Page 28 of Fire’s Resonance (Hearts on Fire #1)

NINE

RAAK

The Flame Council chambers gleam with polished stone and ancient dragon sigils. Crystal formations catch and amplify the light from eternally burning flame pits. Seven council members watch from their elevated seats as I stride into the center of the circular room.

Back straight. Head high. Every inch the warrior even as rage simmers beneath my skin.

"Evidence of deliberate sabotage," I announce without preamble.

I project my findings onto the central viewing sphere. Images of the power-draining devices float in the air between us, rotating to show every damning detail.

"Strategic placement. Long-term installation. This explains the failing wards. The thermal fluctuations. The structural weaknesses."

Blaze Zraa leans forward, golden eyes narrowing as he studies the evidence. Concern flickers across his features before his expression returns to careful neutrality.

The other council members remain impassive. Unmoved by what should be alarming revelations.

"And your evidence that these are not simply outdated components?" Elder Khorne asks, his tone dismissive.

The ancient dragon's scales gleam copper-bronze in the firelight, his wizened features set in stubborn lines. The stench of arrogance rolls off him in waves.

"Years of security experience," I respond, jaw clenching to keep from snarling. "These are designed to mimic standard equipment while siphoning power. They're deliberate, and they're widespread."

My temperature rises with each word. Steam curls from my shoulders. The dragon pushes against my control, demanding I show these fools proper respect. With fire and claw if necessary.

"Perhaps it's a simple maintenance oversight," suggests another council member, her silver scales flashing as she waves a dismissive hand. "The engineering caste has been understaffed since The Sundering."

My patience frays further. The evidence floats before them. Clear. Undeniable. Yet they refuse to see what doesn't fit their preconceptions.

"These are not maintenance oversights," I growl, struggling to keep my voice level. "They're precision devices, targeted at our most vulnerable systems. And they've been accelerating their power drain since the Guardian Bond began forming."

The bond pulses within me. Spark's presence in my mind—warm and steady. The connection strengthens even while we're apart. Her trust flows through me, calming the dragon enough to keep from challenging the elders outright.

I feel her beginning to wake. Her consciousness rising slowly from sleep, immediately seeking mine. The sensation of her mind touching mine sends heat coursing through my body. My cock hardens instantly, responding to the mental caress as powerfully as to a physical touch.

Focus, warrior. Focus.

"Your judgment is compromised by the human female," Elder Khorne states flatly.

He waves a clawed hand, dismissing the evidence still floating in the viewing sphere. The gesture so casual. So dismissive of the threat to our entire clan.

"This... attachment is distracting you from your duties."

The other council members nod in agreement, except for Blaze, who remains silent. His expression troubled. The dismissal cuts through me.

Rage surges through my veins like liquid fire. My temperature spikes dangerously. Steam rises from my skin as I fight to maintain control.

Burn them. Challenge them. Show them true power.

The dragon's demands crash against my control. The warrior in me knows better. Knows that direct confrontation will only strengthen their resistance.

"The Guardian Bond is addling your senses," another elder adds, her silver eyes cold with contempt. "These are maintenance issues, not security threats."

My claws extend. Retract. Extend again. The shift threatening to overtake me as my control slips.

"Maintenance issues don't target critical systems in sequence," I growl, flames flickering around my clenched fists. "They don't accelerate when a Guardian Bond forms."

"That will be all, Silverclaw," Elder Khorne says with finality. "Return to your assigned duties. And keep your human female contained—her presence disrupts the sanctuary's harmony."

The mention of Spark as something to be "contained" nearly shatters my control.

The dragon surges forward. Demanding release. Demanding blood for the insult to my mate.

MY FEMALE. MINE.

It takes every ounce of my considerable discipline to bow stiffly and turn away without ripping out the elder's throat. The taste of blood fills my mouth where my fangs have pierced my own lip.

Blaze's eyes meet mine briefly as I turn to leave. A silent message passing between us. He believes me, but he's outnumbered. The politics of clan leadership require patience and timing.

Something my dragon half has never mastered.

Fury burns through my veins as I stalk back through Emberhold's corridors. Dragons scatter from my path like prey before a predator. My control slips with each step.

Scales ripple visibly beneath my skin. Claws extend and retract with each clenched fist. The dragon half of me roars within, demanding action. Demanding vengeance against those who would endanger what's mine.

Burn them all. Challenge the elders. Show them true power.

The destructive impulses crash against my iron control. The warrior in me knows blind rage solves nothing.

Strategy. Planning. These will protect Spark better than brute force alone.

But the dragon doesn't care about strategy. It cares about the female. About protecting what belongs to us. About punishing those who would threaten her.

Spark's fully awake now. Worry pulses through our connection. She felt my rage even in sleep, the intensity of my emotions disturbing her rest. Now she reaches for me mentally, attempting to soothe the fury she can feel but doesn't understand.

The gesture, so instinctively protective, calms the dragon somewhat. My temperature drops a few degrees. My breathing steadies.

Soon, female. Coming back to you soon.

The bond pulses with increasing urgency as I approach our quarters. My instincts scream that something isn't right.

She's alert. Sensing danger even from a distance.

I quicken my pace, muscles bunching beneath my tactical gear. The corridor seems endless, each step too slow despite my dragon-enhanced speed.

Something's wrong.

The bond pulses with warning. With urgency. Spark's fear spikes, followed immediately by a surge of fierce determination that's so uniquely her.

And then the klaxon shatters the tense silence. Ancient warning systems howl to life throughout the sanctuary. Red lights flash along the corridor walls, illuminating emergency sigils that haven't been activated in decades.

The sudden cacophony only confirms what I already know—Spark is in danger.

"Security breach in the Guardian section," a voice announces through the communication system. "All warriors report for containment procedures."

Cold dread fills my chest, freezing the rage into something harder. More focused.

The Guardian quarters. Where Spark is in our room. Where she should be safe.

Spark.

The name echoes through my mind, no longer just a word but a primal imperative. I don't wait for orders. Don't follow containment protocols.

My muscles bunch beneath my tactical gear as I launch into a sprint, moving faster than any warrior should be capable of. Dragons flatten themselves against walls as I pass, sensing the lethal intent radiating from my massive frame.

The journey through Emberhold's winding corridors passes in a blur of primal focus. My heart hammers against my ribs, each beat sending her name pulsing through my blood.

Mine. Protect. Defend.

Our room’s door stands open. Emergency lights cast eerie red shadows across stone. The scent of dragonfire and destruction fills the air, along with something that makes my dragon half roar with murderous rage—my female's fear.

She is never supposed to feel fear. Not while I live.

My claws extend fully. Scales erupt along my forearms as the shift begins without conscious thought. Silver eyes gleam in the darkness, vision shifting to heat signatures as I search for any threat. Any enemy foolish enough to threaten what belongs to me.

The dark room stretches before me. Damage visible on every side. Tables smashed. Books scattered. Walls scorched with dragonfire.

But no blood. No scent of injury.

Just fear, fury, and that distinctive cinnamon-and-glass essence that belongs to my mate.

She's alive.

And there she is—backed against the far wall. Clutching salvaged glass pieces to her chest. Amber eyes wild with fury rather than fear.

The sight of her alive and fighting sends a surge of fierce pride through my system, followed immediately by protective rage as I register the full extent of the destruction.

On the far wall, words have been burned into stone with dragonfire: "Humans will destroy us all."

A warning. A threat. A declaration of intent.

My dragon half roars to life. Demanding blood for this violation of our territory. This threat to our mate.

Gray flames erupt along my arms, shifting to crimson-tinged power as the Guardian Bond responds to the perceived danger. The intensity of my rage makes the air shimmer around my massive frame. Heat radiating in visible waves.

"Raak."

Just my name from her lips, but it contains volumes. Relief at my arrival. Fury at the violation. Determination not to be cowed.

I cross to her in three long strides. Hands checking her for injuries without conscious thought. Fingers trace her arms, her shoulders, tilt her chin up to examine her face.

The touch calms the dragon somewhat. The physical confirmation of her safety easing the killing rage into something more controlled. More dangerous.

But the contact ignites something else entirely. Her skin burns hot beneath my fingers, the bond-fever still affecting her even in this crisis. My palm cups her cheek, thumb brushing across her lower lip. Her pupils dilate instantly, the amber of her eyes darkening with desire that matches my own.