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Fire. Holy shit.

Not just my Dragonfire—something older. Something deeper.

It lights up in my chest like the first sunbeam after a hundred years of darkness. I feel it in every bone, every scale, every shadowed part of myself I’ve ever tried to ignore.

Es meus.

It’s like my heart roars in recognition.

Because I know.

She’s my Rose.

The one I’ve waited for. The one the Fates whispered about in long-forgotten languages.

The only woman who can make the flames inside me settle. The one whose scent is mine, whose soul is threaded to mine like vines on stone.

My Rose.

Es Meus.

Oh fuck.

I blink, breathing hard, trying not to drop to one knee and throw my ring of fire down like a damn medieval courting ritual.

She frowns slightly, sensing the shift, and tilts her head. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” I rasp. “You—you’re perfect. It’s just, I think you just rewrote my entire existence.”

She laughs softly. And I swear the sound heals something broken in me.

“That’s some line. I’m Casey,” she says. “I just moved here. Heard this town had good coffee and even better cake.”

“Zeke,” I manage to croak.

She nods toward the dance floor. “Wanna try?”

I stand.

No hesitation now.

I wrap her hand in mine like I was born for it, and as we step into the soft light and sway to the music, I realize something else.

I may be a Dragon.

But tonight?

I’m more.

I’ve met my rose.

And I’ll burn down the fucking world before I let her go.