The closer I get to Finlay, the harder my heart pounds in my chest until I can hear the rush of blood in my ears. His scent grows stronger, more intoxicating with proximity—he smells like a campfire on a cool night, like toasted marshmallows and graham crackers, like summer happiness and autumn comfort all mixed together.
My breaths come in ragged pants as I lean closer to him, my body trembling with the effort of restraint. I open my mouthslowly, my elongated canines visible, while looking over his shoulder as Klauth approaches to add another layer of safety.
Finlay shocks me completely by threading his hand up into my hair, his fingers warm against my scalp, and pulling me down firmly to his shoulder. “Bite me, my eternal.” The endearment in an ancient language sends shivers down my spine.
My dragoness surges to the surface within seconds, and I bite down without further hesitation. My teeth sink through skin and muscle, and his blood floods my mouth, hot and sweet. He tastes like aged whiskey—smooth going down with a burn on the backend that warms all the way to my stomach. There’s something else there too, something uniquely phoenix, like smoke given flavor.
I hold him in place for several seconds, feeling him tense and then relax as my dragoness finally settles, satisfied with the claim. Gently, I retract my teeth and immediately lick the wound closed, my saliva sealing the punctures and stopping the bleeding. His blood on my tongue tastes of cinnamon and fire.
Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing, focusing on the bond between us. I can finally feel him properly—a golden thread connecting us, warm and alive and pulsing with his presence. The initial tether is stronger now, more substantial. It’s not complete—that will require more intimate claiming—but it’s so much better than it was. The constant ache of separation has dulled to manageable levels.
“Mate, look at me.” Finlay’s tone carries a command that drives me to open my eyes immediately. I stare into his burning orbs—no longer honey but molten gold, flames literally flickering in their depths. “I’m going to mark you now. It will hurt, but I will heal it immediately after I’m done.”
I nod at him and smile, showing him I’m not afraid. “Do it.”
“Thauglor, don’t let go of her,” Finlay instructs, and I feel Dad’s grip on my wrists tighten slightly in acknowledgment. “I’m going to brand her as mine.”
Finlay reaches for the hem of my shirt and lifts it up, exposing my left side above my hip. The cool air hit my skin, raising goosebumps. He presses his hand there, palm flat against my ribs, and initially it’s not so bad—just warmth spreading from his touch.
Then the burn happens.
White-hot pain sears through my skin where his hand rests, and I grit my teeth hard enough that I hear them creak. I tense every muscle in my body to keep from screaming, refusing to show weakness. It feels like he’s pressing a branding iron directly against my flesh, burning deep into muscle and maybe even bone.
It’s over as fast as it started—maybe ten seconds total, though it feels like an eternity. A sudden coolness overtakes the burning, spreading from his palm outward, and soothes away the pain like ice on a burn. The relief is so intense it makes my knees weak.
Dad releases my wrists, and I immediately look down at my side. What looks like a single phoenix feather is branded into my skin where his hand had been—the design intricate and beautiful, with each individual barb visible. The mark is raised slightly, a pale silvery-white against my natural skin tone that seems to shimmer when it catches the light.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, tracing the edge of it with gentle fingers. The skin is tender but not painful, and the markfeels warm to the touch—like Finlay’s presence is permanently pressed against me now.
“Dinner tonight?” Finlay asks as he redresses, his fingers working the buttons of his shirt with practiced efficiency. “We’ll fly into town, have something nice to eat, and get to know each other properly.” He smiles, and it’s devastating how beautiful the expression is—warm and genuine and making his honey eyes crinkle at the corners.
My dragoness is no longer driving me to the brink of insanity, needing to constantly keep an eye on Finlay to verify his existence. We can feel him through the bond now, a constant warm presence in the back of my mind, and that makes everything better. The anxious clawing in my chest has finally quieted.
“Meet you outside Malivore later? How’s five for you?” I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the calendar, suddenly feeling nervous about this date—our first proper date as acknowledged mates.
Finlay pulls his own phone out and examines it, scrolling through what I assume is his schedule. “That works perfectly. I’ll meet you there.” He steps closer and presses a chaste kiss on my cheek—his lips warm and soft against my skin—then nods respectfully at both my dads before leaving.
I watch him go, admiring the confident way he moves, then laugh to myself with satisfaction. “Now I just need this one to hatch, and I’ll be set.” I caress Solaris’s egg lovingly, feeling it pulse under my palm.
“I have nae control over it, lass. Happens when it happens,”Solaris complains in my head, his Scottish accent thick with resignation.
Quickly, I hug both my dads—squeezing Dad Thauglor tight, then turning to embrace Klauth with equal affection. “Thank you for being here for this,” I murmur against Klauth’s chest.
“Always, little one,” he rumbles, kissing the top of my head.
I spread my wings and launch myself off the balcony, catching the evening thermals. As I fly back toward Malivore, my mind is already racing ahead.
I need to figure out what I’m wearing to dinner that is appropriate for a nice restaurant. This is important. This is our first actual date, and I want everything to be perfect.
My four mates are going to haveopinionsabout my outfit choice, I just know it
