Maybe soon, she would accept the mate bond, the mark, and the lifelong commitment it entailed. Then he could give her the epic love story she dreamed of and deserved.
But even as that hopeful thought took root, a colder, sharper one pierced it.
Letting her this close is risky. Veyrik knows she’s here. He knows she’s important to me.
The danger he’d just placed her in was a leaden weight in his gut. His isolation had been a flawed shield, but it had been a shield. Now, with her in his arms and in his heart, he’d made her a target.
But for tonight, he would bury that fear. He would pretend the world outside this room did not exist. He would focus on the warmth of her skin, the scent of vanilla in her hair, and the steady beat of her heart against his own. For tonight, he would just hold his mate and dream of peace.
TWENTY-ONE
ISLA
Dawn crept through the large windows of the guest suite, painting golden streaks across the rumpled sheets. Isla stirred in the bed and discovered her body was deliciously sore in places that instantly reminded her of what she’d done with Damon last night. Damon’s arm lay heavy across her waist, his chest pressing against her back and his breathing still deep and even. They were both completely naked, skin against skin, and the intimate reality of it sent a flutter through her chest.
The memories rushed back unbidden. Dinner. His vulnerability when he’d told her about the raid, about his parents, about carrying a century of guilt. The way he’d gazed at her like she was salvation. Then her impulsive decision to climb into his lap and kiss him, to surrender to the magnetic pull between them.
The sex had been... extraordinary. Earth-shattering even. Like stepping into one of her beloved romance novels where passion swept away all logic and consequence. But lying here in the aftermath, reality was a cold splash of water.
He was a two-hundred-year-old dragon shifter. An Alpha who commanded a clan of dangerous, powerful beings. A manso traumatized by loss that he’d isolated himself for a century, and despite yesterday’s breakthrough, could he really overcome that? Could anyone?
And she was... what? A bookstore owner from Cape Cod who worried about inventory and whether customers would like her latest display. Her major concerns back home were the weather affecting foot traffic and meeting a decent enough man, not rival clans and dragon politics that could get her killed.
This shifter world is so far beyond anything I know.
Yesterday’s attack replayed in her mind—the terror of watching Evelina battle two dragons, the sight of Damon’s massive black form swooping from the sky like an avenging angel. The blood, the violence, the very real threat of death. Was that her life now? Constant danger, high stakes, intensity that never let up?
But then something deeper tugged at her. Damon was everything she’d never dared hope for in a man. The way he looked at her like she was something precious. The reverent way he’d touched her like she was something to be worshipped. Sleeping in his arms had felt like coming home to a place she’d been searching for her whole life.
God, he makes everything else just... disappear.
She moved just enough, and Damon’s arm tightened around her instinctively. The protective gesture made her heart skip. Whatever else was complicated about this situation, the connection between them was undeniable.
But was believing in destiny enough? Was the universe’s supposed plan worth the complexity and danger that came with it?
One day at a time,she reminded herself.That’s what I told him.
Damon stirred behind her, his body coming awake in increments. She felt the exact moment awareness returned—hisbreathing changed, his muscles tensed slightly, and then his lips were pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder.
“Good morning beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
She turned in his arms to face him, and her resolve to think rationally nearly crumbled. His dark hair was tousled, and his green eyes were soft and unguarded in a way she’d never seen before. The sight of him like this—relaxed, content, almost vulnerable—was devastating.
“Hi,” she whispered back, unable to keep from smiling.
His answering smile was radiant, transforming his entire face. For a fleeting moment, he looked younger, unburdened by the weight of leadership and loss. It was a glimpse of who he might have been in another life, and it made her chest ache with possibility.
“How did you sleep?” His thumb traced her cheekbone, the touch gentle and reverent.
“Better than I have in months.” The admission slipped out.
Something heated and possessive flashed in his eyes. “Good. I was hoping?—”
A sharp knock at the door cut him off. Damon’s expression instantly shifted, the Alpha mask sliding back into place with efficiency.
“Alpha?” Kaelith’s voice carried through the heavy wood. “Sorry to disturb you, but we need to discuss security. Immediately.”
The spell was broken. Isla watched Damon’s jaw tighten as reality crashed back in. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before sitting up, already reaching for his clothes.
