Page 15

CHAPTER 14

DAX

I watch the helicopter vanish into the horizon, its blades slicing through the rising smoke. The sound fades, but the tension in my body doesn’t. Ember’s scent lingers—ash, citrus, defiance—and it coils inside me like a fuse waiting to ignite. My chest tightens with something raw and dangerous. Not fear. Not frustration. Something deeper. Older. A need carved into my very bones.

The dragon in me snarls with hunger, with warning. Every instinct screams to follow, to protect, to claim. She’s only just starting to understand what she’s walking into. And she has no idea how hard it is for me to let her go—how close I am to flying straight after her, whether or not she wants me to.

Mine. The word claws through me, not just as a thought but a truth that pulses deep in my dragon’s core—hot, demanding, elemental. Mine. It rolls through me like thunder, echoing with every beat of my heart. I feel it in my bones, in the fire stirring beneath my skin. The dragon inside me paces, restless and hungry. And gods help me, the part of me that’s still a man wants her no less. Wants her with heat and hunger, yes—but also with something far more dangerous. Something that sounds like forever.

But she wanted space. So I gave her distance—for now. Every instinct in me howled against it, but I held back. Let her breathe. Let her choose. Because even though the fire between us is undeniable, forcing her closer would only push her away.

I call forth my dragon.

Flames lick up my legs, swirl across my chest, and I give in to the surge. The fire moves like it’s part of me—curling with reverence and hunger. Skin gives way to scale as flesh is swallowed in flickers of molten light. My wings unfurl in a burst of heat, massive and sharp-edged, and I roar as the final wave overtakes me. The fire doesn’t consume me. It frees me. With one powerful leap, I tear off from the earth, rising into the sky. In a breath, the man is gone. The dragon takes the sky, forged in flame and bound to the wind.

I follow from above, gliding silently over pine ridges and scorched valleys, riding the thermals in lazy arcs while keeping just high enough not to cast a shadow she’d notice. The forest spreads out beneath me in a patchwork of dark green and burnt umber, whispering warnings only a dragon would hear.

I watch Rafe land the chopper smoothly on a narrow service road and help Ember down with a practiced ease that belies the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t seem to have said much, just nodded to her and led her to the waiting SUV stashed under camo netting near the tree line. I saw the way she paused at the door, scanning the horizon like she felt something—like she felt me. Then she slid into the seat, jaw set, gaze hard.

The SUV snakes its way along the dirt road below, inching toward the restricted coordinates, dust pluming up like smoke signals. She's getting closer. And so is the danger.

I don’t need my eyes to know where she is. I could track her by scent alone—citrus, smoke, adrenaline. The imprint of her lives under my skin now, like her essence burned its way into my cells. But even without that, there’s a pull—magnetic and unrelenting. A thrum in the marrow of my bones that vibrates with hers, resonating like a low drumbeat only my dragon can hear. A thread of heat I could follow in my sleep, or in fire, or through the darkness of a thousand nights. I feel her. Always. Like she was forged into my being long before we ever met.

Kade’s voice crackles in my ear through the comm embedded in my scales—his voice crisp even over the wind rushing past. He's airborne too, sweeping wide arcs over a separate grid a few miles to the east. I can't see him, but I can feel the familiar weight of his presence in the air, the old rhythm of our formation patrols falling into place like muscle memory. The sky is too still. The silence presses like a warning.

"Anything?" I ask.

"Nothing yet. It’s too quiet."

Yeah. Too damn quiet.We're approaching the perimeter when everything explodes.

A roar shatters the sky—deafening, primal, laced with fury I haven’t heard in years. It tears through the clouds, turning them to fire-tinged smoke. Heat blasts across my flank like a cannon shot, the searing pain snapping through my left wing joint. I spin hard mid-air, instincts kicking in before thought. Wings flare, body rolls into a defensive spiral. And that’s when I see it—the shadow.

It drops from the sun, perfectly positioned to blind and disorient, a maneuver born of centuries of war. I squint through the searing light, instincts screaming just before my vision catches the glint of bronze—scorched and jagged, like molten armor. He’s massive, wings outspread, and descending fast, using the sun as both shield and weapon. The fire trailing from his jaws isn’t just a threat—it’s a declaration. A challenge etched in flame, and I accept it with a growl that echoes across the sky.

Malek--he’s been waiting for this moment... and so have I.

He dives with terrifying speed, the air cracking in his wake as if space itself is being torn apart. The heat coming off him scorches the clouds, leaving a seared path as he plummets straight for me. There’s no hesitation. No restraint. Just raw, focused violence hurtling through the sky. The kind that doesn’t miss. The kind that kills.

I roll into a barrel twist and rise fast, the edge of the fire stream searing past me close enough to blister the air. The heat scorches my wingtip and singes the edge of my left flank. Pain flares, sharp and electric, but I don't slow. Rocketing upward, claws out, muscles locked, I ride the adrenaline and fire as one.

The sky shakes with the force of our flight. My own fire surges in my chest, building pressure behind my sternum like a detonator—furious, focused, ready to be loosed. The scent of burning pine and blood stings my nostrils. This isn’t just a fight. It’s a war cry given shape. And I intend to answer it.

He’s faster than he used to be. More reckless.

But so am I.

We collide mid-air with the explosive violence of two storms crashing head-on.

Claws tear scale in vicious arcs. Fangs clash against bone with a sound that echoes like a cannon blast. The force of our impact sends shockwaves through the clouds, and the air is alive with fire, fury, and the sheer force of rage given form. Our wings beat against each other, hurricane strong, driving us into a violent spiral that tears through the sky in a blur of smoke and blood.

Flames erupt around us in jagged bursts, the world narrowing to claws, teeth, and survival. Every instinct screams to rip him apart—to tear him down and never let him rise again. To end him with the fire that has waited inside me for this very moment. But I don’t. Not yet.

Not yet.

I slam into him from above, driving the full weight of my body down like a meteor of fury. His roar tears through the air as he's hurled into the treetops below. The impact shatters ancient trunks like matchsticks, splinters flying in every direction. A shockwave ripples through the low canopy, and then the forest ignites.

Flames leaping from tree to tree create a chain reaction of chaos, a ribbon of fire slicing through the green. Malek clips a rocky ridge on his way down, spinning out in a trail of smoke and fury before catching an updraft and clawing his way back into the sky with a snarl that promises this is far from over.

I dive to follow, tucking my wings in tight and becoming a missile of molten fury. The wind screams past me, claws slicing through the updraft as I drop like a meteor aimed at his spine.

The flames from Malek’s last pass still rage below, licking at the tree line, and I thread through the rising smoke like a predator in his element. My pulse thunders in my ears, the scent of blood and scorched earth driving my instincts higher, darker. The sky narrows into a tunnel of movement and momentum—and at the end, him.

But I see her. Ember. Standing beside the SUV, staring up. Her face pale, lips parted. She sees the dragons—but she doesn’t know. Not yet. Not who he is. Not what he wants.

I roar, drawing Malek’s attention away from her.He lunges, teeth bared.

I let him come. Every part of me tenses, tracking the trajectory of his attack. Just as he reaches striking distance, I twist mid-air in a violent corkscrew, momentum giving power to my strike. My claws rake across his flank, tearing through bronze scale and sinew with a sickening rip. Blood splatters the sky in molten arcs.

Malek bellows in pain and fury, his body spinning sideways from the force of the blow. The air vibrates with the shockwave of our clash, and for a heartbeat, I feel the balance of the fight tilt in my favor—until his tail lashes back and catches my shoulder with a bone-rattling slam that nearly knocks me out of the air.

He screams, a guttural, broken roar that rattles the sky itself. Fire pours from his mouth in wild, sputtering jets as he writhes mid-air, struggling to maintain altitude. Blood streams down his side, blackened where it mixes with ash. He falters, wings stuttering.

For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to crash—but then he catches a rogue current and jerks skyward in a sharp climb. I surge after him, but he spins, casting a blinding burst of flame behind him—a smokescreen of molten fury. When it clears, he’s gone. Swallowed by clouds. A vanishing ghost made of fire and vengeance.

Coward.

Pain pulses through my wing—he clipped me deeper than I realized. It radiates through muscle and bone, a brutal throb that makes my flight shaky, my vision hazy at the edges. The sky wobbles around me, but I grit my teeth and force myself to stay airborne.

Even through the fog of pain, I see her. Ember. Still standing. Still safe. Probably plotting ten ways to kill me in my sleep—and I’d let her, as long as she keeps looking at me like that.. Relief hits harder than the wound. My rage rides high and hard, clawing to be unleashed again. My dragon wants to burn. Everything. But not her. Never her.

I land hard, claws gouging deep ruts in the earth, the impact sending tremors through the scorched soil. Smoke curls from my nostrils in thick, angry streams. My body shakes—not just from pain, but from the effort of holding the dragon back. Rage and fire churn under my scales, barely contained. Blood drips from my wing, and every breath burns. I see her. Alive. Whole. And that should be enough.

But the sight of her—too close, too fragile—rips through my restraint. My eyes blaze, pupils narrowing to slits as a guttural growl tears from my throat. I snarl at her, feral and raw, a sound that carries the edge of a threat—and a desperate plea.

Flames shimmer beneath my scales, licking the edges of my jaw as I crouch low, body coiled and trembling. The dragon doesn’t want to be calmed. He wants to claim, to possess, to wrap her in fire and never let go. I dig my claws into the earth to keep from lunging. I'm not safe. Not yet. And gods, I don’t know if I ever will be again.

She doesn’t run. She steps closer—and every inch she moves toward me tightens the vise of fear in my chest. Not for myself. For her. She doesn’t know how close I am to snapping, how razor-thin the line is between restraint and ruin.

My claws are buried in the earth not to hold my ground, but to hold myself back. My fire roils beneath my skin, hunger and possession clawing to the surface. She should run. She should. But she doesn’t. And it terrifies me in ways nothing else ever has.

"Dax," she says—just my name.

Her voice cuts through the fire like a stream of water—cool, clear, and impossibly steady. It doesn’t coddle or soothe, but it centers me. Not soft, but strong. Certain. It grabs hold of the fraying edge of my mind and tugs, reeling me back from the cliff I didn’t realize I was about to leap from.

She reaches out, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. My rage resists—snaps and coils tighter, snarling just beneath the surface. But then her scent hits me again—warm citrus over smoke, threaded with worry and stubborn hope. It settles over me like a balm, easing the worst of the fury. And her eyes... gods, her eyes. Steady, unafraid. They don’t flinch, don’t accuse, just see me. The beast. The man. All of it. And somehow, they accept it. Her presence doesn’t douse the fire inside me—it tempers it. My fire dims, banked but not gone. Controlled. Because of her.

I shift.

Fire engulfs me again, curling tight as it draws the dragon back into the cage of flesh and bone. The heat peels away my scales, reforging skin and sinew—but it’s not seamless. Not this time. My shoulder flares as the wound Malek gave me refuses to fully heal, raw and exposed. The magic cannot completely close the tear as skin bubbles and sizzles around it. I stagger, the pain lancing through me as the last embers fade, leaving behind blood, breath, and too much fire still coiled inside.

Naked, blood streaking down my arm and dripping from the still-sizzling wound at my shoulder, I stagger forward. The air bites at the raw, open flesh, each step sending white-hot pain lancing through my nerves. My vision blurs for a second, heat warping my senses—but then she's there. Ember. She catches me without hesitation, her arms slipping around my waist like she’s done it a hundred times. I feel her warmth against my bare, scorched skin, grounding me in a way no magic ever could.

"I passed a cave," she says. "Come on."

She helps me into the clothing I keep in the SUV. My body aches with every movement, the heat from my wounds soaking into the seat. Neither of us says a word—the silence is thick, humming with everything unspoken between us. The tires crunch over loose gravel and dry pine needles as she guides the vehicle through narrow, winding paths only someone with insider knowledge would even think to take.

The trees press close, shadows deepening as twilight slips into night. Finally, we reach it—the hollowed stone that once served as a ranger outpost. Half-buried in the side of a hill and overgrown with moss and memory, it sits like a forgotten relic of a world that no longer knows what lives in its shadows.

Inside, it’s dark, quiet, warm. Safe—at least on the surface. The walls breathe with the heat of lingering fire magic and the faint scent of charred stone. Using the first aid kit from the SUV, she pushes my shirt out of the way and tends to my wound with silent hands, her touch gentle yet firm, lingering longer than it needs to. Her fingers tremble, just once—as if realizing she's touching a literal dragon and not a walking cautionary tale.

"Great, patching up fire-breathing alpha males wasn’t in the job description," she mutters under her breath, when they brush the blistered edge of my injury where the skin still sizzles faintly with residual heat.

I grunt, more out of reflex than pain, and she hesitates, eyes flicking up to mine. But she doesn’t pull away. There’s fear in her—yes—but there’s more than that too. Curiosity. Courage. Connection. She steadies her breath and keeps going. And I let her. Neither do I pull back. Because in that moment, her touch is the only thing keeping the fire in me from reigniting.

When her hand drifts up to my jaw, I catch it gently, threading my fingers through hers and guiding it to my chest—right over the place where the fire lives, where my heart pounds too fast beneath fevered skin. I can feel her pulse—fast, uncertain, echoing the chaos in my own body—but she doesn’t look away. Her gaze locks with mine, bold and searching, as if she’s trying to see past the damage, past the dragon, into the man I still hope I am.

"You came for me," she whispers.

"Always."

She leans in, each movement measured and magnetic, her breath warm against my lips like the first flicker of flame. Her amber eyes search mine—questioning, hungry, impossibly steady—and I taste salt and smoke on that quiet breath. For a heartbeat, time hangs suspended, and I could wrench myself back, remind her of the dangers we court. But I don’t. I can’t. Her nearness stirs something primal in my chest—a smoldering fuse that demands to be lit.

When our mouths collide, it’s like wildfire unleashed. The kiss is fierce and inevitable, a conflagration of heat and longing that threads through every nerve. She moans—a low vibration that shudders against my lips and races down my spine. Her hands trail from my shoulders, fingertips digging in, curious and raw, as if mapping the territory of my skin. I respond in kind, my palms pressing into the curve of her hips with possessive intent, drawing her close until only our heat remains.

The firelight dances across her flushed flesh, gilding each contour in molten gold. Shadows flicker over her collarbone as I trail kisses, tasting the tang of sweat and the aftertaste of smoke. She arches beneath me, a silent invitation that sparks a growl deep from within me. My tongue traces her jaw, lingers at the hollow of her throat, and every feather-soft brush sets her pulse racing. Her nails rake down my back, pulling me closer—even as they draw strength from me.

Clothes become kindling in our frenzy—torn, yanked, ripped away without care. Silk hisses as it slides from her shoulders. Leather creaks and falls, forgotten. Fabric pools at our feet like discarded lies, each piece a surrender. And in their place, a realization sears through me—this isn’t just lust. This is obliteration. Of barriers. Of hesitation. Of anything that once kept us apart. The destruction of fabric feels like a ritual, a shedding of the lives we wore before this moment, now stripped to nothing but fire and truth. The surrounding walls—emotional, physical, ancient—shatter beneath the force of us.

We’re bare now. Not just in skin, but in soul. Exposed. Untamed. Her gaze finds mine in the firelight, and something inside me growls awake.

Our mouths crash—no longer a kiss, but a storm. Wet, urgent, gasping. Her tongue meets mine with fierce challenge, and I answer with equal hunger. Every moan is a demand. Every gasp, a promise. She presses into me, slick heat and defiant curves, her nails carving marks down my back that will heal too quickly.

She grabs my hair and yanks, forcing my head back. Her voice is a whisper against my throat, hot and commanding. “Don’t hold back.”

A thrill tears through me—sharp, electric. She’s not submitting. She’s staking her claim. And damn if that doesn’t make me harder.

I won’t. I can’t.

My palms drag over her hips, lifting, claiming. Her thighs lock around my waist as I carry her to the stone wall, pressing her into it with a growl that vibrates in my chest. She gasps and arches, her nipples pebbling against my skin, and I feast on her—neck, shoulders, breasts. My teeth leave trails of bruised heat. Her hands are everywhere, greedy and relentless, pulling me deeper, closer.

But it’s not enough... not yet.

With one arm braced around her waist, I pull back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes—wild, gleaming, utterly unafraid. I tilt my head, letting the fire stir deep in my chest. Her pupils dilate as she realizes what’s coming.

I lower my mouth to where her neck meets her shoulder—the place where dragon and destiny meet. My breath stills. Then I exhale—not flame, but the soulfire that lives inside me.

It’s warm at first. Then hot. A golden glow flares where my lips touch her skin, the flame whispering her name in ancient heat. She gasps—arches—trembles in my grip. But it’s more than that. Her breath hitches, caught between wonder and fear, and her eyes flutter closed as if something within her knows this moment—has been waiting for it. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, anchoring herself in the shock of what’s just passed between us. A glowing spiral etches itself into her skin, ember- bright and pulsing with power. Not the full bond. But the beginning. The mark of mine.

She stares at me, breathless. “What was that?”

“A taste,” I rasp, voice wrecked with restraint. “The rest comes later. When you say yes.”

Her eyes flash—daring, defiant. “I already did.”

My breath catches—sharp, primal. The dragon inside me lunges toward her like a spark to dry timber. Every part of me responds, drawn to the certainty in her voice like metal to flame.

And then we’re moving again—desperate, raw, colliding in rhythm born from fire and instinct. I pin her to the wall, then lower us to the stone floor where our heat meets the earth. Every thrust is a possession. Every cry, a claim. Her body tightens around me like she was made to fit, and I lose myself in the blinding brilliance of her.

She writhes beneath me, sweat-slick and glorious, hair tangled, lips swollen from my kisses. Her laughter breaks through—breathless, wicked.

“You’re not half as scary when you’re naked,” she pants, fingers dragging down my chest. “Still intimidating. Just... sexier.”

I growl and nip her shoulder in retaliation, careful but firm. She gasps and arches, her nails scoring my skin again.

“Careful,” I whisper against her ear. “Flatter me too much and I might make a habit of this cave.”

She rolls her hips and smiles like sin. “You say that like it’s a threat. But if you start monologuing again about destiny, I swear I’ll hide your pants.”

The air crackles with our magic, our fire, our need. The flickering light dances over us as we move—savage harmony, sweat-slick skin, whispered curses and bitten lips. The low rumble of embers and the echo of her name from my mouth match the sound of our bodies.

This isn’t just sex.

It’s ignition. The spark struck, the match lit—every thrust, every breath, a firestorm set to consume everything we were before this moment.

Something ancient stirs and settles beneath my skin. The dragon stirs, satisfied. Her presence grounds me, binds me, fuels me.

We burn. Gods, we burn.

And when she finally cries out, her body clenching around mine, pulling me into her release, I let go too—roaring her name, pouring every part of me into her until I have nothing left but flame and bone and soul.

We collapse, tangled and spent, breathing each other in. Her heartbeat flutters against my chest, a quiet, steady rhythm that calms the dragon inside me. In the distance, the soft drip of water echoes through the cavern, grounding us in the stillness that follows the storm we unleashed.

It’s not the bond.

Not yet.

But the mark on her shoulder glows softly in the dark, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. A promise forged in fire.

She goes still when she spots it—low on her left shoulder, right where neck meets muscle. A mark. Faint, but unmistakable. Glowing. A spiral, like fire had left a message on her skin.

I can see it pulse. She runs her fingers over it, reverent and curious.

Her breath sticks. The air thickens, heavy and close, like we’ve crossed into someplace we shouldn’t be. Like her world has been altered forever.

“So… does this come with a return policy?”

I laugh, low and wrecked. “No. You’re mine now.”

Her eyes glitter with something far deeper than mischief. “Good.”

And as the cave quiets around us, our fire doesn’t die. It waits.

Smoldering.

Ready.

Because this wasn’t an ending.

This was the beginning of forever.