I hug him to me when we break apart, breathing in his campfire scent, then motion to the door before I lose my nerve. “Shall we get going?”
He nods, straightening his shirt, and shakes hands with each of my other mates. We make our way out of Malivore, our footsteps echoing through the stone corridors.
“Why did you bury our bond?” The question burst out of me before I could stop it. It’s the one thing I need a straight answer to—the mystery that’s been eating at me since I first felt that golden tether.
Finlay pauses once we’re outside, the evening air cool against our skin, and takes both of my hands in his warm grip. “I’m a little over nine hundred years old.” He lets that sink in for a moment. “You’re so very young compared to me. Then there’s the fact you are Thauglor’s daughter. He’s the oldest living drake on all five continents. At almost thirteen hundred years old, his breath weapon is unrivaled.”
He smiles as he says this, and I resist the urge to correct him—my poor mate has no clue that my acid is actually stronger than Dad’s. That’s a revelation for another time.
We stroll toward the flight field in comfortable silence, the grass soft beneath our feet and the evening chorus of insects creating ambient music. Other students stop and stare at us as we pass—the heir apparent walking hand-in-hand with the mysterious royal protocol professor. Finlay just glares at them with enough intensity that they quickly look away and hurry off.
Who knew my quiet, reserved professor has a bit of a temper hidden beneath all that formal politeness?
“Did Dad explain to you about mating flights and inspections?” I tilt my head to look at Finlay as he pauses to check the wind direction, his eyes assessing the sky with the practiced gaze of someone who’s flown for centuries.
“Yes. He said I should allow you to shift first and look over your dragoness, otherwise she won’t accept me as a proper mate.” Finlay pulls out his phone and shows me the massive amount of notes he took—pages and pages of detailed observations. I think Dad gave him the entire history of dragonkind in one sitting.
Nodding, I step away and begin my shift. I slow it down deliberately so it’s not as explosive as it normally is—I don’t want to frighten him. The stretch and pop of muscles and sinew echo in my ears like a familiar song as bones grow and realign themselves. I close my eyes, feeling every single ripple of power moving through my body and the shifting of my scales as they emerge and expand until the transformation is complete.
I open my sapphire eyes slowly and look down at my mate, who seems suddenly very small from this perspective.
“Wow, I still can’t believe you’re a skull dragoness. I’ve never seen one in person, until you.” The look of pure wonder in my mate’s eyes has my dragoness preening with satisfaction, practically glowing with pride.
He thinks we’re impressive,she coos, watching him move around us with obvious fascination.
We’re the first of our kind—of course he’s impressed,I reply to her with amusement.
“She talks to you? Like a separate entity?” Finlay stops directly in front of us, craning his neck back to meet my eyes, and I lower my massive horned head down to him. He reaches up and rests his warm hand on the bridge of my maw without any hesitation.
“She does,”I rumble in my dragon’s voice, and say the words in my mind simultaneously so he can hear both.
“That’s amazing.” His voice carries genuine awe. He looks skyward at the darkening evening, then back at me with anticipation bright in his eyes. “Let’s fly.”
He backs up several steps, giving himself room, and takes off at a run. The next thing I know, I see a bird made of living flames rise from where he was—except it’s not quite a bird. It looks like a peacock was set on fire, with elaborate tail feathers made of flickering orange and red flames that trail behind it like a comet’s tail. The sight is breathtaking.
When he gets high enough in the sky, I launch up after him with a powerful leap. Three beats of my enormous wings and I’m on his tail, the wind rushing past my scales and creating that familiar singing sound I love. He plays on the thermals—diving and swooping with obvious joy—and I laugh internally at his exuberance.
He looks to be having so much fun, more carefree than I’ve ever seen him.
We fly for almost three hours, covering incredible distances, and eventually cross over what looks to be the ocean. The water below reflects the moonlight like liquid silver, and the salt spray rises to meet us. When he banks down toward a small beach, I realize immediately that the landing area is far too small for my massive dragon form.
I circle overhead, getting closer and closer with each pass, studying the geography until I shift back to human form mid-air. I spread my wings and glide down to the ground, landing with bent knees to absorb the impact. The sandy beach is soft beneath my feet.
The moment I touch down, Finlay scoops me up immediately, his arms strong and sure around me. I fold my wings in tight against my back and take a chance, kissing him soundly on the lips—pouring everything I’m feeling into it.
He gasps against my mouth for a moment but holds me tightly to him, returning the kiss with building passion. His body becomes noticeably hot to the touch, his skin radiating heat like a furnace, and he releases me gently before it can go further.
“We need to be very careful. I will literally go up in flames if I’m too excited,” he admits, slightly breathless, his cheeks flushed.
It all makes sense now—his reserved nature, why he kisses me so innocently, why he’s been so cautious about physical contact.Well, shit.“Well, that would definitely be a showstopper...” I pause as the dreams I’ve been having suddenly start making perfect sense, pieces clicking into place.
“The lake of fire...” I say out of nowhere, staring at him as the realization hits me. “I’ve been dreaming of a lake of fire since I first felt the tether to you.”
“Well, that makes the after-dinner conversation much easier,” he says with a mysterious smile as we walk across the beach. Sand shifts beneath our feet, still warm from the day’s sun. We arrive at an elegant building tucked into the island’s rocky outcropping—a fancy restaurant with warm light spilling from its windows and the scent of incredible food wafting on the breeze.
Finlay opens the door for me with old-world courtesy, and I walk through into warmth and the soft murmur of conversation.
Here goes everything.
