Page 29 of Davoren (Dragon Master Daddies #1)
His attention shifted to the scene around us, and I watched his expression sharpen from concern to assessment.
He catalogued everything with the precision of someone who'd seen centuries of violence—the shattered ice artifact, the blood patterns on stone, the way the attackers had fallen.
Through the bond, I felt him reconstructing the fight from the evidence, understanding exactly what I'd done and how I'd done it.
"You superheated your skin," he said, nudging the artifact's remains with his foot. "Burned through ice magic with pure thermal generation. That's not something I taught you."
"I didn't know I could do it until I did," I admitted. "I just knew I wasn't going to let them take me. Wasn't going to be anyone's pet."
The word 'pet' made his eyes flare brighter, and the attacker who'd been crawling toward the exit whimpered as Davoren's attention fell on him.
The Dragon Lord moved with that inhuman grace, crouching beside the burned man with the kind of careful control that was more terrifying than explosive rage would have been.
"You called her pet," Davoren said conversationally, though his voice carried undertones that made my bones ache. "You tried to steal what is mine. Who sent you?"
The man's silence lasted exactly as long as it took for Davoren to rest one finger against his burned shoulder. Just a touch, but the man screamed as dragon heat met damaged flesh.
"The Ice Master," he gasped out, words tumbling over each other in his haste to answer. "Lord Sereis of the Northern Range. He said—he said you'd grown soft, taking a human mate. Said she'd be your weakness."
Davoren went perfectly still in the way that predators do before they strike.
Through the bond, I felt his fury crystallize into something colder and infinitely more dangerous.
He rose slowly, and when he turned the unconscious attacker with his foot, I saw what he was looking for—a tattoo on the man's inner forearm, revealed where his sleeve had torn during the fight.
A snowflake crossed with a dragon's claw, rendered in ink that seemed to hold its own inner frost even here in the warm alley.
"Sereis," Davoren said, and the name came out like a curse, like a promise of violence, like the opening note of a war song.
He turned to me, and his expression had shifted to something I'd never seen before—cold calculation mixed with protective fury that transcended anything personal.
This was the Dragon Lord considering an act of war.
"My oldest rival among the Dragon Lords. We've maintained a careful balance for five centuries—his ice to my fire, north to south, winter to summer. He's always resented that I hold the richer territory, that my city thrives while his struggles against perpetual winter."
I thought of the pale skin of the attackers, their frost-touched eyes, the way they'd moved like men accustomed to different terrain. "He sent them specifically for me?"
"He has also waited for a mate. I wonder why. I do not know his mind.”
The weight of that settled over me like a cloak made of responsibility. "He wanted to study me."
"Maybe," Davoren said.
Through the bond, I felt his genuine awe at what I'd accomplished.
Three trained assassins, ice magic specifically designed to counter dragon fire, the bond muffled to prevent him from interfering—and I'd destroyed them without taking a single injury.
The pride he felt was almost overwhelming, mixing with the protective fury until I couldn't separate the emotions.
"Will you go?" I asked, though I thought I knew the answer.
"Eventually. But not on his timeline, and not alone.
" His hand moved from my back to cup my face, thumb tracing my jaw with that devastating gentleness he wielded like a weapon.
"You fought like you were born to it, little one.
The heat generation, the combat instincts, the strategic thinking—you didn't just survive, you dominated. "
The praise made something warm bloom in my chest, chasing away the last of the cold the ice artifact had left behind.
"They'll send more," I said, practical concerns reasserting themselves as the adrenaline began to fade.
"Let them come." His voice dropped to that register that bypassed thought entirely.
"They'll find not a soft human mate to kidnap but a dragon's equal, transformed in volcanic fire and proven in combat.
And they'll find me, no longer holding back out of respect for ancient treaties that Sereis has chosen to violate. "
He pulled me against his chest, and I went willingly, letting his heat chase away the last phantom traces of ice magic. Around us, the attackers groaned and stirred, but neither of us paid them attention. They were beneath notice now, failed tools of a failed plan.
"No one threatens you," Davoren murmured against my hair, the words carrying the weight of blood oath. "Not Sereis, not the Western Council, not all the forces of ice and darkness combined. You are mine, sealed by magic older than mountains, and I protect what is mine."
"I know," I said, and meant it. But I pulled back enough to meet his eyes, to let him see the truth in mine. "But I protect myself too. I'm not just yours—I'm my own. Your mate, your equal, your fierce little one who can burn through ice magic and break the bones of those who'd call me pet.
His smile transformed his austere features into something devastating. "Yes," he agreed, and the single word carried more meaning than entire speeches could have. "My dangerous mate. My warrior. Mine, but never weak. Never helpless."
The mountain's heart beat beneath our feet, steady and eternal, and I knew with absolute certainty that I was home.
Not just in Davoren's arms, not just in his territory, but in my own skin.
In this transformed body that could generate dragon heat and break assassins and stand against ice magic without flinching.
I was the Dragon Lord's mate, and I was my own creature of fire and fury.
I was home.