Page 23 of Ash and Burn

Her awe, her surrender, her undisguised shock at the intensity they created together—it shattered the last of his restraint. With a final, driving thrust, he buried himself deep and let go. His release roared through him with a seismic force, hot seed spilling into her in a primal, claiming rush. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as his body shuddered violently beneath hers, his arms locking around her to hold her close.

"Arvid," he gasped into her sweat-damp hair when he could finally form words. "You are incredible."

She collapsed against him, her body a boneless, trembling weight, and buried her face into the crook of his neck. They stayed like that for long minutes, tangled together on the sofa, the only sounds their slowing heartbeats and the crackle of the dying fire.

Calix soon stroked his hand down the smooth skin of her back, an unfamiliar contentment settling in his bones. He didn't want this moment to end. He wanted to carry her to his bed, keep her wrapped in his arms, and let the outside world dissolve into insignificance.

But he felt the exact moment she returned to herself as a subtle tension crept into her limbs. The sated connection through the bond sharpened, tinged with a sudden, rising panic, and she began to pull away.

His arm tightened instinctively around her. "You don't have to leave."

She froze against him. Then, with a swiftness that felt like a limb being cut off, she scrambled off his lap, her eyes wide with something that looked like pure alarm. The sight of it, after the soul-baring intimacy they'd just shared, struck him like ice water.

"I can't stay," she breathed, the words barely audible.

She snatched her clothes from the floor, deliberately avoiding his gaze, and clutched them to her chest like a shield. Then in a flash of copper skin and dark hair, she was gone, her bare feet whispering on the stone steps as she fled from his private sanctuary.

Calix sat there, naked and utterly still, the warmth of her body already fading from his skin. He stared blankly at the fire in the hearth as the silence she left behind became a crushing, tangible thing.

What went wrong?

The connection had been real. The surrender was mutual. It had been more than right; it had been perfect. Until he'd asked her to stay.

Now, the newly deepened bond was a live wire, humming with the storm of her emotions from a floor below. He could feel the sharp edges of her panic, the chaotic whirl of her confusion, a deep, lingering pulse of want that mirrored his own, and beneath it all, a terror of… what?

For those perfect moments, he had felt like her partner. Her sanctuary.

He ran his hand through his hair, a ragged sigh escaping him. The King of Ashvorn sat alone in the aftermath of passion, feeling more destabilized than he had since he was a nineteen-year-old boy staring at his father's funeral pyre.

What am I supposed to do now?

The dread was cold and heavy in his gut. He'd spent fifteen years building a life of controlled, solitary duty, and in one day, this impossible woman had stormed its gates. Now, the fear wasn't that he just welcomed her in—it was that he might have just scared her away and ruined the one good thing to happen to him in a lifetime.

NINE

ARVID

Dawn arrived like an unwelcome interrogation, filtering through the tall windows of her opulent guest suite at Ashspire and casting golden bars across the massive bed where Arvid had spent the night wrestling with the silk sheets. Sleep had been a cruel joke—every time she'd closed her eyes, she saw Calix's piercing green gaze boring into her soul, felt the ghost of his touch on her body, and heard the raw need in his voice when he'd asked her not to leave.

But the worst part wasn't remembering how good his body had felt beneath hers or how perfectly they'd moved together. The worst part was remembering how safe she'd felt in his arms. How right being with him was. How desperately she'd wanted to let him hold her through the night like she actually belonged somewhere.

Arvid crawled out of bed and stalked toward the massive wardrobe. When she opened the ornate doors, her reflection in the gilded mirror looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly claimed—hair mussed, lips still swollen, and a faint red mark on her collarbone where Calix's mouth had lingered. She touched the spot and her body immediately responded with a traitorous flutter of heat.

"It was just sex," she muttered to her reflection while pulling on a practical blouse. "And dragon shifter pheromones. Completely explains why it felt so intense."

But even as she buttoned the blouse with sharp movements, her rationalizations crumbled like sand. It hadn't been just sex or pheromones. It had been recognition. The terrifying realization that someone actually saw her—not the disgraced soldier, not the isolated scientist, but the woman beneath all that armor who'd been holding herself hostage for three years.

She yanked on her black slacks with more force than necessary. The problem with Calix wasn't that he was a dragon shifter or a king or impossibly attractive. The problem was that he made her want things she'd sworn off. Made her imagine what it might feel like to trust someone completely. To let someone close enough that she could get hurt again.

Arvid laced her boots with military precision, each meticulous pull and carefully tied knot reminding her who she was now. A woman who'd learned the hard way that people betrayed you, that the people you trusted most would sacrifice you for their own benefit, and that building walls wasn't paranoia—it was survival. She'd spent the past three years constructing a life that worked. A tiny lab where she saved lives on her terms without risking her heart. It wasn't everything she'd once dreamed of, but it was enough.

Except last night had felt like everything and made her realize that maybe enough wasn't acceptable anymore. And that was precisely why she'd run.

She left her guest suite and made her way to the grand staircase. Within minutes, the grand foyer of Ashspire soon stretched before her, her footsteps echoing off the pyrestone walls that radiated warmth even in the early morning. She'd braced herself to face Calix, had spent the entire walk rehearsing how she'd keep things professional and distant. How she'd pretend that sharing his dinner and his body hadn't rearranged something fundamental inside her.

Instead, a lean young man with perfect military posture rose from a chair near the entrance. His dark brown hair fell slightly too long across grey eyes that held a perpetual expression of mild concern, and when he straightened to his full height, every line of his body screamed disciplined warrior.

"Dr. Jasper?" His voice carried the crisp formality of someone who took his duties seriously. "I'm Tal, your escort."