Page 44 of Ash and Burn

When they finally broke apart, he kept his forehead pressed to hers. His dragon was roaring inside him, a deep rumble of absolute joy and profound relief.

Ours, it whispered. Finally ours.

Arvid's eyes sharpened with the sudden return of hard reality. "Dorn and I discovered the flameroot fields were intentionally contaminated," she said, the words dropping into the steam-scented air like stones.

The shift was so abrupt it took Calix a second to process. One moment he was drowning in the promise of forever, the next he was staring into the cool gaze of a soldier who had just identified an enemy's handiwork. His own mind snapped into the same gear, the Alpha and the king surging forward, pushing the lover aside for now.

He released her face, his hands falling to her shoulders. "We need to go. We need to find out who did this."

"Agreed," she said, but she didn't move to leave. Instead, she held his gaze with a fierce, unshakeable intensity. "But before we do that, before we walk out of here and into whatever mess this is… give me your mate mark."

The world stopped.

He stared at her, certain he had misheard, that the mate bond had finally short-circuited his brain. "You… want my mark? Now?"

"Right now." Her voice was low and certain. "I'm not waiting for the dust to settle, Calix. The dust never settles. Life is uncertain. Danger is always out there." She glanced toward the path that led back to Ashvorn, to the contaminated fields and the sick and the hidden enemy. "I know that better than anyone. So let's not wait any longer. Because I want to face whatever comes next bound to you forever."

A torrent of emotion, so violent it was almost painful, crashed through him. He had imagined this moment a thousand times since the bond ignited. He had pictured it in the quiet aftermath of victory, with Ash Fever conquered and peace restored. A grand event in the light of the Undying Flame. He had prepared speeches, planned romantic gestures, built entire fantasies around the perfect, safe moment to claim his mate irrevocably.

And she had just obliterated every single one.

She didn't want safe. She didn't want perfect. She wanted real. She wanted him in the middle of the chaos, with threats unknown and a crisis unresolved. She was looking at the storm clouds gathering and saying, "I'll stand with you in the rain."

It was the most profound act of trust he had ever been offered. It was a declaration more powerful than any grand romantic gesture or any poetic vow. It was the raw, uncompromising truth of Arvid Jasper.

"Arvid," he managed, his voice a rough scrape. "Do you understand what it means? After I give you my mark, the bond will be complete. Permanent. You'll feel everything I feel and I'll feel everything you feel, always. We'll be able to communicate without words. There's no walking away from that."

A flicker of her fear surfaced in her eyes, but she didn't flinch. "I'm not running away. I'm running into it. With you." She reached up and traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "I spent years building walls because I was afraid of being discarded. But I'm more afraid now of not being with you. So give me your mark, Calix Silvanus. Let's be messy together. Let's be complicated. Let's be forever."

SEVENTEEN

ARVID

The air in the Vess Springs hung still and warm, thick with the scent of wet stone and earth and the mineral tang of the water. Arvid watched the play of emotions across Calix's face—shock, a slow-dawning awe, then a reverence so profound it stole the air from her own lungs. He looked at her as if she'd just handed him a treasure beyond any crown or any kingdom. But he didn't say a word. He didn't need to. The raw, unfiltered joy blazing in his green eyes was a language of its own.

Her fear lingered in her gut, but she refused to let it rule her anymore. She had spent years building fortifications, not homes. She had armored her heart against the exact kind of vulnerability she was now voluntarily inviting in. But the terror of being bound forever was a distant thundercloud compared to the immediate, searing ache of being without him.

Her hands moved of their own volition, driven by a need that felt more fundamental than breath. Her fingers went to the buttons of his white dress shirt, the crisp cotton warm from his skin.

"This place is where I've always run to when the weight of it all was too much," Calix said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the fabric under her hands.

"Now," she said, working the second button, then the third, exposing the hard planes of his chest, "it's where our future begins." She pushed the shirt off his broad shoulders, letting it fall onto the soft, mossy ground.

A slow, devastating smile broke across his face, and he reached for her, his large hands infinitely gentle as they found the buttons of her blouse. "Yes. It's now a place of hope," he agreed, his gaze locked on hers as he undid each button. "And love."

The blouse joined his shirt on the ground. The afternoon light, filtered through the lush canopy, danced over the scars on their bodies. He didn't flinch from hers and she didn't flinch from his. His thumb traced the raised, silvery line on her collarbone as if memorizing its story. Then his fingers found the clasp of her bra, and with a deft movement it loosened, and he pulled it away. He stood there for a long moment, his eyes just drinking in the sight of her in the sunlight.

She stepped closer and reached down, unbuttoning his pants and then pushing them and his boxers down his hips until he stood before her, gloriously bare. He was a study in strength and control, every muscle defined and every scar a testament to his sheer power and great leadership. Her breath caught in her throat. She had seen him like this before, in the intimacy of his chambers, but here, in the open air of his private sanctuary, it felt different. More real. More irrevocable.

Like standing on the edge of forever and getting ready to jump head-first.

"I've never…" she started, then shook her head. "I've never done this outside." The admission was laced with a nervous thrill.

"You're safe with me. Trust me," he murmured, his hands sliding to the waistband of her skirt.

He unzipped it, let it pool at her feet, then hooked his thumbs into the lace of her panties. Then he knelt, a king at her feet, and drew them down slowly, his hot breath ghosting over her skin. When he rose back up, she was as exposed as he was. Then he took her hand, his grip firm and sure.

"The water is perfect. Warm and healing."