Chapter 14
AURA
Ronyn’s truth lingers inside me well after his hands fall away.
His memories aren't images so much as feelings of vast loneliness, unyielding devotion, and the pain of centuries spent waiting for someone he never dared to believe would arrive.
Me.
I sit motionless, afraid that if I move too quickly, the fragile equilibrium between us will shatter.
My lips still tingle from our kiss, which was warm and bruising in the sweetest way, and my heart is swollen and full.
I press my fingertips to the center of my chest, concerned that this sweet feeling might ebb away before I can truly appreciate it.
Ronyn’s memories have done more than reveal his truth. They have implanted in my heart a feeling I don’t recognize but that warms me from within. It’s both hunger and satiety. I long to be close to Ronyn, but he is within me also.
I always doubted love, but this? The way he sees me. There is no doubt in my mind or my heart that he will want me until my last breath.
Ronyn watches me as if I might bolt. Firelight catches on the scatter of scales along his collarbone; dark, burnished red, edged in shadow. The dragon below his skin is restless but restrained, a powerful presence held in careful check.
He is built like a weapon, with impossibly broad shoulders that taper to a narrow waist, muscle layered upon bone with strength that arises from centuries of survival rather than vanity.
Scars cross his skin in pale, uneven lines; old wounds that speak of old battles.
His face is severe in a way that makes my breath stall.
Dark lashes frame eyes of molten amber, bright and watchful, forever assessing the world for threats that might never come.
There’s nothing soft about him at first glance.
He doesn't have Darial's easy charm or Kelan’s authority, but when his gaze settles on me, everything changes because, for all his severity, he cannot conceal the devotion that radiates from him.
When I move even slightly, his body responds without conscious thought. Heat flares below his skin, the outline of scales rippling along his throat before smoothing away again. His jaw tightens as he reins the dragon back, as though holding himself together requires constant effort.
He smells like fire and warm iron. It’s a scent that should warn me away.
Instead, it calls to me.
Ronyn touches my cheek, his fingertips caressing my skin, waking nerves, and sending a tingle down my spine. He glances at Kelan, who approaches slowly.
“Will you allow me to show you?”
My life has been shaped by other people’s decisions for as long as I can remember. As a child, every minute was monitored and scheduled. In Blackwood Forest, at the wolf camp, Gregory controlled and manipulated me until I forgot what it was to be free. Even magic chose me without asking.
But these men… these dragons… for all their power, are the ones to ask for my consent.
“I want to know,” I say, surprised by my firmness. “If I’m going to stay here, and if I’m going to trust you… I need to understand who you are. All of you.”
Kelan’s silver eyes soften, and as Ronyn climbs to his feet, he kneels.
The gesture steals my breath.
An alpha dragon, powerful enough to bend magic and command the skies, lowers himself before me until we are at eye level. Heat rolls off him in waves now, his control slipping just enough that faint scales ripple along his forearms, catching the blaze like shards of obsidian.
“I'm Kelan,” he says seriously. “And everything I am is bound to you.”
He reaches out, stopping inches from my face. “May I?”
I nod.
The moment his fingertips brush my temples, the world fractures.
I'm inside him.
My thoughts are overtaken first by the vast, endless darkness of his dragon mind, coiled tightly around the crushing weight of responsibility.
Through it, I glimpse the burden he carries: command that demands sacrifice, the endless duty of protecting others even when it costs him his own freedom.
Battles flash past, fought with fire, others avoided through careful restraint.
Kingdoms endure because of choices he has made, and magic remains chained because someone had to accept the guilt of choosing the lesser evil.
And threaded through it all is me.
The moment he sensed my magic strong enough to tear the world open.
The rush of relief when he realized I was alive.
His love and devotion fill the hollow inside me, settling beside the gift Ronyn gave, wrapped in memories that aren’t mine.
When I come back to myself, I’m shaking.
Kelan steadies me with firm hands at my waist. His body radiates heat as his wings shudder into partial existence behind him, vast shadows rippling across the cave walls before he reins them back in with a sharp breath.
“You’re our everything, mate,” he whispers. “Everything we want and everything we believed would never be ours.”
I cup his strong, angular face, bringing him closer, brushing my lips across his. Sensation flutters in my belly, and he sighs, and deepens the kiss, cradling the back of my head as he strokes his tongue over mine.
I don’t want to release him, but Darial is waiting.
The golden-haired man doesn’t kneel, but instead, he chooses to sit beside me, close enough that our knees brush. His sun-warmed scent washes across me, as sweet as summer.
His smile is gentle, but there’s sorrow behind it that reflects my own too closely to be a coincidence.
“I don’t show my heart easily,” he admits. “But you already live there.”
When he takes my hands, his magic is different. Darial’s love is lighter and softer, enfolding me like laughter and warmth. I see moments of joy, centuries spent concealing loneliness with charm and humor, and the familiar sadness of being surrounded by people and still unbearably alone.
He shows me the hopelessness, only to contrast it with the wonder.
I discover his delight in small things, like the sound of music floating through open windows in an unfamiliar city, and the flashes of lightning in a particularly active electrical storm.
He shows me the precious moments when he allowed himself to forget how long he'd lived and how little of it had truly been shared.
His heart has always been open, even when it hurt him to keep it that way.
And then I’m with him.
Darial’s love isn’t heavy with destiny or sharpened by fear. It is gentle and brave all at once, filled with awe that I exist at all. He shows me how my voice already feels like sunlight to him. How the thought of my future happiness fills him with hope.
His loneliness aches differently than Ronyn’s. Where Ronyn’s is a wound, Darial’s is a hollow waiting to be filled. He has loved the world loudly and often, while waiting for the true satisfaction of a mate.
Tears sting my eyes, and when his thumbs brush lightly over my knuckles, rooting me back in my body, his smile wavers as he waits for my reaction.
When he leans in and presses a kiss to my temple, my breath catches. His lips linger, reverent and sweet, and I touch the scales along his jaw, flashing gold over his skin, responding instinctively to my nearness.
The dragons have each reacted to me, unfurling desire that’s new and confusing.
I lean forward first, and Darial inhales sharply as my fingers curl against his chest. Heat flares in my palms, his wings twitching behind him as I press a soft, exploring kiss to his mouth. Kelan’s hand braces at my back, while Ronyn’s fingers trail lightly down my arm.
Three men.
Three dragons.
They are majestic and powerful, old, and yet filled with youth, strength, and vigor.
I pull back, my heart beating fast, my forehead resting briefly against Ronyn’s.
“I don’t know how to love,” I admit. “My heart is a stone.”
“Your heart is as tender as a butterfly's wing,” Darial says, cupping my cheek.
The fire crackles softly as sadness flutters through me. I’m not what they think I am. I’m not the mate they truly deserve.
“I’m broken,” I whisper softly.
“You’re perfect,” Kelan almost growls, as though my self-depreciation is an insult to his ears.
“You deserve more,” I say, shaking my head.
Ronyn clasps my small hand in his. “You’re all we want. Will you let us show you?”
“I’m scared,” I admit.
He touches my temple, this time feeding my mind with images of me between them, relaxed and satiated, surrounded by furs and the impossible power of three dragon men.
They touch me with care, revealing my body inch by inch, and worshiping every part.
I flush at my nakedness, and theirs, shocked by their proportions, but curious too.
All I have ever known is violence, but this imagined experience is anything but. I grow warm between my legs in a way I have never experienced, and the realization that my body isn’t broken is a gift Ronyn has no idea he’s given. A tear runs down my cheek as I extend to touch his scarred face.
“I’m not scared anymore,” I whisper.