Chapter 40
FORTY
AERO
Aero woke to warmth—Cassia’s weight against his side, her hand resting over his heart like she’d been keeping watch while he slept.
His dragon rumbled contentment.
He let himself look at her—really look. The curve of her shoulder where he’d left a mark the night before.
In sleep, she looked peaceful. Softer than she ever allowed herself to appear when awake.
The constant crackle of energy that surrounded her had gentled into something quiet, her magic at rest for once.
He pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing her in. She smelled like him—smoke and storm woven through her natural scent. The primal part of him preened at the evidence of their night. The rational part knew they didn’t have time for this.
“Stop thinking so loud.” Cassia’s voice was sleep-rough, muffled against his chest. “I can feel you analyzing.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.” She tipped her head back to look at him, sea-glass eyes still hazy. Her curls were a disaster, tangled and wild, and she’d never looked more beautiful. “It’s too early for analysis. Come back to bed.”
“We’re in bed.”
“Then come back to sleep.” She pulled him down for a kiss—slow and sweet, nothing like the desperate heat of the night before. Just… warmth. Comfort. The casual intimacy of two people who’d learned each other’s bodies and found them good.
Then he felt it.
A shift in the atmosphere. A pressure building at the edge of his senses, vast and dark and wrong. His dragon snapped to alertness, scales prickling beneath his skin.
Cassia went rigid in his arms. “You feel that?”
“Yes.”
They dressed in silence, the easy intimacy of moments ago shattered by the weight of what was coming.
At the cabin door, she turned to face him. “Ready?”
He cupped her face in his hands, memorizing the curve of her cheekbones, the storm in her eyes. Last night had felt like a beginning. This morning felt dangerously like an ending.
“Whatever happens—” he started.
“Don’t.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t say goodbye. We’re not doing that.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were. I could see it in your face.” She replaced her finger with her mouth, kissing him hard enough to steal his breath. “We survive this. We stop Nerissa. And then we have the rest of our lives to figure out what comes next. That’s the plan.”
“That’s not much of a plan.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.” She grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers. “Now move your ancient ass. We have a tsunami to stop.”
The harbor was controlled chaos.
Fishing boats pulled against their moorings as crews worked frantically to secure them.
Lines snapped and re-tied. Engines roared as the larger trawlers made for deeper water where they might ride out the wave.
The evacuation sirens had started twenty minutes ago, and Haven Shores’s residents were streaming away from the coastline in orderly lines—supernatural and human alike, shepherded by pack members and pride lions.
The sight of them—the community uniting—would have amazed Aero a month ago.
Dragons didn’t do this. Didn’t work as teams, didn’t protect those weaker than themselves out of anything but obligation.
But Haven Shores was different. Every species was represented in the evacuation effort, old territorial boundaries forgotten in the face of shared threat.
Theo’s voice carried over the wind, calm and commanding as he directed his wolves.
The alpha had positioned himself at the main evacuation route, his steady presence keeping frightened civilians from panicking.
Leo coordinated with Hux near the marina, ensuring no one got left behind—their lions forming a protective perimeter around the slower-moving families with children.
Beck stood at the harbor’s edge with Rosemary, both of them helping fishermen guide their smaller vessels to safety. Aero watched Beck’s hand find Rosemary’s between boats, watched her lean into him for just a moment before straightening back to work.
Two people choosing each other in the middle of a disaster. Fighting for something beyond survival. Something in his chest ached at the sight—recognition, perhaps. Understanding.
Cassia’s fingers tightened around his. She’d seen it too.
Overhead, a golden-red dragon circled—Delos, still not fully healed but refusing to stay grounded. His wing showed barely visible scarring where Nerissa’s attack had shredded membrane, but his flight was steady. He was providing aerial reconnaissance, tracking the approaching wave’s progress.
Massive, Delos called through their limited dragon communication—not telepathy, but a resonance between beasts of the same kind. Bigger than anything natural. Moving fast.
Aero’s jaw tightened. He could feel it—not just the pressure, but the shape of the thing Nerissa had built. Days of manipulated currents. Weeks of gathered force. All of it condensed into a wall of water taller than anything Haven Shores had ever faced.
The witches were scattered along the seawall, their magic weaving into the ancient wards carved into the breakwater’s foundation.
Junie worked furiously, her chaos magic surprisingly useful for reinforcing failing defenses.
Avine channeled energy from the Siren’s Rest’s protections.
Narla stood apart, serenely calm, her owl familiar circling overhead.
Cassia stopped at the seawall’s highest point, her hair whipping in the wind. Aero moved to stand beside her—close enough that their shoulders brushed, close enough that he could feel her magic pulsing in time with his.
“There.” She pointed toward the horizon.
He saw it. A dark line against the dawn sky, growing larger with every passing second. The wave. Nerissa’s weapon. Weeks of hatred made manifest in water and force.
His dragon pressed against his skin, demanding release—the shift, the fight, the primal need to protect. He held the beast back. She needed them here, in this form, for this.
Cassia’s hand found his. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly, but her grip was strong.
“In tandem.” The words came out barely above a whisper. “Your power, my precision. Like the flight.”
He nodded. They’d practiced this—combining their storm magic, learning how his raw force could amplify her control. On the cliffs, it had felt almost playful. Here, with death bearing down on them, it felt like the only thing that mattered.
The wave crested the horizon. Even from this distance, Aero could see the foam at its peak, the impossible height of it. Screams rose from somewhere in the town—people who’d stopped to look, who understood what they were seeing.
“Now,” Cassia breathed.
She raised her free hand, and the sky answered.