Page 53 of Veiled By Smoke (The Nature Hunters Academy #5)
“Shelly comes with me,” Ra said, not even acknowledging his ancestor’s words. The only pain he couldn’t endure was not having her with him.
Ramses’s eyes softened. “It can be no other way, Ra. Without your soul bonded, you will be consumed by the darkness. If you lose her, you will be the dark royal fire king down to your very soul.”
Then, the ancient pharaoh was gone.
The room was completely silent for several minutes before Gabby spoke up. “Sooo, does that mean we’re going to be rotating Shelly guard duty? Because it sounds to me like King Ramses just put a target on your chick’s back.”
* * *
A viur’s realm glowed with an eerie, otherworldly fire—a warmth that seeped deep into Ra’s bones, chasing away the chill of the dragon keep, though nothing could quite reach the cold gnawing at his soul.
Aviur had insisted he and Shelly come here, to Aviur’s castle, after the chaos at Stonehenge and the tension of the dragon realm.
“You need a night,” the fire king had said, voice brooking no argument, “to rest, to be together, to remember what you’re fighting for. And you need the firelight—it will help you hold the darkness at bay, if only for a little while.”
The castle was all sweeping archways and burnished amber stone, the air heavy with the scent of spiced embers and a hint of something sweet—honeysuckle, maybe.
The flames here were different than any Ra had known: pure, white-hot, burning away shadows instead of feeding them.
It made him feel exposed, raw, but also .
. . safer, somehow–as if the darkness inside him dared not fully unfurl in this place of ancient, cleansing light.
He led Shelly through torch-lit corridors, Aviur’s parting words echoing in his mind: “This night is yours alone. No guards, no interruptions. The light fire realm will keep you safe. Use it. Rest. Heal each other if you can.”
His hand locked around Shelly’s, their steps echoing in the hush. Her skin was soft and warm, grounding him when the shadows inside threatened to claw their way out. She didn’t speak, but her thumb stroked the back of his knuckles, a silent promise: I’m here. I’m not letting go.
Their chamber was a sanctuary of molten light and soft shadow—a sprawling bed draped in gold-threaded linens, a fireplace crackling with white-blue flames.
The radiance seemed to pulse in time with his heart, and for the first time since the transformation, he wasn’t afraid to let Shelly see him.
The glow painted her hair in copper and fire as she turned to face him, searching his gaze, her eyes stormy with love and worry.
He closed the door behind them, leaning his forehead to the wood for a heartbeat, fighting for control.
The darkness inside him shifted—restless, hungry, always demanding more.
He felt the ache of it in his bones, the way it pressed against his ribs, crowding out breath.
But Shelly was there, steady and stubborn, refusing to be intimidated by what he’d become.
She stepped close, her palm finding his back, fingers splaying. “Come back to me, Ra.” Her voice was a whisper, but it carved through the static in his head. “Let me in.”
He turned to face her and cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “You sure you want that?” His voice was low, rough, carrying all the things he couldn’t say. “It’s . . . dark in here, Mery.”
She didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. “I want all of you. Even the parts you think are unlovable.”
A groan rumbled in his chest—half relief, half desperate longing.
He kissed her, slowly at first, savoring the taste of her, the way her lips parted under his, the sweet, heady rush of her magic sparking against his skin.
She pressed into him, her arms winding around his neck, tethering him as the world tilted.
He pulled her closer, desperate for more–more touch, more proof that he was still himself. His hands slid down to her waist, fingers digging into her hips. “Shelly,” he murmured, voice raw, “I need you. I need to know I’m not lost.”
She tipped her head back, breathing him in, her eyes shining. “You’re not lost. I’ve got you.” Her hands slipped under his shirt, palms skating over muscle, and he shivered at the contact, the warmth of her touch grounding him.
The power inside him surged, wild and electric, and through their bond he let her feel it—a flood of heat and shadow, fire and hunger. He felt her gasp, her body tensing for an instant as the darkness brushed against her, cold and seductive, but she didn’t pull away.
“Ra . . . ” Her voice trembled, but her hands were steady. “It’s so much. It’s . . . heavy.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, breath mingling. “I’m sorry. I wish I could protect you from this. From me.”
She shook her head, firm. “I don’t want distance. I want you, all of you. The dark and the light. Let me carry some of it.”
He shuddered, his control snapping, the need to claim, to possess, burning through him.
He swept her up, laying her back on the bed, covering her body with his.
He kissed her again, deeper, more demanding, pouring all his fear and longing into her mouth.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and he let himself drown in her—her scent, her taste, the hitch of her breath as he pressed his hips to hers.
His hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve, every scar, every place that made her shiver.
He was careful, but there was an edge to him tonight—a desperation that threaded through every touch, every kiss.
He needed to be in control, to feel her surrender, to know that she trusted him, even now.
He broke the kiss, his lips brushing her ear. “Tell me if it’s too much. If I’m too much.”
She arched into him, her voice a vow. “You could never be too much for me.”
He kissed down her neck, tasting salt and fire, feeling her pulse flutter. He took his time, worshipping her, letting his hands and mouth speak all the things he couldn’t say. She was the center of his universe, the anchor that kept him from flying apart.
When he finally joined his body with hers, she gasped, her nails biting into his shoulders, grounding him. He set a rhythm, slow and deep, needing her to feel the depth of his need, every shudder of control he fought to maintain.
“Look at me, Mery,” he whispered, voice trembling with need. “Stay with me.”
Her eyes locked on his, wide and trusting, even as the shadows flickered in his gaze. She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing away the darkness. “Always.”
Their bodies moved together, a dance as old as creation—his control, her surrender, her comfort, his need. She matched his every movement, breath for breath, meeting him with a passion that left him undone.
He felt the darkness recede, chased back by the light of her love. He pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheek, her mouth, needing to memorize this—her heat, her trust, the way she held him, even as he unraveled.
When they finally tumbled over the edge together, his name on her lips and her love blazing through their bond, Ra knew—no matter how deep the darkness inside him–Shelly would always be his way back to the light.
After, he held her close, their hearts slowing in tandem, the hush of Aviur’s fire realm wrapping them in a cocoon of safety, even if just for this night. She traced lazy circles over his chest, her breath soft against his skin.
“Still here?” she teased, gentle and sure.
He smiled, a real smile this time, and kissed the top of her head. “Because of you.” He let the golden firelight dance over them, letting himself believe, just for tonight, that light was enough.
* * *
T he main living area of the cave glowed with the gentle light of the hearth fire, shadows flickering across thick throw rugs and mismatched chairs.
It was late, the kind of quiet that only came after too many days of chaos, with everyone else tucked away in their off-shoot “rooms.” Here, in the heart of the stone, Rory sat with Aurora pressed close to her side, Fern on Aurora’s other.
Kimba lounged nearby, golden eyes half-lidded as she watched them.
Aston sat on Rory’s other side, his palm warm and reassuring on her knee.
Aurora looked small, sitting cross-legged on the rug, her fingers tangled in the fringe. She was trying so hard to be brave, but Rory saw the tremor in her jaw, the thousand questions in her eyes.
Aurora glanced up, voice uncertain. “So . . . if you’re my sister, why did Ra come to find me instead of you?”
Rory winced, squeezing Aurora’s hand. “That’s fair.
Well, Aston actually found you—he tracked you down via his crafty tech skills.
Don’t ask how they got the internet to work in the dragon realm, I’m just going with ‘magic.’ But we all agreed, sort of, .
. . it’d be safer if Ra was the one to go.
The others were worried I’d do something impulsive.
” She shot Aston a look, half teasing, half grateful.
“They thought I might scare you, or the neighbors, or both.”
Kimba huffed a laugh, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair.
“She’s not exaggerating, Aurora. Rory’s rescue plans are never subtle.
She’s the only soul bonded I know who got mated by essentially having me—full dragon, mind you—swoop into a battlefield, grab Aston, and drop him at her feet like she was ordering takeout. ”
Aston grinned, the firelight glinting off the gold threads in his hair. “And let the record show, I’m not complaining. Dragons, chaos, and all—I’d do it again. There’s never a dull moment with Rory. I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”
Aurora’s eyes widened, something like awe and confusion blending on her face as she looked between them. “So . . . you really didn’t know about me? I mean, before now?”