Page 41 of Fire's Storm
I wake gradually, which is unusual for me. Years of firefighter training have conditioned me to snap from sleep to full alertness in seconds. The difference suggests something fundamental has changed.
Before opening my eyes, I catalog my surroundings. Vulcan's massive form tangled with mine. Our limbs intertwined like we couldn't bear separation even in sleep. Most significantly, our mental connection remains active—a constant, comforting presence at the edge of my consciousness.
When I finally look up, midnight-blue eyes already watch me, alert despite the stillness of his body.
"The world feels different," I say, stretching carefully within his embrace. Every muscle aches pleasantly, reminding me of our claiming.
His hand raises to trace the line of my jaw, claw tips retracted to avoid scratching my skin. The gentleness of the gesture from someone so powerful still surprises me.
"We are different," he corrects, voice rumbling through his chest against my ear. "The bond changes us both."
For a long moment, we just breathe together, tangled in the dark sheets, our heartbeats synchronizing into a single rhythm. The weight of his massive arm around me feels like an anchor rather than a restraint. I've never welcomed being held before—always the first to pull away, to reassert independence. Now I find myself nestling closer, my body fitting against his like we were designed as complementary pieces.
Blue-white energy pulses softly between our skin where we touch, not the violent lightning of our claiming but something gentler—a constant, steady exchange that feels as natural as breathing. The sight of it should alarm me. Instead, it brings unexpected peace.
I've spent my entire life feeling wrong. Different. Out of place.
For the first time, I feel right. Like I've found where I belong, not just in this strange underground sanctuary but specifically here, with him.
I run my fingers along a pattern of scales on his chest, marveling at how they shimmer beneath my touch. He makes a deep rumbling sound—something between a purr and a growl—that vibrates through my bones.
"What are you thinking?" he asks, his voice unusually soft.
"That I've never felt this before," I admit, the vulnerability of the confession easier in the aftermath of our mental connection. "This... belonging."
His arms tighten around me briefly, protectively. "Nor I," he whispers, the simple confession holding centuries of loneliness.
We stay like that, suspended in a moment of perfect understanding, until the captain in my head slowly reasserts control. There are threats to assess. Situations to analyze. A new reality to navigate.
I prop myself up on one elbow, studying his face in the dim light filtering through crystal formations embedded in the ceiling. "So what happens now?"
His expression shifts from post-claiming contentment to something more serious. "Politics," he says with a grimace that reveals the edge of sharpened canines. "Our display proved our bond's validity, but many still oppose human-dragon connections."
"Who, specifically?" My mind immediately seeks to identify threats, map the battlefield. Old habits.
"Councilor Metu leads the traditionalists openly." His jaw tightens. "My exile status complicates matters. Many already saw me as damaged, dangerous. Adding a human mate..." He doesn't finish the sentence.
I bristle at the implication. "They think I make you more unstable?"
A laugh rumbles through him, unexpectedly warm. "They fear what they don't understand. And they understand nothing about us."
His hand traces idle patterns along my arm, leaving trails of heat and subtle electricity in their wake. "But first," he continues, "we train. Control our combined power."
"Like during the trial?" I ask, remembering the moment our energies synchronized, transforming chaos into controlled beauty.
"That was instinct," he says, midnight-blue eyes serious. "Now, we learn with purpose."
"Weather manipulation?" I recall Kellamir's excited theories about the Tempest Bond's capabilities.
Vulcan's lips curve into a smile that transforms his usually stern features. "Beyond simple manipulation. Storm creation. Electrical generation. Weather control on massive scales."
An image flashes in my mind—standing at the edge of a wildfire, calling down rain to douse flames that threaten homes and lives. Using abilities I once hid to openly save people.
"Useful," I say, understating deliberately.
His smile widens, revealing those slightly elongated canines that should frighten me but somehow don't. "Among many possibilities."
His body shifts against mine, and I become acutely aware of our naked skin pressed together. Power immediately surges between us—electrical current racing visible patterns across our joined flesh.
