Page 16 of Fire’s Resonance (Hearts on Fire #1)
“Not for bonded dragons.” Bramwell sits across from me, his movements more graceful than his scholarly appearance would suggest. “Especially not for Guardian pairs. The protective instinct is... overwhelming.”
“Well, it’s annoying.” I run my fingers over the smooth wood of the table, tracing patterns without thinking. When I look down, I realize I’ve been drawing flame swirls with my fingertip—swirls that match the patterns on Raak’s skin. I snatch my hand back. “Fuck.”
“The bond manifests in unexpected ways,” Bramwell says gently. “Your subconscious recognizes what your conscious mind still rejects.” He gestures for me to follow him.
“I don’t reject it,” I snap, then sigh at his raised eyebrow. I jerk up from the chair I’m in. “Fine. Maybe I do. Wouldn’t you? One day, I’m a normal glass artist, the next I’m supposedly part dragon and magically bound to some growly alpha male who calls me ‘female’ instead of my name.”
Bramwell’s copper eyes darken as we settle in a quiet corner of the library. “Our clan politics are... complex,” he begins, selecting his words carefully.
“This is all just…crazy.”
Bramwell’s copper eyes soften with understanding. “It’s a lot to process, I know. But fighting the bond only makes the symptoms worse.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.” I slump back in the cushioned chair, suddenly exhausted. The constant heat, the changes, the emotional whiplash—it’s draining. “What exactly is this Guardian Bond anyway? Raak’s explanations aren’t exactly detailed.”
“Ah.” Bramwell’s entire demeanor brightens. Here’s a topic he can help with. “We haven’t seen one in centuries.”
He stands and retrieves a massive tome from a shelf. The book is ancient, its pages yellowed and fragile. He opens it carefully to reveal illustrations of what appear to be dragon-human pairs surrounded by protective flame barriers.
“These are the last recorded Guardian Bonds,” he explains, pointing to the elaborate drawings.
“See how the flames form a protective shield around both partners? The Guardian Bond creates defensive abilities beyond what any single dragon could manage. It’s meant to protect the clan in times of great danger. ”
I lean closer, fascinated despite my skepticism. The illustrations show dragons in partial-shift form standing with humans who have flame-like markings spreading across their skin—markings disturbingly similar to the ones now covering my arms.
“And you think that’s what’s happening between me and Raak? We’re turning into some kind of supernatural security system?”
Bramwell chuckles. “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s more than that.
The bond doesn’t just combine your powers—it creates new ones.
Together, you’ll be able to create Truth Fire, which reveals deception.
Shield Flames, which can protect others beyond yourselves.
Perhaps even Memory Fire, which shows visions of the past.”
“That sounds...” Impossible. Terrifying. Amazing. “...like a lot of responsibility.”
“It is.” Bramwell’s expression turns serious. “The Guardian Bond is sacred. It appears only when the clan faces an existential threat.”
A chill runs down my spine despite my elevated temperature. “What threat?”
“That’s what worries me.” Bramwell glances around, then lowers his voice. “There shouldn’t be one. Not now. The last threat was The Sundering. For a Guardian Bond to form now... something must be coming. Something the clan isn’t prepared for.”
“That’s comforting,” I mutter, rubbing my arms where the scales itch beneath my skin.
“Your art was your soul’s way of reaching for its other half,” Bramwell continues, his academic enthusiasm returning.
He pulls some of my glass pieces from a nearby shelf—pieces Raak must have brought here.
“Look at this pattern from three years ago—this is Raak’s exact flame signature.
And this one, from when you were just sixteen. His again.”
I stare at my own work with new eyes, seeing the patterns that have apparently been there all along. “That doesn’t make sense. I’d never even seen a dragon until now.”
“But your soul has.” Bramwell’s eyes gleam with excitement. “The bond existed before your conscious minds recognized it. Your art was calling to him. And his collection of your pieces—his soul answering.”
“That’s...” I search for the right word, “romantic garbage.” But even as I say it, I know I’m lying. Something deep inside recognizes the truth in Bramwell’s words, however much my rational mind wants to reject it.
“The transformation accelerates in the presence of your bonded mate,” Bramwell explains as we examine more texts throughout the afternoon. “The more time you spend with Raak, the faster your dragon half will emerge.”
“Great,” I mutter, not entirely sure how I feel about that. Part of me is terrified of losing my humanity, while another part—a growing part—is curious about what it means to be dragon. “So I’m supposed to just hang out with Mr. Broody Scales until I sprout wings?”
Bramwell chuckles, the sound surprisingly human. “Physical contact would accelerate it further,” he says, then blushes deeply. “Not that I’m suggesting—I mean, that’s between you and—”
“Got it,” I interrupt, feeling my own cheeks heat. “Sex speeds up dragon puberty. Fantastic.”
The scholarly dragon looks mortified. “I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t have to,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Every time Raak touches me, more scales appear. I’m not an idiot.”
Bramwell’s copper eyes dart to the library entrance, then back to me. “There’s... more to it than just physical transformation.”
Something in his tone makes me sit up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“The Guardian Bond has stages.” He pulls another book from the shelf, this one smaller but just as ancient.
“Physical transformation is just the beginning. Then comes the mental connection—shared thoughts, shared dreams. Then the emotional bond—feeling each other’s emotions as if they were your own.
” That doesn’t sound so bad. Weird, but manageable.
“And finally...” Bramwell hesitates, then pushes forward. “The soul merge. Two souls becoming one entity while maintaining separate consciousnesses. It’s said to be... intense. Overwhelming. Transcendent.”
“That sounds terrifying,” I whisper, a cold knot of fear forming in my stomach despite the constant heat of my skin.
“It’s the most intimate connection possible between two beings,” Bramwell says softly. “More binding than marriage, more permanent than any human commitment.”
“And there’s no way to stop it? To reverse it?” My voice sounds small even to my own ears.
Bramwell’s expression answers before his words do. “The bond can only be broken by death. And even then, the surviving partner rarely lives long after.”
Forever. This is forever. I’m being changed at a cellular level to bind myself permanently to a man I barely know.
The panic must show on my face, because Bramwell reaches across the table, his hand stopping just short of touching mine. “I know it sounds frightening. But from what historical accounts tell us, the completed bond brings joy beyond measure. A sense of wholeness most beings never experience.”
“Or maybe that’s just propaganda to make the poor bonded humans feel better about losing their autonomy,” I snap, then immediately regret it when Bramwell flinches. “I’m sorry. This is just... a lot.”
“It’s all right.” His smile is understanding. “I can’t imagine how overwhelming this must be.”
“Has Raak accepted all this?” I ask suddenly. “He doesn’t seem any happier about the situation than I am.”
Bramwell’s expression turns thoughtful. “Raak’s position is... complicated. His flame has always been different—gray instead of the royal crimson his bloodline should produce. He’s been viewed as defective, despite being one of our most skilled warriors.”
“How is it defective?” I frown, remembering the silver-gray flames I’d seen flickering around Raak’s hands. “His fire looked pretty damn effective to me.”
“Among dragons, flame color denotes power and status,” Bramwell explains. “The royal line produces crimson flame. Warriors typically have orange or gold. Gray is... unusual. Considered weak.”
“What happened to him?” I ask, curiosity overcoming my resistance. “Was he born with the gray flame?”
Bramwell hesitates. “It’s not really my story to tell...”
“Please.” I surprise myself with the genuine concern in my voice. “I need to understand him better.”
Bramwell sighs. “When he was very young, there was an... incident.”
“What kind of incident?”
Bramwell lowers his voice further. “There is a special ceremony where the youth first bring about their fire. His flame wasn’t the royal crimson of his line, but the silver-gray you’ve seen. Many believed he was weak, his potential destroyed.”
“That’s horrible,” I whisper, imagining a child being deemed unworthy for something beyond his control. “And everyone just accepted that? Treated him as lesser?”
“Dragon society can be... hierarchical.” Bramwell’s expression is apologetic. “Raak had to work twice as hard as any other warrior to earn respect. Even now, many see him as damaged goods. The Ashen One, they call him. Not to his face, of course.”
A surge of protective anger flares in my chest, surprising me with its intensity. “That’s fucking stupid,” I say flatly. “His fire is just as hot as any other fire.”
Bramwell’s smile widens. “Perhaps that’s why the bond chose you for him. You see beyond our prejudices.”
Before I can respond, a loud crash echoes through the library. I turn to see a stack of massive tomes teetering dangerously on a high shelf across the room.
“Oh no!” Bramwell jumps up. “Those are irreplaceable histories from before The Sundering!”
Without thinking, I sprint across the room. The stack begins to fall just as I reach it. I throw my hands up, expecting the crushing weight of ancient books, but instead...