Page 46 of Born in Fire

His grip tightens, fingers digging into my flesh. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you? I can see it all over you. What, did you meet him a week ago? And you’re already spreading your legs?” His voice rises with each word, spittle flying from his lips. “After you made me wait three months? After all that ‘I need to take it slow’ bullshit?”

Shame tries to creep in—the shame he cultivated so carefully during our relationship. I push it aside.

“My personal life is none of your business, Tyler. Let go of my arm, or I will scream, and then I will call the police.”

He yanks me closer, his face contorting with rage. “You think some restraining order will stop me? You think I can’t find you wherever you go? I know you, Ju-Ju. I know what scares you. I know—”

“She asked you to let go.”

The voice behind Tyler isn’t just low—it’s a rumble that seems to vibrate the air itself. Dorian stands at the bottom of the path, his posture deceptively relaxed despite the lethal tension radiating from him. I didn’t hear him approach, didn’t see him coming. He simply appeared, like a predator materializing from shadow.

Tyler turns, keeping his grip on my arm. “This doesn’t concern you, buddy.”

“I think it does.” Dorian takes a step forward, and something in his movement—too fluid, too precise—makes Tyler back up, pulling me with him. “The lady asked you to let go. Twice now. I won’t ask again.”

There’s something different about Dorian—something beyond the protective anger in his stance. His eyes seem to glow in the fading light, the amber irises burning with an unnatural intensity. Heat radiates from him, evident even from several feet away, like standing near an open furnace.

“Really?” Tyler snorts, then attempts a dismissive laugh that comes out strained. “What are you going to do about it? This is between me and my girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” I correct, finding my voice again. “Veryex.”

“She’s not yours,” Dorian says, taking another step forward. His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, I swear they elongate, nails darkening to points before returning to normal.

Don’t be ridiculous, Juno!

“She doesn’t belong to you,” Dorian goes on. “But if you don’t remove your hand in the next three seconds, I’m going to remove it for you. Permanently.”

The threat doesn’t sound melodramatic—it sounds like a simple statement of fact, delivered with the casual certainty of someone describing the weather.

Tyler must sense it, too, because his grip on my arm loosens slightly. I use the opportunity to wrench free, stepping quickly to the side.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Tyler warns Dorian, but he’s already backing away. “She’s damaged goods. Daddy issues, abandonment complex—she’ll cling to you until you can’t breathe, then fall apart at the first sign of trouble.”

Dorian moves with impossible speed, closing the distance between them in what seems like a single fluid motion. Hedoesn’t touch Tyler, but he’s suddenly so close that Tyler stumbles backward against the wall.

“If I ever see you near her again,” Dorian says, his voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carries to where I stand, “if I hear you’ve called her, texted her, or even thought about her too intensely, what happens next will make you wish for something as merciful as death.”

I can’t see Dorian’s face from this angle, but whatever Tyler sees makes the color drain from his face. For a moment, I think he might actually vomit from fear.

“She’s not worth it,” Tyler manages, his voice shaking. “You’ll see.”

“Leave,” Dorian says simply. “Now.”

Tyler edges along the wall, then turns and walks quickly away, his shoulders hunched. At the corner, he stops and looks back.

“This isn’t over, Juno,” he calls, but the threat sounds hollow now, the words of a man trying to salvage his pride.

As soon as Tyler disappears around the corner, Dorian turns to me. The strange glow in his eyes isn’t fading—if anything, it’s intensifying, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His chest rises and falls rapidly, as if he’s struggling to contain something powerful within himself.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, approaching slowly. His voice sounds different—deeper, with a resonance that seems to bypass my ears and vibrate directly against my sternum.

“I’m okay.” My voice shakes slightly, adrenaline making my limbs feel rubbery. “How did you—? Why are you here?”

“I was coming to see you.” He reaches for my arm, where Tyler grabbed me, his touch gentle as he examines the reddened skin. “I had a feeling…”

His hand is burning hot against my skin, far warmer than any human body should be. I should pull away, should question this impossible heat, but instead, I find myself leaning into his touch.

“Let’s get you inside,” he says softly, but there’s an undercurrent to his words—a possessive edge that should alarm me but instead sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

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