Page 12

Finn

T he elevator ride is pure torture—not that I'll let Rachel or Zahraxis see me sweat. Every muscle in my body aches to spread wings, to escape this suspended metal cage. Dragons are creatures of sky and earth, and this unnatural box violates every instinctual boundary. The urge to fly burns like a physical pain, a constant pressure just beneath my skin demanding release.

Zahraxis' anxiety pulses like a living thing, washing over me in golden waves. Under normal circumstances, a Gold dragon at full power can transform entire rooms into emotional pressure cookers. Right now, his diminished state reduces his emotional bleed to a low-grade hum rather than a full emotional tsunami. Small mercies. Thank fuck he can't crank his empathic abilities to eleven, or we'd all be crawling out of our skins by the time we reach the top floor.

His hands curl into fists, knuckles white, golden scales threatening to break through his skin. "What manner of torture device is this?" he mutters, a thread of ancient dragon irritation in his voice. "A box that moves without wings, suspended against all natural law."

Rachel's steady hand on his arm seems to anchor him, her touch a subtle reminder to maintain human form. "Problem?" she asks.

"Dragons aren't meant to rise without wings," I explain, my hunter's pragmatism masking my deep discomfort. "It's... unsettling."

Zahraxis mutters something that sounds like a curse in his ancient tongue, his golden eyes fixed on the floor numbers as they tick upward. "How much higher?"

"Forty more floors," I say. "Try not to think about it."

Rachel reaches for both our hands, and we latch on like she's our lifeline. Her aura is a study in deliberate calm—fascinating, really. Most humans would be radiating nervous energy, but she methodically projects tranquility. It's almost like watching an adolescent dragon test their limits, and provides a hint of what she might be capable of once we complete our mating bond.

I’m halfway through that thought when her thumb brushes the inside of my wrist—just a light touch, grounding, steady—and something slips loose in my chest.

I glance down at our joined hands, then up at her. “Touch me again like that,” I murmur, not even thinking, “and I’ll forget we’re pretending I don’t already own you.”

Her eyes flick to mine, wide—but not with shock. No, it’s something deeper. Recognition. Awareness.

Zahraxis’ aura flares briefly, but not in jealousy—just heat. The moment passes, but it leaves its mark, humming beneath my skin.

But too soon that sensation is replaced by golden waves of anxiety crashing over me like shards of broken glass, each spike of tension cutting through my composure. Zahraxis isn’t faring quite as well from a simple touch, his distress bleeding into the small space. When I glance at where Rachel has his hand gripped in hers, I see her thumb caressing his wrist with more intention. Her touch may have distracted me in the worst possible way—now all I want want is to pin her against the wall—but it has a much needed grounding effect on Zahraxis. Rachel's steady, intentional calm begins to weave through his turbulence, slowly subduing the wild energy. By the time we reach the top floor, her control is nothing short of masterful. Hell, maybe she’s the one who owns us .

The moment the doors open, we surge forward into the reception area, dragging Rachel with us. Zahraxis takes several deep breaths, his shoulders relaxing incrementally as his feet reconnect with solid ground. The tension that built during our elevator ride begins to dissipate, our bodies recalibrating to the stability of solid earth. My wings feel like they can finally settle, the primal dragon instinct to flee the suspended metal box slowly unwinding.

The space around us gradually comes into focus: gleaming steel and glass, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Manhattan that speaks to the kind of power only a dragon court could command.

A sharp-featured woman in a crisp suit rises from behind a curved desk. A green jade pendant gleams at her throat, catching the light when she moves. Court official, definitely. Her posture screams dragon, even if her human form is impeccably professional.

"Mr. Sullivan," she says, then her eyes widen as she takes in Zahraxis. She drops into a deep bow. "Golden One."

Interesting. Most modern dragons aren't big on the whole formal hierarchy thing, but Zahraxis? Pure old-world royalty. I can already see the tension building in his shoulders at being treated like some kind of living relic.

"The queen is—" She's interrupted when the massive double doors at the end of the hall burst open. Three dragons in human form stride out, their heated discussion echoing off the marble walls. They spare our group no more than a passing a glance, though their auras pulse with barely contained agitation.

"—in an emergency session," the assistant finishes smoothly as she rises. "If you wouldn't mind waiting…"

I can feel Zahraxis' patience wearing thin. Golden scales begin rippling beneath his skin again. My bounty hunter instincts kick in, recognizing the potential for a diplomatic incident. Time to intervene before an ancient dragon decides to redecorate the queen's waiting room.

"We have traveled far," Zahraxis says, his voice carrying that edge that suggests he's about two seconds from going full ancient dragon on someone's ass.

"How long?" I ask, my hand settling on Zahraxis' shoulder. If he decides to lose his shit, I need to be ready to minimize collateral damage.

"An hour. Perhaps two."

A low growl builds in Zahraxis' chest. The assistant's eyes widen slightly as she finally notices the way his control is slipping, the golden scales at his temples and throat now visible.

Time for some bounty hunter diplomacy.

"Let me be clear," I say quietly. "Either the queen sees us now, or in about ten minutes, you'll have a feral ancient dragon tearing apart your waiting room. Your choice."

The assistant's gaze darts between us, unconsciously touching her jade pendant as she assesses the situation. After a moment, she nods sharply and lifts a phone. "Your Majesty? The Golden One is here, but... Yes, I understand the timing is poor, however..." She winces, holding the phone away from her ear. "My queen, he is on the verge of shifting feral in the reception area. Mr. Sullivan can barely contain him."

A beat of silence, then she replaces the receiver. "Her Majesty will see you now."

"Racha," I call out when we enter the room, already moving toward the conference table like I own half the place, "please tell me we're not about to discuss another bureaucratic clusterfuck."

The queen's mate, Corey, stands near the window in his usual casual stance, while her younger brother Max perches on the edge of a chair, both of them grinning at my entrance. Zahraxis goes rigid beside me, his golden scales shimmering beneath his skin at my complete lack of formal address.

Racha turns, a smile already spreading across her face. Her green eyes dance with a mix of amusement and genuine warmth. "Sullivan. Took you long enough."

"Took me long enough?" I drop into a chair, completely ignoring protocol. "Have you met this guy? If it hadn't been for Rachel, I might still be chasing his golden ass across half the planet."

"Where did you find him?" Max asks, leaning forward with undisguised curiosity.

"Bear Island," I say, watching their reactions. "At the Bloodline school."

Corey straightens. "The one nobody can access unless?—"

"—unless you're specifically called by Fate," I finish. "Yeah. And trust me, Fate was working overtime on this particular catch."

I'm halfway through settling in when I notice Rachel hasn't moved from the doorway. She stands absolutely still, eyes wide as she takes in Racha's aura. Right, it’s her first time seeing a dragon queen in all her glory.

"Hey," I say, rising again and moving back to her side. "She puts her pants on one leg at a time. Well, when she's not conjuring them with dragon breath."

Rachel blinks, color rising in her cheeks. "She's just so..."

"Powerful? Yeah, that's our Racha." I guide her forward with a light touch at her back. "Wait till you see her eat a whole pizza in under five minutes."

"Sullivan," Racha says, but there's fondness beneath the warning. Her attention shifts to Rachel, her gaze softening. "So you're the one who helped catch our ancient friend. And from what I see, quite a bit more."

"Two dragons?" Corey pushes off from the window, giving Rachel an appraising look. "Fate's getting ambitious lately."

Max abandons his perch to circle closer, studying Rachel with that unnaturally sharp focus that makes him seem far older than his six years. "You can see auras too? Like dragon sight?"

"Speaking of timing," Racha interrupts, though her eyes still sparkle with interest, "you couldn't have picked a more critical moment to show up." Her expression shifts, something darker crossing her features.

"Critical how?" I ask, my amusement fading at her tone. I know that look—the one that means something's gone seriously sideways.

The maps spread across her conference table catch my eye. They're alive with magical markers, pulsing and shifting in patterns I've never seen before. This is the kind of high-level tactical display usually reserved for war rooms.

"We're facing a crisis," Racha says, her earlier warmth giving way to steel. "One that makes your hunt for the Golden One seem like a training exercise."

Max's excitement dims, and he edges closer to his sister. The kid's usually a bouncing ball of energy, so his sudden stillness sets off every warning bell I've got.

"The Titans have escaped." Corey's Boston accent thickens with tension. "Tartarus himself is coordinating with us for the coming fight. We've called in the big guns for this too. General Nikhil arrives tomorrow to help form a battle plan."

Beside me, Zahraxis goes even more still, if that's possible. I would have expected him to lash out again at the mention of his ancient nemesis, but no—this is different. This is the kind of stillness that comes from genuine shock.

"Tartarus?" Rachel and I speak at the same time, though I suspect for different reasons. While shock colors my voice, something else flickers across her face—recognition, maybe? But before I can puzzle that out, Racha's already moving on.

"Yes. And where Tartarus is involved..." She exchanges a loaded look with Corey. "…Chaos usually follows."

I feel Rachel tense beside me at that word, but again, there's no time to analyze why. The doors burst open as another group of advisors sweeps in, all wearing jade pendants that mark them as court officials. Their auras pulse with barely contained urgency.

"My Queen," one starts, then stops short at the sight of Zahraxis. The entire group bows deeply.

"The Golden One," another whispers, awe and fear mingling in his voice.

Zahraxis recovers his composure and straightens, finally in his element. "You speak of the Titans as if they were more than legend," he says, his formal tone carrying an edge of challenge. "Even in my time, they were merely stories to frighten hatchlings. Tartarus too was a creature of legend, his name often invoked to make the young ones behave."

Racha fixes her sharp gaze on him. "Then you never encountered them? The texts suggested the old gods and the ancient dragons shared power?—"

"The texts are wrong." Zahraxis' voice carries the weight of centuries. "The Titans were imprisoned long before the Mother Dragon mated with Fate. The old gods retired to their own realm not long after, leaving the mortal world to the higher races. But echoes of their battle against the Titans remained."

The room goes quiet. Even the constant hum of the city beyond the windows seems muted. Max slides from his chair and moves to Racha's side, slipping his small hand into hers.

"Then we truly have no advantage beyond Tartarus and his guards," Racha says, her composure cracking just slightly.

"Tartarus." Zahraxis tests the name like a bitter wine. "Even the Dragon Council feared what lay in his depths."

"The Dragon Council," Racha says carefully. "You served them, didn't you?"

I notice Rachel's attention sharpen at the mention of Tartarus, but my focus stays on Zahraxis as he inclines his head. There's a weight to this conversation that goes beyond mere history.

"I served them. Before." The words come out clipped, pained. "Before everything changed."

Hidden beneath his words is that old animosity for the cause of his imprisonment. Again, I'm surprised that his need for vengeance has taken a back seat to this new threat. Perhaps he isn't as single-minded a dragon as he seemed only a day ago. Or the Titans really are a big enough threat that he's willing to let go of his hatred of the man who imprisoned him.

Racha exchanges a look with Corey, some silent communication passing between them. She straightens, her bearing suddenly more queen than friend. "Then we need you at full strength. Immediately." Her gaze sweeps over the three of us. "The Court's healers can expedite your recovery, but we'll need your willing participation."

"At full strength?" Zahraxis bristles. "My mate's power will restore me naturally?—"

"Not fast enough," Racha cuts him off. "If you'd arrived at full power, it would be different. But you're barely more than feral. Centuries of captivity have depleted your magical reservoir." She gestures to the maps, where magical markers continue their restless dance. "We have fewer than three days, Ancient One. And we need every advantage we can get. You're from a time when dragons still had enough power to imbue more than a single queen in a generation. When you are fully healed, you'll be a formidable ally in the fight."

"I will not submit to Court magic." Golden scales ripple beneath his skin. "My hunter is the last dragon I will ever submit to."

I feel a strange tug in the center of my chest when he refers to me as "his hunter,” and it isn't just the recognition that makes my stomach flip. It's as if he deliberately plucks at the bond that's formed between us over the past day since I caught up to him. As if to suggest he might submit again, but only to me.

"This isn't about submission," Racha says, her voice gentle, but firm. "The old ways are gone, Zahraxis. The Court serves the brood now, not the other way around."

I feel the war between pride and pragmatism radiating from him. "What exactly does this ritual entail?"

"Nothing invasive," Racha says. "The healers create a circle of power that amplifies natural energy flow." She pauses, studying the three of us with renewed interest. "Though I sense there's already something forming between you."

"The bond happened naturally, from the moment we reached the island," I say, feeling that subtle pull toward both of them. "But we haven't marked one another yet."

Zahraxis shifts closer to Rachel, his protective stance making his intentions clear. "She is ours," he says simply.

"If she chooses to be," I correct him, earning a low rumble of acknowledgment. We've had this conversation about modern customs more than once since we found Rachel.

Rachel's cheeks flush, but she meets Racha's gaze steadily. "I do choose. Both of them."

"A Bloodline human choosing two dragons. It’s not a common occurrence, so it's always exciting to see." Racha's smile holds genuine warmth. "The marking bond would be permanent. You understand this?"

Rachel nods. "I understand."

"Then the ritual could serve two purposes," Racha says. "The chamber's power would amplify the marking bond, and that combined energy would help restore Zahraxis faster—hours, instead of days."

"I will not be the first to mark her," Zahraxis says, his formal tone carrying an edge of uncertainty. "Not in my weakened state. The risk?—"

"Is minimal with others supporting the bond," Racha assures him. "But you're right to be cautious. The order of marking matters." She turns to me. "Sullivan?"

I nod, understanding what she's asking. As the stronger dragon right now, I should mark Rachel first, creating a foundation for Zahraxis' mark to build upon.

"But how do I mark them?" Rachel asks. "I mean, I'm not exactly equipped with a magical dragon tongue."

"Your fire magic should suffice," Racha says. "As a member of the Bloodline attuned to fire, you carry traces of ancient dragon power. With proper focus..." She moves closer. "May I demonstrate something?"

At Rachel's nod, Racha places her hand over her solar plexus. "The well of power inside you is like another sense. You just need to learn how to access it."

Max perks up from where he's been unusually quiet. "I just learned this! Can I show her?"

"Maximus," Corey warns, but there's fondness beneath the exasperation. He knows as well as anyone that there's no stopping Max when he wants to help.

"Watch this!" Max takes an exaggerated breath, chest puffing out. When he exhales, a perfect stream of golden flame forms not just a dragon, but an entire scene—miniature dragons soaring through clouds, their wings catching imaginary sunlight. A wave of pure joy radiates from the display, betraying his nature as a young Gold dragon.

"Such control," Zahraxis murmurs, something like wonder creeping into his voice. "To manifest both fire and empathy at his age..."

"See? It's easy!" Max grins up at Rachel. "You just have to feel it here—" He pats his chest. "Like a warm bubble ready to pop."

His childish description seems to click for Rachel. She closes her eyes, and I feel the subtle shift in her energy as she focuses inward.

"That's it," Racha encourages. "Feel the power gathering in your core, just like Max showed you. Now imagine it flowing outward, like water through a pipe..."

Rachel's eyes snap open as flames suddenly wreath both her hands.

"You did it!" Max claps in delight. "Now make a dragon!"

"Jesus Christ!" Corey lunges for a fire extinguisher. "Not everything in here is fireproof, you know!"

Rachel stares at her flame-wreathed hands with fascination. "I can mark them with this?"

"The ancient magic in your blood carries your unique mark," Racha says. "Your fire should work similarly to any dragon's marking. Though you may need to discover the exact mechanism through trial and error."

The flames sputter out as Rachel processes this. I can't help but grin. "Trial and error, huh? I volunteer as test subject."

"Will you make dragons with me later?" Max tugs at Rachel's sleeve. "After you're done with all the boring grown-up stuff?"

"Later, Max," Racha says gently. "Right now, we need to prepare the ritual chamber." She turns to Corey. "Would you take him to his mother? Jill will want him close, given everything that's happening."

"Wait, I thought you were his mother," Rachel says, glancing between Racha and Max.

"No, Max is my little brother. Jill was my father's mate before his Renunciation." Racha's expression softens as she looks at the boy. "He carries all our father's power, the last gift of a Prismatic's chosen mate to his son."

"And his queen," Max adds proudly, golden smoke curling from his lips. Another wave of emotion—love, pride, fierce protectiveness—rolls through the room.

"The ritual chamber is prepared," Racha announces, returning her attention to us.

"Wait, how did you…" Rachel glances at the door, where no assistant has appeared. "You didn't make any calls."

Racha taps her temple with a smile. "Dragons can communicate telepathically, especially within a bonded network. Once you complete your marking bond, you'll share the same connection with these two." Her gaze shifts between Zahraxis and me. "Though I suspect you've already felt hints of it."

She's right. The way Rachel can sense our emotions, the pull between us that's been there since the beginning—it's more than just attraction or intuition.

"The healing ritual will take several hours," Racha continues. "Given what's coming, we need you at full strength, Ancient One." Her eyes meet each of ours in turn. "All of you. The combined marking bond will amplify your collective power."

"And if we refuse?" Zahraxis asks, though there's less challenge in his voice than before.

"Then you're welcome to try healing naturally," Racha says with a shrug. "But when the Titans come—and they will come—you'll wish you hadn't let pride stand in the way of power."

Rachel squeezes Zahraxis' hand. "We've come this far. What's a few more hours of magical sex if it helps save the world?"

I barely contain my laugh while Corey mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "That should be the school's motto."

"Very well," Zahraxis says, his formal tone at odds with the way his aura pulses with anticipation. "We accept your guidance, my queen."

"Not accept—choose," Racha corrects gently. "That's the difference between then and now, Ancient One. We choose our paths, our mates, our battles." She gestures for us to follow. "Now, shall we begin?"

I feel Rachel's mix of nervousness and excitement as we move toward the door. But there's no hesitation in her step, no doubt in her aura. When she looks up at me, her gaze is awestruck. I reach down between us and pinch her backside.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Just wanted to make sure you know you're not dreaming. You're going to be our mate, Rachel."

She cocks one eyebrow while we wait for the elevator again. "The way I see it, the two of you will be mine. "