Page 17 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 17

J uno

I stare at my phone, wondering if I’ve just lost my ever-loving mind. After what I saw yesterday, I should be running away from that man like my ass was on fire. Yet here I am, preparing to see him again. In his own home, of all places.

I’m not sure why I feel safer meeting there rather than in some public space, but I trust the instinct. If what I suspect is true—if Dorian is something beyond human—then privacy serves us both.

An hour later, I stand before a converted warehouse in Pioneer Square, triple-checking the address Dorian sent. The building is industrial chic—exposed brick and steel—but the security system is thoroughly modern. I press the intercom button at the front door.

“It’s open,” Dorian’s voice replies, tension evident even through the electronic distortion.

The elevator rises smoothly to the top floor. With each floor, my heart beats faster, not from fear but from a strange anticipation. When the doors slide open, Dorian stands waiting, his posture rigid with visible anxiety.

“You came,” he says softly, as if he’d half-expected me to change my mind.

“I need answers.” I step into his apartment, immediately cataloging details—both from curiosity and ingrained caution.

The space is stunning—open concept with soaring ceilings and windows so vast they make Seattle’s skyline part of the interior decor. Exposed brick walls contrast with sleek modern furniture. Subtle lighting creates pools of warmth in the cavernous space. The scent of sandalwood and aged leather permeates the air; a rich masculine smell that makes me inhale deeply.

What catches my attention, however, are the details that seem at odds with the contemporary aesthetic: an ancient-looking sword mounted on one wall, its hilt shaped like a dragon’s claw; a collection of crystals that seem to glow from within; books in languages I don’t recognize displayed on open shelving.

“Your place is beautiful,” I say, buying time as I adjust to being in his private space.

“Thank you.” He gestures toward a leather couch positioned to face both the view and a fireplace with a distinctive metal screen—dragon scales worked into the design. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“I’m fine.” I sit, unwinding my scarf—deep blue with twinkling stars embroidered throughout—and draping it beside me. “I’d rather get to the point.”

Dorian nods, taking a seat across from me rather than beside me—giving me space. His movements are controlled, deliberate, as if he’s afraid of startling me.

“Where should I begin?” he asks.

“The truth.” I meet his gaze directly. “What happened to you the other day, Dorian? What was that?”

He takes a deep breath, then launches into his next sentence, “I’m a dragon shifter. My family—the Craven clan—are descendants of the last dragon king. We’ve existed alongside humans for millennia, adapting to changing times while maintaining our heritage.”

I snort out a laugh, then stop when his expression remains neutral. “A dragon shifter,” I repeat, testing the words. “As in, you can transform into an actual dragon?”

Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit!

“Yes, though complete transformation is rare because we need to stay hidden.” His eyes fix on me carefully, gauging my reaction. “Most of us have unique traits—enhanced strength, heightened senses, partial physical changes—especially during times of stress or strong emotion.”

“Like when you confronted Tyler.” I lean forward slightly. “Your eyes glowed.” I keep asking questions because I want to see where he’s going with this insanity.

He nods. “Dragon traits generally appear in response to danger, particularly to those we… care about.”

The hesitation in his voice suggests there’s more to that statement, but I focus on the immediate revelation.

“You expect me to believe you’re a mythological creature.” I keep my tone even, analytical. “That’s a pretty big stretch, Dorian.”

“I know how it sounds.” He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I scoff.

“I can show you evidence, if that would help.” He tilts his head, completely serious.

Now this I gotta see.

“Please do.” I try not to roll my eyes.

He retrieves his phone, pulling up a video. “This video has been doing the rounds on social media. It’s of… Well, see for yourself.”

I take the phone, watching grainy nighttime footage of what appears to be winged shapes circling the top of a skyscraper. The forms are indistinct, could be large birds or drones.

“This is a TikTok video, Dorian.” I set my jaw. “What do you take me for? Some kind of idiot?”

“Of course not.” His chest heaves as he exhales. “But it’s been circulating after someone found out about us.”

“This proves nothing,” I say, though something in my throat tightens at the sight. “Could be digital manipulation.”

“Fair enough.” He takes back the phone, scrolling to another video. “This went viral briefly before we contained it. A woman named Mara Jones captured it on her phone.”

This footage is still grainy, but it’s accompanied by a voiceover telling of an actual encounter with a dragon.

I hand back the phone. “Still not conclusive. That could be just another nutjob.”

Dorian studies me for a long moment, then stands, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing the back of his neck.

“Words and videos aren’t going to be enough, are they?”

“No,” I admit. “They’re not.”

He scrubs a hand over his face, then rolls his shoulders as if he’s made some sort of decision.

“Fine.” He moves to the center of the room, creating distance between us. “What I’m about to show you—this isn’t something we reveal to humans. Ever. There are ancient laws against it, punishable by exile or worse.”

The gravity in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Then why show me?”

“Because you’ve already seen too much to dismiss and not enough to understand.” His eyes hold mine. “And because I can’t bear the thought of you believing I’m manipulating you like he did.”

The reference to Tyler stings, but I shove it away. This isn’t about him now.

“Show me,” I say quietly.

“Don’t be afraid.” He takes a deep breath. “I would never hurt you.”

“Sure,” I say, skepticism coloring the word.

What happens next defies everything I thought I knew about reality. Dorian’s eyes begin to glow from within, the same eerie light I witnessed during his confrontation with Tyler. His skin shifts subtly, a ripple passing over his forearms as scales emerge—burnished gold and copper catching the light. Heat radiates from him in almost visible waves, warming my face despite the distance between us.

I should be terrified. I should be running for the door, calling for help, questioning my sanity.

But I don’t.

Instead, I rise slowly from the couch, almost drawn toward him by something I can’t explain. My heart races, but not from fear—from a strange, inexplicable recognition. As if some part of me has been waiting to see this, to confirm what I somehow already knew.

My eyes widen as his chest seems to expand, his shoulders filling out until the fabric of his shirt rips, the crisp cotton falling away to reveal more scaled skin beneath it.

Scales. Honest-to-God scales!

“Holy shit,” I whisper, my hand hovering near my mouth. “Holy fucking shit!”

Huge, broad; his shoulders, pecs, and abs gleam like molten metal.

He’s… he’s… he’s…

Beautiful.

Oh, my fucking God!

“May I?” I ask, though I don’t know where the words come from. Somehow, I’ve stepped closer, and I’m reaching toward his transformed arm.

What the hell are you doing, Juno?

Surprise flickers across his face. “You’re not afraid?”

I shake my head. “I’m terrified,” I correct him, “but not of you. Of what this means for… everything I thought I understood about the world.”

He extends his arm, allowing me to touch the scales that now cover his skin from wrist to elbow and beyond. They’re smooth and warm, harder than human skin, but not rigid. When I press gently, they yield slightly, like flexible armor.

“That’s… freaking unbelievable,” I murmur, curiosity overriding everything else. “Can you control the transformation? How much can you change? Is it painful?”

Dorian laughs, the sound tinged with relief. “Those… are not the questions I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Screaming. Running. Possibly fainting.” His eyes—still glowing softly—search mine. “Not scientific inquiry.”

I realize I’m still touching his arm and reluctantly step back. “I’ve always been analytically minded. Even as a child, I wanted to understand how things worked.” I return to the couch, needing to sit as the full implications begin to sink in. “So dragons are real. What else is real that I don’t know about?”

Dorian lets the transformation recede, scales disappearing beneath normal-looking skin, eyes returning to their usual amber. He sits across from me again.

“Many things. But those aren’t my secrets to share.” He leans forward, expression serious. “Juno, what I’ve shown you—what I’ve told you—you can never tell anyone about this; do you understand? The supernatural world remains hidden for good reason. Exposure would be catastrophic, not just for my kind but for humans as well.”

“I understand.” And strangely, I do. The implications of such a revelation to the wider world are immediately apparent—panic, exploitation, violence. “I won’t tell anyone. I swear it.”

Relief softens his features. “Thank you.”

“How many are there? Dragons, I mean.”

“Fewer than there once were. Maybe a few thousand worldwide, organized into clans.” He relaxes slightly as I continue asking questions rather than fleeing. “The Craven clan controls the Pacific Northwest. My brother Caleb is our leader.”

I process this information, fitting it into the framework of what I already know. “That’s why you said your father’s death was ‘dishonorable’—a heart attack instead of battle.”

“Dragons value strength above all else. Dying at a desk rather than in glorious combat was considered… undignified.” His expression darkens slightly. “Our father built Craven Industries to adapt our clan to modern times, but he remained old-fashioned in many ways.”

Questions flood my mind—about dragon biology, history, culture—but one rises above the others.

“Why me, Dorian? Why reveal this to me when it’s clearly forbidden?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers absently spinning the silver dragon ring. “Because from the moment I saw you, something in me recognized something in you. A connection I can’t explain and can’t ignore.”

The words resonate through me like a tuning fork struck at precisely the right frequency.

“I felt it, too,” I admit. “That’s what scared me most. Not the impossible things I saw but how quickly I felt drawn to you. After Tyler, I promised myself I’d never again fall so fast.”

“This is different,” he says softly.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’ve lived for hundreds of years, Juno, and I’ve never felt this before.”

The casual mention of his age should shock me, but somehow it doesn’t. It fits with the ancient quality I sensed in his eyes from our first meeting.

“Hundreds of years,” I repeat, trying to comprehend such a lifespan. “That’s…”

“A long time to be alone,” he finishes quietly.

Something shifts between us, the air growing charged with unspoken emotion. I find myself moving without conscious decision, crossing to where he sits. His eyes widen slightly as I stand before him.

“Thank you,” I say, “for trusting me with the truth.”

“Thank you for not running away screaming.”

“I still might.” But my smile belies the words.

I don’t know why I do what I do next, but I lean to him, surprising us both by initiating a kiss. His lips are warm against mine, warmer than human temperature. When my hands frame his face, I feel the subtle difference in his skin—not quite scales, but not quite human either. The sensation sends a shiver of excitement through me.

His arms encircle my waist, drawing me closer without demanding more. The restraint in his touch speaks volumes about his character—power held carefully in check, desire tempered by caution.

When we part, his eyes have begun to glow again, the golden light illuminating his face from within.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “Sometimes it’s hard to control.”

“Don’t apologize.” I trace the contour of his jaw with my fingertip. “It’s beautiful.”

He looks at me with wonder, as if I’m the miraculous creature rather than him.

“You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“I’m probably in shock,” I admit with a small laugh. “Ask me again tomorrow when I’ve had time to process that dragons exist and I’ve been dating one.”

“Dating?” His eyebrow rises, a smile playing on his lips.

“What would you call it?” I say, feeling a little foolish all of a sudden. Have I overstepped?

“Something more significant than dating, I think.”

More significant…

My God. This guy is all in.

Not sure if I’m ready to consider that right now, I trace the dragon tattoo twining around his immense bicep before changing the subject.

“So, this is not just for show, huh?” I grin.

“Nope.” His muscle flexes, bunching beneath my fingertip. The skin moves smoothly. “Nothing about me is for show, Juno.”

“Oh, I find that hard to believe, rich boy. You drive a red sports car.” Now that all the doubts and uncertainties are behind us, I’m feeling lighthearted.

“Touche.” He smiles. His expression grows serious again. “There’s so much more to tell you, Juno. About dragons, about why you might be feeling this connection, too.”

Curiosity flares, but a glance at my watch interrupts the moment. “I have to be at work in forty minutes.” I straighten reluctantly. “Rain check on Dragon Culture 101?”

“Of course.” He stands, keeping his hands lightly on my waist. “Tonight? After your shift?”

“I’m off at seven.” I step back, gathering my bag, but not quite ready to leave. “This is… a lot to think about, but I’m glad you told me. The truth is better than uncertainty, even when it’s unbelievable.”

“Most humans would disagree with that.”

“I’m not most humans.” I head toward the elevator, Dorian following. “And apparently, neither are you.”

At the elevator, he kisses me again, more deeply this time. The heat of his body envelops me, making me acutely aware of the inhuman nature now revealed. Yet, instead of fear, I feel only fascination and a deepening attraction.

“Tonight,” he promises as the elevator doors open.

“Tonight,” I agree, stepping inside.

As the doors close, I catch a final glimpse of him—eyes still glowing softly, watching me with an expression of mingled wonder and concern.

The elevator descends, and I lean against the wall, hands cupped over my mouth, mind racing. Dragons exist. Dorian is centuries old. The world is wider and stranger than I ever imagined.

Amid the shock and wonder, I feel an unexpected lightness. As crazy as it is, it’s all starting to make sense now. He wasn’t trying to deceive me. He was trying to protect a secret I couldn’t comprehend.

Outside, the sun seems brighter somehow, the world more vibrant with possibility. I’m halfway to the bus stop when I realize I’ve left my scarf on Dorian’s couch.

For a moment, I consider going back for it, but time is short. As I board the bus to work, I touch my lips, still warm from his kiss. I should be questioning my sanity, doubting what I’ve seen. Instead, I feel like an astronomer who’s finally seen through the telescope what she always knew must exist among the stars. I’ve always known there was more to this world.

Dragons are real. And somehow, against all logic, one of them recognizes something in me worth revealing his most guarded secret.

The implications are both terrifying and exhilarating. But for the first time since meeting Dorian Craven, I feel like I’m standing on solid ground—even if that ground is far stranger than I ever imagined.

This is a bold new world, and I can’t wait to explore it.