Page 13 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 13

J uno

Golden evening light bathes the street as I walk toward my apartment building, my steps lighter than they’ve been in years. I catch myself smiling at nothing in particular, my mind drifting back to this morning—Dorian’s sleepy eyes, the warmth of his skin against mine, the reluctance in his goodbye kiss.

A week. I’ve known him for a week, yet something about him feels like coming home after a long journey. My body still hums with the memory of his touch, a warm throb reminding me of places his hands and mouth explored.

I’m so lost in these thoughts that I’m halfway up the path to my building before I notice the figure leaning against the brick wall beside the entrance.

Tyler.

My stomach drops, but I don’t freeze. Instead, I catalog my surroundings with the clarity of someone who’s prepared for this moment. Security camera above the door. Mrs. Hernandez likely home in 1B. Phone in my right pocket, keys in my left, with the pointed emergency key positioned between my fingers.

He straightens when he sees me, running a hand through his disheveled blond hair. He’s lost weight since I last saw him, his usually immaculate appearance showing signs of neglect—wrinkled shirt, stubble on his jaw.

“There she is,” he says with forced casualness that doesn’t match the intensity in his eyes. “I was beginning to think you were spending another night with him.”

My heart pounds, but I keep my face neutral. “What are you doing here, Tyler?”

“Checking on you.” He steps forward, and I hold my ground despite every instinct screaming to back away. “You didn’t answer my calls. I was worried.”

“I blocked your number.” I’m surprised by the steadiness in my voice. “All seven of them. That should have made my feelings clear.”

His eyes narrow slightly, taking in my appearance—the confident posture, the direct gaze, the absence of the fear he’s accustomed to seeing.

“You look different,” he says, an edge creeping into his tone. “Did he do that to you?”

I don’t dignify the question with a response. “I filed a police report yesterday. The flowers, the calls, stalking me—it’s all documented. If you don’t leave now, I’ll add this to the report.”

Something ugly flashes across his face, the mask of concern slipping.

“A police report? Jesus, Juno, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? I’m just trying to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I take a deliberate step toward the door, refusing to let him block my path. “Our relationship ended nearly two years ago. Please respect that and leave me alone.”

He moves suddenly, grabbing my arm just above the elbow. Hard enough to bruise and stop me in my tracks.

“Eighteen months,” he snaps. “And you don’t get to decide when it’s over.” His voice drops to that dangerous quiet I remember too well. “Not after everything I did for you. Not after I helped you through your parents’ death when you were falling apart.”

“Let go of me.” I don’t pull away—that would show fear. Instead, I look directly into his eyes, channeling every ounce of the strength I’ve reclaimed. “Now.”

His grip tightens, fingers digging into my flesh. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you? I can see it all over you. What, did you meet him a week ago? And you’re already spreading your legs?” His voice rises with each word, spittle flying from his lips. “After you made me wait three months? After all that ‘I need to take it slow’ bullshit?”

Shame tries to creep in—the shame he cultivated so carefully during our relationship. I push it aside.

“My personal life is none of your business, Tyler. Let go of my arm, or I will scream, and then I will call the police.”

He yanks me closer, his face contorting with rage. “You think some restraining order will stop me? You think I can’t find you wherever you go? I know you, Ju-Ju. I know what scares you. I know—”

“She asked you to let go.”

The voice behind Tyler isn’t just low—it’s a rumble that seems to vibrate the air itself. Dorian stands at the bottom of the path, his posture deceptively relaxed despite the lethal tension radiating from him. I didn’t hear him approach, didn’t see him coming. He simply appeared, like a predator materializing from shadow.

Tyler turns, keeping his grip on my arm. “This doesn’t concern you, buddy.”

“I think it does.” Dorian takes a step forward, and something in his movement—too fluid, too precise—makes Tyler back up, pulling me with him. “The lady asked you to let go. Twice now. I won’t ask again.”

There’s something different about Dorian—something beyond the protective anger in his stance. His eyes seem to glow in the fading light, the amber irises burning with an unnatural intensity. Heat radiates from him, evident even from several feet away, like standing near an open furnace.

“Really?” Tyler snorts, then attempts a dismissive laugh that comes out strained. “What are you going to do about it? This is between me and my girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” I correct, finding my voice again. “ Very ex.”

“She’s not yours,” Dorian says, taking another step forward. His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, I swear they elongate, nails darkening to points before returning to normal.

Don’t be ridiculous, Juno!

“She doesn’t belong to you,” Dorian goes on. “But if you don’t remove your hand in the next three seconds, I’m going to remove it for you. Permanently.”

The threat doesn’t sound melodramatic—it sounds like a simple statement of fact, delivered with the casual certainty of someone describing the weather.

Tyler must sense it, too, because his grip on my arm loosens slightly. I use the opportunity to wrench free, stepping quickly to the side.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Tyler warns Dorian, but he’s already backing away. “She’s damaged goods. Daddy issues, abandonment complex—she’ll cling to you until you can’t breathe, then fall apart at the first sign of trouble.”

Dorian moves with impossible speed, closing the distance between them in what seems like a single fluid motion. He doesn’t touch Tyler, but he’s suddenly so close that Tyler stumbles backward against the wall.

“If I ever see you near her again,” Dorian says, his voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carries to where I stand, “if I hear you’ve called her, texted her, or even thought about her too intensely, what happens next will make you wish for something as merciful as death.”

I can’t see Dorian’s face from this angle, but whatever Tyler sees makes the color drain from his face. For a moment, I think he might actually vomit from fear.

“She’s not worth it,” Tyler manages, his voice shaking. “You’ll see.”

“Leave,” Dorian says simply. “Now.”

Tyler edges along the wall, then turns and walks quickly away, his shoulders hunched. At the corner, he stops and looks back.

“This isn’t over, Juno,” he calls, but the threat sounds hollow now, the words of a man trying to salvage his pride.

As soon as Tyler disappears around the corner, Dorian turns to me. The strange glow in his eyes isn’t fading—if anything, it’s intensifying, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as if he’s struggling to contain something powerful within himself.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, approaching slowly. His voice sounds different—deeper, with a resonance that seems to bypass my ears and vibrate directly against my sternum.

“I’m okay.” My voice shakes slightly, adrenaline making my limbs feel rubbery. “How did you—? Why are you here?”

“I was coming to see you.” He reaches for my arm, where Tyler grabbed me, his touch gentle as he examines the reddened skin. “I had a feeling…”

His hand is burning hot against my skin, far warmer than any human body should be. I should pull away, should question this impossible heat, but instead, I find myself leaning into his touch.

“Let’s get you inside,” he says softly, but there’s an undercurrent to his words—a possessive edge that should alarm me but instead sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

I nod, fumbling with my keys. My hands are steady enough to unlock the door to the foyer, but as we enter the building, my legs suddenly refuse to support me. The delayed reaction to the confrontation hits me all at once—trembling, nausea, tunnel vision.

Before I can collapse, Dorian sweeps me into his arms as if I weigh nothing, carrying me up the stairs to my apartment. The casual display of strength should alarm me, but all I feel is safe. Protected. Claimed.

Inside my apartment, he sets me gently on the couch, kneeling before me with intensity etched on his features.

“Deep breaths,” he encourages. “You’re safe now. I won’t let him near you again.”

I follow his instruction, focusing on his face as I breathe. The amber of his eyes definitely holds an inner light, pulsing with each beat of his heart. His skin radiates heat like a banked fire.

“What did he mean, ‘this isn’t over’?” I ask when I can speak again.

Dorian’s expression darkens, something feral flashing across his features. “Empty threats from a dead man walking if he tries to touch you again.”

“You don’t know Tyler. He doesn’t give up easily.” I reach for Dorian’s hand, needing the anchor of his touch. “And what happened out there? With you? Your eyes are… glowing.”

“Trick of the light,” he says, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.

“And the heat? You’re burning up.” I press my palm to his forehead. “Are you sick?”

“I’m fine.” He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “It’s just adrenaline.”

I know he’s lying. I don’t know how I know, but I do. However, the questions dissolve on my tongue as he leans forward abruptly, his expression morphing into something raw and possessive.

“He doesn’t get to touch you,” he says in a low growl that vibrates through me. “No one touches what’s mine.” And then, before I can consider the strangeness of his words, his lips crash against mine with a ferocity that steals my breath.

This isn’t the measured passion of our previous encounters—this is something wilder, more desperate. My back presses into the couch cushions as Dorian’s weight shifts over me, his hands everywhere at once. The heat of his body engulfs me, his touch branding my skin.

“Need you,” he growls against my throat, the words vibrating through my skin.

A rush of liquid heat floods between my legs, my body responding to the raw claim of his kiss with an intensity that shocks me. I should be frightened by this possessiveness, this animal hunger—instead, I’m consumed by answering need.

“Dorian,” I gasp, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, too impatient to manage them properly. He solves the problem by simply tearing the fabric apart, sending buttons scattering across my floor. The sight of his bare chest, with those dragon tattoos seeming to writhe against his skin, ignites something untamed in me, and I claw at his shoulders, pulling him closer.

My blouse disappears next, his hands impossibly hot against my skin. I arch into his touch, wrapping my legs around his waist as he lifts me from the couch. Somehow we make it to the bedroom, a trail of discarded clothing marking our path.

He lays me on the bed with a gentleness that contrasts with the urgency of his movements. His jeans join the pile on the floor, and then he’s above me again, skin against skin, nothing between us but the heat of our bodies.

“Juno,” he breathes, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “Fuck… I need you.”

“Yes,” I gasp, pulling his face down to mine. “Yes, I want you, I need—”

The words die in my throat as I meet his eyes. They’re not just bright with passion—they’re literally glowing, irises transformed into molten gold that illuminates the darkness of my bedroom. His pupils have contracted to vertical slits like a cat’s… or something not quite human.

What the fuck?

I freeze beneath him, my heart stopping mid-beat. “Dorian, your eyes…”

He blinks, turning his face away. “It’s nothing.”

I catch his jaw, forcing him to look at me. The glow pulses with his rapid heartbeat, impossible to dismiss as a trick of light.

As I stare at him, something flickers beneath his skin—a shadow of scales rippling across his cheekbones before disappearing. His teeth, when he parts his lips to speak, seem sharper than before.

“Oh, my God,” I choke out. “What… what’s happening to you?”

His weight shifts as he tries to pull away, but I hold firm, needing answers more than distance.

“Juno, please.” There’s something like fear in his voice now. “Can we just—?”

“No.” Despite my body’s protests, I push myself up on my elbows. “Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

His expression shutters; the wall coming down between us is almost visible.

“Dammit, Dorian! I deserve the truth.” I pull the throw blanket around myself, creating a small barrier between us. “After Tyler, I promised myself I’d never again accept half-truths from someone I’m intimate with.”

Pain flashes across his face at the comparison. “I’m not like him.”

“Then prove it. Tell me what the hell is going on with your eyes, with your body heat, with whatever I just saw happen to your face.”

Dorian stands, pacing the small confines of my room. He’s magnificent in his nakedness, his body sculpted like a classical statue come to life. The dragons on his chest and arms seem to shift in the dim light, almost alive against his skin.

Suddenly, that seems significant.

“I can’t tell you,” he says finally, turning to face me. “Not yet. There are… rules. Laws older than this country.”

“Then tell me what you can.”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, a muscle in his jaw tightening. When he opens them again, the glow has dimmed but not disappeared entirely.

“I can’t,” he finally says. “Not now. Not like this.”

“I think…” I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the conflicting desires to throw him out and pull him back into my bed. “I think you should go.”

“Juno—”

“Now!” I say more firmly, though it costs me to do it. “I need… I need to think. And I can’t do that with you here, with whatever this is between us clouding my judgment.”

He nods, standing to gather his clothes. As he dresses, I watch him with new eyes, noting the fluid grace of his movements, the subtle signs I’d attributed to charisma that now seem signs of something not quite human.

Not human? Don’t be nuts, Juno.

At the door, he turns back to me, hesitation evident in every line of his body.

“Tyler won’t bother you tonight. But if you need me—for any reason—call. I’ll be here instantly.”

“How instantly?” I challenge. “Like how you appeared out of nowhere tonight? Like how you moved faster than should be possible?”

His expression tightens. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

“Goodbye, Dorian,” I say, though the words feel wrong in my mouth.

He pauses for a moment, then speaks. “What happened between us—what’s happening—it’s real, Juno. More real than anything I’ve experienced in my lifetime.”

I pull in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to feel afraid of the people I bring into my world, Dorian.”

“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger,” he says softly. “But sometimes the greatest danger is missing something extraordinary because we’re afraid to believe in it.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving me alone with questions that would have seemed insane just hours ago.

As his footsteps fade, I scramble from the bed and secure the door behind him—all three locks, the security chain—then stand in the center of my apartment, feeling the lingering heat of his presence like a ghost on my skin.

As crazy as it seems, I’m certain that whatever Dorian Craven is, he isn’t human. At least, not entirely.

And despite everything that just happened—or perhaps because of it—I’m not sure I want him to be.

Which is just freaking insane.