can see it in the set of her jaw, the flash of scientist stubbornness. But exhaustion wins. She settles into the nest with relief, and her eyes are already closing before I finish arranging the furs around her.
I position myself near the entrance, close enough to watch both her and the darkness beyond. The storm outside has teeth now. Wind screams past the cave mouth like something dying. Rain hammers stone with percussion that sounds almost like claws.
The bond hums between us, new and raw and demanding completion. My dragon paces beneath my skin, restless, frustrated by the claiming that started but didn't finish. Every instinct screams to wake her, mark her, make the bond permanent before Mikhail can come back for what he couldn't take.
But she deserves better than a desperate claiming driven by fear.
So I wait.
Lightning splits the sky, illuminating the storm-wracked landscape for one heartbeat before darkness crashes back. In that flash of light, I see the burnt scar where Mikhail's ritual cave sits. Empty now. The phoenix gone to heal somewhere in the dark.
He's out there. Somewhere beyond the storm. Regenerating flesh and bone and plotting his next move. Learning from his failures. Building toward the moment when he comes back to finish what he started.
I bare my teeth at the darkness beyond the entrance.
Next time, I won't let him walk away. I'll rip out his heart and watch it burn to ash before his eyes close. Next time, he dies.
The storm rages. The bond pulses. Lila sleeps in my nest, wrapped in furs that carry my scent, choosing me despite knowing exactly what I am.
I settle into the stone, dragon senses extending into the darkness, and wait for the wounded phoenix to make his final mistake.
CHAPTER 10
LILA
Pain wakes me before dawn.
Every muscle aches. The cut on my forearm—bandaged after last night's ritual—throbs beneath the dressing. Where Finn's mouth found my throat during that kiss, my skin still feels sensitized, hyperaware. The mate bond hums between us with an urgency that borders on need, demanding completion. My body responds with less rational intensity than my scientific training can catalog.
Dim light filters through the cave entrance. The bioluminescent algae has faded to near darkness, responding to the approach of dawn. When I move, protests shoot through limbs that remember being bound to stone, disrupting Mikhail's ritual, kissing Finn and starting something neither of us finished.
The memory hits without warning. Mikhail's blade against my throat. Silver fire burning through my veins as the ritual began to drain something essential from my core. The absolute certainty that I was about to die, trapped and helpless while ancient magic consumed me from the inside out. My pulse spikes despite the relative safety of Finn's cave, despite the distance between here and that ritual site.
I came within minutes of death last night. Seconds, maybe. The knife had already broken skin when Finn arrived. The ritual was active, pulling at something inside me that had no name in any scientific taxonomy I've studied. If he'd been slower, if the Brotherhood hadn't tracked us fast enough, if Mikhail had completed even one more phase of the spell?—
The bond flares hot beneath my sternum, responding to the spike of fear-laced adrenaline flooding my system. Finn's awareness touches mine through the connection, sharp and immediate despite whatever distance separates us. The sensation doesn't calm me. It anchors me, grounds the spiraling thoughts back into the present moment where I'm alive, breathing, whole.
Thunder cracks outside the cave. Not weather, but wings beating air hard enough to shake loose pebbles from the cliff face. Silver mist coils through the entrance, and then Finn is there, shifting from dragon to human form in the space between heartbeats. Water streams from his skin. Salt spray coats his shoulders. He's been flying over the ocean, hunting.
Awareness floods through the connection with an intensity that steals my breath. The bond carries more than just his presence—it carries the raw edge of something darker underneath. Fury, maybe. Or the aftermath of fear channeled into violence that found no acceptable target.
