Chapter 20 Selene #2
“I’ve noticed.” His voice drops, roughening. “It drives my dragon insane. The need to protect you. The knowledge that you won’t let me.”
“I let you protect me plenty.” I slide my hands up his chest, feeling his heat through his shirt. “I just won’t let you protect me instead of fighting beside you. There’s a difference.”
“A frustrating one.”
“You love it.”
“I love you.” The words come out easy now—natural, after weeks of saying them in training yards and war rooms and the quiet darkness of our shared chambers. “The frustration is just part of the package.”
I rise to kiss him—soft at first, then deeper as his hands slide around my back, pulling me closer. The claiming mark pulses warmly between us, a reminder of everything we are to each other. Everything we’ve survived. Everything we’re building.
When we break apart, I’m breathless. His eyes are glowing—dragon fire stirring beneath the surface.
“I don’t know what’s coming.” The admission slips out before I can stop it. “The Relics. The shadow creatures. The witch covens. Whatever’s coordinating all of this. I don’t know if we can win. If anyone can win against something this big.”
He cups my face in both hands, tilting my head up until I’m drowning in amber fire.
“We’ll face it.” His voice is absolute. Certain. The voice of a king who’s led his brothers through centuries of war and come out the other side intact. “Whatever comes. Whatever threatens. We face it. And we don’t stop fighting until the threat is ash at our feet.”
“Promise?”
“Selene.” He says my name the way he says everything—with weight, with meaning, with the full force of four hundred years behind it.
“I have spent centuries fighting alone. Watching my brothers fight alone. Carrying burdens that no one else could share because no one else could understand.” His thumb traces my cheekbone.
“And then you walked into my territory with a dead car and a bad attitude, and everything changed.”
“I had pepper spray too.”
“And pepper spray.” His mouth curves. “You threatened a dragon with pepper spray. That was when I knew I was in trouble.”
“To be fair, I didn’t know you were a dragon at the time.”
“Would it have changed anything?”
I consider the question. Remember the first time I saw him—emerging from the tree line with glowing eyes and an attitude that made me want to punch him and kiss him in equal measure. Remember the terror of watching him shift, watching a man become a dragon, watching a nightmare become a protector.
“No.” The answer is honest. “I still would have threatened you. I still would have stayed. I still would have fallen for the brooding mountain man who turned out to be an ancient dragon king with a savior complex and terrible communication skills.”
“Terrible communication skills?”
“You growled at me for three days before using actual words.”
“Growling is communication.”
“Growling is you letting your dragon do the talking because you’re too emotionally constipated to form sentences.”
His laugh is startled, genuine—the kind of laugh that transforms his face from fierce to beautiful. “I missed out on centuries of companionship. My social skills are a work in progress.”
“Good thing you have me to practice on.”
“Good thing.” He pulls me closer, wrapping me in warmth and dragon fire and the scent of woodsmoke that’s become synonymous with home. “Because I plan to practice for a very long time.”
“How long is ‘very long’ for a dragon?”
“Eternity, if you’ll have me.”
The words hit differently out here, under the stars, with the weight of everything we’re facing pressing down on us. Eternity. An actual, literal eternity, because I’m not just human anymore. The claiming changed me. Fire-Bringer blood, awakened and bonded, extending my life to match his.
“Ask me again,” I say. “Properly this time.”
He pulls back enough to look at me. Really look at me—not just with his eyes, but with everything he is. Four hundred years of loneliness. Four hundred years of fighting. Four hundred years of waiting for something he didn’t believe he deserved.
“Selene Ward.” His voice is rough. Reverent. “Fire-Bringer. Mate. Pain in my ass.”
“Off to a great start.”
“Will you spend eternity driving me insane? Fighting beside me? Burning everything that threatens us to ash? Will you be my partner, my equal, my Fire-Bringer, for as long as there’s breath in either of our bodies?”
Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back—mostly—and grin up at him through the blur.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Do I get to keep setting things on fire? Because that’s become one of my favorite hobbies.”
“Selene.”
“Yes.” I grab his shirt, pull him down to my level. “Yes, you impossible, brooding, overprotective dragon. Yes to eternity. Yes to fighting beside you. Yes to burning everything that threatens us. Yes to everything.”
His kiss is fierce. Possessive. Burning with a fire that matches the one in my chest. His hands tangle in my hair, tilting my head back for better access, and I give as good as I get—pouring weeks of love and frustration and determination into the press of my lips against his.
When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping.
“No regrets?” he asks.
“None.” And I mean it. Every terrifying moment. Every near-death experience. Every battle and argument and desperate midnight conversation. All of it led here—to this balcony, this dragon, this life I never expected and can’t imagine giving up. “You?”
“None.” His voice is absolute. “Not a single one.”
“Good.” I lean up to press a quick kiss to his jaw. “Because you’re stuck with me now. Eternally. That’s a long time to have regrets.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The next morning, I wake to sunlight and warmth and the solid weight of Drayke’s arm across my waist.
His chest is pressed against my back, his breath warm against my neck, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that’s become as familiar as my own. The claiming mark pulses gently between us—content, settled, exactly where it belongs.
I don’t move. Don’t want to break the spell of this moment—the quiet before the storm, the peace before the war we’re planning begins in earnest. We’ll have strategy sessions and training drills and missions that take us to the far corners of the world.
We’ll fight enemies we haven’t met and face threats we can barely imagine.
We’ll lose battles and win others and probably argue about tactics more times than I can count.
But right now, in this bed, in this fortress, in this man’s arms—everything is exactly as it should be.
“You’re thinking too loudly.” Drayke’s voice is rough with sleep, his arm tightening around me. “I can practically hear the gears turning.”
“I’m contemplating the scope of our impending war against ancient evil. Very important contemplation.”
“Contemplate later.” He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Sleep now.”
“The sun’s already up.”
“I’m the Guardian King. The sun rises when I say it does.”
“That’s not how astronomy works.”
“I’m very powerful. Astronomy makes exceptions.”
I laugh—bright and free and utterly content. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m yours.” He turns me in his arms until we’re face to face, noses almost touching. His eyes are soft in the morning light—amber fire banked to warm embers. “That’s the same thing, apparently.”
“It really is.” I trace his jaw with my fingertips, memorizing the angles and planes of his face. “My ridiculous dragon. My Guardian King. My eternal pain in the ass.”
“I thought I was the one who called you a pain in the ass.”
“It’s mutual.”
“Fair enough.” He kisses me—slow, thorough, the kind of kiss that could go on for hours if we let it. And we will, eventually. But not today. Today, there’s work to do.
Someone knocks on the chamber door. Rurik’s voice carries through the wood: “War council in an hour. Auren says stop being disgusting and get dressed.”
“Tell Auren to mind his own business!” I call back.
“Auren says his business is winning wars, and he can’t do that if the Guardian King is too busy canoodling with his mate to attend strategy meetings.”
“Did Auren actually say ‘canoodling’?” Drayke sounds skeptical.
“No, but I thought it added flavor. One hour!”
Footsteps retreat down the corridor. I drop my head back against the pillow and groan.
“War waits for no one,” Drayke says, but he doesn’t move to get up. Just watches me with those warm amber eyes, one hand tracing lazy patterns on my hip. “Even mates who stayed up too late making promises under the stars.”
“Worth it.”
“Worth it,” he agrees.
We have fifty-five minutes before we’re expected in the war room. Fifty-five minutes before the reality of four Relics and shadow creatures and witch covens crashes back down on us. Fifty-five minutes of peace in a world that’s about to get very, very complicated.
I make every minute count.
When we finally walk into the war room—exactly on time, despite Auren’s skeptical look—the Brotherhood is waiting.
Zyphon stands by the window, shadows curling around him with restless energy.
He’s already preparing to hunt the creatures that bear his curse, and nothing any of us said convinced him to take backup.
Rurik sprawls in his usual chair, but his eyes are sharp, focused—the warrior beneath the joker ready for whatever comes.
Auren has added more markers to the map overnight, each one representing a potential threat or ally.
And Drayke—my mate, my dragon, my partner in everything—takes his place at the head of the table with me at his side.
“Status report,” Drayke says, his hand finding mine under the table as naturally as breathing.
Auren launches into updates: scout positions, intelligence gathered, potential Fire-Bringer bloodlines identified in three territories. Rurik adds his own observations—supply routes, defensive weak points, places where we might establish safe houses for the women we’re trying to protect.
I listen, absorbing information, mentally cataloging details that might prove useful later. This is my life now. War rooms and dragon politics and battles against forces I barely understand. It should terrify me. Probably would terrify the woman I was a month ago.
But that woman didn’t have fire in her blood. Didn’t have a claiming mark over her heart. Didn’t have three overprotective dragon brothers-in-law and a mate who would burn down the world to keep her safe.
That woman was alone.
I’m not.
“Selene.” Auren’s voice pulls me back to the present. “You mentioned alliance-building. I’ve compiled a list of covens that might be approached. I’d value your input on strategy.”
Four months ago, I was working a dead-end job and fighting with my landlord over water damage. Now I’m being consulted on inter-species diplomatic relations by an ancient dragon warrior.
Life is weird.
“Show me what you’ve got.” I lean forward, studying the names Auren has listed. “And someone get me more coffee. This is going to take a while.”
Rurik grins. Zyphon’s shadows ripple with amusement. Auren’s mouth twitches in what might—might—be the beginning of a smile.
And Drayke—Drayke looks at me with so much pride and love and fierce possessive joy that my heart actually hurts.
“Welcome to the Brotherhood,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. “Officially.”
“I thought I was already official.”
“You were my mate. Now you’re their strategist.” His thumb traces circles on my palm. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there a ceremony? A secret handshake? Do I get a cool title?”
“You get the honor of listening to Auren drone about logistics for the next four hours.”
“Thrilling.”
“It’s a glamorous life, being a dragon’s mate.”
“Wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
And I mean it. Every terrifying, exhilarating, impossible moment. Every battle we’ve fought and every war we’re preparing to wage. Every quiet morning in his arms and every starlit promise on fortress balconies.
I squeeze Drayke’s hand under the table. He squeezes back—steady, certain, forever mine.
Let them come.
We’ll burn them all.