Page 117 of Dragon’s Rebel

Thorne kissed her, and she slid her hand down his ass. “And also,” she said, “you have a very sexy tail.”

It turned out they didn’t have as much cleanup to do as they would have expected. Some of the dead hellhounds had been real, not illusion, and Zane’s dragon happily burned the bodies to ash.

There was still no sign of Corwyn’s sorcerers. There was no way to tell if they’d escaped the same way they’d gotten in, or if they’d been annihilated by Maia’s power.

“They got in by putting power-draining devices in the spell interstices between this world and the interdimensional spaces,” Tyr explained. “But—”

“English, Tyr,” Rebel said.

Tyr gave a martyred sigh. “No one appreciates my expertise. Okay. The tomb isn’t exactly under Mount Hood. The entrance is there, but the tomb is in kind of a bubble between our world and another dimension. The sorcerers put power-draining devices in the cracks between the dimensions, and sucked out enough juice to weaken the entrance and get themselves in.”

“Oh,” Rebel said. “Can we maybe fix that flaw?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Thorne said. “We’ll have to patch it for now, and figure out exactly how later.”

Rebel and Tempest stayed and watched the dragons and Blaze do the patch. None of them wanted to be alone right now—they’d come too close to losing each other.

Rebel watched Thorne concentrating on the spells they were doing. She loved her mate’s serious face.

Her mate. She let the words sink in. Instead of the familiar fear of being trapped, she felt an unfamiliar sense of… happiness. That place in her chest that always expanded when she and Thorne made love felt warm and contented, as if the sun had come out in there and wasn’t going away.

And neither was she. The bond was about loving someone so much you never wanted to leave.

Thorne looked up and caught her eye at that moment, and he smiled that breathtaking smile. She winked and blew him a kiss, with a promise of much, much more to come.