Page 9

CHAPTER 8

DAX

S he walks away like she didn’t just almost kiss me. Like she didn’t tremble under my hands, her breath hitching when my fingers brushed her jaw. Her scent—a mixture of arousal, hesitation, heat, and denial—still fills my lungs. That sweet, stubborn challenge I can’t stop wanting—can’t stop watching. It clings to me, igniting every part of me that’s been starving in silence.

We don’t speak on the drive back to base. The tension between us crackles louder than the tires on the gravel. She stares out the window, arms crossed tight, like she’s trying to rebuild every wall I just cracked. I keep my hands clenched on the wheel, jaw locked, replaying the way her body molded to mine—how close she came to giving in. When we finally pull into camp, she’s out of the vehicle before I can kill the engine. No goodbye. No glance. Just distance. And I let her have it.

My dragon claws at the inside of my skin, furious I let Ember go. My fists flex, nails digging into my palms hard enough to break skin. The muscles in my shoulders bunch like I’m holding something massive back—and I am. My breath is shallow, my vision sharpening unnaturally, as if the shift is already trying to bleed through.

One wrong move, one more second of her scent thick in my throat, and the beast would break free. I grind my teeth and breathe through the fire coiling in my gut, forcing myself to stay human. For her. Furious, I didn’t claim what’s already ours. I taste her in the air—citrus and smoke, fire barely leashed—and it takes everything I have not to shift and go after her. Not to chase. Not to take.

She’s not ready. And I swore I wouldn’t destroy this—wouldn’t scorch something before it had a chance to take root. But that doesn’t mean I’m not watching. Not protecting. Not wanting. With every step she takes away from me, my dragon paces just beneath the surface, waiting for the moment she looks back.

Kade intercepts me near the edge of the ridge, his boots silent on the sand, the way only a dragon masking his presence can be. The tension on his face mirrors my own—jaw set, shoulders squared. He's not just bringing intel. He’s bringing confirmation of the unease prickling down my spine since Ember walked away.

"Got something," he says, holding out a thermal map. "Same weird scorch marks we found upstate. Symmetrical. Controlled. Not natural. Not random."

I glance at the map. There it is again. The spiral. Just faint—ghosted into the heat signature like a brand, but unmistakable once you know what to look for. Not a random scorch. A deliberate shape. A message. And not just to us—to me.

My blood chills. A cold bloom spreads beneath my ribs—dread, memory, and something older. Malek wasn’t just a rival. He was the line between restraint and ruin, the living proof of what happens when a dragon gives in to fire without conscience. He’s back; the nightmare didn’t end, it just evolved.

"Malek," I whisper.

Kade stiffens. "He’s taunting you… us." He exhales slowly, jaw working. His gaze sharpens with something beyond tactical concern—genuine worry. "Then Ember’s not just collateral. She’s the key. The bait. The strike point."

"Exactly where he wants her." I look past him, toward the lights of town. "That spiral—it’s not just a mark. It was the sigil of the Seraphon. Malek’s cult. They believed fire should be sovereign. That dragons should rule, not hide. They claimed flame was divine, that surrendering to it unlocked purity. The spiral represented the endless cycle—burn, rise, rule. Madness dressed in ritual."

Kade mutters, "He always did love a symbol."

I close my eyes, and the past crashes back like a firestorm—hot, unrelenting, and thick with the smoke of betrayal. Every flame, every roar, every strike echoes in my blood like it happened seconds ago. My heart beats to the rhythm of that final battle, and the weight of what I thought was over slams into me like an old wound torn fresh.

The canyon burned red around us, a battlefield carved from lava and rage. Malek's wings stretched wide, the span of a tyrant king, his flame lighting up the sky like a second sun born of fury. He laughed as he dove—unhinged, glorious, dangerous. A sound that once rallied armies beside me now twisted like a blade in my gut. We'd once fought side by side, brothers in fire. Now I fought to end him—and everything he’d become.

"You’re clinging to a lie, Dax," he spat, circling above me. "These humans aren’t our equals. They’re fuel."

"They’re the reason we haven’t gone extinct," I roared back, launching upward.

Our flames clashed mid-air, detonating the sky in a blinding explosion of heat and fury. The surrounding air cracked like thunder, caught between two titanic forces, and firestorm winds howled through the canyon like screaming ghosts. I saw the madness in his eyes—wild, certain, unbreakable. He dove for my throat, but I twisted mid-air, wings snapping wide as I caught him off balance. My claws buried deep into his chest, tearing through scale and fury, and I used our combined momentum to drag him down, spinning in a death spiral toward the gorge. The fall was chaos—flames, snarls, blood. Then nothing but blinding light as we slammed into the rocks below.

At the last possible second, I wrenched free of him—tore loose from his grasp as the gorge rushed up to meet us. Wings flared wide, the force nearly tearing my joints from their sockets. Pain ripped down my spine, but I caught enough wind to veer off—skimming the rocks so close one burned across my flank. I tumbled hard, hit the canyon wall, and ricocheted out in a half-roll, half-flight that barely qualified as survival. It wasn’t grace. It was raw instinct. It was desperation. But it was enough.

There was no body. Just fire, ash and silence.

I tried to follow the path of his fall, circling lower despite the pain raking through my wings. The fire charred the rocks below, and the smoke was so thick it stung even my dragon eyes. I searched for hours, scanning every crevice, every flicker of unnatural flame. But before I could get close, I was driven back—flames arcing like they had minds of their own, and projectiles—spears, burning arrows, fired from the cliffs above.

Followers of his cult, still hiding in the canyon. I barely escaped with my life. I told myself then he was gone. But I never saw a body. And now I know why.

Now I know why there was no body. I wanted to believe he was gone. That I’d ended it. That the scorch marks left behind were proof of victory—not warning. But deep down, some part of me always knew.

That kind of rage doesn’t burn out quietly. It waits. Festers. Evolves. And now that it’s back, I feel the weight of every second I let my guard down, pressing like molten stone in my chest. It was my mistake—believing the silence meant safety. That the fire had gone out.

I let myself rest. Let myself forget. And while I did, he rebuilt. Regrew. Returned. And now Ember’s caught in the center, and I’m the one who should have seen this coming.

"Keep your eyes on Ember," I tell Kade. "He’s not after us. He’s after her."

Kade nods once. "And you?"

I bare my teeth. "I’ll find the trap before it snaps shut.” Even if part of me already fears that the moment she arrived, the trap was sprung.

For the longest time, sleep is elusive. I pace the length of the canyon floor, gravel cracking underfoot, heat rippling off my skin in waves. The stars above feel too close, the air too thin—like the world is holding its breath. My dragon coils beneath the surface, restless and watching, whispering her name with every inhale.

I burn. Not with fury. Not even with hunger, but with a need that scares the hell out of me—because I’ve felt it before. And I know what it cost me. The fire that comes with needing someone like this doesn’t just warm—it consumes. And if I let it out, I might not survive what comes next.

The fire within coils low and tight, wrapping around my ribs until it hurts to breathe. It’s primal, ancient—older than words. The kind of ache that doesn’t just live in the body, but in the soul. The kind of need only a mate can ignite. And she has.

When I finally lay down to rest, the dream comes. I don’t fight it. I don’t want to.

She’s in my dreams before I even realize I’m dreaming. Except it doesn’t feel like a dream. The heat is too vivid, her voice too clear—as if she’s standing right in front of me, whispering across the connection we’ve both tried to ignore.

In the gloom of my cavern, she stands before me, cloaked in nothing but wisps of smoke and a shimmering veil of moonlight, her silhouette dancing at the licking edges of my restless flame.

"You shouldn’t be here," I rasp, my voice a low, feral growl echoing against the damp walls, a futile warning to us both.

She takes a step closer, her eyes locked onto mine, pools of ember reflecting the dance of the fire behind me. "And yet, here I am," she murmurs, her voice a soft, defiant chant against the crackling of the blaze.

My body ignites before my mind can grasp her audacity. Heat, swift and searing, courses through me, a primal response to her presence, as if she's the spark that sets my very soul ablaze.

She carries the scent of desire and wildfire, the promise of sweet surrender tangled with the thrill of dancing too close to the flames. Her fingers drift over my chest, leaving trails of lava in their wake. Each touch a silent provocation that threatens to shatter my last vestiges of control.

"You’re dangerous," she breathes, her voice a mere whisper against the snapping of the fire.

I press her against the stone wall of my sanctum, every muscle taut and trembling, the feel of her body against mine igniting a fuse that's been smoldering for eons. The stone is warm from my inferno, but it pales against the blazing heat that pulsates between us. Her gasp is soft, almost worshipful, as I pin her, my frame a barrier of heat and hunger, every breath a war against the urge to claim her then and there.

"You have no idea," I grate, my voice a rumble of thunder barely contained.

She kisses me first, a desperate, ravenous kiss, like the inferno within her recognizes mine. My hands entwine in her hair as she arches into me, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Her skin is fire and silk, her breath a brand against my lips and throat. I explore every inch of her—slowly, devoutly—relishing the arch of her back, the quiver of her thighs wrapped around my waist, the way her nails rake across my shoulders as she draws me deeper.

Her body embraces me like it remembers me from lifetimes past, like we were forged for this, made to fit and burn and fuse until neither of us can tell where one ends and the other begins.

I move within her with the cadence of a man who’s waited millennia—deliberate, reverent. Each thrust a vow etched in flame, every slide deeper, a bond tightening between us. It’s more than just carnal; it’s surrender, it’s branding, it’s the tempest held at bay until she unleashed it, and now I’m riding the precipice of devastation, begging the fire never to end.

She cries out my name, her climax colliding with mine in a conflagration of heat and claiming that sears us both to the core. Her soul brushes mine—radiant, fierce, unbound—and I feel her essence entwine with mine in a dance older than time, pure and consuming. For one impossible moment, we burn together, not as two beings, but as one—flame made flesh, bound in fire and want.

When I stir, I clench my fists around handfuls of ash, and the surrounding ground is charred, cracked, and steaming. The devastation is worse than before. The fire’s getting harder to control, spilling out of me like it has a will of its own. Like the bond is deepening whether or not I want it to. The inferno raging within scorches the surrounding earth.

She doesn’t remember the dreams. I feel it the moment she walks by the next morning—no flicker of recognition, no hesitation in her step. It shouldn’t sting, but it does. I was inside her, inside the fire we both pretend doesn’t exist. And she doesn’t even know it happened. I tell myself it is better this way—that if she remembered, she’d run. But that doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, or the hunger gnawing deeper every time our eyes meet.