Page 38 of Fired Up Love

The simple touch created ripples of awareness that traveled up her arm. She turned her hand beneath his, their palms meeting in a gesture more intimate than she’d anticipated.

“Show me around?” she suggested, suddenly wanting to learn more about him through his living space.

He led her through the penthouse, still holding her hand as though reluctant to break the connection. The space reflected its owner—elegant without being ostentatious, elements of ancient history blending seamlessly with modern comfort.

In his study, a wall of books stretched from floor to ceiling, many with spines so old the titles had faded beyond recognition. “First editions?” she asked, running her fingers along the ancient leather.

“Some date back to the 16th century.” He stood close behind her, his breath warm against her hair. “My personal journals start around 1530.”

She turned to face him, finding him closer than she’d expected. “You’ve kept journals for five hundred years?”

“Memory fades, even for dragons.” His eyes held a shadow of old grief. “I didn’t want to forget the people who mattered.”

The vulnerability in his admission touched something deep within her. This ancient being with all his power and authority feared loss and cherished connection just as she did.

“Tell me about growing up as a dragon in Enchanted Falls,” she prompted, genuinely curious about the man behind the imposing elder façade.

His lips curved in a half-smile as he led her back to the living room. They settled on the sofa, closer than strictly necessary, their shoulders touching. “Less dramatic than you might imagine. Strict parents. Traditional education. Endless lessons on flame control.”

“Flame control?”

“Young dragons are... volatile.” A hint of smoke curled from his nostrils at the memory. “My first shifting incident nearly burned down the eastern forest. Draven—my brother—never let me forget it.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.” He winced. “Normal for a first shift, but my control was abysmal. I spent the next fifty years mastering precision.”

She laughed, trying to picture him as a gangly adolescent with unpredictable fire. “Teenage dragon angst must be terrifying.”

“You have no idea.” His expression turned mischievous. “I once accidentally set fire to a girl’s hair during my first attempt at flirtation.”

“No!” Zina clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with both horror and amusement.

“Yes. Tragically true.” He shook his head, chuckling at the memory. “I was trying to impress her with a fire trick—a small flame dancing above my palm. My voice cracked mid-sentence, my concentration shattered, and... whoosh.”

“What happened to her?”

“Fortunately, minimal damage—just singed ends. Unfortunately, maximum humiliation for me. She never spoke to me again.” He sighed dramatically. “My romantic career nearly ended before it began.”

“And yet here you are, centuries later, successfully wooing a lioness without any fire accidents.” The words slipped out before she could censor them, but she didn’t regret them when his eyes darkened with pleasure.

“Am I succeeding?” he asked softly, his hand finding hers again.

“You haven’t set my hair on fire yet, so you’re ahead of your teenage self.” She laced her fingers through his, enjoying the warmth that transferred between them. “Though the night is young.”

His laughter filled the space between them, rich and genuine. “I’ve improved my technique significantly since then.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow, feeling unexpectedly bold. “Care to demonstrate?”

THIRTY-EIGHT

The playfulness in his expression shifted to something more intense. “Are you sure that’s what you want, Zina?”

She nodded, heart pounding as he leaned closer, his free hand coming up to cradle her cheek. Their lips met in a kiss that started gentle but quickly blazed into something more urgent, more demanding. Unlike their first kiss—tentative, exploring—this connection sparked with shared knowledge and growing trust.

His hand slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through her hair as he deepened the kiss. Heat radiated from him in waves, not burning but deliciously warm against her skin. Zina found herself melting into his embrace, her hands exploring the solid planes of his chest through his shirt.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, she noticed golden scales shimmering briefly beneath the skin of his throat before fading back to human appearance. The sight fascinated rather than alarmed her—a glimpse of his true nature breaking through careful control.

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