Page 7 of Davoren
In the distance, smoke still rose from the caravan's wreckage. Somewhere, Mira might be hiding or dying or already gone. My father's plans lay in ruins along with Lord Solmar's marriage contract.
But here in this cave that smelled of dragon and destiny, none of that mattered. There was only the mark's fire, the weight of ancient magic, and golden eyes that saw through every pretense to the terrified woman beneath.
"Come," Davoren said, extending one hand. Heat shimmered around his fingers like invisible flames. "Let me tend your wounds. Then we will discuss what happens next."
I stared at that offered hand, knowing that taking it would change everything. Knowing that the mark had already changed everything, whether I accepted it or not. The bond sang between us, patient and inexorable as stone.
With chains still circling my bloody wrists and feet torn to ribbons on volcanic glass, I reached out and tested fate.
His hand closed around mine, and the world burned beautiful.
Chapter 2
No.
I couldn’t be his. Couldn’t escape from prison only to become someone else’s property.
I wrenched my hand back, stumbling away until volcanic stone bit into my spine, and immediately regretted it. The mark on my shoulder screamed its protest—a living thing denied its mate, its match, its mirror-soul made flesh.
"No." The word came out raw, torn from a throat already hoarse from screaming. I pressed harder against the cave wall, feeling shards of obsidian catch and tear what remained of my silk dress. The chains around my wrists—the ones he hadn't melted yet—rattled against the stone like accusatory whispers. "I am no one's property."
Davoren remained where he stood, hand still extended, watching me with those impossible ember eyes. Patient. Ancient. Amused, even, which only stoked my fury higher.
"Not my father's to sell." Each word cost me. The mark pulsed with every syllable, sending waves of heat cascading through my body that made my knees threaten to buckle. I locked them,refusing to show weakness. "Not Solmar's to buy." Another pulse, stronger this time. My vision swam at the edges. "And not yours to claim."
The last word barely made it past my lips before the mark's protest against my rebellion sent me sliding down the wall. Only stubborn pride kept me from crying out. My shoulder felt like someone had pressed a brand to it—not the sharp, clean pain of burning flesh, but something deeper.
Soul-fire.
Essence-ache.
Davoren's expression shifted then, amusement bleeding away to reveal something older, darker, carved from millennia of existence. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of mountains forming, of civilizations rising and falling while he remained unchanged.
"You misunderstand the nature of bonds, little one."
Little one. As if I were a child throwing a tantrum rather than a woman fighting for her freedom. My hands clenched, the broken chains jangling.
"This is not ownership." He took a step closer, and my traitorous body swayed toward him despite every mental command to stay still. The mark sang at his proximity, a siren song of belonging that made me want to scratch it out of my skin. "It is far more absolute than that."
"How comforting," I managed through gritted teeth. "So I'm not property, just . . . what? Cosmically shackled? Divinely imprisoned?"
Another step. The air between us shimmered with heat that had nothing to do with the Fire Wastes and everything to do with the thing burning in my shoulder.
"The bond does not recognize the human concepts of freedom and captivity." His words rumbled through the cave, throughstone, through bone. "It simply is. You can no more deny it than you can command your heart to stop beating."
"Watch me." But even as defiance shaped my lips, my body betrayed me. The need to touch him, to close the distance between us, pulled at me like invisible chains far stronger than the decorative ones I wore.
"Defy me if you wish. If you can." Now he stood close enough that I could see the patterns in his copper-dark skin shift and swirl like cooling lava. Close enough to smell smoke and spice and something wild that my hindbrain recognized as dragon. "Test the boundaries. Push against the limits." His hand hovered near my shoulder, not quite touching. "But know that each act of rebellion carries consequences."
"Threats?" I forced a laugh that sounded more like breaking glass. "How traditional. How disappointingly human of you."
"Not threats. Simply truth." His fingers moved to hover over the mark, still not touching, and even that almost-contact sent lightning skittering across every nerve. "The mark allows me to bend your will if needed. To ensure your safety when you would choose harm. To override your desires when they conflict with your wellbeing."
The words hit like cold water—no, like molten metal poured down my throat. My fury, which had been banking like coals, roared back to full flame.
"Then you're no better than—"
"But, little one, I am also bound."
