Page 10 of Fire’s Resonance (Hearts on Fire #1)

FOUR

RAAK

The female clings to my hand as we move through the shadows toward Emberhold.

Her trust is unexpected—fragile but present.

Minutes ago, we fled dragon hunters through back alleys, her human frame keeping pace with my enhanced speed despite all logic.

The hunters’ scent still lingers, a bitter reminder of how close they came to taking her.

The thought sends a surge of savage fury through me, so intense it nearly brings the dragon to the surface.

Not just a female, not just a mission objective.

Mine.

The word echoes in my soul with the weight of ancient law. The future I never thought I’d have, almost extinguished before it could begin. The thought would terrify her if she knew its depth.

I drag the female through the hidden entrance to Emberhold. My claws extend, retracting, extending again. Fuck. Breaking every damn protocol I’ve sworn to uphold.

Warriors don’t bring humans directly into the sanctuary.

Ever.

They’re supposed to be processed first. Sedated. Memories altered before they wake in the visitor quarters. But the thought of Sarla’s silver needles anywhere near my female makes the beast within me surge forward. A snarl builds in my chest, vibrating against my ribcage.

Destroy anyone who threatens her.

She stumbles beside me, slender fingers gripping mine with surprising strength.

The contact sends relief flooding through my system—an actual physical pleasure from the simple touch of skin on skin.

Her fiery hair whips wildly around her flushed face.

Those amber eyes wide as she takes in the massive underground cavern with its crystalline structures and dragons in both human and partial-shift forms moving through the space.

Her scent spikes—cinnamon and molten glass and something wildly feminine.

A hint of arousal that makes my cock harden instantly.

My nostrils flare, drawing her essence deeper.

Memorizing it. Claiming it. I fight the urge to bury my face in the curve of her neck.

To taste the salt of her skin. To mark her with my teeth so every male in the sanctuary knows she’s claimed.

Focus, Silverclaw. Mission parameters. Security protocol. Not mating. Not yet.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, voice carrying in the cavernous space. “They’re all like you? These are actually dragons?”

Several pairs of eyes snap toward us instantly.

Nostrils flaring. Catching her unmistakable human scent.

My muscles coil, ready to defend. I tighten my grip on her hand, pulling her against my side.

My temperature runs hot—all dragons do—but where our bodies touch, the heat intensifies.

Burns. Perfect. Her small frame fits against mine like she was made for me.

The curve of her hip against mine. The softness of her breast brushing my arm.

“Stay with me.” My voice drops to a growl. “Don’t look any of them in the eye.”

The possessive urge to shield her from their hungry gazes makes my defective gray flames flicker along my forearms. A visible warning to the others: Back the fuck off. She’s claimed.

Instead of fear, her scent carries notes of wonder and that persistent arousal that drives me fucking crazy. Her pulse pounds at her throat, visible beneath the delicate skin. The beast inside me wants to press my mouth there. Feel her life force against my tongue.

Gods, I want to taste every inch of her.

The clan members’ heads snap toward her voice. Eyes narrowing. Lips curling back to reveal sharpened canines. Low rumbles of displeasure fill the air.

When she presses closer to avoid a passing warrior’s glare, I can’t suppress the sound of pleasure that escapes my throat.

Her eyes widen at the vibration between us.

Pupils dilating until only a thin ring of amber remains.

A flush spreads across her cheeks, down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt.

Get your shit together, Silverclaw. She’s human. The dragon council will execute you both if they sense what you’re feeling.

But is she human? That fire resistance. Those glass pieces with my exact flame signature. The way my body responds to her like she’s my destined mate...

We move a few steps apart as a group of warriors passes.

The small separation—barely three feet—creates an actual physical ache in my chest. Like someone has reached inside and squeezed my lungs.

I find myself moving back to her side instantly, needing to restore contact.

The relief when my fingers brush hers is embarrassingly intense.

My dragon half purrs in satisfaction as I place my palm against the small of her back, guiding her forward.

“Silverclaw!”

The sharp voice cuts through the murmurs. The crowd parts. Sarla Tasher approaches, flanked by four members of the integration team. Ice-blue eyes narrowed. Lip curling in disgust as she spots the woman at my side.

“You brought a human directly into Emberhold? Conscious?” The silver needles used for memory alteration gleam at Sarla’s hip, catching the light from the crystal formations. “Explain yourself, warrior.” The title sounds like an insult from her lips.

Behind her, the integration team moves into standard formation. A containment pattern designed to separate a warrior from his charge. I recognize the maneuver instantly. My muscles tense. Claws itching to extend fully.

They’re going to try to take her from me.

Red haze descends over my vision. Heart pounding against my ribs.

Blood rushing in my ears. Without conscious thought, I position my body between the integration team and my female.

Widen my stance. Create a physical barrier.

Silver-gray flames erupt along my arms, spiraling up to my shoulders in protective patterns.

The display is unmistakable to any dragon—a claiming stance. The posture of a male protecting his lifemate from rival males. My scent changes, becoming muskier. More territorial. A chemical warning that penetrates the air around us.

“Stand down.” The words barely sound human. More like the rumble of a predator protecting its mate.

Behind me, Spark’s small hand clutches the back of my shirt.

Her heat seeps through the fabric. Brands my skin.

The touch centers me. Anchors me when the beast threatens to take over completely.

Her fingers tremble slightly—not from fear, but from something else.

The same electric current that passes between us whenever we touch.

I want to turn around. Press her against the nearest crystal formation. Claim that smart mouth with mine. Taste her properly. Feel her small body yielding beneath mine as I mark her inside and out.

“Stand aside, Silverclaw,” Sarla orders, voice cold with authority. “The human requires standard processing. You know the protocols.”

She gestures to her team. They spread out further. Preparing to flank me. Muscles tensing for coordinated attack.

“Council regulations are clear. No unprocessed humans in Emberhold. Step away or face disciplinary action.”

The threat would normally be enough. I’ve always put clan security first. Years of perfect service. Never questioned authority.

But the thought of Sarla’s needles touching my female, altering her memories... My fangs descend fully. Claws extending from my fingertips. A drop of blood beads where one pierces my palm. The pain barely registers.

“She. Stays. Conscious.” Each word punctuated by a low growl.

I feel Spark press closer against my back.

Her soft curves against my muscles. Her scent changes—fear mingling with determination and that persistent arousal that makes my cock throb harder.

“Touch her and die, Sarla. I won’t say it twice. ”

Sarla’s eyes widen, then narrow to slits. “You dare threaten me over a human?” She snaps her fingers. Her team moves forward in practiced synchronization. “Restrain him. Sedate the human.”

I feel Spark’s breathing accelerate. Her heart pounding against my back. Rapid. Like prey. The sound makes my protective instincts surge to impossible heights. The need to defend her drowns out every other thought. Every protocol. Every oath.

“I don’t know what the fuck is happening,” Spark whispers against my shoulder blade, “but I’m not letting those needle things anywhere near me.”

Her defiance, her courage in the face of creatures that could tear her apart with minimal effort, sends a surge of pride through me. The male need to protect worthy females is encoded in dragon DNA—but this feels deeper. More primal than any protective urge I’ve ever experienced.

My brave little flame. My perfect match.

I allow myself one brief moment of tenderness—reaching back to squeeze her hand in reassurance.

Her fingers intertwine with mine instantly.

Trustingly. Something in my chest tightens at the gesture.

This female doesn’t know me. Has every reason to fear me.

Yet she stands with me against her own kind.

Mine to cherish.

Sarla ignores my warning and lunges forward with inhuman speed. Silver needle aimed at Spark’s exposed arm. I roar. The sound echoes through Emberhold. Flames erupting across my entire body. Ready to incinerate Sarla where she stands.

But before I can act, something incredible happens.

The moment Sarla’s needle touches Spark’s skin, a blinding flash of copper-red and silver-gray light erupts between them.

The mindwipe magic rebounds with violent force.

Sarla and her entire integration team fly backward.

They slam into the far wall of the cavern with bone-crushing impact. Slide to the floor in a stunned heap.

A shocked silence falls over Emberhold. Every dragon freezes. Staring at the female who just repelled clan magic designed to work on any species.

Only one thing could cause that reaction—a developing Guardian Bond. The rarest, most powerful dragon bond. Not seen in generations.