His dragon roared its triumph.
Lightning cracked overhead.
The sound barely registered. He was too lost in the taste of her—salt and ozone and something intoxicating. The feel of her body pressed against his, all soft curves and burning heat. The way her magic rose to meet his, tangling with his lightning, amplifying every sensation until thought became impossible.
Wind screamed around them. The sea glass chimes shattered. The porch railings creaked as if trying to escape the storm building between two supernatural forces that should have known better.
Cassia gasped against his mouth. Her nails dug into his shoulders. She was trembling—or he was—or they both were—and her magic kept surging, calling thunder, calling rain, calling everything wild and uncontrollable.
Aero’s dragon fire blazed to the surface. He felt his hands heat, felt the energy coiling in his palms, felt?—
Something behind them caught fire.
He wrenched back, breaking the kiss, and spun toward the cottage. The corner of the porch where the wind chimes had hung was smoldering, small flames licking at the weathered wood. Inside, through the open door, he could see papers scattered across the floor. One of the windows had cracked in a spider-web pattern. A ceramic pot lay in shards at the base of the fireplace, and the massive stone mantle was scorched black in one corner.
The living room looked like a small tornado had swept through it. Cushions on the floor. Books fallen from shelves. A barometric instrument—one of her grandmother’s, he thought—had tumbled from its place of honor and now lay dented on the carpet.
His dragon snarled in frustration.
“Did we just—” Cassia’s voice was breathless. Wrecked. Her lips were swollen from his kiss, her robe askew, her hair wilder than before. “Did we set my house on fire?”
Aero waved his hand, and the flames died. Dragon fire responded to dragon command, at least. The rest of the damage—the cracked window, the scattered papers, the destroyed wind chimes—was less easily dismissed.
“That was…” He searched for words. His mind was still reeling, his body still burning, his dragon still demanding they continue what they’d started. “Catastrophic.”
Cassia looked at the smoldering porch. The shattered chimes. The chaos visible through her open door. Then she looked at him, and her lips curved into a grin that made his pulse stutter.
“I was going to say ‘promising.’”
His dragon purred. Despite everything—the property damage, the loss of control, the terrifying implications of what had just happened—the sound rumbled through his chest unbidden.
Cassia’s grin widened. “Did you just?—”
“No.”
“You absolutely did. The ancient, terrifying dragon elder?—”
“It’s a physiological response. It doesn’t mean?—”
“It means your dragon is happy.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. With understanding. With something that looked dangerously close to affection. “Which means somewhere under all that emotional constipation, you’re happy too.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Happy wasn’t a word he used. Wasn’t a state he pursued. He’d spent so long being nothing that the concept had become foreign.
But standing here, with her hand on his chest and her magic humming against his skin and the ruins of their first kiss smoking around them?—
Maybe. Maybe he was.
“We should probably figure out how to do that without destroying property,” Cassia said, echoing his thoughts with uncanny accuracy. “I don’t have insurance for ‘made out with an 800-year-old dragon and things got out of hand.’”
“That seems like a reasonable concern.”
“Also, there’s still someone trying to destroy Haven Shores.”
“Also that.”
“And we should probably talk about what just happened.”
“We should.” His throat worked. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”
