Page 38 of Bound in Flames (The Savage Hearts #1)

Chapter 38

Dex

T he flames raged across the battlefield, turning the darkness into a twisted, nightmarish glow. From my place on the walls, I could barely hear my own voice over the roar of the fire. My throat burned as I shouted, but the words seemed to vanish into the heat, swallowed by the crackling inferno approaching the stronghold.

“Cleo!” I called, my voice raw with anguish. My hands tightened around the stone of the rampart, my knuckles turning white as I leaned out over the edge, desperately trying to keep her in sight through the waves of heat that distorted the air. The flames leapt up from the earth, burning away the darkness.

She was somewhere beyond the flames, moving toward the dragon with that terrifying power blazing through her. I could feel it pulling at the bond between us, her pain and anger bleeding into every thread as she tried to force our connection shut. I could barely make her out, a figure wreathed in fire, but I knew it was her.

The flames coiled around her, and I couldn’t help but think of how she’d looked tucked in my arms in the firelight our first night in the forest, back when the war was just whispers and shadows. But that woman—soft and uncertain—was gone, replaced by this fierce, untouchable being. It terrified me as much as it filled me with awe.

This was my doing. I had driven her to this edge, to this breaking point. She wasn’t just fighting the creatures; she was fighting things far greater—fate, the prophecy, and the cruel hand that had shaped her life into this moment. And I didn’t know how to pull her back without breaking her further.

I scanned the faces of my warriors gathered along the wall. They were wounded, battered from hours of fighting, their faces pale and streaked with blood and grime, barely held together by my mate’s magic as they tried to hold of the remaining shadows. Gornak was standing with one arm hanging at an odd angle, face twisted in pain, but his eyes were sharp and focused on me.

“Hold the line!” I shouted, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. The warriors needed to see strength from me, even if every instinct I had screamed to go to Cleo, to drag her back from whatever edge she was walking.

Gornak let out a booming laugh. “Aye, Chieftain. We’re not done.” He glanced over his shoulder, catching the attention of Thorn who clutched a blood-soaked bandage to his ribs. The younger orc quickly bound the wound, raising his weapon with a grim resolve.

The wall beneath us trembled as the dragon let out another earth-shaking roar. The roots Cleo had summoned still held, but I could see the strain in them, the cracks forming where the dragon’s dark magic pushed back. It wasn’t going to hold forever. And if Cleo’s fire consumed her before she could finish this... I shook my head, refusing to let the thought take root. I couldn’t afford doubt, not now.

Beside me, Gornak shifted, his face pale but set with determination. “She’s burning herself out, Dex.” I could barely hear him over the crackle of flames. “She needs the clan’s strength.”

He turned toward the others, his voice rising to cut through the noise. “She needs us! She needs your strength!”

We’d seen what Cleo was capable of—had witnessed the miracles she worked when she healed and when she fought beside us. She was our shaman, my mate, and we couldn’t let her stand alone.

Gornak continued, his voice rising with each word. “We know the words! They have power and we need to give it to our shaman.”

I felt a pang of gratitude toward Gornak. He had seen the path forward when I had been blinded by fear for my mate, blind to the old ways. He’d reminded me that we weren’t alone in this fight. I clapped his shoulder in thanks, a tired smile pulled at the corner of his scarred lips.

The chant spread along the wall, the words ancient and powerful, resonating through the night. They spoke of strength, of resilience, of a future that we would carve out of the darkness, no matter how deep it ran. The frayed bond between Cleo and me flared with renewed energy, no longer a blistering heat, instead, it was tempered, as if the fire that raged through her had found an anchor.

With my heart pounding, I turned back toward the flames and prayed that whatever strength we gave her would be enough. Desperation and shame burned through me at what I had done to her.