“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Her magic hadn’t sparkedathim. It had sparkedtowardhim. Reached for him. Oriented on him like iron filings finding a magnet.
One look at Aero Tau, and all that control had shattered.
She started walking, faster than necessary, putting as much distance between herself and the Council chambers as she could. Overhead, clouds were beginning to gather—her clouds, her emotions made visible, because apparently even the sky couldn’t keep its mouth shut about what she was feeling.
This is going to be a disaster.
The worst part was that she couldn’t tell if that terrified her or thrilled her.
Probably both.
Definitely both.
Behind her, inside the Council chambers, the ancient stained glass windows rattled in their frames as another crack of thunder split the morning sky.
And in the shadows of the old church, a dragon elder stood motionless, staring at the doors through which Cassia Gale had disappeared. His hands were still clenched into fists at his sides. His heart—usually so slow, so controlled—pounded against his ribs with an urgency he hadn’t felt in centuries.
Something stirred beneath his skin. Something that had been dormant for so long, he’d forgotten it existed.
His dragon.
Awake.
Hungry.
Hers.
Aero closed his eyes and breathed through the unfamiliar sensation. There had to be a rational explanation. A surge effect. Magical interference. Some phenomena he could study, quantify, andcontrol.
Because the alternative—that after all this time, his beast had suddenly, violently, irrevocably decided that this chaotic, sharp-tongued, painfully beautiful witch belonged to them?—
That couldn’t be right.
Could it?
The thunder answered him, rolling across Haven Shores like a warning. Or maybe a promise.
Aero had a feeling this research assignment was going to be far more complicated than he’d anticipated.
THREE
AERO
Aero woke at 5:47 a.m.
He had woken at the same time every day for the past three centuries. No alarm. No variation. His body simply knew when it was time to rise, as reliable as the sun climbing over the eastern horizon.
Today, though, he hadn’t actually slept.
He lay in the too-short bed of the Council cabin, staring at the wooden beams above his head, and cataloged the symptoms that had plagued him since arriving in Haven Shores three days ago. Elevated heart rate. Heightened sensory awareness. A persistent restlessness that made his skin feel too tight for his body.
And his dragon. His dragon, which had been dormant for so long he’d nearly forgotten its presence, now paced beneath his skin with an urgency that bordered on feral.
He’d attributed the symptoms to the surge. Haven Shores was saturated with magical energy—more than any site he’d documented in a century of research. The ambient power levels alone could theoretically affect dragon cognition, though he’d found no precedent for such effects in the Council’s archives.
Then yesterday had happened.
