Chapter 12
Raven
My room looks like a tornado hit it—or maybe like a dragon threw a tantrum, which isn’t far from the truth. Clothes are strewn across every surface, hangers scattered like casualties of war, and half my closet’s contents are piled on my bed in chaotic heaps of fabric and rejected possibilities.
A knock sounds at my door, and I open it to find Mom standing there with that knowing expression mothers seem to master.
“Corvus said you were stressing out, so he called for reinforcements.” She walks straight over to my bed with confident purpose, clearing a space among the clothing disaster, and sits down.
She pats the spot next to her invitingly.
“How did you do it, Mom? Balance all the personalities?” The question comes out more desperately than I intended.
I sit next to her, and she gently pulls me down to lie with my head in her lap like she used to do when I was a hatchling.
Her fingers thread through my hair with soothing repetition, and I feel tension I didn’t know I was carrying melt away.
“It’s not as easy as it looks, to be honest,” Mom says with a rueful smile I can hear in her voice.
“I’m surprised Dad hasn’t roasted Abraxis on several occasions.” I draw in a deep breath of her familiar scent—and close my eyes as Mom massages my scalp with practiced fingers. The gentle pressure feels like heaven.
“A war drake that can’t fight is lost,” Mom says quietly, and I hear the profound sadness threading through her words. The weight of what Abraxis endured—what he lost—hangs heavy between us.
I sit up immediately and hug Mom to me, wrapping her up in my wings to create our own private cocoon.
“Dad showed me the memories of what happened and how bad off Abraxis was. I get it—I almost lost the skies too.” The thought of never flying again makes my chest tight with phantom panic.
“He’s still a general, and he still commands his troops. That matters.”
“We put him back in therapy, especially since most of the kids chose to move to Blackhaven,” Mom says, arching a brow as she looks at me with penetrating understanding.
I know exactly why my siblings chose to join me at Blackhaven, and it’s because of Abraxis’s controlling tendencies. The unspoken truth hangs between us. Nodding in acknowledgment, I get up and start walking around the room, surveying the clothes I’ve tossed everywhere in my panic.
I hold up a knee-length dress with long, flowing sleeves and a modest collar that won’t offend his old-world sensibilities. The fabric shimmers as it moves, shades of black bleeding into deep red with touches of orange that seem to glow like embers. “What do you think, Mom?”
“Looks good—go slip it on.” Mom smiles warmly as she picks up my discarded clothes with efficient movements, creating order from chaos.
It’s nice now that I’m the dominant dragoness—we’re no longer constantly trying to kill each other anymore, and things can finally go back to how they were when I was young.
The territorial tension that used to crackle between us has dissipated completely.
“Raven...” I hear Corvus calling for me through the door, his voice carrying affection and barely contained excitement.
“Yeah?” I step behind my dressing screen and slip the dress on, feeling the cool fabric slide over my skin. I zip it up carefully, mindful of my wings, then step out from behind the screen. When I open the door, Corvus is standing there with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
“Finlay brought his belongings and is moving into the room you set up for him.” He’s practically glowing with happiness, his silver eyes bright. “I’ll move the health of the nest talk to tomorrow if that works for you?”
Relief floods through me. “That would be great, thank you.” I kiss him softly, tasting coffee and contentment on his lips, then turn to Mom, who’s smiling at me with maternal pride.
“Corvus has turned into an amazing lead drake. You’re a very lucky female.” Mom hugs me tight, then kisses my forehead with warm lips before leaving, giving me privacy to finish preparing.
I turn to face the full-length mirror in my room and brush my hair one last time, watching the obsidian strands catch the light. The silver streaks where my horns are in dragon form stand out prominently. “Here goes everything,” I murmur to my reflection.
I look over at Xero curled up on my bed, her small bat-winged body wrapped protectively around the egg carrier. “We’ll be back later. Take good care of Solaris.”
“I will. Enjoy dinner,” Xero purrs to me, her mental voice warm with feline affection as she drapes a leathery wing over the carrier like a blanket.
Stepping out of my room, I see all four of my mates gathered together at the kitchen island, talking in low voices that cut off when they sense my presence.
Finlay is actually dressed casually for once—a shocking departure from his usual formal attire.
He’s wearing a black button-down shirt that fits him perfectly, the fabric emphasizing his lean frame, and what looks like jeans.
He’s wearing jeans. Dark denim that fits him as if it were tailored specifically for his body. I think my heart just stopped. His ass looks phenomenal in those pants—absolutely sinful.
“You look amazing, my eternal.” Finlay’s words hit me like a physical force, and tears immediately start rolling down my cheeks. Behind him, Corvus drops his glass with a sharp crash, shards scattering across the counter.
To be called a dragon’s eternal, or to be called anyone’s eternal, means nothing will ever come before you. It’s the highest possible declaration of devotion.
“Why do you cry? Did I say something wrong?” Finlay’s honey eyes widen with concern, and he takes a step toward me.
I shake my head quickly, swiping at the tears with trembling fingers. “No, no, nothing's wrong. The term ‘eternal’ for a dragon means I am placed above everyone and everything—even family, even duty, even survival itself.” My voice cracks with emotion.
Finlay’s eyebrows rise slowly as understanding dawns across his beautiful features. He glances back at Corvus, who is methodically cleaning up the broken glass with shaking hands, then back at me.
“Phoenixes say it a bit differently,” Finlay explains, moving closer until we’re barely a foot apart.
“You are my flame. A phoenix without its flame is nothing—it cannot be reborn, cannot exist. You are literally my reason for continuing to live.” He tentatively kisses my lips for the first time—really kisses me, not just a chaste peck—and I think I might actually die from the intensity of it.
His lips are warm and soft, tasting faintly of cinnamon and smoke. The kiss is gentle but carries the weight of nine hundred years of searching and loneliness finally ending.
I hug him to me when we break apart, breathing in his campfire scent, then motion to the door before I lose my nerve. “Shall we get going?”
He nods, straightening his shirt, and shakes hands with each of my other mates. We make our way out of Malivore, our footsteps echoing through the stone corridors.
“Why did you bury our bond?” The question burst out of me before I could stop it. It’s the one thing I need a straight answer to—the mystery that’s been eating at me since I first felt that golden tether.
Finlay pauses once we’re outside, the evening air cool against our skin, and takes both of my hands in his warm grip.
“I’m a little over nine hundred years old.
” He lets that sink in for a moment. “You’re so very young compared to me.
Then there’s the fact you are Thauglor’s daughter.
He’s the oldest living drake on all five continents.
At almost thirteen hundred years old, his breath weapon is unrivaled. ”
He smiles as he says this, and I resist the urge to correct him—my poor mate has no clue that my acid is actually stronger than Dad’s. That’s a revelation for another time.
We stroll toward the flight field in comfortable silence, the grass soft beneath our feet and the evening chorus of insects creating ambient music.
Other students stop and stare at us as we pass—the heir apparent walking hand-in-hand with the mysterious royal protocol professor.
Finlay just glares at them with enough intensity that they quickly look away and hurry off.
Who knew my quiet, reserved professor has a bit of a temper hidden beneath all that formal politeness?
“Did Dad explain to you about mating flights and inspections?” I tilt my head to look at Finlay as he pauses to check the wind direction, his eyes assessing the sky with the practiced gaze of someone who’s flown for centuries.
“Yes. He said I should allow you to shift first and look over your dragoness, otherwise she won’t accept me as a proper mate.
” Finlay pulls out his phone and shows me the massive amount of notes he took—pages and pages of detailed observations.
I think Dad gave him the entire history of dragonkind in one sitting.
Nodding, I step away and begin my shift.
I slow it down deliberately so it’s not as explosive as it normally is—I don’t want to frighten him.
The stretch and pop of muscles and sinew echo in my ears like a familiar song as bones grow and realign themselves.
I close my eyes, feeling every single ripple of power moving through my body and the shifting of my scales as they emerge and expand until the transformation is complete.
I open my sapphire eyes slowly and look down at my mate, who seems suddenly very small from this perspective.
“Wow, I still can’t believe you’re a skull dragoness. I’ve never seen one in person, until you.” The look of pure wonder in my mate’s eyes has my dragoness preening with satisfaction, practically glowing with pride.
He thinks we’re impressive, she coos, watching him move around us with obvious fascination.
We’re the first of our kind—of course he’s impressed, I reply to her with amusement.
“She talks to you? Like a separate entity?” Finlay stops directly in front of us, craning his neck back to meet my eyes, and I lower my massive horned head down to him. He reaches up and rests his warm hand on the bridge of my maw without any hesitation.
“She does,” I rumble in my dragon’s voice, and say the words in my mind simultaneously so he can hear both.
“That’s amazing.” His voice carries genuine awe. He looks skyward at the darkening evening, then back at me with anticipation bright in his eyes. “Let’s fly.”
He backs up several steps, giving himself room, and takes off at a run.
The next thing I know, I see a bird made of living flames rise from where he was—except it’s not quite a bird.
It looks like a peacock was set on fire, with elaborate tail feathers made of flickering orange and red flames that trail behind it like a comet’s tail. The sight is breathtaking.
When he gets high enough in the sky, I launch up after him with a powerful leap.
Three beats of my enormous wings and I’m on his tail, the wind rushing past my scales and creating that familiar singing sound I love.
He plays on the thermals—diving and swooping with obvious joy—and I laugh internally at his exuberance.
He looks to be having so much fun, more carefree than I’ve ever seen him.
We fly for almost three hours, covering incredible distances, and eventually cross over what looks to be the ocean.
The water below reflects the moonlight like liquid silver, and the salt spray rises to meet us.
When he banks down toward a small beach, I realize immediately that the landing area is far too small for my massive dragon form.
I circle overhead, getting closer and closer with each pass, studying the geography until I shift back to human form mid-air. I spread my wings and glide down to the ground, landing with bent knees to absorb the impact. The sandy beach is soft beneath my feet.
The moment I touch down, Finlay scoops me up immediately, his arms strong and sure around me. I fold my wings in tight against my back and take a chance, kissing him soundly on the lips—pouring everything I’m feeling into it.
He gasps against my mouth for a moment but holds me tightly to him, returning the kiss with building passion. His body becomes noticeably hot to the touch, his skin radiating heat like a furnace, and he releases me gently before it can go further.
“We need to be very careful. I will literally go up in flames if I’m too excited,” he admits, slightly breathless, his cheeks flushed.
It all makes sense now—his reserved nature, why he kisses me so innocently, why he’s been so cautious about physical contact. Well, shit. “Well, that would definitely be a showstopper...” I pause as the dreams I’ve been having suddenly start making perfect sense, pieces clicking into place.
“The lake of fire...” I say out of nowhere, staring at him as the realization hits me. “I’ve been dreaming of a lake of fire since I first felt the tether to you.”
“Well, that makes the after-dinner conversation much easier,” he says with a mysterious smile as we walk across the beach.
Sand shifts beneath our feet, still warm from the day’s sun.
We arrive at an elegant building tucked into the island’s rocky outcropping—a fancy restaurant with warm light spilling from its windows and the scent of incredible food wafting on the breeze.
Finlay opens the door for me with old-world courtesy, and I walk through into warmth and the soft murmur of conversation.
Here goes everything.