Page 10 of Ash and Burn

Selfish, he told himself firmly.

"We'll head there soon enough," he said carefully. "Perhaps you should settle in⁠—"

"No." Her voice carried steel and quiet authority. No one ever dared to speak to him like that, but from her, it felt unsettling and strangely welcome. "There's no time for that."

Before he could respond, Gerri rose from the sofa.

"Well, I hate to leave so soon, but I really do have another appointment to get to." She moved toward the door with the brisk efficiency of someone who knew when to make a quick exit.

Calix stood as well. "Let me walk you out⁠—"

"That's really not necessary." Gerri reached into her pocket and withdrew a business card, extending it toward Arvid. "Feel free to reach out if you need anything, dear."

"Thank you," Arvid said, accepting the card. "For everything."

"My pleasure entirely." Gerri's smile held layers of meaning that made Calix's dragon stir uneasily. Then she was gone, leaving them alone in the suddenly quiet sitting room.

The tension between them thickened immediately, charged with the mate bond's insistent pull and the weight of everything unsaid.

"Please," Calix said, his voice rougher than intended. "At least get situated in your room first. We can leave in an hour."

Arvid looked like she wanted to argue—he could see the protest forming behind her eyes—but after a moment she nodded reluctantly.

"Fine. I suppose I should unpack before we head to the lab."

Calix stepped from the sitting room, the lingering scent of lilies and rain clinging to his senses like a fever he couldn't shake. Every instinct screamed at him to maintain distance, but his body moved of its own accord, leading Arvid through Ashspire's corridors with the fluid grace of a man who had navigated these halls for fifteen years. The ancient pyrestone walls seemed to pulse with warmth around them, or perhaps that heat radiated from his own skin—he could no longer distinguish between the estate's natural temperature and the fire burning through his bloodstream. Her presence at his back felt like standing too close to an open flame.

Each footfall echoed through the grand hallways, but all he could hear was the steady rhythm of her breathing and the subtle rustle of fabric as she moved. His dragon prowled beneath his ribs, demanding he turn around, demanding he acknowledge the mate bond.

She is ours. Claim her.

Absolutely not, Calix responded mentally with iron discipline, though his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

They finally reached the grand staircase where he'd abandoned her suitcase, and he bent to retrieve it, grateful for the momentary reprieve from her direct gaze. The leather handle felt solid and real—something concrete to focus on instead of the way her scent made his chest tighten with need.

"How long has Ash Fever been spreading through your territory?"

Her voice cut through his internal struggle, clinical and focused. He straightened, suitcase in hand, and began climbing the polished pyrestone steps toward the second level guest quarters.

"Four months." The words came out rougher than intended. "Started in the Commons District."

"Mortality rate?"

"Twelve percent so far." Each number felt like a weight settling on his shoulders. "But it's accelerating."

Arvid's footsteps quickened behind him, and he could practically feel her mind working, cataloging information and building theories. The scientist in her had engaged completely, and part of him admired that laser focus even as his dragon snarled with frustration at being ignored.

"What treatments have you attempted?"

"Traditional fever reducers. Cooling baths. Herbal remedies." He reached the second-level landing and turned down the east corridor. "Nothing has shown any measurable impact."

"Symptom progression?"

Her questions came rapid-fire now, each one precise and purposeful. Calix found himself answering automatically while his mind wrestled with the catastrophic timing of finding his fated mate in the middle of a crisis that threatened everything he'd sworn to protect.

"Internal heat that can't be vented. Progressive fever. Complete inability to shift to dragon form." He paused outside the door to the largest guest suite. "Organ failure in the final stages."

Arvid went completely still behind him. "Did you say organ failure?"