Page 32

Chapter 32

L ila

Something changed while I slept. It’s not just that Elena left at some point. There’s more.

The air. The light. Him.

I feel it before my eyes even open. That strange heavy-sweetness that follows near-death, when the body remembers its fragility. When breath becomes a miracle.

Talon watches me. I know it without looking. His gaze carries heat that prickles across my skin, waking nerves I’d forgotten I had. My time with the Syndicate taught me to sense observation, but this… this is different. This is being seen, not monitored.

I open my eyes to find his fixed on me.

“How long have you been watching me?” My voice rasps with sleep and yesterday’s screaming.

“Long enough to know you’re beautiful when you sleep.” The corner of his mouth lifts—that half-smile that makes my stomach flip. “Long enough to wonder if I died after all.”

Light spills through the penthouse windows, that pre-dawn glimmer that hints at the coming day. Morning, then. We survived the night.

“You’re supposed to be half-dead.” I push myself upright, studying him with disbelief.

The wounds that had torn his magnificent form apart—gone. Smooth skin where lacerations had gaped open just hours ago. His chest rises and falls with easy breath, no trace of the broken ribs that had punctured his lungs. The jagged gash that had all but eviscerated him. Even the bruises have faded to watercolor smudges.

“Phoenix healing.” He shrugs, then winces slightly. “Not perfect, but damn close.” He glances at the door. “What happened to the others? Your daughter…”

“Elena left to let you rest.” I smooth wild strands of hair from my face, suddenly self-conscious. How long did I sleep, curled against him like my heartbeat could keep his going? “She was here all night.”

“I know.” His eyes never leave mine, something unreadable flickering behind them. “I remember fragments. Your voices. Your hands. The Shard’s energy threading through me.”

I remember too. The phoenix fire flowing from Juno’s hands. And before that, Elena’s magic joining mine through the Shard, pouring strength into Talon’s broken body. The way his heart fluttered beneath my palm—a bird fighting to stay in flight.

“You almost died.” The words scrape my throat painfully.

“Worth it.”

“Don’t say that.” Heat builds behind my eyes. “Nothing is worth what I saw on that rooftop. Your body—” My voice breaks. “I thought I’d found you just to lose you.”

His hand finds mine in the tangled sheets, warm and solid and alive.

“I couldn’t let them take you again,” he says, voice dropping lower. “Not after everything you survived. Not after finally getting you out.”

“So you faced them alone.” My fingers tighten around his. “Why would you do that?”

“For you.” His eyes burn into mine, no hesitation, no artifice. “I would do it again.”

The simplicity of his answer steals my breath. No one has ever sacrificed for me. Not since my mother died protecting our Rossewyn secrets decades ago. I’ve been the sacrifice—the asset, the tool, the thing to be broken for what I could provide.

“This thing between us…” I start, then falter. How to describe this pull, this impossible connection to him? “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Dragons call it the mate bond.” His thumb traces my palm, sending shivers up my spine. “It’s rare. Sacred.”

“I saw it through the Shard.” The memory of ancient visions rises from blood-deep. “Lyria and Kael. The first dragon-witch bonding.”

Surprise flickers across his face. “You saw them? In the Shard?”

“Blood memory.” I shift closer, drawn to his warmth like metal to a magnet. “Rossewyn witches carry the history of our line. The Shard just… amplifies it.”

“Then you know.” Something vulnerable crosses his expression. “What this is. What it means.”

“I know it terrifies me.” Honesty falls from my lips before I can stop it. “I had my will violated. This feels like… like stepping off a cliff.”

“I would never cage you.” The fierceness in his voice silences the screaming doubts in my head. “Whatever this is, wherever it leads, it’s up to you. Always.”

Something cracks open inside me—a brittle shell twenty years in the making. Within that breaking, freedom rises like dawn.

My choice.

I lean forward abruptly, closing the space between us. My lips brush his—questioning, uncertain. A gasp escapes him, surprise melting into hunger as he responds. The kiss deepens, tentative touches becoming exploration, discovery, claiming.

This isn’t like before… that desperate union in stolen moments before alarms and gunfire tore us apart. This is deliberate. Chosen. Mine.

My hands frame his face, feeling the heat of him, the life throbbing beneath his skin. His palms slide up my arms, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Everything narrows to this. To us, to touch, to the miracle of being able to choose connection after so much isolation.

“Careful,” I murmur against his mouth, remembering his injuries. “You’re still healing.”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine. “I’m stronger than I look, witch.”

To prove his point, he moves, pulling me on top of him in one fluid motion. My knees settle on either side of his hips, the position placing me above him. In control. The meaning isn’t lost on me. Even now, he ensures my agency.

My hands explore the planes of his chest, tracing muscle and sinew, marveling at the resilience of him. Under my touch, golden scales shimmer beneath his skin, rippling like sunlight on water. Dragon rising to the surface.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I whisper, tracing the pattern with my fingertips.

His eyes flare at the compliment, pupils contracting to vertical slits as the dragon peers through. “You’re not afraid?”

“No.” And it’s true. This transformation doesn’t frighten me. It fascinates. “Show me. All of you.”

The scales spread beneath my touch, his body responding to the invitation. They appear like molten gold beneath his skin, not overtaking his human form but enhancing it; a hybrid beauty of man and beast. His eyes glow, dragon-bright in the dawn light.

“I can feel you,” he says, voice rougher, deeper, dragon resonating through human vocal cords. “Your power. Your fire.”

The Shard pulses against my chest, responding to the rising heat between us. I reach for the chain, pulling it over my head. The crystal gleams in my palm, its energy surging as I place it on the bedside table.

“I want this to be just us,” I tell him. “No magic. No Shard. Just Lila. Just Talon.”

His expression softens with understanding. After a lifetime of being valued only for the power I channeled, being wanted just for myself is its own magic.

He reaches for the hem of my shirt, and I lift my arms as he pulls it over my head. Cool air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps that he chases away with his palms. I wore nothing beneath—there had been no time for such considerations when we left the Outpost in such a rush.

His gaze travels over me with a tenderness that makes me tremble. No one has looked at me like this—like I’m precious simply for existing.

“Like what you see, dragon?” I ask, surprising myself with the playfulness in my voice.

“More than you know.” His hands span my waist, thumbs tracing the curve of my ribs. “I’ve dreamed of this. Of you. Since the moment I saw you.”

“Even in that place? When I was barely human?”

“Especially then.” His touch moves higher, skimming the undersides of my breasts. “When I saw your strength. Your defiance. Your refusal to be broken.”

I lean down, claiming his mouth again as his hands cup my breasts. Heat pools low in my belly, a liquid want I’ve never felt with such intensity. His thumbs brush over my nipples, drawing a gasp from my lips that he swallows hungrily.

The years melt away beneath his touch. I become new again—not the damaged witch, but simply a woman discovering desire with a man who sees past her scars.

My hips rock against his, feeling his cock harden beneath me. The friction sends sparks up my spine, pleasure building with each subtle movement. His hands leave my breasts, trailing fire down my sides to grip my hips, guiding the rhythm of our bodies.

“I want to feel you,” I mutter against his mouth, tugging at the waistband of his pants—borrowed silk sleep pants.

Whose room are we in?

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except this hunger, this connection burning between us.

He lifts his hips, helping me drag the fabric down his legs. The movement reveals him fully, his cock hard and ready, framed by a scattering of golden scales that glitter in the early light. I take his shaft in my palm, feeling heat and hardness and the subtle texture of scales against my skin.

His breath hitches, eyes flaring brighter with dragon fire.

“Lila,” he groans, the word breaking on his lips. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“After all the trouble we went through to save you?” I smile against his mouth. “Seems counterproductive.”

His laugh transforms into a groan as I stroke him, learning the length and weight of him in my hand. His hips rise to meet my touch, scales shimmering across his skin with each movement.

“Now you,” he commands, tugging at my remaining clothes with restless hands. I rise to my knees, letting him help me out of my pants and underwear until nothing separates us—skin to skin, heat to heat.

I take control again, settling my knees on either side of his hips. His hands explore my body with awe and hunger, tracing scars from my ordeal without question or pity. Each touch rewrites those marks—no longer evidence of pain, but simply part of the map that led me here, to this moment, to him.

“I need you,” I whisper, positioning myself above him, the head of his cock against my slick slit. “Now.”

Our eyes lock as I sink onto him, taking him inside me slowly… deliciously slowly. The sensation is overwhelming—fullness and heat and connection deeper than physical. His hands grip me tighter, guiding but not controlling as I set the pace.

“Yes,” he hisses, scales rippling across his chest and arms. “God, Lila.”

I move slowly at first, savoring the feel of him, the stretch and slide that sends pleasure spiraling through every nerve. His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples, sending jolts of sensation straight to my core.

The rhythm builds naturally, my body remembering pleasures long denied. He rises to meet the movement of my hips, matching me perfectly. As if we’ve done this dance a thousand times.

“Look at me,” he commands softly.

I open eyes I hadn’t realized I’d closed, finding his blazing with inhuman fire. The color has deepened to molten gold, dragon fully present behind human features. Scales now cover his chest, his arms, framing his face like living armor.

Beautiful. Terrifying.

Mine.

The possessiveness of the thought shocks me, but I don’t turn from it. Instead, I embrace it, leaning down to press my lips to the scales at his throat. The taste of him explodes on my tongue —metal and spice and something ancient that calls to the witch in my blood.

His hands slide down my back to cup my ass, fingers digging in as our pace quickens. Each thrust sends pleasure crashing through me, building toward a peak I can barely remember. How long since I felt this? Since I allowed myself to feel at all?

“Talon,” I gasp as the pressure builds, coiling tight low in my belly. “I can’t—I’m going to—”

“Yes,” he growls, voice barely human. “Come, Lila. Let me feel you come.”

The climax hits like lightning—white-hot pleasure shattering me into fragments of sensation and light. My body clenches around him, waves of ecstasy pulsing outward from where we’re joined. His name leaves my lips in a broken cry as I shudder above him.

Before the aftershocks fade, he moves with inhuman speed. One moment, I’m above him, the next, I’m beneath him, his powerful body covering mine. The change of position drives him deeper, drawing another gasp from my throat.

“Mine,” he growls, teeth grazing my neck as his hips surge against mine. “Say it, Lila. Tell me.”

“Yours,” I answer without hesitation, the admission shockingly freeing. After so long being owned, belonging by choice is liberation. “And you’re mine.”

Something profound and powerful rises between us—not just physical pleasure, but deeper connection. Magic and blood and bone recognizing each other across centuries of separation. Witch and dragon becoming one, as they were always meant to be.

His teeth find the junction of my neck and shoulder, pressing and then sinking in. The sting sends a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through me, another climax building impossibly fast on the heels of the first.

“Talon!” His name is a hoarse cry as he drives me over the edge again, his body trembling with the force of his own release. Heat floods me as he comes, his face buried against my neck, breath hot against my skin.

In that moment, something shifts—a seal closing, a bond forming. Golden light pulses from him, meeting the Shard’s crimson glow where it rests on the bedside table. The colors merge, wrapping around us like living flame before sinking beneath our skin.

The mate bond. Complete. Unbreakable.

We lie tangled together, breath gradually slowing, heartbeats finding a matching rhythm. His weight presses me into the mattress, but I don’t mind. After so much emptiness, being anchored feels like a blessing.

“Did you feel that?” he asks, his voice soft with wonder against my neck.

“Yes.” I stroke his back, feeling scales recede beneath my fingertips, dragon settling back beneath human skin. “Is it always like that? The bonding?”

He lifts his head, eyes fading from dragon-gold to human green. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s the first time I’ve felt this.”

The simple confession squeezes my heart. “Me too. At least, this kind of bonding.”

He rolls to the side, taking his weight off me but keeping me close. His fingers trace the mark his teeth left on my neck, a claiming visible to any with eyes to see.

“I never thought I’d find this,” he says, something vulnerable crossing his expression. “I had a dragon mate once… so long ago. Becca… In London…”

I wait, giving him space to continue or not. Some wounds need air to heal; others need darkness.

“They killed her,” he says finally. “The Syndicate. During the London Purge. I couldn’t save her.”

My heart aches for him. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought that was it for me.” His thumb continues to trace the mark, almost reverent. “One chance at happiness, gone forever.” His eyes meet mine, full of wonder. “And then there was you. Locked in that hellhole, but somehow more free than anyone I’d ever met.”

“I wasn’t free,” I correct him. “Not until you got me out.”

“You were free where it mattered.” He touches my temple, then my heart. “In here. In here. They never broke you, Lila. That’s what I saw the moment I met you. That’s what I fell in love with.”

Tears prick behind my eyes. “I still don’t understand how this happened so fast.”

“It doesn’t make sense to humans,” he acknowledges. “But to dragons, to magic… time measures differently. When you know, you know.”

My fingers find the mark on my neck, feeling the tenderness where his teeth pierced my skin. “And this—the bond—what does it mean, exactly?”

“It means we’re connected, always. Not just emotionally, but physically. Magically.” His expression grows serious. “We’ll feel each other’s pain, each other’s pleasure. Know when the other is in danger. Draw strength from each other when needed.”

“And if something happens to one of us?” The question feels necessary, even as it tears at something inside me.

“It would be… unbearable.” His honesty doesn’t surprise me. “Not fatal, but close. Part of your soul torn away.”

“So, no pressure,” I try to joke, but it falls flat.

His smile is gentle. “It’s already done, Lila. There’s no going back, even if we wanted to.”

Strangely, that doesn’t terrify me. I’ve developed a fine-tuned sense for cages. This doesn’t feel like one. It feels like… connection. Like finding the other half of something I hadn’t realized was broken.

“What happens now?” I ask. “With Elena. With Creed. With everything.”

He draws me closer, his heartbeat strong against my cheek. “Now we fight back. We take down the Syndicate. Stop the Circle. Make a world where our kind doesn’t have to hide or be hunted or control others to survive.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It won’t be.” His arm tightens around me. “But we have something they don’t—truth. Love.”

“Love.” I test the word on my tongue. After years of never speaking it, never even thinking it, the syllable feels foreign. But right. “Is that really what this is?” It still seems unbelievable.

“What else would make a dragon throw himself against impossible odds? What else would make a witch risk everything for a daughter she hasn’t seen in decades?” His fingers trace patterns on my bare skin. “Love is the only thing worth dying for. The only thing worth living for, too.”

Outside the window, Seattle awakens to another day, unaware of the supernatural war brewing beneath its surface. Somewhere out there, Creed plots his next move. Malakai Steele gathers his forces. The world spins on, oblivious to magic and dragons and witches finding each other across impossible divides.

But here, in this moment, none of that matters. Only this—Talon’s heart beneath my ear, his arms around me, the mate bond humming between us like a perfect note sustained.

For the first time in twenty years, I am not alone.

For the first time in my life, I am truly free.