Chapter 33
Luke
I slam my fist into the training dummy, feeling the satisfying crack of impact ripple through my knuckles. The leather-wrapped target swings wildly on its chain, and I hit it again before it can settle.
Again.
Again.
Sweat drips from my forehead, stinging my eyes.
Good. I deserve the burn.
My muscles scream from hours of drills; running the compound perimeter, scaling the rock wall in the training yard, emptying my ammo into targets until my hands shook from the reverberations.
The physical pain is a welcome distraction from the ache in my chest that won’t subside, no matter how hard I push myself.
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the ancient stone of the training yard, the walls still bearing the scorch marks of dragonfire.
The air carries the metallic tang of magic residue mixed with dust and sweat.
This place has witnessed the training of countless dragon shifters…
and now it’s witnessing my pathetic attempt to outrun my own feelings.
I sense them before I see them. Caleb and Dorian, watching from the edge of the training yard. I ignore them, steadying the bag before me.
“That’s enough, Kenan.” Dorian’s voice cuts through the rhythmic thud of my heartbeat.
I don’t look up. “Not now.”
“Yes. Now.” Caleb steps forward, his tone measured but unyielding.
Before I can protest, they’re flanking me. Caleb blocks my path away from them, his broad shoulders a living barrier. They maneuver me backward until I’m against the stone wall, effectively trapped between them.
Dorian crosses his arms, heat radiating from him in visible waves, phoenix fire simmering beneath his skin, a remnant of his mate’s influence.
“You’re a goddamn fool, Kenan,” he says, his typically light tone at odds with his words.
“You don’t understand—”
“I understand you just walked away from your mate because Vanya scared you.” Dorian’s eyes flash, his nostrils flaring with barely contained frustration.
“She’s not my—” I choke on the words. “It’s not like that—”
“Isn’t it?” Caleb’s voice is quieter than Dorian’s but no less firm, his amber gaze steady and penetrating where Dorian’s is fiery. “You can barely function when she’s out of your sight. You crossed mountains to save her. You’d burn the world for her.”
“That’s just—” I wipe sweat from my face with my forearm, the salt stinging a cut I hadn’t noticed. “I was responsible for her safety.”
“That’s not responsibility.” Dorian snorts. “That’s a mate bond.”
I stare at him, struggling to process what he’s saying. “There’s no bond. We’re not—” I swallow hard. “She’s too young.”
“Mate bonds don’t care about age, Luke,” Caleb says, his voice taking on that calm, diplomatic tone he uses when mediating Council disputes. “They transcend it.”
“My mate is a phoenix who was human until recently,” Dorian adds, jabbing a finger at me.
“You think age or experience mattered when I knew she was mine? Hell, Juno couldn’t even shift when I first met her.
” He pauses, eyes raised in thought. “And technically, she’s older than me.
So I guess I bagged a cougar.” He grins in spite of the tension around us, because fucking Dorian can never keep a straight face.
I shake my head, throat tight. The truth hovers there, terrifying in its simplicity.
Caleb steps closer, his expression softening slightly, uncharacteristic for him.
“The signs are all there, Luke. The pull. The need to protect beyond logic. The physical response when she’s threatened.”
“The fact that you’re miserable as hell without her,” Dorian adds.
“That doesn’t mean it’s right,” I say, my voice almost drowned out by the distant sound of younger dragons training on the flight plateau above us.
“It means it’s inevitable,” Caleb replies, his steadiness a counterpoint to Dorian’s restless energy. “Mate bonds aren’t chosen. They’re recognized.”
My shoulders slump against the cool wall, the dragon magic embedded in it humming against my back. “She deserves someone who hasn’t failed everyone they cared about.”
“She deserves someone who respects her choices,” Dorian counters, resting a palm against the wall beside me. “Which you’re not doing.”
Caleb’s eyes find mine, his voice dropping to that quiet intensity that commands attention more effectively than Dorian’s volume ever could.
“You’re making the same mistake I almost made with Elena, trying to protect her from herself instead of trusting her to know what she wants.”
The memory stirs; Caleb pushing Elena away, thinking he knew better than she did what she needed. How he nearly lost her. How Dorian nearly lost Juno and seemed to die a little himself when it happened.
“It’s not the same thing,” I mutter, still in denial.
Caleb’s expression shifts, growing serious. “There’s something else you should know.”
My stomach tightens. “What?”
“Ember volunteered for the tomb strike team,” Dorian says, watching me carefully, his restless movement suddenly stilled.
The words don’t make sense at first. When they do, my dragon surges beneath my skin, clawing for freedom. My vision edges with black.
“She what?”
“Viktor briefed the team this morning,” Caleb explains. “Ember insisted on joining.”
“Vanya would never allow—”
“Vanya doesn’t get a vote,” Dorian cuts in. “Viktor approved it.”
Caleb delivers the final blow, his tone implacable. “We deploy at dawn. Twelve hours.”
A wave of nausea hits me so violently I have to brace myself against the wall, feeling the rough texture beneath my palms.
“She can’t. She’s not ready!”
“That’s exactly what Vanya said about you two,” Dorian says pointedly. “And you let her words control you.”
The realization hits me like an icy wave. This is what Vanya felt. Terror of losing her daughter. Helplessness watching her walk into danger.
And I abandoned Ember to face this alone because I was too much of a coward to fight for us.
“You feel sick at the thought of her in danger,” Caleb says simply. “Can’t breathe when she’s out of sight. Your dragon recognizes her even when you’re trying to deny it.”
“That’s just—”
“That’s a mate bond forming,” Dorian interrupts, his tone shifting from frustration to a blunt, hard-earned wisdom. “And you’re fighting it because you think you don’t deserve it. It’s stupid to do it to yourself. It’s just fucking cruel to do it to her.”
I sink onto a nearby bench, dropping my head into my hands. “I’m three hundred years old. She’s barely lived.”
“You’re dragons, for fuck’s sake,” Caleb says sharply. “You’ll both live centuries more. Together.”
Dorian steps closer. “The question is: do you want those centuries with her or without her?”
The truth breaks free from the cage I’ve built around it, as unstoppable as dragonfire.
“With her,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “God. With her.”
Caleb’s hand lands on my shoulder, cool and steady. “Then stop being a martyr and go tell her that.”
Horror builds as I consider what they’ve told me.
“She can’t go on that mission. The tomb is unstable, the Syndicate will be fortified—” Fear pulses through me. It’s a feeling I’m not used to. Well, it wasn’t until she landed in my life.
“Which is why you should be there too,” Caleb says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Except that nothing is obvious right now.
“I can’t. Not after what I said to her.”
“Then you apologize,” Dorian says, rolling his eyes. “Grovel if you have to. But you don’t let her walk into that without you.”
Every protective instinct in my body screams to join that strike team, fight beside her, shield her. Stop her from going at all.
“You’re terrified of her getting hurt,” Caleb observes, his diplomatic tone returning.
“Of course I am, goddammit!” I snap. “She can’t go. I won’t let her.”
“She’s going whether you like it or not,” Caleb disagrees. “The question is whether you trust her to handle herself.”
“Mate bonds aren’t about control, Luke,” Dorian says. “They’re about partnership. Juno taught me that the hard way.” His voice softens as he mentions his mate.
“There is no bond,” I say bitterly. “I ended it.”
Caleb and Dorian exchange a look that makes me feel like an idiot child, centuries of dragon wisdom passing silently between them.
“Bonds don’t end because you’re scared,” Caleb says quietly. “They just make you more miserable when you fight them.”
I stare at the packed earth beneath my feet, my mind a mess of indecision.
“What if Vanya’s right? What if I am too old, too damaged, too—” I run through the reasons.
“What if Ember’s right?” Dorian cuts me off. “What if she knows exactly what she wants and you’re the one being a coward?”
The word—coward—echoes what Ember called me. I flinch, still glaring at the ground at my feet.
“You survived too long by staying alone,” Caleb says. “It’s time to end that and learn to live now.”
“And that girl—your mate—she makes you want to live,” Dorian adds. “Don’t throw that away because you’re scared.”
Something in me breaks. The wall I’ve been building since the mountains—using age, guilt, Vanya’s fury—anything to avoid admitting the truth.
I love her.
My dragon recognized her as his mate the moment we met, fire calling to her magic across centuries of waiting.
And walking away is killing me.
I push to my feet, determination building. “Where is she now?”
“Armory,” Dorian says, a hint of satisfaction in his amber eyes. “Prepping gear.”
“I need to—”
Caleb nods, the faintest smile touching his usually stoic features. “Go. We’ll handle briefing updates.”
I hesitate, fear gripping me again. “What if she won’t listen? What if I’ve already—?”
Dorian grins, a flash of fire in his smile. “Then you fight for her the way she’s been fighting for you.”
“And if she’s really your mate?” Caleb adds, his cool composure a counterpoint to Dorian’s fire. “She’ll forgive you. Eventually.”
I don’t wait to hear more. I’m already running toward the armory, my heart pounding with a desperate rhythm that sounds suspiciously like her name as my dragon surges forward with renewed purpose.
I’m going to claim my mate.