Chapter 27
Luke
My temporary quarters at Aurora HQ feel like a prison cell, and I can’t wait for things to normalize so I can return home to my clan.
This is functional but soulless; standard issue for operatives without permanent residence.
A single bed, desk, and attached bathroom.
Through the window, the training yard below buzzes with activity: recruits running drills under the harsh fluorescent lights that Aurora uses everywhere.
The artificial brightness makes my eyes ache in a way natural light never does, a reminder of how my immortal physiology differs from humans.
I check my watch. Five minutes since I asked Ember to meet me here. Five minutes that feel like a lifetime.
I pace the narrow confines, rehearsing what I want to say, but the words keep rearranging themselves.
I’ve conducted briefings for operations that determined impossible situations.
I’ve negotiated with entities older than recorded history.
I’ve made life-or-death decisions that would haunt most men to their graves.
And I can’t figure out how to tell a twenty-one-year-old woman that I’m falling for her without sounding like exactly what Vanya thinks I am.
Desperate.
Delusional.
Too damn old.
The skin on my forearms prickles, my body’s warning system activating.
Centuries of survival have honed my senses beyond human capability.
Someone’s approaching. My heartbeat slows automatically, an ancient response preparing me for threat.
But I know her footsteps, light but determined.
The way her energy signature buzzes against my awareness, bright and chaotic—fire personified.
The knock comes, three soft taps that might as well be thunder.
I open the door. Ember stands in the hallway, showered, wearing clean Aurora-issue clothes that hang slightly too big on her small frame. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders. The bruise on her cheekbone has darkened; medics have put a butterfly bandage over the cut on her cheek.
She looks fragile and brave all at once, and something in my throat constricts at the sight of her. But her expression is guarded, braced for bad news. I see it immediately; she’s expecting rejection. The realization twists something sharp inside me.
“Come in. Please.”
She steps inside, and I close the door behind her. We stand awkwardly, two feet apart with oceans of uncertainty between us. The air between us vibrates—that strange magnetic pull that’s been there since the beginning, only stronger now.
“About what happened in the mountains—” I begin, and immediately see her face close, walls slamming up. I’ve said it wrong already.
“Was a mistake. I know.” Her voice is tight as she cuts me off. “You don’t have to explain—”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“I get it,” she continues, hurt bleeding through her attempt at detachment. “Things weren’t normal out there. Doesn’t mean anything now that we’re safe—”
“Would you let me finish?” I snap without thinking, and the lights dip overhead, my energy disrupting the electrical current. Ember notices, her eyes darting upward before returning to my face.
She stops, arms crossed defensively, waiting.
I take a breath, pulling my power back in. “What happened wasn’t a mistake. But it is complicated.”
Her eyes flash. “Because of my mother.”
“Because of a lot of things. Your age. My position. The scrutiny we’ll face—”
“So, you’re saying we can’t—”
“I’m saying we need to be smart about how we handle this.” Frustration edges into my voice. “Viktor’s already watching us. Half the Council would consider our relationship a security breach.”
“Smart, meaning what? Pretend it didn’t happen?” She takes a step back.
“Smart meaning not broadcasting it before we’ve figured out what it is ourselves.”
“What it is?” Her voice rises. “You’ve been inside me and you don’t know what it is?”
The bluntness stops me cold. Heat flares across my skin; memory and shame and desire all tangled together. The temperature in the room actually rises a few degrees in response to my loss of control. A supernatural lifetime of discipline, crumbling around a young woman with fire in her veins.
“I know what it is for me,” I say, the words raw in my throat. “I’m asking if you know what it is for you.”
Ember stares at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re twenty-one. You have centuries ahead of you. And I need to know this isn’t just…” I struggle to find the right words, “reaction to trauma. Or gratitude. Or—”
“You think I had sex with you out of gratitude?” Her anger flares and with it, her own power sparks. If we’re not careful, we’ll set off every fire alarm in the building.
I run a hand through my hair. “I think you’ve been through hell. I think your emotions are running high. I think—”
She steps close, cutting me off. “You think too much.”
“One of us has to—”
“I’m not some confused girl who doesn’t know her own mind.” The fire in her eyes could burn cities to ash. Literally. I’ve heard what her rage can do, even though part of me doesn’t believe it. She seems so fragile.
My defenses crack. “Then tell me. What is this? What do you want from me?”
“I want you to stop acting like wanting me is a crime.” Her voice is fierce now, no trace of uncertainty.
“I’m trying to protect you—”
“From what? Yourself? My mother? Or just from making your own choice?”
The silence that follows burns between us. I’ve faced death a thousand times and never felt this exposed.
“I’m terrified.” My own words surprise me. “Of failing you. Of your mother being right. Of you waking up one day and realizing you settled for—”
She stops me with her hand on my chest, directly over that ancient scar that she’s traced with her fingers before.
“You’re not a ‘settlement.’ You’re a choice.”
“A choice you might regret.”
“The only thing I regret is you thinking you get to make my decisions for me.”
A beat of silence passes between us. Then my hand comes up, covers hers where it rests against my heartbeat. My pulse speeds up in response to her closeness.
“I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
“Then stop trying so hard,” she says, her voice softening. “Just… be with me.”
“Ember—”
She rises on her toes, kisses me. For two seconds, I hold still, clinging to the last vestige of control. Then I’m kissing her back, hands sliding into her damp hair, pulling her against me.
The kiss deepens, edged with desperation, all my restraint and fear finally finding outlet. We stumble backward until her spine hits the wall, my weight pressing her there. Our hands turn urgent—her fingers yanking my shirt free, my palms sliding beneath her shirt to find bare skin.
She tastes like mint toothpaste and something sweet underneath.
She gasps when I touch her ribs, her waist, places still tender from the ordeal.
I groan when she rocks against me, grinding against my cock.
The connection between us hums with energy; not just desire but something deeper, more elemental.
Every immortal recognizes the sensation, that rare magnetic pull that comes once in a lifetime.
It’s a thought that terrifies me.
We move toward the bed without breaking contact—stumbling, pulling at clothes. Her hoodie goes over her head; my shirt buttons giving up under her impatient fingers. We fall onto the narrow bed together, tangled and graceless and urgent.
My mouth finds her throat, her collarbone, lower.
Her nails drag down my back, setting fire to every nerve ending.
The marks she leaves will heal within minutes—my dragon power has returned full force since we got back—but I savor the fleeting pain.
Clothes are pushed aside rather than fully removed—too desperate to bother.
My hand down to cup her mound; her breathing fractures.
“Luke! Please, I—”
There’s an abrupt knock. “Kenan, Viktor asked me to call you in.” The door handle turns.
We freeze—caught, exposed, my hand still beneath her waistband.
Hargen stands in the doorway.
For a second, no one moves. Shock crosses his face, then immediate retreat. Unlike Vanya, Hargen’s immortal energy signature is muted, controlled—but right now it spikes sharply with surprise.
“I— apologize. I was looking for you. Viktor said it was urgent, so I thought—” He stops, clearly rethinking everything. “I’ll just—” He backs toward the door.
Ember scrambles away from me, face burning as she yanks her shirt back down. “Dad, wait—”
I sit up, running a hand over my face, equal parts frustrated and mortified. My enhanced senses pick up on Hargen’s conflicted emotional state even across the room; the cocktail of protectiveness, surprise, and uncertainty rolling off him.
She crosses to Hargen, voice urgent. “Please don’t tell Mom.”
Hargen’s expression conflicts, loyalty to Vanya battling with Ember’s obvious distress.
“Ember—”
“Please. Just… give us time to figure this out before she—” She can’t finish. Doesn’t have to.
“If I lie about where I found you—” Hargen begins carefully.
“I’m not asking you to lie. Just… don’t volunteer information. Please.”
Hargen looks between us; Ember desperate, me standing behind her, silent but already dreading Vanya’s inevitable reaction. For immortals, grudges can last centuries. If Vanya decides I’ve betrayed her trust with her daughter, that conflict could outlast nations.
After a long pause, he nods once. “I won’t say anything. For now.”
Relief floods Ember’s face.
Hargen turns to me. “But you need to understand, Vanya will find out. And when she does…” He doesn’t finish.
I nod once. “I know.”
“She’s not going to see this the way you do,” he continues. “She’s going to see our twenty-one-year-old daughter involved with a man who’s…”
“Too old for her,” I mutter, finishing his sentence.
“I don’t care what she sees—” Ember starts.
“You should,” Hargen cuts in, gentle but firm. “Because her reaction will make today’s conversation look like a friendly chat.” He takes in a breath. “Get some rest. We’ll talk later about the San Juan arrangements.”
He doesn’t wait for a response; just leaves, closing the door behind him.
Ember and I stand in the sudden silence. The moment is broken, heat dispersed, reality crashed back in. I keep my expression neutral, though inside, everything is chaos. The energy in the room settles, cooling to normal temperature.
“He’s right. Vanya’s going to find out.”
“Let her.” Ember lifts her chin.
“You say that now,” I say quietly.
Her frustration returns, a flash of fire in her eyes. “What do you want me to say, Luke? That I’ll hide this? Pretend it didn’t happen?”
“I want you to think about what you’re risking.”
“I have. And I’m still here.”
I step closer. Not touching, but close enough that she feels the pull between us. Close enough that our energy fields brush against each other, hers fiery and chaotic, mine deeper, steadier, the product of centuries of control.
“I’m not asking you to hide it. I’m asking you to be prepared for the fallout.”
Ember searches my face. “Are you prepared?”
“No,” I admit. “But I’m done running from it.”
The uncertainty lingers between us. We both know Vanya’s reaction is coming. Both know it’ll be brutal. The question is whether this fragile thing between us can survive it.
I notice Ember’s exhaustion crashing in, the slight sway in her stance, the heaviness of her eyelids as fatigue takes over.
“You should rest. Medical orders.” My voice softens.
She wants to stay—I can see it in her eyes—wants to keep this frail connection intact. But her body’s shutting down, energy finally depleted.
“Go. Sleep. We’ll figure this out.”
She nods reluctantly.
At the door, she pauses. “Luke?”
I turn. “Yeah?”
“Don’t disappear on me.”
My expression softens fractionally. “I won’t. Promise.”
She leaves.
I watch the door close, then sink onto the bed where we were tangled moments ago. The sheets still carry her scent; sweet innocence mingled with lust. A combination that will be my undoing.
Hargen won’t keep silent forever. His loyalty to Vanya runs too deep.
We don’t have much time to figure this thing out.
Better make it count.