Page 17 of Forged in Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #5)

R iven

My arm throbs like a bastard.

The bullet graze burns with each heartbeat, a steady reminder that I took steel meant for her. Blood has dried to a rusty crust on my sleeve, pulling at the fabric every time I move. The wound needs cleaning. Stitches, probably. But first, we need to get the hell out of these mountains.

We’ve been crammed in this rock crevice for what feels like hours, pressed together until I know every curve of her body, every shift in her breathing. My muscles scream from holding still. My back feels like someone worked it over with a sledgehammer.

Worth every damned second to keep her alive.

Iris shifts beside me, hair catching the pale moonlight. Her shadows have settled into a comfortable darkness around us, no longer defensive but protective. Sheltering. Like they understand that something fundamental has shifted between us.

I don’t understand what they are, but they seem to be an extension of her.

That kiss hangs in the air between us. Unfinished business that makes my chest tight and sets my dragon fire simmering just under my skin.

“They’re gone,” I say quietly. My voice comes out rough as gravel.

She nods, but doesn’t move to leave our sanctuary. Neither do I. Because out there, we’ll have to figure out what comes next. What this means. How to deal with the impossible situation we’ve stumbled into.

In here, we can pretend the kiss was just adrenaline.

But my body knows better. Every nerve ending still remembers the taste of her mouth, the feel of her against me, the sensation of being bound to her.

“We need to move,” I force myself to say. “They’ll send reinforcements.”

She pulls back a little. “Where do we go?”

Good question. The cabin’s blown. The Guild will have marked every safe house I’ve ever used in the region. We need distance, resources, somewhere they won’t think to look.

“Ra?nov,” I say, running options through my head. “I have assets there. Places they won’t find us.” Reluctantly, I pull away and inch out of the crevice.

“Where the hell is Ra?nov?” she asks, making her way out behind me.

“About thirty miles out.” I glance up at the still-dark sky. “We could make it by nightfall, if we move fast. Quicker if we get a ride.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover on foot.” She stretches, and I catch myself watching the way her spine arches.

“Not much choice. We need to be clear of here before the next team arrives.” I stretch too, hearing my vertebrae pop.

“These people don’t fuck around when it comes to cleanup operations.

They’ll have helicopters, thermal imaging, tracking teams with supernatural abilities.

We’d be caught in the open like rabbits. ”

“We could shift,” she says, almost casually. “Cover the distance fast. Fly high, avoid detection.”

Shift. Right. Because she’s full dragon, not some half-breed mongrel like me.

The silence stretches too long. She looks at me, confusion flickering in her eyes. “You can shift, right? I mean, you’re clearly dragon, your fire signature is—”

“I can’t fly.”

I sound bitter. All these missions, and I’ve never had to admit this limitation to someone whose life might depend on it.

She frowns. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“Can’t.” I meet her gaze, jaw tight. “I’m dragon-touched, not dragon-born. Mixed heritage. I get the fire, the enhanced abilities, but no wings. No dragon form.”

I wait for the calculation to shift in her eyes, for her to realize I’m not the asset she thought I was. Just another liability dragging her down.

Instead, she tilts her head, studying me with interest. “How dragon-touched?”

“Enough.” I leave it at that. She doesn’t need the whole history—human mother, dragon bloodline so diluted it barely counts, abilities that manifested when I was nine and marked me as useful to the Guild.

She’s quiet for a long moment, processing. Then: “You could ride me.”

I blink in surprise. “What?”

“My dragon. I could carry you.” She says it simply, like she’s suggesting we grab coffee. “It’s the fastest way to cover the distance.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Because the idea of relying on someone else, even her, makes my skin crawl. Because admitting I need help feels like admitting weakness. Because the thought of being that close to her in dragon form does things to my body that have nothing to do with rational thinking.

“Too risky,” I say instead. “If we’re spotted—”

“We stay high. Above the cloud line. It’s still dark, visibility’s limited.” She’s already working through the logistics. “Faster than ground travel. Harder to track.”

She’s right, and I know it. The strategic part of my brain approves of the plan even as everything else rebels against it.

“I don’t take rides,” I say, sounding stubborn as fuck.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she huffs. “This isn’t the time for ego bullshit.”

Goddammit. She’s got me there.

My pride wars with necessity. With the growing certainty that I’d follow her anywhere if she asked.

“Fine,” I say roughly. “But if this goes sideways—”

“It won’t.”

She sounds so certain. So confident in her abilities, in this plan, in us as a team. When did I become part of an “us”?

We make our way out of the rocks and into a clearing, maybe fifty feet from our hiding spot. Far enough from the rock formations to give her room to transform. Close enough to provide cover if things go south.

Night air cuts through my jacket, sharp with the promise of snow. My wounded arm bitches with every movement, but I ignore it. Pain is just information, and right now it’s telling me I’m still alive.

Still able to protect her.

Not that she needs it. She’s scanning around us now, clearly checking for threats. I’m reminded of how easily she slipped into that Syndicate compound. She’s got skills. And for a man like me, that’s fucking catnip.

“You ready?” she says quietly.

She turns to face me, and I catch something vulnerable in her expression. Like she’s about to reveal a secret.

“Don’t freak out,” she says.

Before I can ask what she means, she starts to strip off, tossing her clothing toward me. I catch it, realizing I’m gaping like an idiot. Creamy skin is being revealed, soft curves, pert breasts, toned thighs.

Fuck. My dick takes note, and I turn away before I can make an ass of myself.

“It’s okay,” she says. “It won’t take long.”

“Sure,” I say gruffly, stealing a look over my shoulder. I can’t help myself. It’s not just that she’s fucking gorgeous. It’s the fascination of watching her transform.

Heat rolls off her in waves as her body starts to shift and grow. Bones crack and lengthen with sounds like tree branches snapping under weight. Her skin ripples, then hardens into scales the color of polished copper. Wings unfold from her shoulders and spread across the sky.

She grows. And grows. Until she’s massive, magnificent, utterly terrifying.

A dragon in truth. Not the half-measures and compromises I’m used to, but something ancient and powerful enough to level mountains.

Her eyes find mine—still that same copper-gold, but now large enough to swallow me whole. Intelligence burns in their depths, wild and alien but still… her.

Holy fucking shit.

She lowers her great head, and I understand the invitation.

Still, my hands shake as I approach. Not from fear—from something deeper. Recognition, maybe. Like my dragon fire is calling to hers across species lines that shouldn’t matter.

Her scales are warm under my palms, smoother than I expected. Each one fits perfectly against its neighbors. Like bullet-proof armor. Heat rolls from her skin and seeps through my jacket. It warms me in ways that have nothing to do with temperature.

I shove her clothes into my bag, then thank every hour of strength training and field work that allows me to easily climb her massive neck and settle onto her back between her wide shoulder blades, fitting into the natural groove formed there.

The position is intimate, trusting. My thighs bracket her spine, hands finding a grip on the ridge of scales along her neck.

She turns her head to look at me, and I see the question in those ancient eyes.

“Ready,” I say, though I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for this. “Head south,” I tell her. “I’ll guide you.”

She nods once. Her wings spread wide, catching the pre-dawn air. Muscles bunch under my legs as she crouches, preparing for takeoff.

Then we’re airborne.

The ground falls away beneath us like it was never real. Pine trees shrink to matchsticks, then disappear into the canopy below. Wind tears at my hair, my clothes, trying to rip me from her back. But her flight is smooth, powerful, each wingbeat carrying us higher into the slowly lightening sky.

Oh, my fucking God.

I’ve never experienced anything like this. Flight without the mechanical noise of helicopters or planes. Just wind and muscle and the raw power of something born to own the sky.

Below us, the Carpathian Mountains spread out in endless peaks and valleys. Snow-capped summits catch the early light, turning them into crystals scattered across green velvet. It’s beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.

Beautiful and deadly. Like her.

We climb higher until the air thins and clouds drift around us. Up here, we’re invisible to ground-based surveillance. Just another shadow against the sky, if anyone bothers to look up and squint through the gloom.

I lose track of time. Minutes or hours pass—I can’t tell which. The rhythm of her wingbeats is almost soothing. For the first time in years, maybe decades, I’m not calculating angles or planning escape routes. I’m just… here. Present. Alive.

With her.

I keep an eye on the passing landscape far beneath us, picking up landmarks and guiding her flight path.

The sun climbs higher, burning off the morning mist. Eventually, in the distance, Ra?nov sprawls across the valley like a medieval painting, red roofs and church spires rising from ancient streets in the shadow of a fortress.

“Down,” I say. “Away from the town.”

She begins to descend, and I feel the shift in her flight pattern. More careful now. Controlled. She’s looking for a landing spot away from prying eyes.

We touch down in a grove of oak trees, maybe a mile outside the city limits. Her landing is smooth, barely disturbing the fallen leaves beneath her claws.

The transformation back to human form is slower than the shift to dragon. Like she doesn’t want to give up that power, that freedom. I understand the feeling.

When it’s done, she stands before me in human skin again, but something has changed. She carries herself differently now. More confident. Like she’s finally comfortable in her own power.

“You good?” she asks, and I realize I’m still crouched on the ground where I slid off her back.

“Fine.” I stand, testing my balance. The wounded arm throbs, but it’s manageable. “That was…” I trail off. There aren’t words for what that was. Nothing can capture the sensation of flying with her. Of being trusted with something so precious and dangerous.

Of feeling like I belonged there.

“I’ll be needing those,” she says, glancing down where I’m still clutching the bag with the clothes she shed earlier.

“Oh. Right. I… I… Shit.” I shut up and toss the bundle toward her, then turn away again, which seems ridiculous since she’s standing stark naked in front of me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But I’ll have the image of those pert, pink-tipped breasts seared into my brain until I’m old and gray.

“We need to move,” I say, falling back on practicality while she gets dressed. I glance down at my watch, where an integrated compass is pointing true north. “I have a cache of gear about a half mile north of us.”

“You expected to come here?” She frowns.

“I set things up at several towns in the area, in case I got stuck somewhere. Didn’t you?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Um. No.” She rolls her eyes. “Because who does that?”

“I do,” I say simply.

She nods, falling into step beside me as we make our way through the trees. But I catch her glancing at me sideways, like she’s trying to figure out what’s changed.

Everything, I want to tell her. Everything has changed.