Page 60 of Born in Fire

I don’t know how I’m going to explain the impossible reality of my existence. The risks are enormous. The consequences, potentially catastrophic.

But for the first time in my life, I understand what drives my brother’s rigid sense of responsibility. When something matters enough, you protect it—not by pushing it away, but by bringing it closer, by sharing your strength, your truth, your vulnerability.

The clan always comes first. That hasn’t changed.

But maybe the definition of “clan” is broader than I’ve been taught to believe.

Chapter 17

Juno

I stare at my phone, wondering if I’ve just lost my ever-loving mind. After what I saw yesterday, I should be running away from that man like my ass was on fire. Yet here I am, preparing to see him again. In his own home, of all places.

I’m not sure why I feel safer meeting there rather than in some public space, but I trust the instinct. If what I suspect is true—if Dorian is something beyond human—then privacy serves us both.

An hour later, I stand before a converted warehouse in Pioneer Square, triple-checking the address Dorian sent. The building is industrial chic—exposed brick and steel—but the security system is thoroughly modern. I press the intercom button at the front door.

“It’s open,” Dorian’s voice replies, tension evident even through the electronic distortion.

The elevator rises smoothly to the top floor. With each floor, my heart beats faster, not from fear but from a strange anticipation. When the doors slide open, Dorian stands waiting, his posture rigid with visible anxiety.

“You came,” he says softly, as if he’d half-expected me to change my mind.

“I need answers.” I step into his apartment, immediately cataloging details—both from curiosity and ingrained caution.

The space is stunning—open concept with soaring ceilings and windows so vast they make Seattle’s skyline part of the interior decor. Exposed brick walls contrast with sleek modern furniture. Subtle lighting creates pools of warmth in the cavernous space. The scent of sandalwood and aged leather permeates the air; a rich masculine smell that makes me inhale deeply.

What catches my attention, however, are the details that seem at odds with the contemporary aesthetic: an ancient-looking sword mounted on one wall, its hilt shaped like a dragon’s claw; a collection of crystals that seem to glow from within; books in languages I don’t recognize displayed on open shelving.

“Your place is beautiful,” I say, buying time as I adjust to being in his private space.

“Thank you.” He gestures toward a leather couch positioned to face both the view and a fireplace with a distinctive metal screen—dragon scales worked into the design. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“I’m fine.” I sit, unwinding my scarf—deep blue with twinkling stars embroidered throughout—and draping it beside me. “I’d rather get to the point.”

Dorian nods, taking a seat across from me rather than beside me—giving me space. His movements are controlled, deliberate, as if he’s afraid of startling me.

“Where should I begin?” he asks.

“The truth.” I meet his gaze directly. “What happened to you the other day, Dorian? What was that?”

He takes a deep breath, then launches into his next sentence, “I’m a dragon shifter. My family—the Craven clan—are descendants of the last dragon king. We’ve existed alongside humans for millennia, adapting to changing times while maintaining our heritage.”

I snort out a laugh, then stop when his expression remains neutral. “A dragon shifter,” I repeat, testing the words. “As in, you can transform into an actual dragon?”

Bullshit. Bull-fucking-shit!

“Yes, though complete transformation is rare because we need to stay hidden.” His eyes fix on me carefully, gauging my reaction. “Most of us have unique traits—enhanced strength, heightened senses, partial physical changes—especially during times of stress or strong emotion.”

“Like when you confronted Tyler.” I lean forward slightly. “Your eyes glowed.” I keep asking questions because I want to see where he’s going with this insanity.

He nods. “Dragon traits generally appear in response to danger, particularly to those we… care about.”

The hesitation in his voice suggests there’s more to that statement, but I focus on the immediate revelation.

“You expect me to believe you’re a mythological creature.” I keep my tone even, analytical. “That’s a pretty big stretch, Dorian.”

“I know how it sounds.” He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

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