Page 33 of The Dragon's Omega

I, meanwhile, did as I was told like a good omega. I held on to my mate, my alpha, my dragon—even when he changed from man to monster. Hidden from the world, I reveled in the transition, smitten with the way the late afternoon sunlight glinted off his golden scales. Beautiful, enormous, monstruous, a dragon in all his glory, Vidar was truly the epitome of the midsummer sun. He sparkled in its rays, his scales warm to the touch, his spikes glowing like fireflies and sturdy as ever while I used them to climb up his side.

After cresting his shoulder, I paused.

“Vidar?”

His massive head swung around, his gaze an inferno with slitted pupils and pools of molten gold. I wasn’t exactly sure where his ears were in that mess of spikes around the top of his head, so I just braced one hand on his thick, steely neck, then cupped my mouth with the other, leaning up to whisper my truth, knowing he would always hear me.

“My heart belongs to you, too.”

He faced the open ocean with a roar. It was a battle cry, a declaration of victory, love, and possession. It was a song for me, for my soul. As I climbed the rest of the way up his back, he flared his wings and gave another deep bellow, the waves rippling below us and the sun blazing high above.

And together, we flew for the horizon, hearts beating as one.

An omega and her dragon.

The End

Epilogue

After The End

Lianna

One year later, my mate and I celebrated the summer solstice with a neighborhood bonfire and barbeque, hosted at our new bungalow in north Cedar Cove. Neighbors attended with their family, their friends, and were treated to food, drinks, and the odd story of how the ancients enjoyed the midsummer bounty.

Half of them even jumped over the bonfire, not realizing it was dragonfire.

By then, my dad was ten months sober. He was in outpatient treatment come the solstice, having spent six months in the rehabilitation facility that we had always dreamed of but could never afford before Vidar and his treasure. He finally started to process his grief, his need to drink, his broken heart. He finally came home to me clear-eyed, the father I loved all my life on the mend.

One year later, we had Louis back, too. Three months after that first solstice, Vidar left for the first and only time we were ever apart for more than a few hours. He flew south and returned four days later with an alpha who never spoke, never addressed me directly—but who met us at the long-term care ward, radiating such power a few machines short-circuited. With scars on his back and eternity in his eyes, he placed a hand on Louis’s forehead and whispered under his breath for three straight hours. Enochian, Vidar had called it. Language of the angels.

He was one of the fallen angels, missing his wings, his heart in pieces, his purpose scattered—and he left without ever looking at me.

One day later, Louis finally woke up.

Vidar

Two years later, I greeted the solstice as a dragon. Soaring high above my forested territory, I met the dawn with thunder, with the beat of my wings and the song in my heart. I bathed in sunlight and rode hard—my mate upon my back. We had legally taken possession of our new countryside estate two days earlier. Her father was settling into his apartment in town. Her brother stayed in the nearby city, working closely with his physical rehab team, getting stronger by the day.

And my mate soaked in the summer sunshine like a goddess. She rode dragonback like she was born for it—and she was. For she was mine, and I was hers, and we had always been destined to meet the sun together.

That morning, I lit the torches scattered across our new home. I filled the firepits, plans for the ash already in the works. After all, that sulky hermit fucker down in the Galapagos wasn’t the only one with miraculous healing abilities.

When the sun reached its peak, I rutted my mate hard in the field, both of us wild and naked and free.

“Bite me,” she urged as she clenched around my knot. Sweaty, smelling of the sweetest violets and the headiest vanilla, the softest sandalwood—and me, her body scented head to toe by her alpha—Lianna rocked on my lap and tossed her head to the side. Her hair—streaked platinum today, its yellowish tinge amidst all that luxe black in deference to the solstice—fluttered in the breeze. “Vidar, I’m ready. Bond me. Please.”

“You know what that means?—”

“Forever.” She moaned, then threw her arms around my neck, our foreheads together, our hearts one. “It means f-forever, Vidar. I choose forever—I choose you.”

Buried deep inside her, locked to my omega, I snarled. This was a dangerous time to ask, because she knew I’d fold. For two years, I had insisted she put the decision off. There was so much going on, so many changes: her father and brother’s conditions, our home, our deepening bond. Ours was a love made of stardust, of the bones of the most ancient beasts in the deepest depths. It was eternal. It was blessed.

It was accepted by Pack Luna, by her father, her brother, her closest friends.

But forever was a very long time, and I?—

“Vidar.” She brought my aching mouth to her throat. “I won’t live without you. I can’t. Bond us properly.”

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