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CHAPTER 19

EMBER

T he dream starts like all the others: smoke thick in the air, flames licking at the edges of my vision. The heat is familiar—almost comforting in its intensity—but something's wrong. It coils tighter, presses harder. This time, it doesn’t feel like a dream. This time, it feels like dying. Like something inside me is unraveling, a thread pulled too far, too fast. And I’m helpless to stop it.

Fire wraps around my body like a lover and a noose—intimate and terrifying, as if it knows every secret I’ve tried to bury. It coils into the cracks I pretend don’t exist, finding the weak spots I show no one. It pulses in time with my heartbeat, every beat slower, heavier. My skin blisters and peels—but there’s no pain, just pressure, building and building until my lungs seize and the world narrows to a single scream I can’t release. I’m burning from the inside out. The fire is alive. And it wants more.

A voice cuts through it—low, rough, furious. It cleaves through the firestorm raging inside me like a lifeline tossed into chaos. Dax. His voice, tethered to memory and need, drags me toward the surface—toward reality. It’s not just sound. It’s an anchor.

My eyes fly open. I’m not in the dream anymore—I’m convulsing on the bed, heat rippling off me in waves. The dream lingers in my chest like smoke, curling through my ribs. For a second, I don't know where I am or what’s real—only that I’m burning from the inside out, and terror claws at the edges of my mind. I try to speak, to scream, but my body is no longer mine. I’m trapped in fire and silence. My back arches. My skin glows. I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. I’m cracking apart.

He’s there. Dax. Shirtless, wild-eyed, crouched at my side like a warrior in a storm, his bare chest rising and falling with frantic breaths. Sweat gleams on his skin, his eyes glowing faintly—panic and fury swirling behind the gold. His hands hover inches above me, like he’s afraid touching me might make it worse... or not touching me will let me slip away.

"I’ve got you," he growls, voice broken with urgency. "You’re not dying. Not on me."

I want to laugh, to cry, to scream—but all I can do is writhe. The fire inside me surges, furious now. Uncontrolled. Unclaimed.

"Burning," he whispers—maybe to himself, maybe to someone else.

I know what he means. I know he’s the only one who can save me.

Dax leans close. I smell smoke, salt, skin. Heat licks along my spine.

"You’re mine, Ember. I should’ve done this sooner."

His mouth crashes to mine—hot, possessive, a kiss that isn’t asking. A jolt of relief floods through me, tangled with fear and something deeper—surrender. It’s like the storm inside me finally has somewhere to go, someone strong enough to catch it. It’s taking. And I let him. Because this fire doesn’t scare me. He doesn’t scare me.

His hands brand a path down my body. Every touch sears. Clothes vanish—I don’t know how, don’t care. I’m nothing but flame and nerve endings.

He whispers something in Draconic—an oath, a plea, a promise.

His skin burns golden, his eyes glowing as if his fire pulses just beneath the surface. His breath grows hotter, charged with the magic that fuels their kind. He leans in and exhales a stream of flame—not enough to scorch, but just enough to brand. The heat sears into my skin at the curve of my shoulder, where neck meets collarbone—just above my heart. It’s not a bite. It’s a mark. A dragon’s claim, rendered in sacred fire.

It’s not gentle. It’s not tame. It’s a brand. A claim. Fire surges from the mark into every vein. My scream finally breaks free as my back bows and light explodes behind my eyes.

I see stars. Galaxies. I see him—his power, his vulnerability, the raw truth of who he is beneath all the heat and fury. All of him laid bare to me in this blaze of light and soul. And somehow, I know he sees all of me, too.

Then I burn... not with pain, but with power.

My body arches like a bowstring beneath him, every muscle taut and trembling as his weight pins me down. His cock—thick, veiny, and hard—slams into me with a force that makes my vision blur. My hands claw at his back, leaving angry red welts as I try to anchor myself against the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to drown me. The bond between us isn’t just some poetic legend—it’s a fucking live wire, crackling with electricity as our bodies collide again and again.

His mouth is everywhere—biting, sucking, claiming. His teeth sink into the tender flesh of my neck, and I scream, my nails digging deeper into his skin as he growls against me. His tongue flicks over the mark, soothing and stinging all at once, before he moves lower, his lips closing around my nipple. He sucks hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, and I writhe beneath him, my hips bucking uncontrollably as he fucks me with a rhythm that’s both brutal and perfect.

“Fuck, Dax,” I moan, my voice ragged and broken. His name is a prayer, a curse, a fucking plea. He doesn’t answer—just grunts, his hips slamming into mine with a force that makes the bed creak in protest. His cock stretches me wide, filling me so completely that I can feel every ridge, every pulse of his arousal as he drives deeper, harder, faster.

My legs lock around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, as if I can’t get enough of him. And I can’t. Every thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through me, my pussy clenching around him like a vise. His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he fucks me with a ferocity that borders on violence. It’s raw, it’s primal, it’s fucking perfect.

The air is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, saturated and heady, like incense offered to the gods of fire and desire. Every slap of skin against skin reverberates through the room like thunder—raw, rhythmic, desperate. The heat is stifling, not just from our bodies but from the bond blazing between us, searing away anything that isn’t this moment, this connection, this claiming.

His breath is hot against my ear as he growls, “You’re mine.” It’s not a question, not a request—it’s a declaration.

He's right; I am. Every inch of me aches for him, for this. I’ve never belonged to anyone—never wanted to. But this bond isn’t about ownership. It’s about surrender. And for the first time in my life, surrender feels like strength. Like choosing to burn, because the fire makes me more than I was before. It’s not just passion—it’s transformation.

His pace quickens, his cock pistoning in and out of me with a speed that has me gasping for air. My orgasm builds, a tight coil of pleasure in my belly that’s ready to snap. I can feel it coming, feel the way my body tightens around him, the way my breath hitches in my throat. And then it hits me like a fiery inferno, my pussy clenching around his cock as I scream his name.

He doesn’t stop. He fucks me through it, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. And when he comes, it’s with a roar that shakes the fucking walls. His cock pulses inside me, filling me with his cum as he collapses on top of me, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.

We stay like that for what feels like forever, our bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. The world outside doesn’t exist—just this heat, this breath, this us. And as I lie there, his cock still buried deep inside me, I know one thing for sure: this isn’t just sex. It’s fucking fire. And I never want it to end.

When it’s over, I’m draped over his chest, still glowing faintly. My breath comes in soft, shallow pulls as I press my ear to the steady beat of his heart. For a moment, there’s only silence, broken by the whisper of skin against skin. I don’t speak. I don’t move. I just feel.

The bond is complete. Final. Irrevocable.

And it feels... terrifying. Beautiful. Like I’ve stepped off the edge of everything I thought I knew and landed in something deeper, stronger. I’m not just Ember anymore. I’m fire. His fire. And even though that truth settles into my bones like it’s always belonged there, a part of me trembles with the weight of it.

What now? What if this changes everything?

But then his arms wrap tighter around me, and the tremble eases. Not gone. Just... anchored. For now. His hands stroke my back in slow, reverent circles.

I lift my face, and he looks at me like I’m the only thing left in his world.

"You’re mine now," he says. Not a question. A truth.

I nod. Because I feel it, too. The bond pulses between us, alive and thrumming.

Outside, the emergency signal blares—long and sharp.

"The Ignition protocol has been triggered," Kade’s voice calls out. "Malek’s moving. We still have time to purge the upload."

I meet Dax’s eyes. Fire still hums beneath my skin.

"Then let’s go."