Page 61 of Fire's Storm
Her lips quirk in that half-smile that makes my cock throb painfully against the confines of my pants. Just a small tilt at the corner of her mouth, but it transforms her face from merely beautiful to breathtaking.
"Always," she says, her confidence unwavering despite heading directly into what we both recognize as a trap.
Heat flares in my belly, spreading outward through my limbs. I fight the urge to push her against the wall, to claim her mouth with mine, to remind her body who she belongs to. Not here. Not now. But soon. The promise of later burns like embers in my blood.
I step closer, unable to stop myself from crowding her space. She doesn't back away as most would when a dragon invades their personal territory. Instead, she tilts her head up, maintaining eye contact. Challenge and acceptance in one look.
The air between us charges with electricity—literal sparks dancing between our bodies as our Tempest energies respond to emotional intensity. A blue-white arc connects us momentarily, jumping from my chest to hers. She doesn't flinch, even as it must have delivered a shock equivalent to touching metal after dragging feet across carpet.
The transport shudders suddenly, breaking the moment. The pilot's voice crackles over the communication system.
"Approaching northern border ward. Conditions deteriorating rapidly. Prepare for turbulent descent."
Phoenix's hand squeezes mine briefly before she pulls away, returning to practical preparation. I watch her check her equipment with practiced efficiency—the fireproof utility belt adapted for her developing abilities, the modified communication device designed to function despite electrical interference, the specialized boots that ground excess energy when her control slips.
The transport begins its descent, bucking against violent air currents. Phoenix braces herself against the wall, her body automatically adjusting to the unpredictable movement with the same adaptability she's shown to everything in dragon society.
I force my attention back to the mission, but keep her within arm's reach. Whatever trap awaits, she's mine to protect. Whatever danger threatens, she faces it with my strength besideher. Whatever game Metu's faction plays, they'll discover the hard way that targeting my mate is the last mistake they'll ever make.
The northern borderward towers amid chaos, its crystalline structure jutting from the mountainous terrain like a massive, jagged tooth. Ancient technology created by dragon ancestors who understood forces I've spent centuries merely trying to comprehend. Lightning strikes with increasing frequency around its apex, each bolt drawn to the ward's natural conductive properties. Winds howl with growing intensity, creating a cyclonic pattern around the structure's base.
Rain lashes against my face as I emerge from the transport, the droplets instantly vaporizing upon contact with my overheated skin. Steam rises from my shoulders and chest, creating a ghostly aura that distorts my outline. My dragon half pushes closer to the surface, responding to the charged atmosphere with eager recognition.
Phoenix exits behind me, her movements precise despite the harsh conditions. She secures her equipment with practiced efficiency, copper hair darkening as it dampens with rain. Even soaking wet, she maintains that aura of competence that first drew me to her—the unmistakable presence of a leader accustomed to commanding chaotic situations.
"The ward's energy signature is erratic," she says, voice raised to be heard over the howling wind. The storm has amplified since our descent, exactly as expected. Perfect cover for whatever comes next.
I extend my senses toward the ward, feeling for the energy patterns that should pulse in steady rhythm through the crystalline structure. Instead, I detect irregular fluctuations.Chaotic surges followed by concerning drops in power. The ward is failing—deliberately destabilized by skilled hands.
We approach the structure, leaning against the force of the wind. The ground beneath our feet vibrates with discharged energy from the ward's malfunctioning systems. Each step releases small blue-white sparks from beneath Phoenix's boots—her developing abilities responding to the saturated environment without conscious control.
I scan our surroundings constantly, every sense alert for the ambush we both know awaits. Nothing yet. They're waiting for something specific. Maximum vulnerability, perhaps. Or the most politically damaging moment to spring their trap.
The ward looms larger as we approach, its massive structure dwarfing us. Intricate crystal facets catch the lightning, refracting it in complex patterns across the surrounding terrain. In optimal conditions, the sight would be breathtaking. Now, the beauty serves only to highlight the danger of its deterioration.
I approach the ward with scientific caution, applying centuries of knowledge to my assessment. The crystalline structure exhibits clear destabilization indicators—energy fluctuations visible through irregular illumination, power variations apparent via inconsistent operation. What should be a steady blue-white glow pulses erratically, portions darkening completely before flaring with dangerous intensity.
"Deliberate destabilization," I conclude, fingers tracing the damaged structure. The crystal surface hums against my touch, responding to my Tempest energy with recognition. "These fracture patterns don't occur naturally. Someone knew exactly where to strike to cause maximum disruption with minimum evidence."
Phoenix moves with tactical precision around the ward's perimeter, her body graceful despite the harsh conditions. Her scent changes subtly as she concentrates—spicier, sharper. Theinstinctive part of my brain catalogs each variation in her aroma, learning her moods through chemical signatures as much as facial expressions.
She stops suddenly, crouching to examine a particular section of the ward's base. Her fingers trace distinctive patterns etched into the crystalline surface. Not natural formations—deliberate markings.
"Targeted frequency disruption," she confirms, rising to her feet with fluid grace. Water streams from her soaked clothing, but she ignores the discomfort with typical human adaptability. "These marks match the Solstice Gathering sabotage. Identical pattern, identical technique."
Identical markings. Same fucking attack. Different target.
My temperature rises at the confirmation. Steam hisses more intensely from my skin where raindrops hit. The pattern confirms what we already suspected—Metu's faction has engineered this entire scenario. The ward sabotage. The convenient timing. The isolated location. All calculated for maximum political impact when I inevitably fail to maintain control.
Except I won't fail. Not this time. Not with Phoenix beside me.
"We stabilize it anyway," I growl, fighting to keep my voice level despite the rage building inside. They thought to use her against me, to provoke me through her endangerment. They have no idea how much stronger she makes me.
Phoenix steps closer, her hand pressing against my chest. The contact calms the rage building inside, her touch acting as a grounding wire for the electrical storm of my emotions. Her eyes hold mine, unafraid of the beast beneath my skin.
"Standard approach requires modification," I say, forcing myself to focus on the technical problem rather than my growing anger. "Traditional method involves energy infusion throughstructural nexus. We'll need to identify the primary disruption points and apply counter-frequency simultaneously."
Phoenix studies the ward's configuration, analyzing access points, examining energy flows. The focused crease between her brows makes my chest tighten with unexpected tenderness. That expression of intense concentration—so human, so determined—has become one of my favorite sights.
