Page 18 of Fire's Storm
"Feels like my brain is trying to escape through my eyeballs," she grimaces, accepting my guidance without resistance—a testament to her discomfort, given her independent nature.
Without asking permission—knowing she would refuse out of pride—I place my hands on either side of her face, thumbs at her temples. Electricity flows between us, visible currents dancing across her skin as I channel her excess energy through my more adapted system.
Her eyes close in immediate relief, a soft sound escaping her that sends heat through my system. Her hands come up instinctively to grasp my wrists, not to pull away but to maintain contact as I ease her pain.
"Better?" I ask, voice rougher than intended as her scent spikes with relief and something deeper.
"Yes," she breathes, eyes opening to meet mine. The electrical blue in her irises has intensified, copper rings surrounding storm-blue centers. "What did you do?"
"Energy transfer," I explain, reluctantly removing my hands though everything in me protests the loss of contact. "Your system produces more electrical energy than your human components can safely contain. I can... help regulate until your body completes the transition."
"And if it doesn't?" she asks, direct as always. "Complete the transition?"
I hold her gaze, offering the truth she deserves. "Then the energy will eventually overload your nervous system. You might not survive awakening without assistance."
"From you?" she asks.
"Yes." The confirmation feels highly significant, acknowledging aloud the bond forming between us. "The transition requires physical contact. Energy exchange."
Her pupils dilate at the implication, another pulse of electrical energy crackling visibly across her skin. Neither looks away, the tension building with each passing heartbeat.
"So what you're saying," she finally responds, voice lower, "is that to survive this transformation, I need you to touch me. Regularly."
"Yes." The single syllable emerges as a growl, my control slipping further with each passing moment in her presence.
Her expression shifts from wary consideration to decided resolution, the leader in her making a tactical decision.
"Then touch me, dragon," she challenges, chin lifting slightly in that commanding gesture I'm beginning to recognize. "Before my brain explodes and renders this whole forbidden field trip pointless."
My restraint shatters at Phoenix's invitation—permission granted for what my body has demanded since our first encounter. My hands frame her face again, larger than human-sized palms engulfing her cheeks as electricity crackles visibly between us.
Her gasp as energy flows between our joined skin sends another surge of heat through my system. The sweet scent of her arousal intensifies, mingling with the ozone tang of storm energy.
"This won't be gentle," I warn, voice entirely draconic now, roughened by a partial shift I no longer attempt to suppress. "The first exchange never is."
"I don't need gentle," she responds, holding my gaze with matching intensity. "I need functioning brain cells."
Her pragmatism pleases my dragon nature—no false modesty, no pointless resistance against biological imperative. Yet beneath her practical acceptance, I scent deeper response—arousal heightening with each electrical pulse between us.
I draw her to her feet, guiding her toward the sleeping platform. Her pulse accelerates, but she follows willingly, resolution rather than fear in her scent profile. When we reach the edge of the platform, I turn her to face me, large hands spanning her waist.
"Your clothing," I manage, struggling to form words as my vocal structure continues shifting. "It will burn."
Understanding flashes across her features. Without hesitation, she strips her shirt over her head, revealing a practical black sports bra beneath. Her hands move to the fastening of her uniform pants, practicality overriding modesty.
The sight of her undressing before me sends another surge of possessive pleasure through my system. My dragon half roars with approval, scales rippling more prominently across my skin. My eyes track her every movement, my body angling to follow hers, maintaining optimal proximity as she prepares for the energy exchange.
I remove my own clothing with less care, fabric tearing beneath clawed hands as my restraint continues deteriorating. Scales cover my chest, back, and thighs in expanding patches of midnight-blue with silver streaking, my transformation accelerating in response to her proximity.
Her eyes widen at the sight of me partially shifted, gaze traveling over my transformed body. Rather than fear, her scent spikes with intensified arousal, pupils dilating further as recognition flashes across her features.
"The dreams," she whispers, understanding dawning. "They weren't just dreams."
"Memory imprints," I confirm, voice rumbling from a chest now broader than human proportions. "The bond connects us even when physically separated."
She nods, acceptance replacing confusion. Her hands reach for the sports bra, removing the last barrier from her upper body, revealing small, perfect breasts already hardened in response to the electrical energy surrounding them.
She stands before me nearly naked, only simple black underwear remaining, her body illuminated by the blue-white glow of crystal formations that brighten in response to our combined energy.
