Page 34 of Mating Her Dragon

“Nothing,” Sydney confirmed.

“Perfect.”

Because this place wasn't special because some ancient Spell said so. It wasn't sacred ground, wasn't a Clan stronghold, wasn't anywhere Fate had ever bothered to mark on a map.

It was special because they'd said it was.

The elephant in the Airstream, the one Sydney was trying to ignore and would never have described that way out loud, came out that night, by the fire, and the ocean a dark, endless murmur below the bluff.

"I think Leviathan may be waiting for the Ceremony," Garrett said.

No preamble. He'd clearly been carrying it since he'd said I think we should discuss what Carrick said, three hours and one entire ocean ago.

"Yeah," Sydney said.

Garrett looked at her. "You already thought of that."

"About five minutes after you did."

Of course she had. She'd have been disappointed in herself if she hadn't.

He laid it out anyway. He was methodical, the way he laid out everything. The Mating Bond would be open fully. The blood would come at the end. There would be the surge of Magic the Ceremony itself might generate. After all, it was thousands of years of Dragon tradition converging in one place at one time. Any one of those pieces could be exactly what something on the other side of that seam had been waiting for.

Then he said the thing she'd been braced for since the word Leviathan left his mouth.

"We can wait."

Sydney immediately understood exactly what that cost him to offer. Not fear of commitment– she'd never once doubted him on that front, not since the diner, not since every day. This was Garrett choosing to give up something he wanted more than almost anything in all of his years of wanting things, rather than risk putting her in danger.

Which was exactly why she wasn't going to let him give up one damn thing.

"We are not letting Leviathan decide whether we get Mated or not."

"I'm not suggesting that."

"Yes, you are. You're just saying it nicely."

He didn't argue that one either.

"If we decide we're not ready, we wait," Sydney said. "If we decide the Magic isn't safe, we figure out why, and we fix it. But that asshole does not get a vote."

It tied straight back to everything they'd already built between them. Fate did not get a vote. Prophecy did not get a vote. Thousands of years of Elders and tradition and expectation did not get a vote.

Leviathan sure as hell wasn't getting one either.

Garrett couldn't argue with that, and thankfully, he didn't try.

So, they built a new plan, right there by the fire.

They would still Mate. That part had never actually been in question, not since the diner, not since maybe we should start talking about it. But before they set a single date, they were going to find out exactly what completing the Mating Bond might open– what it could hand Leviathan, and how to close that door before he ever got the chance to walk through it.

Carrick. The Council. Whatever ancient records existed that might tell them anything useful. Shavon, if it came to that. Ginnie, if she'd seen anything relevant back at the ranch.

The question wasn't: whether Sydney and Garrett should get Mated. The answer to that had been yes for a while now.

The question was: what is Leviathan waiting for, and how do we make absolutely certain he regrets it?

Later, with Garrett finally asleep, Sydney stepped outside alone.