Chapter 15
Delia
Kael’s Pool, The Ember Vein Mining Camp
The water is perfect.
Not just good—perfect.
Just hot enough to melt every ache from the ride. Muscles uncoil, tension dissolves.
The soreness from traveling inside a coach traversing rough terrain and all the jostling that came with it being pulled by a team of fire-breathing Demon horse slips from my body like it never existed.
I sink deeper, sighing as the mineral-rich water laps at my collarbone, heat seeping into my bones.
Dust and worry and the ache of missing Thorne bleed from my pores.
I float.
I glide.
I breathe.
The weight of the world lifts, if only for a moment.
The air smells faintly of iron, soot, and something sweet—like dragon fruit and sage smoldering in a ceremonial bowl.
Night has blanketed the camp, and the Gemini Moon gleams high above me, casting silver and rusted-red shadows on the rocks.
It’s quiet, save for the distant clangs of The Ember Vein’s shift change and the occasional hum of some magical perimeter field resetting.
And for the first time in hours, I let myself feel safe.
Because Alaric and Kael both said Thorne was fine.
That he’d be back soon.
That I should rest.
But I can’t sleep. Not without him.
My body is here, unwinding in the water—but my heart is in that tent, waiting.
So instead, I swim. Lazy laps.
My hair fans out behind me like kelp in a tide pool, trailing silkily through the water.
I dive under, brush my fingertips along the smooth stone floor—and that's when I hear it.
BOOM.
BANG.
ROARRR!
The night explodes.
I shoot up like a missile, water cascading in sheets from my face.
My lungs seize.
My heart stalls.
And then I feel him.
Not see. Feel.
Thorne is here.
Or…something wearing Thorne’s fury like armor.
The air warps. Magic thickens until it’s syrup in my lungs.
I whirl toward the commotion—and freeze.
Inside Kael’s tent stands a monster.
Fifteen feet tall.
A skeletal colossus of fiery bone and molten obsidian.
Lava veins pulse like lightning beneath his ribcage.
Flames writhe around him, alive and hungry.
His sockets—no, Thorne’s eyes—blaze with twin infernos, so hot they leave the air rippling.
And he’s not just standing there.
He’s lunging.
“THORNE!” I scream—but it’s lost beneath the roar as he barrels toward Kael.
Kael barely manages to summon a geyser of water, shielding himself with a wet hiss and a string of profanities.
“I didn’t even go in! She asked to swim! Am I supposed to refuse the viyella of the Lord of Fire? Fuck’s sake, Thorne!”
“ROAAAAARRRR!”
The sound shatters the sky.
The very mountains shudder.
The flames burst higher.
“STOP IT, YOU FUCK!” Alaric bellows from across the camp.
He’s already half-shifted, midnight black wings bursting from his back, jaws stretched wide as he breathes a blue flame across Thorne’s red.
My hands are shaking. My mouth is dry.
He’s doing this because of me.
Because I wasn’t in our tent.
Because I was here.
In Kael’s pool.
Unprotected.
Because someone else saw me before he did.
And gods help me, it shouldn’t be hot—but it is.
My heart slams against my ribs.
My blood sings.
This isn’t just anger or jealousy.
It’s possession—pure, elemental.
Thorne’s soul is howling with the ancient fury of a creature who’s lost sight of logic and is running on instinct.
And that instinct is screaming one word—mine.
I scramble toward the edge of the pool, slick and dripping, adrenaline crashing through me.
“THORNE!” I shout, barefoot and furious. “STOP THAT RIGHT NOW! I AM FINE!”
The skeleton whirls toward me, molten flame pulsing so violently the ground beneath him cracks.
Fire flares, reaching for the stars.
For one breathless moment, I think he’s too far gone.
Then his inferno eyes lock on me.
And the fire stutters.
“Shula,” he growls, voice like boulders grinding beneath lava.
I don’t stop to think.
I run to him, soaked and wild-eyed, feet smacking the stone, ignoring the blistering heat.
“Lady Delia! Stop!” Alaric yells. “You will burn!”
“She’ll burn to bone!” Kael adds.
But I know. I know with a certainty that isn’t rational but sits deep in my bones—Thorne would never hurt me.
So I press my palm to the scorched center of his flaming chest.
The heat sears around me, but not through me.
His flame cradles instead of consumes.
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “I’m okay. And you cannot just torch your brothers, alright? That’s not cool.”
Silence.
Then a strange noise.
A grunt.
Like a choked laugh filtered through stone and ash.
The fire dims.
The skeletal bulk shrinks.
Bone melts into muscle.
Obsidian turns to skin.
And then he’s just Thorne again—kneeling, panting, sweat beading his brow, steam rising from his bare shoulders, his eyes two burning coals of regret.
“Mine,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to my still-damp belly.
“It’s okay,” I say, stroking his hair with trembling fingers.
“You weren’t in our tent,” he breathes, voice hoarse.
“I was just hanging out.”
“Hanging out?”
I smile weakly. “Yeah. This place is weird. I was alone. Alaric and Kael kept me company. Answered questions while I waited for you.”
“I did not like returning to find you gone.”
“Noted,” I say gently, cupping his cheek. “But next time?”
“Yes, Shula?”
“Ask me before going nuclear, okay?”
He groans into my stomach. “No promises.”
And damn me, but I believe him.
And I think I like him all the more for it.