Page 14 of Fire's Storm
"You have questions," I state rather than ask, knowing her analytical mind must be racing.
As a leader among humans, she's accustomed to understanding her environment, controlling situations. That control has been stripped from her entirely. The fact that she hasn't broken down speaks to her strength.
"Understatement of the century," she replies. "Let's start with what exactly is happening to me."
Her directness pleases me. Most humans would be hysterical, denial overriding curiosity. Her acceptance indicates strong dragon genetics—adaptability in crisis situations.
"Your dormant dragon blood is awakening," I explain, choosing honesty over comfort. "Triggered by our meeting."
I keep my eyes on the winding mountain road, but I feel her studying my profile, taking in the inhuman angles of my face, the too-bright blue of my eyes.
"The electrical manifestations, the heat resistance, the dreams—" I pause as her body's readiness embarrasses her. So she has been dreaming of me, as I have of her. "—all signs of the bond forming between us."
"Bond?" She shifts in her seat, angling toward me. "What the hell is that?"
"A rare connection between storm dragons," I explain, carefully navigating the narrow forest road leading deeper into the mountains. "The clans haven't seen one in generations."
I don't share that such bonds are considered sacred, irreversible, and typically occur only between purebloods. That her human heritage makes our connection taboo among my kind.
"And this bond...explains why I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the fire?" Her voice drops lower, a hint of vulnerability showing through her tough exterior. "Why I've been having dreams that make no sense?"
"Yes," I confirm, voice rougher than intended. "The bond connects us on multiple levels—physical, mental, energetic. It's already changing your body's chemistry."
"Genes I shouldn't have," she challenges, always the analyst. "How does a human end up with dragon DNA?"
"The simplest explanation? One of your ancestors wasn't human," I reply, turning onto an unmarked dirt road. "Stormdragons have interacted with humans for millennia, though rarely. Occasionally, those interactions led to offspring."
She falls silent, processing this information. I can practically hear her mind working through the implications, reassessing her entire life history through this new lens.
"I was adopted," she finally says, voice quiet. "Never knew my biological parents."
The admission explains much. Her dragon heritage would have made her different from ordinary human children—more resilient, resistant to environmental extremes, drawn to storms.
"That's common among hybrids," I tell her. "Many can't be raised by their birth parents. It's too dangerous for all involved."
As we near the mountain range housing Emberhold, my senses heighten, scanning for threats. The Purity Force’s technology must be improving. I can smell their chemical signatures on the night air—artificial compounds designed to mask human scent from supernatural detection.
I pull the SUV off the road, concealing it beneath a natural overhang reinforced with dragon magic.
"We walk from here," I explain, killing the engine. "The entrance isn't accessible by vehicle."
Phoenix nods, shifting into the mindset that's served her well as a firefighter captain. She scans our surroundings, noting escape routes, potential cover, environmental hazards. Her natural leadership abilities remain intact despite the chaos of her transformation.
"Stay close," I instruct as we leave the vehicle. "The entrance is warded against humans."
"But I'm not fully human," Phoenix points out with characteristic perception. Her analytical mind connects facts quickly, adapting to impossible revelations with remarkable resilience. "You said I'm part dragon."
"Exactly," I confirm, pleased by her understanding. "The wards will recognize your dragon blood, but the transition may be... uncomfortable."
Without warning, I pull her against my chest, one arm around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. Her body fits perfectly against my larger frame, soft curves meeting hard muscle.
Something inside me coils tight at having her so close. I inhale deeply, drawing her scent into my lungs, memorizing it on a molecular level. My body shifts slightly, angling to shield her from any potential danger, scanning our surroundings continuously.
"What are you doing—" she begins, voice muffled against my chest.
"Protection," I growl, struggling to maintain coherent speech as her proximity overwhelms my senses. "Trust me."
The request feels monumental. Trust isn't given easily between our two kinds, centuries of conflict encoded in our respective genetic memories. Yet as she relaxes incrementally against me, surrendering to my guidance, a deep satisfaction rumbles in my chest.
