Page 24 of Fire’s Resonance (Hearts on Fire #1)
Raak moves to the far side of the room, maintaining distance between us. Smart. Even now, with fear coursing through me, my body aches to close that gap, to feel his heat against mine again.
Go to him. Let him claim you. End this torment.
“You should eat something,” he says, gesturing to a tray on the desk I hadn’t noticed before. “The transition burns energy. You need fuel.”
I eye the tray suspiciously, then look back at him. “Why are you being nice to me now?”
“I’m not being nice.” He keeps his back to me, focusing on organizing weapons on a wall rack with unnecessary intensity.
His muscles flex with each movement, scales catching the light.
The display of controlled strength makes my mouth go dry.
“I’m being practical. A weakened mate means a weakened bond. ”
“I’m not your mate,” I say automatically, but the protest lacks conviction. My body knows differently, even if my mind resists.
He turns, eyes flashing silver. “Tell that to your dragon.”
He’s right. He’s ours. We are his. Forever.
“I don’t have a dragon,” I mutter, but even as the words leave my mouth, something stirs inside me—something ancient and powerful that recognizes the male before me as hers.
“The opal scales say otherwise.” He crosses his arms, the movement highlighting the ripple of muscles across his chest. My mouth goes dry at the sight.
I imagine running my tongue along the defined lines, tasting the salt of his skin.
“They’re rare, even among full-blooded dragons.
Only seen in those with special abilities. ”
Despite myself, curiosity flickers. Something to focus on besides the persistent ache between my thighs, the tightness in my nipples, the overwhelming urge to cross the room and press myself against him.
“What kind of abilities?” I approach the tray cautiously, lifting the cover to reveal rare meat and some kind of bread. My stomach growls loudly, reminding me I haven’t eaten all day.
“Guardian abilities,” he says, watching me tear into the bread with undisguised hunger. It’s delicious, infused with spices that dance on my tongue, awakening a craving for heat I’ve always had but never fully understood. “Defensive magic. Protective shields.”
“Protective,” I repeat, savoring the spicy bread. “So not just breathing fire and growing scales, but actual... what? Superpowers?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smile. My eyes fix on the movement, wondering again how those lips would feel elsewhere on my body.
“Something like that.”
“And what exactly is a Guardian Bond?” I ask between bites, finding that food helps ground me, gives me something to focus on besides the insistent throb of need.
He hesitates, clearly choosing his words carefully. “The rarest of the dragon bonds. The most powerful. It hasn’t manifested in generations.”
“Lucky me,” I mutter, but my sarcasm lacks its usual bite.
“Lucky us,” he corrects, his eyes never leaving mine. “The Guardian Bond only forms between perfectly matched souls. Compatible in the deepest sense. It doesn’t force anything that wasn’t already possible.”
“So it’s fate?” I ask skeptically, tearing into the meat now. It’s nearly raw, which should disgust me but somehow doesn’t. “Destiny? Some mystical force decided we belong together?”
“Not decided.” He shakes his head. “Recognized. There’s a difference.”
He’s right. We’ve always been his. Always. Since before we knew him.
I push the traitorous thought away.
“And if I don’t want this bond?” I challenge, though my body screams in protest at the mere suggestion. A sharp pain lances through my abdomen, making me wince. “If I want my old life back?”
“Do you?” His question is simple, direct. No judgment, no pressure. Just a question.
Do I? Do I want to go back to my workshop, my solitary existence, my endless search for something I could never quite name in my art? Back to the emptiness I filled with glass and fire?
Before I can answer, a knock at the door interrupts. Raak tenses instantly, moving between me and the entrance with predatory grace. The protective gesture shouldn’t make heat pool between my thighs, but it does.
“Who?” he demands, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Bramwell,” comes the reply. “I have information about the Guardian Bond.”
Raak glances at me, one eyebrow raised in silent question. I nod. More information is exactly what I need right now.
“Enter,” Raak calls, not moving from his protective position.
The door opens to reveal the auburn-haired scholar I’ve met briefly before. Bramwell’s copper eyes widen slightly at my state of undress, but he quickly averts his gaze, focusing instead on the stack of ancient texts in his arms.
Raak growls—actually growls, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest—when the other male’s eyes linger on me for a fraction too long. The primal display of possessiveness should annoy me. Instead, it sends another rush of heat between my thighs.
Yes. Our male. Protecting. Claiming.
“Pardon the interruption,” Bramwell says, awkwardness evident in his stiff posture. “But I’ve discovered something about an opal pattern manifestation. It’s significant.”
“Speak,” Raak orders, still blocking the scholar’s direct line of sight to me.
I roll my eyes and grab a throw blanket from the bed, wrapping it around my waist like a skirt. “It’s fine, Raak. Let him in properly.”
Raak shifts his position slightly, but remains close enough that his arm brushes mine. The contact sends tingles across my skin, making it hard to focus on the scholar’s words.
Bramwell sets his books on the desk, carefully avoiding the food tray. “The opal scales,” he begins, excitement breaking through his scholarly reserve, “are the mark of a True Guardian. Not just any Guardian Bond, but one prophesied to restore what was lost during The Sundering.”
He opens the largest tome, pointing to an illustration of a female figure surrounded by protective flames, opal-like scales visible on her forearms and shoulders.
I move closer, drawn despite myself. The illustration could be me—copper hair, amber eyes, the same opal scale pattern emerging on my arms. Behind me, Raak shifts closer, his chest nearly touching my back. I feel his heat, his strength, and it takes all my willpower not to lean back against him.
“According to these texts,” Bramwell continues, “the Guardian Bond was never meant to be purely defensive. It was meant to be restorative—to heal the clan’s connection to the Ancestral Flame.
” His fingers trace the ancient script reverently.
“That’s why you’re experiencing such intense symptoms, Spark.
You’re not just bonding with Raak—you’re bonding with the clan’s original magic. ”
“That’s why it hurts when we’re separated,” he adds, his deep voice sending involuntary shivers down my spine. “The magic is trying to complete itself through us.”
“So I have no choice,” I say flatly. “This... transformation... will happen whether I want it or not.”
Bramwell’s expression turns sympathetic. “The bond has already begun. Accepting it would ease your transition considerably.”
“And what happens after the full moon?” I ask, dreading the answer. “After my first transformation?”
The scholar and warrior exchange a glance loaded with meaning.
“The Guardian Bond will fully activate,” Bramwell explains carefully. “You’ll share abilities, strengths. Your fire will be his, his protection will be yours. You’ll be able to create a combined shield that can deflect both physical and magical attacks.”
“And?” I press, sensing there’s more they’re not saying.
“And the bond will demand physical consummation,” Raak states bluntly. “It’s not optional at that point. For either of us.”
The words “physical consummation” send vivid images flashing through my mind—Raak’s naked body over mine, his cock filling me, his fangs at my throat as he claims me completely. Heat floods my cheeks despite my attempt at nonchalance.
Yes. Claiming. Finally. Completion.
“Magical dragon-enforced sex. Great.”
“It’s not like that,” Bramwell protests, looking uncomfortable. “The physical union is a sacred act that completes the magical connection. It’s—”
“It’s my body being hijacked,” I interrupt, anger flaring again. “My choices being taken away.”
“Your dragon has already chosen,” Raak says quietly. “She’s been choosing me through your art for years. Your human side is just catching up.”
The scholarly dragon clears his throat awkwardly. “There’s more. The Guardian Bond is just the first of four bonds needed to complete the Ancestral Flame Protocol. Guardian, Tempest, Memory, and Sovereign—each bond plays a specific role in restoring the clan’s power.”
“And let me guess,” I say sarcastically. “We’re on some kind of deadline?”
Bramwell nods grimly. “The dragon solstice is in three months. If all four bonds aren’t completed by then, the sanctuary’s remaining power will fail completely. The clan will be exposed, vulnerable.”
“Extinction-level vulnerable,” Raak adds, his expression grave. “We’re running out of magic that keeps us hidden from humans.”
The weight of this revelation hits me like a physical blow. No wonder the clan looks at me with such intensity. I’m not just some random human causing trouble—I’m apparently part of their last hope for survival.
Great. No pressure or anything.
“I need air,” I announce, suddenly feeling trapped. “Is there somewhere I can go that isn’t this room but doesn’t involve parading around in your clothes in front of the entire clan?”
“The thermal springs,” Raak suggests after a moment’s consideration. “They’re private at this hour. The heat might help with your symptoms.”
“Fine.” I grab my only clean clothes—yesterday’s pants and one of Raak’s smaller shirts. “Show me.”