Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Aria
The air between us didn’t just crackle; it tasted like metal and ozone, a thick, galvanized current that coated the back of my throat.
It was the scent of a brewing tempest mixed with the wild, musky fragrance of Flynn’s skin, rain-soaked earth and the sharp tang of adrenaline.
His fingers were still wrapped around my wrist, a manacle of calloused warmth, and where skin met skin, his pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my own.
The bond that tethered us, usually a hum in the back of my mind, had mutated. It wasn't just a thread anymore. It was a physical weight, a storm trapped in a bottle, a living thing with teeth and a ravenous hunger that was gnawing at the fraying edges of my control.
"You’re buzzing, Aria," Flynn breathed, his voice a rough scrape against the silence of the cavern. "Like a hive kicked over."
Gods help me, he wasn’t wrong.
I could feel it vibrating through my marrow, the low-frequency hum of magic coursing under my skin.
The golden markings that mapped my body were pulsing in time with my frantic heartbeat, brighter now, restless and seeking an outlet.
It wasn’t just the lingering high of the fight, nor the adrenaline still singing its siren song in my blood. It was him. Them.
It was the way Flynn’s gaze had darkened, shifting from camaraderie to predation.
It was the way his pupils had blown wide, swallowing the amber irises until they looked like black pools, like a wolf scenting blood on the wind.
The way his fingers tightened on my wrist wasn't a warning to stay back. It was a promise.
He wants me.
The realization hit me. He didn’t want me as a Keeper, bound by the stiff, suffocating robes of the Citadel. He didn’t want me as the Gate or Door, the mythical mechanism to their salvation. He didn’t even want me as an abstract key to unlock the chains that had bound them for millennia.
He wanted me.
Aria.
He wanted the girl with the sharp edges and the crippling hesitation, the one who hid pressed flowers in stone alcoves and whose hands trembled when the weight of the world grew too heavy.
He wanted me now, right here in the dirt and the dark, with the bitter taste of the Void still clinging to my tongue and the echo of its wrongness still vibrating in my bones.
I should have been terrified.
Every lesson Natalia had ever drilled into me, every rigid rule I had spent a lifetime memorizing in the cold, sunless corridors of the Citadel, screamed at me to pull away and retreat.
To remember my duty. But those rules had burned to ash the moment I merged with the Gate.
My duty had twisted into something unrecognizable, something that felt less like an obligation and more like a choice.
And I was so incredibly tired of hesitating.
Flynn saw the shift in me before I even moved.
His grin split his face, all teeth and hunger, a feral expression that should have been frightening but only made my breath hitch in my throat.
He saw the moment I leaned in, defying the instinct to flee.
His scent flooded my senses, overwhelming and wild, like storm-wet fur and the snap of lightning seconds before the strike.
The bond between us roared in approval, a primal, possessive beast that made my pulse spike and my skin flush with a sudden, searing heat.
"Then stop talking about it," I challenged, my voice steadier than I felt. "Show me."
The words hung in the stagnant air, heavy with implication, a gauntlet thrown down on the cavern floor.
Flynn’s nostrils flared as he inhaled my scent, his grip on my wrist tightening to something just shy of actual pain.
For a single, stretched heartbeat, he didn’t move.
He just watched me, vibrating with restrained energy.
Then he moved.
His free hand shot out, fingers tangling violently in the hair at the nape of my neck. He yanked me forward, not waiting for permission, collapsing the distance until our mouths crashed together.
There was nothing gentle about it. It was a collision.
His teeth nipped my lower lip, sharp enough to open the skin that had only just stopped bleeding from his kiss in the Throat.
The sudden bloom of pain mixed with the copper tang of blood exploded between us like a spark hitting dry kindling.
The golden markings beneath my skin flared in violent response, lighting up the gloom of the cavern in erratic, strobing pulses of amber and white.
I gasped into his mouth, my hands flying to his chest, not to push him away, but to anchor myself in the storm.
His skin burned through his tunic, fever-hot, the muscle beneath my fingers coiled tight as a bowstring drawn to its breaking point.
He growled into the kiss, a guttural sound that traveled straight down my spine, pooling low in my belly, heavy and aching.
More.
The thought wasn’t just mine. It echoed in the hollows of my skull, a chorus of need reverberating through the bond.
I felt Kaelen’s fire, a slow, smoldering burn that tasted of smoke and possessiveness; Thane’s steadiness, deep and grounding like the bedrock of the mountain itself; Elias’s hunger, vast and aching as an endless, starless sky.
And Flynn? Flynn was the lightning, the immediate, devouring strike.
He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ragged and hot against my wet lips. "You’re sure, Aria? Once we start..."
I didn’t answer with words. I didn't have any left.
Instead, I pushed him backward until he fell back on his heels. My hands went flat against his chest, shoving with a strength amplified by the magic surging through me. He lost his balance and went down hard, looking up at me with stunned, dilated eyes.
I followed him down, straddling his lap, my thighs pressing firmly against his.
His hands came up immediately, gripping my hips hard enough to guarantee bruises tomorrow.
The sting of his grip only made the golden light beneath my skin burn brighter, hotter, like embers stoked by a relentless, gale-force wind.
"Gods, look at you," he muttered, his voice rough, bordering on disbelief. "You're glowing."
His thumbs slid up from my hips, brushing the undersides of my breasts through the tattered, dust-stained fabric of my clothes.
The touch sent a jolt of electricity through me that had nothing to do with magic.
My back arched reflexively, my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts that fogged the air between us.
Behind us, a sound tore through the cavern. Half growl, half curse. It was raw, guttural, and it made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. The air temperature spiked instantly, the scent of ozone abruptly overpowered by the smell of wood smoke and molten gold.
Kaelen.
Flynn’s lips curled against the sensitive pulse point of my throat, his teeth grazing the skin there. "Do you hear that?" he murmured, sounding amused, triumphant. "The Dragon is jealous."
"I don't care," I breathed, tilting my head to give him better access.
That wasn’t entirely true. I could feel Kaelen’s jealousy, a scorching brand searing through the bond.
But it wasn't the petty jealousy of a spurned lover. It was want. A mirror of Flynn’s hunger, but darker, more controlled, yet no less intense.
It was the slow, deliberate burn of a warrior used to commanding armies, now confronted with something, someone, he couldn’t simply order to surrender.
Flynn’s teeth scraped over my collarbone, his breath hot and damp against my skin. "Liar. You feel him burning."
I tangled my fingers in Flynn's shaggy hair, yanking his head back just enough to force him to meet my gaze. His amber eyes were wild, reflecting the golden light pulsing beneath my skin like twin mirrors. "Prove it," I whispered. "Make me forget him."
His laugh was a dark, hungry thing that vibrated against my chest. Then his mouth was on mine again, consuming, his hands sliding under the ruined fabric of my tunic.
His palms were rough and calloused, scratching delightfully against my ribs.
The moment his bare skin met my bare waist, the golden veins flared so bright the cavern strobed like the heart of a forge, casting jagged, dancing shadows against the ancient walls.
The bond screamed.
And then Kaelen’s control snapped.
One second, Flynn and I were a tangle of limbs and teeth and desperate hands. The next, a wave of heat and dominance washed over us, overwhelming and absolute.
Kaelen was there, his presence immense. He hauled me off Flynn’s lap with a possessive snarl, his fingers digging into my hips with a force that brooked no argument.
I barely had time to gasp before he spun me around, pressing me flat against the cavern wall.
The stone was cold and rough against my back, biting into my skin, but Kaelen’s body was a furnace against my front.
His chest heaved, pressing me into the rock, his golden eyes burning with something feral, something that looked less like a man and more like the beast buried beneath.
"Mine," he growled, the word a decree, and his mouth crashed against mine.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was a conquest.
His tongue swept past my lips, claiming every inch of my mouth, marking me, tasting of smoke and gold and something ancient and terrifying.
His hands were everywhere at once, one tangled in my hair, yanking my head back to expose the column of my throat, the other mapping the curve of my waist, my hip, my thigh.
He touched me as if he were memorizing the terrain of a battlefield he intended to ravage and rebuild in his image.
I could taste the dragon in him, the fire and the storm, and gods, it burned in the best way.