“Have you? Because the lightning during our first kiss says otherwise.”
He silenced her with a kiss that led, inevitably, to round three.
The third time was fast and urgent. She straddled him, sinking down onto his hard length with a moan that echoed off the cabin walls. He gripped her hips, guiding her rhythm as she rode him—harder, faster, chasing the pleasure that built with every roll of her hips.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groaned, watching her move above him. “The way you look right now?—”
She braced her hands on his chest, nails digging in. “Less talking. More?—”
He surged up, flipping them so she was beneath him again, and drove into her with renewed intensity. The approaching dawn was a reminder of what waited beyond the cabin walls, and they didn’t talk about it. Didn’t need to. The awareness was there in every thrust, every kiss, every whispered plea for more, harder, faster, please.
When they came, it was almost simultaneous—her crying out his name, him groaning hers into the curve of her neck.
This might be all we get,the urgency said.Make it count.
They had. They did.
Afterward, tangled in sheets that smelled like ozone and smoke—their combined scents, she realized, their magic leaving traces on everything they touched—Cassia watched the first light of dawn creep across the ceiling.
“I should go.”She didn’t move. “Get back to the cottage. Check on Gust. Prepare.”
“Probably.” Aero’s arm tightened around her waist. “In a minute.”
“You said that ten minutes ago.”
“And I’ll say it again in ten more.”
She turned in his arms, facing him. In the growing light, she could see every detail—the gray at his temples, the lines at the corners of his eyes (laugh lines, she was certain, though he probably hadn’t used them in decades), the way he looked at her like she was something precious.
“Whatever happens today,” she said quietly, “I want you to know—last night was worth it. All of it. The chaos, the property damage, and the near-death experiences. Worth it.”
“That’s supposed to be my line.” His voice was rough. “I’m the one who’s been alone for centuries. I’m the one who should be grateful.”
“Gratitude isn’t a competition.”
“Everything is a competition. I’m a dragon.” But he was smiling, and when he kissed her, it was soft and sweet and full of promises he couldn’t make out loud.
They lay there in silence as the sky lightened, neither willing to break the spell. The world outside was waiting—a siren’s vengeance, a wave that could destroy everything, a battle that might not end well. But for these last few minutes, none of it existed.
There was only warmth, and quiet, and the steady rhythm of a dragon’s heart beneath her palm.
“Aero?” she murmured.
“Mm?”
“For what it’s worth—you’re not terrible at this intimacy thing. Despite what you said.”
His laugh was quiet, almost disbelieving. “High praise from a woman who once called me an emotionally constipated disaster.”
“You are an emotionally constipated disaster. But you’remyemotionally constipated disaster.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
“Before you—before Haven Shores—I was content to spend another century alone. Collecting data. Avoiding anything that might make me feel something. Then you walked into my sight, and my dragon woke up for the first time in longer than I can remember, and nothing has been the same since.”
“Regrets?”
“None.” The word was immediate, certain. “Whatever happens today—I regret nothing. This night. These weeks. You.”
The dawn broke fully, painting the room in shades of gold and rose. Somewhere out in the Pacific, a wave was building. A siren was waiting. A battle was coming.
