Page 30 of Born in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #2)

Chapter 30

J uno

I wake to unfamiliar surroundings, but for the first time since the forest, my mind isn’t a fog. The sheets beneath me are soft—luxurious—carrying a scent that resonates deep within me. Sandalwood, leather, something comforting.

His scent. Dorian’s.

The name comes easily now. Dorian. His face is clear in my mind—sharp angles, golden eyes that burn when they look at me. I know him. I don’t remember how or why, but my body remembers. My soul remembers.

Voices drift from beyond the bedroom—tense, urgent. I slide from the bed, surprised by my steadiness. Yesterday, each step felt like wading through quicksand. Today, my body responds with purpose.

I’m wearing his clothes—a black T-shirt that hangs to mid-thigh, soft boxer shorts cinched tight around my waist. I move toward the voices, bare feet silent against polished floors.

“—impossible, Dorian. We burned her body.” A voice like Dorian’s, but cooler, more controlled. “I was there. You were there. She was gone.”

“Tell that to the woman sleeping in my bed.” Dorian’s voice, rough with emotion. “She’s real. She’s here.”

“I’m not saying she isn’t.” A woman’s voice now, measured but kind. “I’m saying we need to understand how. People don’t just come back from the dead.”

I freeze in the hallway, one hand braced against the wall. Dead? Yesterday, they’d talked about fire and burning, but suddenly, this detail hits: I died. I fucking died! Memories flash—heat, crushing weight, darkness. Then nothing but ash and rebirth.

I reach the doorway, hidden in shadow. Three people stand in the open-concept living area. Dorian—tall, tense, radiating barely contained energy. Beside him, a man who could be him but for subtle differences—his stance more controlled, his expression more guarded. And a woman with dark hair and sharp, observant gray eyes that miss nothing.

“The attack was days ago,” the man says. “If this is some kind of trick—”

“It’s not a trick, Caleb.” Dorian cuts him off. “It’s her. I’d know her anywhere.”

“The timing is suspicious,” Caleb argues. “The Syndicate could be using her, manipulating us through your grief.”

“Fuck off with that theory.” Dorian’s hands clench. “You think I wouldn’t know? You think I wouldn’t sense it?”

“Your judgment is compromised,” Elena says. “You wanted her back so badly—”

“She recognized me,” Dorian insists. “She knew me without being told.”

Elena sighs. “Look, I’m not saying it’s not her. I’m saying coming back from the dead isn’t normal, even in our world. There has to be an explanation.”

Coming back from the dead.

The words echo in my head. I sway slightly, my shoulder bumping the doorframe.

Three heads snap toward me.

“Juno.” Dorian moves immediately, crossing the space between us. His hand reaches for mine, warm and solid. “You should be resting.”

I look past him to the others. “You said I died.”

Silence falls. Dorian’s fingers tighten around mine.

“You did,” Elena says finally, ignoring Caleb’s warning look. “A few days ago. There was an attack on Craven Towers. The building collapsed. You were… killed.”

“We had a funeral,” Dorian says, voice rough. “I burned your body myself.”

I step fully into the room, drawing strength from some well inside me I didn’t know existed.

“Then how am I here?”

They exchange glances—Dorian desperate, Caleb suspicious, Elena thoughtful.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Elena says.

I move toward the center of the room, aware of Dorian hovering protectively. The space is typically male—no frills or fuss, but comfortable. Dark leather and brick walls dominate, with none of the decorative pillows or plants to soften it. But there’s something inviting about it—the way the furniture seems chosen for actual relaxation rather than appearance, the subtle scent of leather lingering in the air.

It reminds me of Dorian himself—straightforward and unpretentious, yet somehow more welcoming than I expected. Coffee mugs and half-eaten breakfast sit abandoned on the kitchen island.

“Tell me who I am,” I say, my voice growing stronger as I look around at them.

Dorian steps closer. “Your name is Juno Ashford. You worked at a coffee shop called Grind an honest-to-God growl. The sound should be frightening, but I like it. It makes something stir in me. Yet another thing I don’t understand.

“I don’t remember dying,” I say. “I don’t remember any war. I remember waking up in a forest. I remember a logger finding me. I remember a hospital. And then traveling here and…” I trail off as I remember what happened when I reached the Towers.

“This doesn’t help your case,” Caleb says. “Even if you’re not part of some sort of Syndicate trick, we still have to take care of you.”

“I will take care of her,” Dorian growls, making that small sensation stir inside me again.

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” I hear myself saying. “I can look after myself.” My chin is raised as I lock eyes with Caleb, who is glowering.

“You arrive here barefoot and half-naked with no idea of who you are, and you expect us to believe you’re not some kind of liability?”

“Caleb!” Elena says sharply. Beside me, Dorian’s shoulders tense, and his biceps bunch. I put a hand on his arm.

“I took care of myself when Tyler found me,” I say firmly. I’m growing increasingly certain that he was not a good person. It goes some way toward easing the guilt of what I did.

Dorian glances at me sharply. “Tyler?”

“He knew me. Said I belonged to him.” My stomach turns at the memory. “He tried to take me. I got angry. There was light, and then…” I look at my hands. “He was gone.”

The room goes silent.

“Who’s Tyler?” Elena asks.

“Her ex-boyfriend,” Dorian says, his voice clipped. “Fucking asshole. He was stalking her.”

I shrug. “I don’t remember him being my boyfriend. I just remember his hands on me. And then I made him disappear.” I don’t know much about myself, but I am certain of one thing: trying to hurt me is a mistake.

“You killed Tyler?” Dorian’s voice is carefully neutral, but something like satisfaction flickers in his eyes.

“I think so.” I frown. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted him to stop touching me, and then there was this heat inside me, and…” I trail off, remembering the shock on Tyler’s face as he disintegrated.

Caleb steps forward. “Show us.”

“Caleb,” Dorian warns.

“If she killed a man with some kind of power, we need to know what we’re dealing with,” Caleb says.

“I don’t know how I did it,” I admit. “It just happened.”

“Try,” Elena suggests gently. “What did you feel before it happened?”

I close my eyes, remembering Tyler’s cruel smile, his fingers digging into my arm. The rage that built inside me, different from normal anger—hotter, brighter.

“Heat,” I murmur. “Like something burning under my skin.”

I open my eyes, looking at my palm. Focus on that feeling—the spark of defiance, the need to protect myself.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then heat rushes through me, flowing down my arm into my hand. A small flame appears, dancing above my palm.

I gasp, nearly extinguishing it in my surprise. The flame wavers, then steadies, casting golden light across my face.

“Holy shit,” Elena whispers.

Dorian stares, wonder replacing concern. Caleb takes an involuntary step back.

“I don’t understand,” I say, watching the flame dance. There’s silence from the others as the flame grows brighter, responding to my emotions. I should be terrified. Instead, I feel… right. Complete in a way I haven’t since waking in the forest.

“She’s not human,” Caleb says quietly. “At least, not entirely.”

“Then what?” says Elena.

“She’s Juno.” Dorian moves closer. “That’s all that matters.”

“That’s not all that matters, Dorian,” Caleb says coldly. “We need to understand this. She could be dangerous.”

“Says the dragon,” Elena counters.

Dragon? I look at Dorian, questioning.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he says softly.

I close my hand, extinguishing the flame. The power doesn’t disappear—it settles beneath my skin, warm and waiting.

“I want to know everything,” I say, my voice steady and certain. “About who I was. What I am. And why I came back.”

The three of them exchange glances—Dorian protective, Caleb calculating, Elena curious. And me? I feel something beyond confusion.

I feel purpose.

I may not remember who Juno Ashford was. But I’m beginning to understand what she—what I —might be.

Powerful. Lethal.

And somehow, I know this is just the beginning.