Page 26 of Fire's Storm
"Everything," he confirms, pupils dilating further at the shared memory. "As you felt what I experienced. Mirror sensations across forming connection."
The confirmation explains dream details my imagination couldn't possibly have supplied—the weight of centuries in his emotional landscape, the specific sensation of energy flowing through draconic rather than human nervous system, the particular restraint patterns developed through an extended lifetime.
Experiences beyond my reference frame yet experienced with perfect clarity through his perception.
"I didn't consent to this," I state, frustration edging my tone. The statement addresses the circumstance rather than him personally.
"Neither did I," he reminds me, no accusation in his tone. His restraint impresses me despite my frustration—centuries-old predator with physical capabilities far exceeding my own, yet consistently respecting boundaries I establish.
"How do we stop it?" Practical problem-solving replaces philosophical objection, my mind seeking actionable solutions. "The dream-sharing specifically."
"Increased physical distance," he answers directly, matching my preference for straightforward information exchange. "Minimum five miles separation reduces connection intensity below dream-sharing threshold. An alternative option is a controlled physical connection that temporarily satisfies biological needs without completing the bonding."
The latter option sends fresh electricity racing along my nerve endings, my body's immediate positive response contradicting my mind's continued resistance.
"Controlled physical connection?" I question, professional demeanor barely masking my underlying interest. "Explain exactly what that entails."
Vulcan's nostrils flare slightly as he processes my changing biochemical signals, clearly detecting my interest.
"Physical intimacy without joining as one," he explains, voice dropping lower with each word, rumbling increasing as his control slips incrementally. "Simply energy exchange through sexual contact that temporarily satisfies.”
"Sex without commitment," I translate bluntly, cutting through supernatural terminology to a basic concept. "Friends with benefits, dragon edition."
A surprised laugh escapes him at my phrasing—rusty sound, but genuine amusement.
The moment humanizes him despite the scale patterns visible across his skin, despite eyes glowing with inhuman energy.
"Crude but essentially accurate," he acknowledges, a hint of a smile remaining despite tension returning as his gaze travels over my form still beneath a thin sheet. "Though 'partial bond-mates with physiological advantages' might better represent the arrangement's specifics."
The humor, unexpected in our intense circumstances, eases something tight in my chest. Common ground emerges in our shared amusement, in our mutual recognition of our situation's absurdity despite its serious implications.
For a brief moment, we connect as individuals navigating extraordinary circumstances.
"Yeah, okay, I get it," I say finally, neither accepting nor rejecting the compromise option. "I’ll get back with you on it."
"Time," Vulcan says with a nod. Scales ripple more prominently beneath his skin as emotions surge, as restraint battles biological imperative with renewed intensity. "Of course. Though physiological pressure will continue without doing something about it."
The warning contains no manipulation, no attempt to leverage biological reality against my preference for careful consideration. Simply factual information required for informed decision-making—another respect marker I catalog alongside previous observations.
"I understand," I acknowledge, matching his factual tone despite my body's continuing protest against delayed gratification.
Only iron discipline allows me to prioritize intellectual assessment over physical desire.
As he withdraws, closing the connecting door with careful precision that betrays his enhanced strength, I fall back against borrowed bedding with a frustrated exhale.
This can't continue indefinitely, I acknowledge as breathing normalizes. Biological needs won't simply disappear through stubborn denial or through intellectual resistance to instinctive recognition.
Decisions must be made—acceptance or rejection, completion or severance, integration or separation.
For now, though, I simply exist in the in-between—neither fully human nor fully dragon, neither completely independent nor completely bonded. Liminal space allowing final contemplation before irrevocable choices reshape my existence beyond recognition or restoration.
Morning brings an unwelcome interruption—a sharp knock at the chamber door announcing visitors before I've fully processed the overnight revelations.
I dress quickly in borrowed clothing that fits my human proportions reasonably well despite being designed for dragon physiology. The fabric feels strange against my increasingly sensitive skin—lighter than appears possible, temperature-responsive in ways normal textiles aren't, slightly iridescent when light strikes at particular angles.
The visitor proves unexpected—Spark rather than Vulcan, copper-red scales visible along her forearms as she leans casually against the corridor wall. Her golden eyes assess me with friendly curiosity unmarred by the suspicion or hostility most dragons display toward the human interloper.
"Council summons," Spark announces without preamble, straightforward communication style I appreciate. "They've reached a decision regarding your status. Your presence is required immediately."
