Page 18

KADE

A sh still swirls over the camp, a blizzard from hell—thick, choking haze that settles in lungs and coats every surface in gray grit.

Liv and I slip past the wrecked hose rigs—metal husks still steaming in places—and climb the ridge, boots crunching over blackened glass where thermite kissed and devoured the earth.

Heat lingers in pockets underfoot, forcing us to step with care.

I keep my body half-turned toward her, adopting a shield posture, my shoulder brushing hers as we move.

My ears track every scrape of her boot on fractured stone, every dissonant note in the wounded night.

Beneath the smoke, something feral stirs in me—protective, on edge, ready to burn for her if I have to.

“Sniper could still be up here,” Liv whispers.

“He is,” I answer, scenting cordite on the wind. “And he’s not alone.”

Three—what I can only assume are Ignis mercs—pivot from a basalt outcrop—polymer rifles, foam-round silencers.

The leader squeezes off a shot first. I shove Liv sideways and feel the round strike against my ribs, a blunt impact with the weight of a rubber mallet.

It hurts, but the dragon beneath my skin drinks pain the way a forge drinks air.

Liv hits the pumice slope, rolls with practiced grace, and comes up in a low crouch, her Pulaski clenched in a reverse grip, gleaming dully in the fractured moonlight.

Her muscles tighten with lethal precision, her stance low and braced, eyes scanning for the next threat with the silent intent of a predator ready to strike.

That weapon isn't just for show—she could use the axe head to crush a skull, the pick to shatter bone, the blade to cleave through whatever Ignis throws at us. Gods, she’s gorgeous—deadly and defiant, a wildfire in human form.

“Stay low,” I growl.

“Bite me,” she snaps, eyes flashing with reckless fire.

"I'm not sure you mean that the way I'd like you to mean it," I say with a predatory grin.

Her muscles bunch, and in a blur of motion, she surges toward the nearest shooter.

Boots slam against the gritty slope, the air around her vibrating with raw intent.

Her Pulaski gleams as she lifts it, every line of her body a promise of violence and survival.

Time stutters. I can only watch—the woman I would burn the world for, charging straight into its flames.

A second merc fires. I drop to a knee, palms digging into grit as the air around me superheats.

I unleash a surge of draconic heat, the exhalation rippling outward with a crack like thunder.

Dust and ash erupt in a blinding bloom, cloaking the slope in white and gold haze.

Liv doesn’t hesitate—her Pulaski arcs through the chaos, burying in the merc’s visor with a sickening crunch.

I surge forward, vision seared and instinct ruling, fists colliding with bone and polymer.

The first assailant’s rifle snaps against my forearm as I slam into him, jaw dislocating beneath my knuckles.

The second stumbles backward, but not fast enough—I drive a punch into his gut, lifting him off his feet.

Their radios sputter a rising panic, static crackling with the sharp edge of fear.

But more boots hammer down the slope—rapid, aggressive, too many to count.

The ground trembles beneath their approach, grit vibrating under our feet.

The sharp staccato of combat boots on volcanic rock pounds like war drums, each step signaling a fresh wave of enemies surging into the breach, relentless in their advance.

“Cave,” I shout. “Go!”

We sprint through a split in the ridge, diving into volcanic dark just as fresh rounds rake the entrance in a hail of searing noise.

The mouth of the cavern yawns open beneath us, big enough to run hunched through, its obsidian-veined walls catching the flicker of distant flame like jagged black mirrors.

Each breath pulls in the sharp tang of sulfur and scorched minerals, the steam rising in ghostly tendrils from heat vents spider-webbed into the cavern floor.

The air is thick and damp, the ground still warm with the memory of magma—nature’s own forge, humming with ancient power, dangerous and alive beneath our feet.

Liv presses against the basalt, chest heaving. “Outnumbered, under-armed. Got any more miracles, dragon-man?”

Time’s up. No more secrets.

The words resonate deep within me, heavy and rhythmic, impossible to ignore.

I take a slow step forward into the pale shimmer of heat-glow bleeding from the cave, letting her see the burn in my eyes—the truth I’ve hidden, the fire I’ve denied.

The air thickens with rising heat as if the cave itself braces for what I’m about to become.

Liv’s breath stutters, and I don’t miss the way her fingers twitch toward her weapon, a tell-tale flare of fear.

But she doesn’t run. She sees me. Not just the man.

The dragon. And in that suspended heartbeat, I know there’s no going back.

I step into the faint glow, eyes flooding with fire, and in that fleeting instant, I think she sees the truth—not just with her eyes, but something deeper.

Her breath catches, pupils dilating, one step faltering as if her instincts recognize the fire in me before her mind can catch up.

Awe flickers across her features, chased by a trace of fear—and something far more primal.

“Miracles, no. Truth? Yes.” I let my aura bloom around my silhouette—small, contained—lighting the cavern like sunrise caught in crystal.

Her eyes widen but she doesn’t retreat. Brave, reckless woman. “Show me, then.”

I strip the tactical shirt, let it drop, and feel scales threaten beneath skin. “My kind claims once. For life. The pendant was the first tether. The next is scar and soul.”

Her pulse jumps. “What does claiming mean for me?”

“Everything,” I say, voice roughening with ancient vow. “My fire marks you… binds us. Your life threads through mine. No pain, only power. But I need your yes.”

She lifts her chin, smoky lashes trembling. “I already chose you on an anvil, Kade. I choose you again. Yes.”

Heat courses relentlessly through my veins, a scorching river of fire.

It races beneath my skin, igniting every nerve ending as my body braces for the sacred act.

I press Liv firmly against the basalt wall, feel her chest rise against mine, fast and unsteady.

Her breath ghosts over my throat, lips parted, caught between anticipation and awe.

My hand slips beneath her shirt and unclasps her bra, my fingertips grazing the fabric before I ease it away.

Her skin radiates warmth against my palm as I cup her bare breast, the heat of her body anchoring me in this moment of searing clarity.

Her gasp escapes—a delicious mix of surprise and hunger—as her nails graze down my back, sending electric shudders through us both.

The golden light enveloping my skin flares brighter, like molten veins cast in sacred fire, illuminating the cavern with ethereal intensity.

I press her firmly against the cool basalt wall, and my thumb finds her nipple, pebbling instantly under my touch.

She trembles—an exquisite ripple of anticipation and surrender—and her breath hitches, catching in her throat as I draw her closer.

The air between us crackles, heavy with heat and hunger, as if the fire surging in my veins now moves through her too. Her back arches toward my hand, her lips parting in a moan that fans the inferno rising between us, making this more than desire—it’s destiny written in touch, in heat, in fire.

A look of awe gradually eclipses the fear in her eyes, transforming her expression into one of wonder.

Our lips meet in a fervent kiss, tongues intertwining with a desperation that’s more than lust—it’s instinct, compulsion, the ache of fate sealing.

Her moan vibrates against my mouth as I tighten my hold, chest to chest, breath to breath.

For a suspended heartbeat, the world narrows to nothing but the press of her mouth against mine and the crackling blaze that surges under my skin—ready to claim, to mark, to make her mine forever. in an intricate dance.

I guide her gently toward a patch of smoothed rock near the geothermal vents—our only shelter in this scorched hollow.

A folded fireproof tarp, warm from the radiant heat, serves as makeshift bedding.

As I unbutton her jeans and ease them down along with her panties, the sight of her body revealed in the low, molten glow strikes something primal in me.

Anticipation pools between her legs, glistening, vulnerable, and achingly beautiful against the backdrop of volcanic rock and rising steam.

"Brace," I whisper, my voice a husky murmur against her skin before trailing fiery kisses down her neck and across her collarbone.

She shivers, a delicious tremor when I reach the delicate curve where her neck meets her collarbone—just above her heart—and there, I blow a gentle trail of fire tracing a searing sigil upon her skin, its shape that of intertwined wings aflame with magic.

Her gasp is one of pure wonder, not pain, as she stares in awe at the glowing brand seared into her skin—an intricate sigil, glowing gold where my fire kissed her just above the heart.

The shape blazes bright, then seals in a burst of heat—one sharp throb, then a faint, steady glow beneath the skin.

Her fingers hover above it, not touching, but reverent.

Her lips part, breath catching in a mixture of disbelief and recognition—as if some primal instinct deep in her soul has awakened to the truth of what she’s become.

From that brand, a radiant blaze unfurls, heat threading through her veins like molten metal.

The sensation isn't painful but overwhelming with energy—like standing at the edge of eruption and letting it swallow her whole.

Her spine arches involuntarily, a breathless cry escaping as argent tendrils ripple beneath her skin.

Her muscles tense, tremble, then release as if the very core of her being is being rewritten—flesh and soul reforged by sacred dragon fire, not magic but instinct, rite, and bond.

Her eyes flare a brilliant silver, hair lifting as if caught in a phantom wind only she can feel.

Around us, sparks swirl and dance—vibrant and alive—as dragon magic answers the call of destiny.

My heart lurches—a powerful thud—as I inhale deeply and catch new notes to her scent: an intoxicating blend of smoke, scorched cedar, and something primal and searing—like the first breath drawn from a forge just opened, the air laced with heat, grit, and the undeniable presence of dragon fire newly awakened.

As I reposition myself between her legs, my arousal pressing insistent against her entrance, I pause, locking eyes with her—a silent plea for permission.

She nods, breathless and eager, her legs wrapping around me, urging me forward with a fervent need.

I thrust into her slowly, the head of my cock parting her wet folds and eliciting a moan from us both.

Each movement is deliberate, our bodies gliding together as the sensation builds within us.

Her hips rise to meet mine as the pace quickens, our mutual moans filling the air—a harmonious symphony of desire.

Our bodies move together with desperate passion—her nails digging into my back—as each thrust stokes the fire ignited within us both.

Sweat glistens on our entwined forms, the heat between us growing ever more intense—a tangible force.

In this moment, she transcends her humanity; she is no longer merely human.

She is ours—dragon-kissed and irrevocably bound by the threads of fate.

But as I gaze down at her transformed form, awe sears through the remnants of control I pretend to have.

My breath hitches. This isn’t just about destiny—it’s about her .

The woman who shattered my walls, who chose fire over fear, me over safety.

I never dared believe the claiming could feel like this—like being cracked open and remade in the image of something sacred.

My soul doesn’t just recognize her—it kneels.

The walls of the cave shake. Heated air funnels through cracks, stoking our joined blaze. Outside, mercs shout. Infrared sensors must be screaming.

Liv grips my shoulders, pupils luminous. “They’re still out there.”

“Then we send them back.” I hold her close, our sigils beating in unison, steady and sure.

We exhale—not flames, but a flare of heat and light that surges with the raw force of the bond itself, elemental and fierce, not dragon breath.

The energy arcs outward, unseen by human eyes, but unmistakably powerful.

We exhale together—twin streams of gold and silver fire.

The cavern roof groans, obsidian flashing molten.

Stone folds like wax, sealing the entrance in a cascade of slag. Ignis shouts cut off mid-curse.

Silence floods in, broken only by our ragged breaths.

She touches the mark I left on her, eyes wide. “I feel... strong. Like lightning bottled and barely contained.”

“That’s the bond—and the beginning.” Fierce elation surges through me, tempered by solemn resolve. “But that flare just painted a bullseye on every Ignis monitor. We need Blackstrike on this, secrets or not.”

Outside, distant sirens answer the heat spike. Data feeds will exfil in minutes.

I clasp Liv’s hand—warm, steady, unstoppable.

Her fingers thread through mine with surprising strength, as if the new fire in her veins lends her more than just heat and will.

It’s as if the essence of dragonkind—raw, unrelenting—now flows through her grip, forging her into something both terrifying and extraordinary.

My thumb brushes over the edge of the sigil still glowing faintly at her shoulder, and something ancient and solemn settles in my chest.

She’s not just mine. She’s become something more than either of us were alone—and now, we face the storm together. “Time to tell the dragons we’re at war.”

Above, another detonation booms across the ridge, lighting the predawn sky blood-red. The war, it seems, has already started.