“Bossy.” But she nestled closer, her hand fisting in his shirt. “Sleeping. Not because you told me to. Because I want to.”
“Of course.”
Within minutes, her breathing evened out into the rhythm of true sleep. Aero held her, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, listening to the quiet sounds of the sleeping inn around them.
Outside, the ocean churned with Nerissa’s gathering fury. Somewhere beneath those dark waters, a jealous siren was building a weapon that could destroy everything Aero had unexpectedly come to care about.
The deadline loomed.
Seventy-two hours to master a magical synchronization he and Cassia had only glimpsed. To prepare a town for potential disaster. To figure out how to defeat an ancient enemy who had every advantage in her own element.
His dragon lay quiet in his chest. Content, for once. At peace.
Because Cassia was here. Safe. Sleeping in his arms.
And whatever came when the wave arrived, whatever battle waited on the horizon, he would face it with her. He would fight for her. And if necessary—though he prayed to gods he’d stoppedbelieving in lifetimes ago that it wouldn’t be—he would die for her.
Aero pressed another kiss to her hair and settled in to wait for dawn.
The clock was ticking.
THIRTY-FOUR
CASSIA
Two days after the attack in the cottage, Delos’s recovery room had transformed into the most unconventional Girls’ Night venue in Haven Shores’s history.
The young fire dragon was propped up against a mountain of pillows, his right arm still bandaged and his shoulder wrapped in healing poultices that glowed faintly with witch magic. Dragon physiology healed at a rate that would have taken a human months to achieve in a matter of days—though the healers had made clear he was not to test that fact by doing anything foolish. Despite looking like he’d been through a meat grinder—which, Cassia supposed, wasn’t far from the truth—he was grinning like he’d won some kind of prize.
“This is the best day of my life,” he announced to the assembled group of women who’d crowded into his room. “I should get nearly killed by sirens more often.”
“Don’t even joke about that.” Beck’s voice carried from the corner where he’d refused to leave Delos’s side since the attack. The wolf beta had dark circles under his eyes and a tension in his shoulders that spoke of suppressed worry. “I will personally murder you if you scare me like that again.”
“See?” Delos beamed at the witches. “He cares about me. It’s beautiful.”
“I’m reconsidering,” Beck replied.
Cassia watched the exchange from her position curled in the window seat, a cup of tea she hadn’t touched cooling in her hands. The Siren’s Rest had given Delos one of their best rooms—ocean view, private bathroom, enough space to accommodate the parade of visitors who’d been streaming through since he stabilized.
Dahlia had brought pastries. Three different kinds, arranged on a tray that was now mostly empty thanks to Delos’s impressive appetite. Junie had offered to create a revenge potion—“Something that makes Nerissa’s hair fall out, or maybe gives her permanent hiccups”—which Delos had enthusiastically encouraged before the more sensible members of the group vetoed the idea.
Avine sat on the edge of Delos’s bed, playing the perfect hostess even in someone else’s room. Narla occupied the other chair, her serene presence a counterbalance to Junie’s crackling energy.
It should have felt normal. Safe. The familiar comfort of found family rallying around a crisis.
Instead, Cassia felt like she was watching it all from very far away.
“You’re doing that thing again.” Junie’s voice cut through her thoughts. “The brooding-dramatically-by-the-window thing. It’s very atmospheric, but also concerning.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“You’re absolutely brooding.” Dahlia set down the pastry tray and moved to sit beside Cassia in the window seat. “Your storm petrel has been giving everyone the stink-eye for an hour. That’s his brooding-in-solidarity face.”
Cassia glanced at Gust, who was perched on the windowsill behind her. He ruffled his feathers indignantly but didn’t deny the accusation.
“I should leave.” The words came out before she could stop them. “My magic is making everything worse. If I wasn’t here?—”
“If you weren’t here,” Narla interrupted calmly, “Delos would be dead.”
