Page 106 of Lost in Fire

“You’ll always carry my mark now,” she explains, tracing the pattern with one finger. “No matter where we are, what happens to us, this connects us. Distance, time, even death—none of it can break a dragon’s mate bond.”

Through our new connection, I feel her lingering guilt about my injuries, the self-recrimination she’s been carrying. Without thinking, I push my forgiveness through the bond—not words, but the actual feeling. The certainty that every choice she made was necessary, that I’d rather bear these scars than live without her and Ember.

Her breath catches. “You really do forgive me.”

“There was never anything to forgive. You saved our daughter. You saved us all.”

She shifts against me, studying my face in the dying light. “What happens now?”

“Now we build the life we never got to have.” I pull her closer, marveling at how right this feels. “We raise our daughter. We help Viktor destroy the people who tried to tear us apart. We grow old together.”

“Dragons don’t really age,” she says with a smile. “Witches don’t either.”

“Then we grow old in spirit. More cantankerous and set in our ways.”

She laughs, and the sound settles something deep in my chest that’s been wound tight for too long. Through the bond, I feel her imagining it—years of mornings like this, years of falling asleep in each other’s arms, years of being allowed to love openly without fear.

“I love you,” she says against my throat. “I never stopped.”

“I know.” The mark on my shoulder pulses with her heartbeat, steady and sure. “I never stopped either. That's how I knew it was you when I got the message about our daughter. There wasnever anyone else. No one in my world who might have carried my child. Not after you.”

It feels right when I say it. Not something I’ve ever denied her. From those moments all those years ago, until right here in each other’s arms, it’s been there. True. Constant. A simple part of who I am.

Sleep tugs at the edges of my consciousness, but I fight it. Don’t want to lose this moment, this perfect sense of completion. But Vanya’s breathing is already evening out, her body relaxing completely against mine for the first time since our reunion.

The mark on my shoulder continues its gentle rhythm as I finally let exhaustion take me. Her claim on me, our connection humming in my bones like a promise that nothing—no politics, no madmen, no ancient grudges—can break what we’ve built here.

Forever.

Finally, we get forever.

Chapter 35

Vanya

The great hall hums with conversation and laughter, a sound I never thought I’d hear again. Not like this. Not with my family whole.

I watch from beside the massive stone fireplace as Ember moves through the crowd, accepting congratulations on her twenty-first birthday. She’s radiant tonight—confident in her power, comfortable in her skin. The hybrid abilities that once terrified me now flow through her like music, perfectly controlled. When she laughs at something Dorian says, flames dance briefly around her fingertips before settling back into dormancy.

My daughter. Safe. Free.

The Aurora Collective’s headquarters have been transformed for tonight’s celebration. Gone are the tactical maps and weapon displays, replaced with warm lighting and tables laden withfood. Dragons, wolves, witches, and even humans mingle freely—something that would have seemed impossible just weeks ago.

Warm fingers intertwine with mine, and I turn to find Hargen beside me. The mate mark on his shoulder peeks above his shirt collar, still new enough to make my pulse quicken. Mere days since our bond fully formed, and I’m still adjusting to the constant awareness of him humming beneath my skin.

“Quite a gathering,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking over my knuckles.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Syndicate refugees, Craven clan members, and the Aurora Collective would share the same room.” I gesture toward the far corner, where Viktor Parlance speaks quietly with Lila Rossewyn and her mate, Talon. “Without bloodshed.”

Caleb and Elena stand near the windows, their quiet authority drawing respectful nods from passersby. Juno perches on a table beside Dorian, swinging her legs while she teases him about something that makes his ears red. The story of her resurrection still amazes me—a phoenix born from ash and love.

Mara Jones has cornered two dragon elders near the refreshment table, animatedly explaining some piece of technology while they listen with bemused expressions. Since helping manage the exposure of our world to human social media, she’s become oddly invested in dragon culture.

“Look at her,” I say, nodding toward Ember as she demonstrates her fire magic for a group of younger Aurora members. The flames shift from gold to silver to deep blue, each color perfectly controlled. “She’s everything I hoped she’d become.”

“She’s strong because you kept her safe long enough to find that strength.” Hargen’s voice carries quiet pride. “You did that, Vanya.”

“Wedid that.” I lean into his warmth. “I couldn’t have done it alone. Not really.”

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