Page 7 of Echoes of Fire

Orla trembled against me, her heartbeat thrumming against my scales like a caged songbird. I tightened my grip, claws careful not to pierce her soft flesh.

Mine to shield. Mine to claim.

The truth of it scorched through my veins, leaving no room for doubt.

Orla’s bloodied lip beckoned like a flame. My tongue throbbed. Fangs ached with phantom pressure—not a battle-urge, but the need to bite, to brand. My claws flexed against her ribs, the points burning where they dented her shirt’s already torn fabric.

Her scent coiled tighter around me with each ragged breath she took—ozone sharpening to lightning-struck stone, floral notes blooming into midnight orchids that only grew in sacred burial caves. My nostrils flared. The priestess’s rancid myrrh couldn’t mask it now. Couldn’t drown what my blood recognized.

“Lies!” Karyseth shrieked again, spittle flying. Her claws slashed the air, etching sigils that made her supplicants recoil. “I see no bond-mark! There has been no vow! This is blasphemy!”

The crowd rippled, warriors hissing, tails lashing. I felt the moment the balance tipped—zealots reaching for blades, acolytes edging closer with hooked chains.

Now.

I flung my wings wide, the membranes casting crimson shadows across the dais. Heat rolled off me in visible waves, warping the air. “You question my honor, Priestess?” my voice boomed, rattling loose stones. “You dare deny the bond?”

The ancient word silenced them. Even Karyseth froze.

Orla’s breath hitched. “What’s?—?”

I unsheathed the heat-crystal dagger at my belt—ceremonial, rarely used, its edge dull but the hilt carved with my clan’s fire runes. The blade glowed faintly, responding to my touch.

Hold steady, human.

“Kneel,” I commanded, voice steel-edged.

Orla’s knees buckled—part shock, part my tail’s gentle press behind her knees to make sure she did it. I dropped with her, wings mantling around us both. The dagger’s hilt pressed into her palm, her fingers ice-cold against mine.

“Grip it,” I growled low so only she could hear. “Tighter. They need to see.”

She obeyed, knuckles whitening even as her hand trembled. Good. Smart.

Karyseth lunged forward. “This farce insults the Forge!”

I ignored her, leaning close until my fangs grazed Orla’s ear. Her scent flooded me—fear-sweat and ink, sharpening my focus. “When I let go,” I murmured, “you put this blade to my throat,shyrarva. Understand?”

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. Brave little human.

I released the dagger and threw my head back, baring my throat. My vow shook the sanctum. “By flame and claw, I claim her!”

Orla’s arm trembled as she pressed the blade’s edge to my pulse. The crowd gasped. Even Darrokar leaned forward, wings half-spread.

Karyseth’s tail lashed. “A trick! The human doesn’t know our ways!”

“She holds my fire,” I snarled. The dagger’s glow intensified, reacting to Orla’s touch—my soul recognizing her. The sacred crystals embedded in the hilt ignited, casting her face in a golden glow.

The crowd murmured, claws pulling back.

Almost.

The priestess’s claws scraped stone as she stepped closer. “Fire cannot lie,” she sneered. “Let the human speak the vow. Let her blood mingle with yours in the sacred flame. Then we’ll see this …bond.”

My flames dimmed.Fuck.The full ritual required marks, blood, fire—things that would break her. I’d seen initiates scream during bonding ceremonies, and they were Drakarn. No one but the zealots performed the ritual or did something insanelike subject themselves to a mating challenge. The gods didn’t care, and I would not risk my mate.

Orla was still holding the blade to my throat. Her whisper barely reached me. “What do I?—?”

“Silence!” Karyseth’s tail cracked.

---