Page 6 of Fire’s Resonance (Hearts on Fire #1)

“This isn’t ordinary glass. It’s fire-forged crystal—dragon crystal. Only those with dragon blood can create it.”

Her hands tremble slightly as she watches the display. “That’s not possible.”

“You’re showing all the signs of first awakening,” I continue, setting down the sphere with care. These pieces are extensions of both of us now. “Increased body temperature. Enhanced resistance to fire. Dreams that make no fucking sense.”

I step closer, satisfaction coursing through me when her eyes widen. She didn’t expect me to know about the dreams. “Dreams of flying. Of fire that doesn’t burn. Of scales and claws and a mate with silver eyes.”

Her sharp intake of breath confirms my suspicions. “How did you—”

“Because we’re bonded. Have been since birth.”

My hands clench at my sides to keep from reaching for her again. My claws dig into my palms, drawing fresh blood. The scent of it fills the air between us, mingling with her arousal.

“Someone didn’t want this bond to form.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “But Fate has other plans.”

She rubs her arms, where the birthmark continues to spread like embers beneath her skin. “This can’t be happening.”

“It already is.”

I close the distance between us, crowding her against the wall. My body towers over hers, but I’m careful not to touch her. Not yet.

“I was sent to recover these artifacts and eliminate the threat. But you’re not a threat to be eliminated.”

I place one hand on the wall beside her head, caging her with my body. Heat radiates from my skin in visible waves, making the air shimmer between us.

“You’re my mate. I protect what’s mine.”

She stares up at me, fear and fascination warring in her expression. Her scent has shifted—less fear now, more curiosity. More arousal. My nostrils flare, drawing it deep.

Mine. My female. Need to taste. Need to claim.

“I’m not yours. I don’t even know what you are.”

“I’m a dragon shifter. From the Fire Clan.”

I let my eyes glow silver, knowing the effect it will have. Watching her pupils dilate further in response. Watching her throat work as she swallows hard.

“And you have dormant dragon blood. That’s why you can create these pieces. Why you’re drawn to fire. Why your body responds to mine even though your mind resists.”

Her breathing quickens, chest rising and falling rapidly. I can see her nipples hardening beneath her thin tank top. Can smell the sweet musk of her arousal growing stronger.

“Prove it.”

I smile, letting my fangs show. “With pleasure.”

I step back, giving her space to see what’s coming.

Focusing on the shift, I let the change ripple over my skin.

Patches of silver-gray scales appear along my forearms, spreading up to my shoulders.

My eyes shift fully to silver, glowing in the dim workshop.

I let my claws extend, black and deadly at the tips of my fingers.

“This is the partial shift,” I explain, voice deeper, rougher as my vocal cords change. A rumble underlies each word now. “The full transformation requires more space than your workshop provides.”

She doesn’t scream.

Doesn’t run.

Just stares, her amber eyes wide with wonder rather than terror. She swallows hard, her throat working. “You’re really a...” She trails off as if unable to say the word.

“Dragon. Yes.”

I flex my clawed hands, the movement drawing her attention.

“And so are you. Partially, at least.”

She reaches out hesitantly, then pulls back. “Can I...”

I extend my arm. “Touch. It won’t hurt you.”

Her fingers trace the pattern of scales along my forearm, sending electric currents straight to my groin. The sensation is intense—dragon scales are erogenous zones, especially to a mate’s touch. A growl rumbles in my chest at the sensation, deep and primal. She jerks her hand back at the sound.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Fuck, no.”

I catch her hand, bringing it back to my arm. Her touch is both torture and pleasure. My cock pulses painfully with each brush of her fingers across my scales.

“The opposite. Your touch feels...” I struggle to find words that won’t terrify her. “Right.”

Something breaks in her expression—the rigid denial crumbling beneath the weight of evidence she can no longer ignore.

“None of this makes sense. But...” She gestures to her workshop, the glass pieces glowing faintly in response to my presence.

“Nothing in my life has ever made sense. The way I can handle heat. The patterns I see in the fire. The dreams...”

“Your heritage was hidden from you,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the rage building inside.

Someone deliberately kept her ignorant of her nature. Vulnerable. Alone.

The thought makes my dragon half howl with fury.

Protect mate. Kill threats to mate. Mine to protect.

“But your body always knew. Your art revealed what your mind couldn’t accept.”

She looks at the nearest piece, a swirling vortex of fire captured in glass. Her fingers hover over it, not quite touching. “These aren’t just random patterns, are they?”

“No. They’re my specific flame signature. Like a fingerprint, but in fire.”

I pick up the piece, letting my flames dance across it. The patterns inside respond, swirling faster, reaching toward my hand like a living thing seeking connection.

“Your soul has been calling to mine through your art. For years.”

She wraps her arms around herself, a defensive gesture that makes my protective instincts flare. “Why you? Why your... signature?”

“Because we’re compatible. Destined.”

I set down the glass piece before I crush it in my growing agitation. Heat radiates from my skin in visible waves, making the air shimmer around me.

“Dragon mates are somewhat rare. Many never find theirs. Those with mixed blood almost never do. Unless Fate intervenes.”

I gesture to my gray flames that still dance along my scaled skin.

“My flame color marks me as defective among pure dragons. I thought it meant I’d never have a mate.”

Her eyes soften slightly. “Defective? Because it’s gray instead of...”

“Crimson. Like our clan leader’s.” I curl my lip, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

“Pure-blooded dragons produce pure-colored flames. Red, blue, gold. Gray marks mixed heritage.”

She studies my flames with an artist’s eyes. I can see her professional assessment overriding her fear momentarily. “It’s beautiful,” she says simply. “Silver and smoke with hints of blue at the edges. Like moonlight on water.”

Something tightens in my chest at her words.

No one has ever called my flames beautiful before. A weakness, a defect, a sign of impurity—but never beautiful. Never something to be admired rather than hidden.

The moment stretches between us, fragile and meaningful. I want to pull her against me. Want to taste her mouth. Want to show her exactly what my “defective” flames can do when paired with hers. But that would break the tenuous trust building between us.

Control. Need control. Don’t frighten mate.

“The clan sent me to find out how a human acquired dragon artifacts,” I say once again, struggling to maintain focus when all I want is to press her against the wall and claim her mouth.

“I was to retrieve them and handle the situation... permanently.”

Her eyes widen in understanding. “You were sent to kill me.”

I nod once, not bothering to soften the truth. She deserves honesty. “Until I scented you. Saw your art. Realized what you are.”

My voice drops lower, rougher. A rumble underlies each word. “What you are to me.”

She backs away, bumping into her worktable. Glass pieces rattle. “So what happens now?”

“Now I have a decision to make.”

I stalk toward her, watching her pulse jump at her throat. The sight makes my mouth water. Makes my fangs ache with the need to sink into that soft flesh. To mark her as mine.

“Follow orders. Or follow instinct.”

Her chin lifts in defiance, but she doesn’t retreat further. “And which are you going to choose?”

I reach out, tracing one claw gently down her cheek. Her skin is so soft compared to my scales, yet I can feel the dormant dragon beneath—the heat, the resilience, the fire waiting to emerge.

“I think you already know the answer to that, little flame.”

She shivers at my touch but doesn’t pull away. Her amber eyes search mine, looking for deception. Finding none. “What does this mean for me? If what you’re saying is true...”

“It means you’re in danger.”

I drop my hand reluctantly. The beast inside me howls at the loss of contact.

Touch mate. Claim mate. Protect mate.

“The clan doesn’t know what you are. They think you’re human. A security risk to be eliminated.”

“But I am human,” she insists, but there’s less conviction in her voice now.

“Partly. But that dragon blood is awakening.”

I gesture to her arm, where the birthmark continues to spread, glowing like embers beneath her skin.

“The full moon will trigger your transformation. You need to be somewhere safe when it happens.”

Fear flashes across her face. “Will it hurt?”

“Depends.”

I won’t lie to her.

“I don’t know what type of change you’ll have. Shift into a full dragon or not. But I’ll be there.”

She laughs, a sharp, incredulous sound. “You expect me to trust you? The guy who broke into my workshop and just admitted he was sent to kill me?”

“I expect you to trust your instincts.”

I step closer, watching her pupils dilate. My scent affects her as strongly as hers does me. Our bodies know what our minds struggle to accept.

“Your body already knows I’m not a threat to you.”

“My body doesn’t get a vote,” she says, but her voice lacks conviction.

“Doesn’t it?”

I lean in, deliberately invading her space, letting my scent envelop her. Her pupils dilate further, her breathing quickens. Her nipples tighten visibly beneath her top.

“Your heart is racing. But not from fear.”

“That’s just... adrenaline.” The lie falls weakly from her lips.

“Is it?”