Page 21 of Fire’s Resonance (Hearts on Fire #1)

I struggle to process this revelation. My entire identity has been shaped by the perception of defect, of failure to live up to the pure crimson flame of my lineage. To reframe that as special, as chosen...

The dragon within me roars with vindication, a sound that nearly escapes my physical throat before I clamp it down.

Years of conditioning have taught me to hide my reactions, to show no weakness before others.

But inside, something breaks and reforms, a shifting of perception that leaves me disoriented.

Through it all, Spark’s hand remains in mine, her fingers squeezing gently in silent support. The bond between us pulses with shared emotion—her compassion flowing into me, easing the ache of years of rejection. Without words, she understands what this revelation means to me.

The realization makes my throat tight with an unfamiliar emotion. This female sees me—truly sees me—in a way no one else ever has.

“If that’s true,” I growl, suspicion overriding my momentary disorientation, “why has the clan treated those with gray flames as inferior? Why hide this knowledge?”

Varen’s expression darkens, the black veins at his temples seeming to pulse more prominently. “After The Sundering, many ancient truths were... suppressed. For the good of the clan, of course.”

The explanation rings false, setting off warning bells in my mind. The scent of deception wafts from him, sour and sharp beneath the corruption that clings to him.

“Suppressed by whom?” I press, unwilling to let this go. “On whose authority?”

Varen waves a dismissive hand, avoiding the direct question.

“The Guardian Bond is just the beginning,” he says, moving back to the obsidian table.

“Once fully formed, it will activate dormant systems throughout Emberhold—defensive measures, security protocols that have been inactive for generations.”

He waves a hand over the map, and the entire sanctuary lights up with glowing points I recognize as ancient security nodes—most of which have been non-functional since before I was born.

“This is why the bond matters,” Varen continues, his voice taking on a fervent quality that makes my scales ripple beneath my skin. “This is why you matter. The two of you together can restore our first line of defense against outside threats.”

“Outside threats?” Spark questions, her skepticism clear in her tone. “I thought dragons had been hiding successfully for centuries.”

“Our secrecy has protected us thus far,” Varen acknowledges. “But times change. Human technology advances. How long before they discover us with their sensors and satellites? How long before we face the same persecution that drove us into hiding in the first place?”

His words carry the weight of genuine concern, but something still feels off—a performance rather than a sincere warning. My instincts remain on high alert as I watch his every movement, cataloging the subtle tells that betray his true emotions.

The slight tremor in his left hand. The occasional pulse of those black veins at his temples. The flicker of something darker than amber in his eyes when he speaks of power restoration.

“And what exactly do we need to do to complete this bond?” I ask, already suspecting the answer from the ancient texts I’ve studied.

Varen’s eyes gleam with something that might be amusement. “I think you know, Silverclaw. The bond requires physical completion. Full claiming. The human’s body must adapt to dragon fire through direct exposure during mating.”

Beside me, Spark stiffens, her cheeks flushing with a combination of embarrassment and arousal that fills my nostrils with her intoxicating scent. My cock hardens painfully in response, the dragon within me growling its approval of this directive.

Claim. Mate. Bond.

The primal command drums through my blood, making my skin feel too tight, too hot.

“That’s convenient,” Spark mutters, though I catch the spike in her pulse, the subtle shift in her scent that betrays her physical response to the idea. Her thighs press together in an unconscious movement that sends another wave of her arousal-scent into the air between us.

She’s thinking about it too. Imagining us together, joined in fire and flesh. The knowledge makes my dragon half purr with satisfaction.

Varen pretends not to notice our discomfort, returning his attention to the map.

“Once the bond is complete, you’ll gain access to the full range of Guardian abilities—protective shields, enhanced senses, shared strength.

The female will develop partial dragon traits—resistance to fire, enhanced durability, perhaps even limited flame manipulation. ”

The description matches the ancient texts, lending credibility to Varen’s words despite my lingering suspicion of his motives. The idea of Spark developing dragon traits, of becoming truly mine in every way, sends a surge of possessive desire through me that’s almost painful in its intensity.

She would be marked as ours. Protected by our flame. Bound to us forever.

The dragon rumbles with satisfaction at the thought, pressing closer to the surface of my control.

“And what’s in this for you, Elder?” I ask bluntly. “Why share this information now?”

Varen’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “The restoration of clan power benefits us all, Silverclaw. I merely wish to see my people thrive again before I join my mate in the final flame.”

The explanation sounds reasonable, but the hunger in his gaze tells a different story. There’s something he’s not telling us—something important. I can scent the deception on him, oily and wrong beneath the corruption that clings to him.

Before I can press further, a sharp rap on the chamber door interrupts us. Varen’s expression shifts, annoyance flashing briefly before he schools his features.

“Enter,” he calls, his voice taking on the formal tone of clan leadership.

The door swings open to reveal Orrath, his ice-blue eyes hardening when they land on us. He bows stiffly to Varen, deliberately ignoring our presence.

“Elder, your presence is required in the council chambers,” Orrath announces. “Clan Leader Blaze has called an emergency session regarding the security breaches.”

Varen’s lips thin with displeasure. “Very well. Inform the council I shall join them shortly.”

Orrath bows again, his gaze flickering to Spark with poorly concealed contempt before he withdraws, leaving the door open behind him—a clear signal that our audience with the elder has ended.

“It seems our discussion must be cut short,” Varen sighs, turning back to us. “Consider what I’ve shared. The future of our clan may well rest on your... cooperation.”

The way he says the last word sends a chill down my spine, despite the heat pulsing through my veins from Spark’s proximity. There’s a threat beneath the invitation, subtle but unmistakable.

“Thank you for your insights, Elder,” I respond formally, already drawing Spark toward the exit. The sooner we’re out of Varen’s domain, the better.

Varen’s amber eyes follow us as we retreat, that hungry calculation still evident in his gaze. “One last thing, Silverclaw,” he calls as we reach the doorway. “The bond has already begun. Fighting it will only increase the symptoms—for both of you.”

His knowing smile makes my skin crawl, but the warning rings true. I’ve noticed Spark’s increasing discomfort over the past day—the night sweats, the restlessness, the fever that spikes whenever we’re separated too long.

My own symptoms mirror hers—constant arousal, heightened aggression, the burning need to claim and possess. My control frays further with each passing day, the dragon pushing harder against my restraint.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” I reply neutrally, guiding Spark into the corridor and away from Varen’s unsettling presence.

Once we’re far enough from the elder’s chambers, Spark releases a shuddering breath, her body sagging slightly against mine. The contact sends another jolt of heat through me, straight to my groin.

“Well, that was intensely creepy,” she mutters, her natural resilience reasserting itself. “Is it just me, or is there something seriously wrong with him?”

“Not just you,” I confirm, keeping my voice low as we navigate the ancient corridors back toward the main sanctuary. “Varen has... changed since The Sundering. Most dragons don’t notice. Choose not to.”

Her amber eyes search mine, bright with intelligence and that defiance I find increasingly irresistible. “Do you believe what he said? About your flames never being a defect? About this Guardian Bond?”

I consider the question carefully as we walk. The information aligns with ancient texts I’ve studied in secret, texts that have been largely removed from the main library and accessible only to scholars like Bramwell.

“Parts of it,” I admit finally. “The descriptions of the bond match what I’ve read in historical accounts. And something is definitely happening between us—something that’s affecting my flames, our physical responses.”

I don’t mention the constant arousal, the painful hardness that plagues me whenever she’s near. From her scent, I know she experiences similar symptoms—her body preparing for mating, for bonding. The awareness sits between us, unacknowledged but impossible to ignore.

We reach a particularly narrow section of passage where water has seeped through the stone over centuries, making the floor slick and treacherous. I reach for Spark instinctively, pulling her close to my side to guide her safely through.

Our bodies align, her curves fitting perfectly against me. Her scent surrounds me with underlying notes of arousal that make my head swim. My hand spans her waist, feeling the delicate contours beneath my palm.

We move as one through the passage, steps synchronized, breath matched. The bond between us hums with shared awareness, making us extensions of each other. The sensation is intoxicating—this connection that transcends physical touch.

The passage widens again too soon, but I don’t release her immediately. Neither does she pull away. For several heartbeats, we remain locked together, the heat between us building to near-unbearable levels.

“We should...” she begins, then stops, her pupils dilating as she looks up at me.

“Should what?” I growl, voice rough with restraint.

The air between us charges with electricity. The bond pulses, demanding completion. Her lips part slightly, pink and perfect and so fucking tempting. I lean down, drawn by an irresistible force. She rises on her toes to meet me, her eyes fluttering closed.

Our lips are a breath apart when a group of warriors rounds the corner ahead, their voices echoing off the stone walls. The moment shatters. I step back, the loss of contact a physical pain that leaves me cold despite the fire in my veins.

Not here. Not like this.

Spark blinks, looking as disoriented as I feel. Her cheeks flush with color, her pulse racing visibly at the base of her throat. The sweet scent of her arousal mingles with frustration, a combination that makes my dragon half snarl with similar sentiment.

We continue in silence, the air between us charged with unresolved tension. The almost-kiss hangs between us, a promise and a torment.

“But you don’t trust him,” she observes after several minutes, her perception once again impressing me. Her voice sounds slightly breathless, her composure not quite restored.

“No,” I confirm. “Varen has his own agenda. I’m just not sure what it is yet.”

We emerge from the ancient corridors into the main halls of Emberhold, the newer construction a stark contrast to the primitive passages we’ve just traversed. Dragons move through these spaces purposefully, many casting curious or hostile glances our way as we pass.

The whispers follow us still, but they’ve changed subtly. Less contempt, more uncertainty. The display in the dining hall has shifted perceptions, if only temporarily. The sight of my gray flames burning crimson has introduced doubt into the established hierarchy.

Good. Let them wonder. Let them fear.

“So what now?” Spark asks as we approach our quarters, her voice steady despite the tension I feel radiating from her small frame.

I stop outside the door, turning to face her fully.

Her copper hair catches the light from the nearby fire sconces, creating a halo effect that makes my breath catch in my throat.

Her amber eyes meet mine directly, unafraid despite everything she’s learned, everything she’s experienced since being thrust into this world of fire and scales.

“Now we figure out what’s true and what’s manipulation,” I tell her, fighting the urge to pull her against me, to claim her mouth with mine. “We need more information from sources other than Varen.”

She nods, her practical nature asserting itself. “Bramwell might know more about these bonds. And I need to examine those glass pieces he was comparing to your flame signature.”

Her focus on solving the puzzle rather than panicking about her situation only reinforces my growing conviction: this female is mine. Was always meant to be mine. The recognition settles into my bones with the weight of ancient truth.