Page 16 of Echoes of Fire

Luminous heat crystals lined the walls, their glow pulsating in vibrant waves of red, orange, and blue. Pools of water teeming with life shimmered across the cavern floor, their surfaces reflecting the light in rippling patterns.

I landed softly on a ledge near the cavern’s center, releasing Orla carefully. Her feet found solid ground, but she didn’t move immediately. Her head tilted back as her eyes widened, taking in the light and color that surrounded us.

“This,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is…”

There were no words. I stepped back and let her take it all in.

She turned in a slow circle, her fingers brushing the stone walls. The light danced across her skin, painting her in shifting hues. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. How is this here? Untouched?”

“This is a sanctuary,” I said simply. “Few know of it. I discovered it when I was a boy.”

Her gaze flicked to me, questioning. “And you brought me here.”

“Yes,” I said, my tone steady. “Because I wanted you to see it.”

She hesitated, her fingers pausing over a crystal vein that pulsed faintly under her touch. “Why?”

The question hung between us, heavier than I’d expected. I could have given her a hundred reasons—about trust, about showing her my world—but the truth felt too raw, too unformed to articulate. She was my mate. All that I was belonged to her.

“Because you should,” I said at last. “This place is … it’s what Scalvaris is beyond the fire and ash. It’s what matters.”

She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she turned back to the crystals, her hand tracing the patterns with a softness I hadn’t seen in her before.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

I didn’t respond, letting her take it in. Her presence here felt right in a way I couldn’t explain, like the cavern itself welcomed her. Watching her, I felt something settle deep in my chest—something dangerous; something I couldn’t yet name.

She moved toward one of the pools, crouching at its edge. The liquid shimmered faintly, its surface undisturbed. Her reflection wavered as she leaned closer, her curiosity pulling her into the moment.

But then, her footing shifted. A loose stone cracked under her weight, and she wobbled, her arms flailing for balance.

I lunged, my wings flaring as my tail wrapped around her waist. She yelped softly as I pulled her back, her feet dangling briefly above the edge before I set her down, steadying her with both hands.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her pulse a beat against my palms. “Um … thanks,” she muttered, her cheeks a charming shade of red.

“Be careful,” I said, my voice low. My grip on her tightened briefly, the edge creeping in despite myself. “This place isn’t forgiving.”

She looked up at me, her face inches from mine. Her breath was warm against my jaw, and for a moment, the cavern seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with something unspoken.

“It’s just a pool of water,” she reconsidered. “Right? It’s not acid or filled with some sort of flesh-eating bacteria, is it?”

“It’s water,” I confirmed. But I hadn’t let her go.

I didn’t move, my gaze locked on hers. The urge to close the distance, to claim what was mine, burned through me, sharp and insistent. But I held back, the weight of the moment balanced on a fragile edge.

Her eyes—so green they put the finest gems of Scalvaris to shame—held mine with an intensity that made the cavern feel smaller, the air between us warmer. She was breathing a little faster now, her chest brushing lightly against me with each inhale. The moment was pressing in on her too.

Good. She felt it.

Everything about her drew me in—her stubborn tilt of the chin, the faint smudge of krysfruit still on her cheek from earlier, the way her hair caught the flickering light and haloed her head in fire.

My mate. Everything in me roared with the truth of that word.

I shifted closer, just a fraction. Her gaze dropped to my lips, then shot back to my eyes, a quick flicker that didn’t escape me. She was thinking about it. I had to choke back a groan as her tongue darted out, wetting her lips.

Orla, my storm-salt human, had no idea the ruinous effect that small action had on me.

Her lips were full, softly curved, and I imagined how they’d feel against mine—how they’d taste. The memory of her pulse beneath my tongue still haunted me, that intoxicating warmth lingering in my senses long after we’d pulled apart. Giving her amark, a claim she couldn’t ignore, had been the only thing that quelled my lust that night.

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