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Jules
Sitting here with Alaric— his knees brushing mine, the light casting shadows across his too-beautiful face —I ask him to tell me the truth about us. About everything .
And it’s the hardest, worst, most wonderful thing I’ve ever done.
In this world or any other.
Because part of me doesn’t want to know.
Not really.
Not if the truth cuts deep enough to bleed out all the fragile hope I’ve been holding onto.
But the other part— the fierce, stubborn part that has loved him from the moment he roared my name across a burning sky —needs to hear it.
That part needs to know if I was chosen or just convenient. Needs to believe that whatever brought us together wasn’t just fate playing games.
So I sit still, aching and raw, braced for heartbreak, breath held between the lines of what he hasn't said yet.
My heart is a storm.
My soul’s already his.
And when he opens his mouth to speak, I’m terrified.
But I’m also ready. Because if we’re going to burn, then let it be together.
Please.
“Nothing I could have planned would have ever prepared me for the wonderful reality of you, Jules.”
I frown, caught between confusion and the soft, aching pull in my chest. “What are you talking about?”
He exhales, and something raw glimmers in his silver eyes.
“I’m talking about you . Your sass, your fire. The way you challenged me when others cowered. You never bowed. You never let the crown blind you. You saw me — not the monster, not just the Dragon, not the Lord of Illusion with too much blood on his hands —but me . And hell yes, you terrified me.”
His voice breaks for half a second, like the weight of it all might crush him if he doesn’t get it out.
“Because when I claimed you, when I sank into your softness, your strength, your incomparable beauty—the truth is, you claimed me right back. You didn’t even know it, did you?
But you have me, Myrrin. Body, heart, and soul of a Dragon.
The zareth doesn’t lie. And I will never lie to you, by will or omission ever again.
Even my Dragon chooses you. My Zharaya. Dragon Rider. ”
“But—”
“Shade told me you know what that means. Don’t deny what we have, I beg you. I swear, from that very first time, our bond settled around me like fire and silk, and it didn’t feel like power or strategy or seduction. It felt like home .”
My throat burns. My heart’s barely beating right. But I force the question, anyway, needing it like air.
“And the others? Dauphiné said?—”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to look away or sugarcoat the answer.
“If you want to hear about my past— about meaningless nights and cold dalliances made in haste to satisfy a physical need —I’ll tell you. Every single one. If you insist. But those that came before?”
His jaw tightens.
“They were shadows, Jules. Flickers of hunger and nothing more. They never touched what you touch. They never saw what you see.”
I swallow hard. “So they didn’t matter, but I’m supposed to believe that I do.”
It’s not a question. It’s a wound.
And Alaric steps into it like he’s already bleeding too.
He cups my face, reverent and shaking.
“You are the only one who has ever mattered. And, for fuck’s sake, Jules, damn me to hell if you must, but I swear, you are the only one who ever will.”
His chest rumbles. His voice cracks. And the very air around him shimmers with magic.
“You do matter. You matter the most. Myrrin, you are everything ,” he swears.
“Not because of what I was trying to do, tricking the Fates, which I obviously failed at because our bond is real. And not because the realm chose you. But because I did. Because the moment I stopped trying to fake my destiny, you became it.”
The silence between us is thick with heat, heartbreak, and all the things we haven’t said yet.
I shiver, cold for some reason, and a moment later a fireplace appears, roaring to life.
I smile softly and watch as it crackles and warms me to the bone.
The bond hums between us, not just magical—but raw, real .
And I don’t know what tomorrow brings, or whether Nightfall will ever be safe again.
But this man, this Demon, this Lord —he is mine. And I think I’m his.
If I can forgive him.
If I can get past the how and why of it.
“I need to know you’re not just enchanted by the idea of this bond,” I whisper. “That if it faded tomorrow, you’d still want me.”
He leans forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, his voice low and rough.
“The bond exists because of us, Jules. It isn’t separate, but even if all of magic blinked out of existence, I would still chase you across a thousand realms to earn your heart again.
You are not a convenience. You are not a tool for me to gain power.
You are my viyella. My one true mate. I swear to you with everything I am, that is the truth. ”
I let that sit for a moment.
Then I speak.
“And you won’t get tired of me? Won’t someday decide the bartender with too many opinions isn’t worth the trouble?”
His jaw tightens.
“Never. You are mine , Jules. Not because of fate. Not because of prophecy. Or arrogance. But because I love you.” A pause.
“I am in love with you, Jules Strano. You are my one true viyella . Only you.”
He says it so simply.
So devastatingly.
I forget how to breathe.
“Did you hear me, Myrrin? I love you,” he repeats. “More than crowns, more than glory. If this realm asked me to choose between saving it or saving you—gods forgive me, I’d choose you.”
And that’s when I know.
The darkness here is real.
The danger is endless.
But this man? This Demon Dragon Lord?
He’s the light I never saw coming. A storm wrapped in flame and shadow, and yet somehow, he’s become my anchor.
My home.
And I’ll fight for him. For this fragile, terrifying, exhilarating thing between us. For us.
Because I love him, too.
And loving someone like this? With your whole soul cracking wide open, trembling in its rawness? It means taking risks. Letting go. Bleeding if you have to.
For Alaric? I’ll risk it all.
A hundred times over, I’d throw myself into the fire for him, and I’d still come out reaching for him.
“Jules,” he murmurs, voice thick with worry and need. “Please. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I lean in, eyes locked on his, heart pounding as I let my body do the answering.
“I’m thinking now would be a really good time for you to wave those magic fingers of yours and clean us both up.”
He blinks, stunned. “What? Why would you?—”
His breath catches as I slide from my seat and straddle his lap, loving the feel of his powerful thighs beneath me, fitting myself against him like I was made for it.
Because I believe I was.
“Oh, fuck, ” he groans, hands going immediately to my hips, possessive and shaking.
“I want my viyen ,” I whisper against his lips, “to claim me again. Right here. Right now.”
Something primal flashes in his eyes. That Dragon hunger I’ve come to crave.
A dark growl rumbles up from his chest and I feel it through every inch of me.
“For you, viyella ?” he rasps, voice like sin and silk. “Anything.”
Power crackles around us, seductive and sharp.
His magic washes over us in a heated wave— slick and sensual, like the caress of warm silk.
It strips away the grime, the blood, the lingering chill of battle with wicked precision, leaving us bare in every sense of the word. Body and soul.
And heaven help me, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sight of him like this.
Alaric looks like some divine creation—sculpted from shadow and starlight, his body carved in angles and muscle, power rippling beneath skin kissed by flame and magic.
Every inch of him speaks of battle, of command, of a life lived at the edge of a blade.
And yet, right now, he’s not just a terrifying Lord of Nightfall.
Not just a beast who breathes fire and bends the wind.
He’s just mine.
I let my eyes roam shamelessly.
The ridges of his abdomen.
The delicious V of his hips.
The long lines of strength and heat and the heavy, hard promise of what waits between his thighs.
My breath stutters in my chest just looking at him, and I swear, I feel my heart swell to match the ache building low in my belly.
But then I notice something.
He’s looking at me the same way.
Like I’m the miracle. Like I’m the one who defies logic and fate and all things divine. Like I’m beautiful.
How can that be?
On Earth, I was nobody special.
Just another chubby woman with calloused hands and laugh lines, who poured drinks and smiled through the ache of wanting more.
There were prettier girls. Louder ones. Ones who knew how to get the spotlight.
But here, with him , I’m seen.
Desired.
Worshipped.
And the way he’s looking at me now?
Like I’m some precious, irreplaceable treasure he still can’t believe is his?
It nearly undoes me.
“Why do you look at me like that?” I whisper, voice trembling.
His hand cups my cheek, reverent, his thumb brushing the curve of my jaw.
“Because I never imagined in all my plotting and illusion building that I would ever find a creature as lovely as you and that you, in all your rare honesty and beauty, would choose me. You honor me, viyella. ”
His touch follows, reverent and rough as his hands slide under the armor he conjured me, peeling it away like wrapping from a gift he’s been dying to open.
“Alaric,” I whimper, feeling needy and lost without him.
And because he knows it, he cups my hips and drags me closer, pressing his ready cock against my slippery seam.
We both groan. But he doesn’t enter me. Just slides me up and down, coating his thick sex with my juices.
“I thought I nearly lost you today,” he breathes, his mouth trailing along my neck, my collarbone, his hands cupping me like I might vanish.
“You didn’t,” I whisper, tilting my face to his. “I’m right here. Safe. In your arms. And I want you so badly, viyen .”