Page 64 of Fire's Storm
I approach, rage contained through disciplined application. My eyes glow with intensity, scales shimmering beneath my skin.
"You will return with us for formal questioning," I command, voice deeper than normal, rougher with the effort of control.
The warrior lieutenant hesitates. Duty and loyalty battling survival instinct. Faction allegiance struggling against self-preservation.
Phoenix approaches, her movements graceful despite the exertion of battle. A thin sheen of sweat makes her skin glow inthe crystalline light. The scent of her—power and exertion and female strength—makes my nostrils flare.
"Either answer our questions here or before the council," she offers, practical as always.
I observe the lieutenant's calculation. His yellow eyes shift between defiance and resignation.
"I serve the true protectors of our kind," the lieutenant declares with religious conviction.
The statement confirms a deeper conspiracy. Organized resistance. Structured movement. Coordinated faction rather than individual aggression.
"The stabilized ward stands as evidence against your protection claims," I respond, gesturing toward the fully functional crystalline structure. Its steady illumination indicates complete restoration.
The contrast between accusation and evidence speaks for itself. Controlled power enabling protection rather than destruction.
Phoenix secures the lieutenant with practiced efficiency. Her movements confident, assured.
I catch her eye over the prisoner's head. Her answering smile—fierce, proud, satisfied—sends heat cascading through my body. My cock hardens instantly. The need to claim her, to mark her as mine after battle, is almost overwhelming.
As we board the transport, Phoenix settles beside me. I pull her against my side, needing her close. Her body fits perfectly against mine, like she was created specifically to complement me. My arm wraps around her shoulders, fingers splaying possessively over her upper arm.
"Not bad for our first official mission," she murmurs, tilting her face up toward mine.
Not bad for a dragon everyone thought too dangerous to trust. Not bad for an exile they tried to provoke into proving their point.
I press my lips to her temple, breathing in her scent. Mine. My anchor. My eye. My phoenix.
Her hair tickles my chin as she leans into me. My hand tightens on her arm, unwilling to let her move away even an inch.
"We're just getting started," I promise, already plotting exactly how I'll express my gratitude for her steadying presence once we're alone.
Her knowing smile suggests she knows exactly what I'm thinking.
Let her. Let her see exactly what she does to me. How she makes me stronger. How she makes me whole.
I am your storm. And you are my eye.
ELEVEN
PHOENIX
Wind whips my hair as I stand in the transport's open doorway, legs braced against the descent. The sanctuary's central platform grows larger below us. My body aches—muscles screaming from channeling too much storm energy, skin still tingling with residual electricity. But I keep my spine straight, chin up. No sign of weakness. Not here. Not now.
The captured warrior lieutenant kneels between us, thick bindings containing his supernatural strength. Silver-threaded restraints glow where they touch his scales, dampening the fire energy that pulses beneath his skin. Three escape attempts during transport. All failed.
His yellow eyes still burn with zealot's conviction—utterly unrepentant, completely devoted to a cause that nearly killed us both.
Behind him, Vulcan stands with predatory stillness. Blue-silver energy crackles beneath his skin. Miniature lightning arcs between his fingers when he shifts position. The storm inside him barely contained.
My body responds instantly to his proximity—heart racing, skin heating, core clenching with primal need. Shared powercycles between us in perfect rhythm. Even exhausted from battle, being near him makes me want to climb him like a fucking tree.
Focus, Phoenix.
The reception committee waiting below tells me everything. Blaze's scales shimmer with obvious shock. Raak's midnight eyes widen as he registers our captive. Council members exchange astonished glances. No one expected us to return with a prisoner—especially not one of Metu's elite lieutenants.
