Page 5 of Fire's Storm
The fire splits and spirals around us both, forming a tempestuous pattern I recognize from ancient texts—the elemental signature of the Tempest Bond. Second element of the Ancestral Flame Protocol. The bond that combines fire's destructive power with a storm's electrical force to create something greater than either alone.
Holy hell. It can't be. The Tempest Bond exists only in legend, a theoretical connection described in texts so old they're half-crumbled to dust. Yet the Guardian Bond has been created.
And even if it were real, it couldn't form with a human. Could it?
But she's not entirely human. I can sense it now, through our connected hands—dormant dragon blood running through her veins, awakening in response to my presence, to the bond forming between us.
Her expression shifts from determination to wonder as the energy flows between us. Her lips part slightly, a small gasp escaping that makes my inner dragon rumble with approval. Small blue-white sparks dance along her skin where our energies connect, evidence of storm power awakening within her.
"What is this?" she whispers, voice no longer commanding but wondering. "What's happening?"
I can smell her now—the full spectrum of her scent released by her rising storm energy. A sweet, spicy fragrance overlaid with the unmistakable scent of ozone and petrichor—rain-soaked earth after lightning has struck. It's unlike anythingI've ever encountered—not fully human, not fully dragon, but a unique combination that calls to something primal inside me.
"You're not human," she says, a statement rather than a question sending another surge of storm energy through my system.
"Neither are you," I counter, voice dropping to a register no human male could produce. My pupils shift, contracting to vertical slits as my dragon vision asserts itself. "Not entirely."
Her brow furrows at that, confusion and denial warring in her expression. "I'm human. I've always been human."
"Then explain how you walk through dragonfire unburned," I challenge, gesturing to the flames still dancing around us in patterns that respond to both our presences. "Explain how you make my fire obey your will when I cannot control it myself."
Before she can answer, a new pattern forms in the flames between us—intricate spirals that weave together like DNA strands, connecting us with visible evidence of what I already feel in my blood, in my bones, in my increasingly intense storm energy.
The Tempest Bond. Forming before my eyes with a female who doesn't even know what she is.
Voices call from beyond the fire—human voices shouting her name, her title. Her colleagues searching for their captain, concern evident in their calls.
Sound comes through the partially melted device attached to her. "Phoenix! Captain Ward! Do you copy?"
She startles at the sound, the connection between us wavering as her attention splits. Reality intrudes on the bubble of elemental energy that has surrounded us, reminding us both of the world beyond this clearing, beyond this moment of impossible recognition.
Panic rises in my chest, sharp and unfamiliar. No human has ever seen a dragon manipulating fire and lived to tell aboutit. It's the most sacred law of my kind—maintain secrecy at all costs. If her team finds us like this, with my scales visible, with fire responding to our joined will...
The clan would eliminate them all. No exceptions, no mercy, no witnesses.
The thought of harm coming to her sends a surge of protective rage through me unlike anything I've ever experienced. My territorial instincts explode outward, the flames around us intensifying to form a protective barrier between her and potential threats.
"I have to go," she says, conflict evident in her voice. Her eyes dart toward the sound of her team's calls, then back to my face, reluctance clear in every line of her body. "My team?—"
"They can't see me," I interrupt urgently, fighting to keep my voice from emerging as a full snarl. "No human can know what I am. What we are."
What we are. The words hang between us, heavy with implication neither fully understands yet. She stares at me, clearly torn between duty to her team and the inexplicable pull between us.
"This isn't over," I promise, already backing away, voice dropping to a possessive rumble that makes her pupils dilate further, that sends another wave of storm energy visibly crackling across her skin. "I'll find you again, Phoenix Ward."
Her name on my tongue feels right, feels like it belongs there. I roll the syllables silently afterward, savoring the taste of them.
"You're mine now, storm heart," I add, the words emerging without conscious thought, driven by instincts older than rational mind.
Something flashes in her amber eyes—defiance, awakening, recognition all mingled into a complex response. She opens her mouth as if to argue, then closes it, confusion evident in her expression.
She feels it too. The inevitability. The claiming that has already begun whether either of us wills it or not.
I disappear into the flames, using the fire that has always responded to my emotions to create a wall between us. It costs me tremendous effort to step away from her, to break the physical connection that felt so right, so necessary. Every cell in my body screams in protest as the distance between us increases.
Actual physical pain rips through me as I force myself to move away from her—a burning ache that starts in my chest and radiates outward through my entire body. Even breathing becomes difficult, as if my lungs can't properly function when she's not near.
I force the dragon back with ruthless determination, centuries of training in control finally asserting itself over primal instinct. Not yet. Not here. Not with her human colleagues so close. The claiming, when it happens—and it will happen, of that I have no doubt—will be on my terms. Safe. Private. Complete.
