"I'm not asking you to apologize." Her jaw sets with the determination I've learned means she's already made her decision and is just informing me of the conclusion. "I'm telling you what I've decided."
The wind shifts. Salt spray mists across us both. Below, waves crash against rock with the endless rhythm that's marked my existence since before humans built their first boats.
"Isla came to me a few days ago." Lila's voice carries something new now. Not quite excitement, but close. "Asked if I'd be interested in a partnership. Scientific research with magical understanding integrated into methodology. The waters around Skara need protection. Documentation. Someone who understands both the mundane ecosystem and the supernatural elements layered through it."
"You'd be researching magic."
"I'd be researching reality." She moves closer again, that analytical light kindling in her eyes. "Everything I studied before was incomplete. Missing variables I didn't know existed. The symbiotic relationships between mundane and magical species. The way supernatural activity affects water chemistry. Migration patterns influenced by ritual sites and convergence points." Her hands gesture as she speaks, excitement building. "The entire field is unexplored. Undocumented. I could spend lifetimes cataloging what exists in these waters alone."
Lifetimes. She understands what that means now.
She's choosing this. Not the career she trained for, not the recognition in academic circles, not the prestige of Institute publications. She's choosing Skara. The Brotherhood. Me.
"What about the Institute?" I keep my voice neutral. "They sent you here. They'll want reports. Closure."
"Isla and I are drafting a proposal. Long-term ecological monitoring station. Extended field research." Her mouth curves. Small smile. "We submit it next week. If they approve, I get salary and resources. If they don't..." She shrugs. "I do the work anyway. The research matters more than official sanction."
"And if they demand you return?"
"Then I resign." No hesitation. "My contract allows for voluntary termination. They can't force me back to the mainland."
Smart. Cutting ties on her own terms rather than waiting for them to be severed.
"You've thought this through."
"I'm a scientist. I think everything through." She closes the distance between us completely, hands finding my chest. "I'm not giving up my career, Finn. I'm choosing a new one. Here. With you."
The bond surges with certainty. Hers and mine tangled together into something unbreakable.
"Declan will expect you at drills." I cover her hands with mine. "The Brotherhood trains together. Coordinates defense. You and I are the only dragons for hundreds of miles. That makes us valuable when threats come."
"Isla mentioned that. Deep-water reconnaissance. Things the others can't reach." She nods. "I'm willing to train."
"We're not just mates. We're partners protecting Stormhaven."
"Good." Her eyes meet mine. Steady. Certain. "I didn't survive Mikhail just to sit on the sidelines."
Pride floods through me. And love. And the bone-deep satisfaction of having a mate who understands what she's becoming.
That strange sensation hits again. The one that's been building for days now. She's noticed it too. Increased appetite. Heightened senses even for a dragon. The way exhaustion hits her harder than it should.
Her hands press against my chest. Her expression shifts. Clinical curiosity mixing with something else. Something that makes the bond between us hum with tension I can't name.
Through our connection, I feel her thoughts crystallizing. Variables clicking into place. Her scientist brain running calculations with the same precision she uses for everything else.
The exhaustion isn't just transformation recovery. It doesn't match. In the time since the claiming her energy levels should be stabilizing, not deteriorating. The increased appetite started days ago—dragon metabolism demands more fuel, yes, but this is different. Specific cravings. Salt. Protein. Her body demanding resources for something beyond maintaining her own shifted form.
And the settling sensation. That's what she's been calling it. A rightness low in her belly that has nothing to do with the bond and everything to do with biology rewriting itself around new purpose.
Her heart rate spikes. I feel it through the bond and in the pulse jumping at her throat.
She's piecing it together. Symptom by symptom. Data point by data point. Building to a conclusion that terrifies and thrills her in equal measure.
"Finn." Her voice comes out rough. Uncertain in a way Lila never sounds. "I need to tell you something."
The way she says it makes my dragon go still. Predator instinct recognizing a fundamental shift in reality before conscious thought catches up. The air between us thickens. Charged with possibility that tastes like hope and fear tangled together.
"What?"
