He let go. The restraint he had carried for centuries, the fear that his nature was too destructive, too monstrous for anything to survive it, shattered. He poured the entirety of the Dragon into me.
And I didn't break.
I took it. My reforged body, built by Hephaestus and tempered by the Titan heart, absorbed the impact. I drank the fire. I metabolized the rage. I held the weight of the monster and I loved it.
The climax hit us like a physical shockwave.
Energy erupted from our joined bodies. A sphere of golden fire expanded outward, vaporizing the frost on the walls and blasting out of the tunnel mouth. It wasn't destructive fire; it was life. It was the defiant roar of existence in the face of nothingness.
I cried out, my vision going white, feeling every cell in my body vibrate at a frequency that should have disintegrated me. But Kaelen held me together. His arms were bands of iron, anchoring me to the earth even as he sent my spirit soaring into the stratosphere.
We collapsed.
The light faded slowly, retreating back into our skin, leaving the cave dim but gratefully, wonderfully warm.
I lay beneath him, gasping for air, my chest heaving against his. My skin was acutely sensitive, every nerve ending humming. The smell of ozone and woodsmoke was thick in the air.
Kaelen didn't move for a long time. He just lay there, heavy and solid, his face buried in my hair. His heart was beating against mine—a slow, powerful thud that felt strong enough to crack ribs.
Then, he lifted his head.
I blinked, clearing the spots from my vision, and looked up at him.
I sucked in a breath.
"Kaelen," I whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek.
He looked different. The sharpness of his features seemed more pronounced, more regal. But it was his eyes.
They were a solid, burnished gold, glowing with a faint, steady inner light. And the pupils were permanent, vertical slits.
He wasn't a man holding a dragon on a leash anymore. And he wasn't a dragon wearing a human suit.
The line was gone. The alloy was mixed.
He leaned down, nuzzling into my palm. His skin was fever-hot, exactly the way it should be.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked. His voice was deeper, carrying that subsonic rumble that I felt in my stomach more than heard with my ears.
I ran my thumb over his lower lip, tracing the swelling there. I felt raw, tender, and achingly alive. My metal arm was still warm, the runes pulsing a soft, contented gold.
"No," I said softly. "You didn't hurt me. You... arrived."
He closed his eyes, those terrifying, beautiful alien eyes, and let out a long breath that warmed my face. A small puff of smoke escaped his lips with the sigh.
"I felt it," he murmured. "The cold... it tried to take the core. And you..." He opened his eyes again, looking at me with a reverence that made my breath catch. "You were the hearth. You held the fire."
"I told you," I said, a tired smile tugging at my lips. "I'm not glass, Kaelen. I don't break."
He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my lips, gentle now, terrifyingly tender after the violence of the act.
"No," he agreed. "You are steel. And you are mine."
"And you are mine," I answered, wrapping my arms around his neck.
We lay there for a moment longer, gathering the scattered pieces of ourselves. The void howled outside the vent, a lonely, hungry sound. But in here, in this small pocket of rock, the air was warm.
Kaelen shifted, rolling off me but keeping me pulled tight against his side. He looked toward the entrance of the cave.
