Chapter 30
Luke
Morning light wakes me, but I don’t move, savoring the weight of Ember asleep against my chest, her hair spilled across my pillow like liquid moonlight. Her hand rests over my heart as if to claim it, her breath slow and deep against my skin.
For thirty seconds, I allow myself this peace. Memorize the curve of her cheek, the slight part of her lips, the scatter of freckles across her nose that I’d never noticed before. Store away this moment like a treasure to revisit in the centuries ahead.
I’ve never known this kind of stillness.
And I should know better than to get too comfortable in it.
The firm knock at my door disrupts the quiet. Three raps—urgent, official. Ember stirs but doesn’t wake as I carefully extract myself from her clinging arms. My skin burns where she touched me, the dragon inside stirring with possessive heat as I pull on pants and cross to the door.
A junior Aurora operative stands in the hallway, spine straight, expression carefully neutral. Too neutral. His eyes avoid meeting mine directly, and the scent of his discomfort is sharp in my nostrils.
“Commander Kenan? You’re needed in Director Parlance’s office. Immediately.”
I glance back at Ember, still blissfully unaware, tangled in my sheets. Her scent permeates everything, makes my dragon half stir beneath my skin, scales prickling along my spine with the urge to protect what’s mine.
The operative lowers his voice. “Elder Arrowvane is already there, sir.”
My stomach drops through the floor. Heat drains from my body so quickly that my fingertips go numb.
She knows.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice betraying nothing of the turmoil within me.
I dress quickly, mind racing through scenarios. Hargen told her. Had to be. His loyalty to Vanya would override any promise to Ember. I can’t even blame him.
The corridors of Aurora headquarters stretch impossibly long before me, each step bringing me closer to consequences I’ve been avoiding since that first kiss in the mountains.
Images resurface, some from those first moments, others more recent, last night still so fresh in my mind I can still taste her.
My dragon stirs with each memory, scales threatening to ripple across my skin. I force it down, clamp iron control over the possessive heat that wants to surge through my blood.
Aurora operatives nod as I pass, going about their morning routines; normal activity that feels surreal against the storm waiting in Viktor’s office.
I mentally run through what I plan to say. That Ember made her own choice. That nothing happened while she wasn’t thinking clearly. And that we’re both adults, both dragon-kind.
Each justification rings hollow, even to my own ears.
Hargen waits outside Viktor’s office, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. Guilt shadows his face. My enhanced senses pick up the chemical changes in his body: cortisol, adrenaline, the distinct scent of regret.
“You told her,” I say, stopping before him.
“I had to.” His voice comes quiet. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. She’s your mate. You did what you thought was right.”
He meets my eyes, amber light flickering briefly in his irises, his dragon responding to mine.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you took advantage. But Vanya…” He doesn’t finish.
I nod once. “I know.”
Viktor’s office is exactly what you’d expect from Aurora’s director: large, professional, tactical displays covering the walls. Viktor himself stands by the window, back turned, giving us space.
Vanya sits in one of the leather chairs, wintry eyes locked on the door. Waiting. The temperature in the room drops noticeably as I enter, the air around her crackling with barely suppressed frost. Dragon power, leashed but present.
I close the door behind me, standing at attention, an old military habit surfacing under pressure. My scales itch beneath my skin, the dragon inside me responding instinctively to the challenge in her posture.
Vanya doesn’t stand. Just studies me with an expression that could freeze flame. The scent of her fury fills the room, cold and sharp as steel.
“Luke. Thank you for coming.” Viktor turns from the window, voice carefully neutral. “Lady Arrowvane has some concerns about the Carpathian mission. Specifically, about her daughter’s… care.”
Vanya’s controlled fury fills the room. She doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. I didn’t expect her to.
“Commander Kenan. You were assigned to protect my daughter during a routine containment operation.” She pauses, letting each word sink in.
“Instead, the helicopter crashed. Mara Jones is dead. And my daughter was captured by the Syndicate, her hybrid nature exposed to the very people I’ve spent twenty-one years hiding her from. ”
The accusations land with precision. Heat flares beneath my sternum, dragonfire responding to the threat in her tone. I force it down, keep my expression neutral.
“Yes, ma’am.” My voice carries the deference reserved for a dragon elder.
“During that time, you spent three days alone in hostile territory before extraction.”
“That’s correct.”
Vanya stands. Slow, deliberate. She crosses to stand directly in front of me, close enough that I can see the fury held in check beneath her icy control.
“And during those three days… did you behave appropriately with my daughter?”
The silence hangs between us. Her scent changes; there’s something predatory now, something hunting for weakness.
I meet her eyes. “I kept her alive.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Her voice drops, more dangerous now. “Hargen walked in on you yesterday. In your quarters. With Ember.” She pauses. “In a… compromising position.”
My jaw tightens, but I don’t flinch. Heat crawls up my neck as I remember Hargen’s face when he found us, Ember straddling my lap, my hands under her shirt, her mouth on my neck. The shock in his eyes, the quick retreat, the slammed door.
“So, I’ll ask again. Did you behave appropriately?”
“Your daughter made her own choices,” I say carefully.
Vanya’s eyes flash, blue ice cracking with fury. “She’s twenty-one years old. She doesn’t have the experience to—”
“She has more experience than you’re giving her credit for,” I interrupt, voice sharper than I’d planned.
“Don’t you dare lecture me about my own daughter.” She steps closer, and I feel the air around us drop another ten degrees. “You’re over three hundred years old, Commander. She’s barely lived a fraction of that.”
She delivers her next points with cold precision, dismantling me piece by piece.
“You were her superior officer on that mission. She trusted you to keep her safe, not seduce her.”
“It wasn’t like that—”
She cuts me off. “Wasn’t it? You were the experienced operative; she was the trainee. The power dynamic alone makes this inappropriate.”
I start to speak, but she continues, relentless. “Three hundred years, Luke. You’ve lived through empires. She’s barely lived through college.”
“Dragons measure time differently—”
“Dragons measure commitment the same as anyone. And you’re old enough to know better.”
“I know enough.” I feel my teeth grinding.
“Do you?” Her voice sharpens. “She watched a friend die. Was captured and tortured. Spent days in survival mode.” Vanya’s eyes narrow. “And you took advantage of that trauma. When she was vulnerable and afraid and had no one else to turn to.”
My defense crumbles. Heat surges up my spine, along with scales. I force them down.
“She wasn’t— I didn’t—” I stop, try again. “She initiated—”
“She’s twenty-one!” Vanya’s voice turns ice-cold. “You’re the one with centuries of experience. You should have said no. A man of honor would have said no.”
“I have plenty of honor,” I grit out, wishing I didn’t sound so defensive.
Then comes her killing blow. “Really? Because I read the reports. You made a choice in those mountains. Mara Jones or my daughter.”
I go rigid. The memory flashes vivid: the helicopter spinning, the impossible choice, Mara’s limp body as she fell. Heat drains from my body so fast that I feel dizzy with it.
“You chose Ember. And Mara died because of it.”
“That’s not— The situation was—” My voice cracks, betraying me.
“Was your attraction to my daughter part of that calculation? Even subconsciously?”
The guilt hits so hard it leaves me breathless.
I can’t answer. Because I’ve asked myself the same question a hundred times.
In the darkest hours in the cave, holding Ember against my chest for warmth, I wondered if I made the choice that saved her because even then, something in me recognized what she would become to me.
My silence damns me.
“You’ve failed to protect your team,” Vanya continues. “You’ve exposed my daughter’s secret to our enemies. And now you’ve seduced her while she was traumatized and vulnerable.”
Each accusation true from a certain angle. My carefully constructed justifications crumble under their weight. Dragon heat retreats, leaving me cold and empty.
Her voice softens, which somehow makes it more dangerous.
“I don’t doubt you have feelings for her.
I’m sure they feel very real.” She pauses.
“But feelings don’t erase the harm you’ve caused.
Or the harm you’ll continue to cause if this continues.
” Her eyes grow hard. “End it. Before you destroy her completely.”
“She won’t—” I begin, voice hollow.
“She will. Because you’ll make her understand it’s the right thing.”
“And if I don’t?”
Vanya’s eyes are winter itself. “Then I’ll make sure you never work another Aurora operation. I’ll have you removed from the Craven clan council. I’ll ensure every dragon in the Pacific Northwest knows exactly what you did.”
The threat is clear. She’ll destroy my reputation. My position. Everything I’ve built.
But that’s not what breaks me.
“And Ember will watch it happen. Watch you fall because of her. Watch her mother wage war on the man she thinks she loves. An infatuation.” Vanya leans in. “Is that really what you want for her? A lifetime of being caught between us?”
My defenses are gone. Every point Vanya made echoes my own worst thoughts. The age gap. The power imbalance. The guilt over Mara. Taking advantage of Ember’s vulnerability.
Images flash through my mind: Ember in the cave, shivering against me for warmth.
Ember’s mouth on mine in the hunting lodge, her body arching beneath my hands.
The way her skin had burned against my palms, her dragon heat meeting mine, scales glittering along her throat as passion overtook her.
The way she gasped my name when my fingers traced lower, the moment I lost control completely.
Maybe Vanya is right.
Maybe I am exactly what she thinks: a man too old, too damaged, too selfish to walk away from something he should never have touched.
Ember deserves better. Deserves someone who doesn’t come with half a dozen lifetimes of failure and guilt. Someone who won’t cost her the relationship with her mother.
“You’re right,” I say, barely audible. The admission burns my throat like acid.
“Then you’ll end it?”
“Yes.”
Viktor speaks for the first time since his introduction. “Vanya, perhaps we should—”
“This doesn’t concern Aurora operations,” she responds without looking away from me.
“It does if you’re threatening one of my allies. Luke Kenan is a Craven. A respected commander.” Viktor’s voice is careful, but I catch the scent of his own dragon power rising in response to the challenge.
“I’m protecting my daughter. If that threatens your command structure, that’s your problem.”
The standoff stretches between them. Viktor’s expression hardens, but he doesn’t push.
“It’s fine, sir,” I say. “Elder Arrowvane and I understand each other.”
Viktor studies my face, sees the defeat there. “Understood,” he finally concedes. “If you’re sure.”
“It is.” I nod, turn to leave.
“Kenan,” Vanya calls.
I stop but don’t turn. My shoulders tense, scales rippling beneath the skin of my back, invisible but present.
“If you care about her at all—truly care—you’ll let her go.”
I don’t respond. Just open the door and leave.
Hargen still waits in the corridor, expression sympathetic. I walk past without a word. Don’t trust myself to speak with the dragonfire burning in my throat, threatening to emerge.
Don’t trust myself with anything.