Page 12 of Hex and the Dragon
"I tried not to," Dorian said with bitter humor. "I came to Portland believing I could be different, that I could use my power to protect instead of destroy. But when the crisis hit and people were depending on me..." He shook his head violently. "I became exactly what they always said I would become. A weapon that couldn't be properly controlled."
The Chronicle in Ivy's bag pulsed with warmth, and she felt its whispered response to Dorian's pain:
Such unnecessary guilt. Such wasteful self-recrimination. In the reality I offer, your fire would never harm the innocent. You would be a guardian, a protector, beloved instead of feared. All you need do is accept the power to rewrite thattragic day, to save those children, to become the hero you always wanted to be.
"No," Dorian said sharply, apparently hearing the same whispers. "Those people died because of my choices. I don't get to pretend that didn't happen."
"But you also don't get to pretend that one mistake defines everything you are," Ivy said firmly. "The Dorian I've been working with for the past few days is careful, controlled, protective. You've been more concerned about my safety than your own convenience. That's not the behavior of someone who only knows how to destroy."
"You don't know me well enough to make that judgment," Dorian protested, though his voice lacked conviction.
"Then tell me," Ivy challenged. "Tell me about the Dorian who came to Mistwhisper Falls three years ago. What were you hoping to find here?"
Dorian was quiet for a long moment, studying her face as if trying to determine whether she could handle the truth. "Peace," he said finally. "A place where I could learn to control my nature instead of being controlled by it. Where I could maybe, eventually, find a way to help people without putting them in danger."
"And have you?" Ivy asked. "Found that control?"
"I thought so," Dorian admitted. "Until yesterday, when the Chronicle started showing me visions of what I could accomplish if I stopped holding back. Perfect control, unlimited power, the ability to protect everyone without fear of causing collateral damage."
"It's targeting your guilt," Ivy realized. "Offering you redemption through power instead of growth."
"And it's working," Dorian said with brutal honesty. "Every time I see those visions, it becomes harder to remember why accepting them would be wrong."
Ivy felt her heart ache for the pain he carried, the weight of responsibility he'd placed on his own shoulders. Without thinking, she reached out and took his hand, feeling the warmth of barely controlled dragon fire beneath his skin.
"You want to know a secret?" she said softly. "I've felt powerless during every supernatural crisis this town has faced. When the entity was threatening everyone, when the wards were failing, when people were disappearing—I stood on the sidelines with my books and my theories while braver people risked their lives to fix problems I couldn't even understand."
"That's not the same thing," Dorian protested. "You're not carrying a weapon that could level city blocks if you lose focus for five seconds."
"No," Ivy agreed. "But I am carrying knowledge that could save lives if I was brave enough to use it properly. Instead, I catalog and research and take notes while other people do the actual work of protecting our community."
She stepped closer, maintaining her grip on his hand despite the way dragon fire made her skin tingle. "The Chronicle is offering me unlimited knowledge, perfect understanding, the ability to solve any problem instantly. And you know what? Part of me wants to accept, because then I'd finally be useful instead of just... academic."
"You are useful," Dorian said with surprising intensity. "Your research, your translations, your ability to see patterns that others miss—none of this would be possible without your contributions."
"And your control, your careful application of power, your willingness to protect others even when it costs you personally—that's not the behavior of someone who only knows destruction," Ivy replied. "We're both more than our worst moments."
They stood close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his amber eyes, could feel the warmth radiating from hisskin like standing near a well-banked fire. The air between them crackled with more than magical energy, and Ivy found herself drawn to the vulnerability he'd shared, the trust implicit in his confession.
"Ivy," Dorian said softly, his free hand rising to cup her cheek with gentle reverence.
"Yes?" she whispered, her pulse quickening as he leaned closer.
"I think I'm falling for you," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "And I have no idea if that's real or just another way the Chronicle is manipulating us."
"Does it matter?" Ivy asked, her eyes drifting to his lips. "If the feeling is real, if the connection is genuine..."
"It matters because I don't want to hurt you," Dorian said, though he made no move to step away. "I don't want to be another thing in your life that brings pain instead of joy."
"You won't be," Ivy said with quiet certainty. "You couldn't be."
The space between them disappeared by degrees, drawn together by attraction and understanding and the kind of emotional intimacy that came from shared vulnerability. Ivy's eyes fluttered closed as Dorian's lips were almost close enough to touch hers, her heart racing with anticipation.
"Well, this is either the worst possible timing or the best possible distraction."
Nico Beaumont's amused voice cut through the moment like a blade, causing both Ivy and Dorian to spring apart with guilty expressions. The fae stood at the entrance to the small park where they'd been walking, his usually immaculate appearance showing signs of recent travel and his pale eyes sharp with urgency.
"Nico," Ivy said, her voice slightly breathless. "We were just?—"
