Chapter 15
Mara
The dreams come in fragments.
Men in uniform. Hands grabbing. A cloth over my face that smells chemical and wrong.
Then: fire.
Not consuming. Protective.
Golden flames wrapping around me, shielding me from… What? Bullets? I see them hitting an invisible barrier and dropping harmlessly.
Wings. Massive. Gleaming scales that catch moonlight and turn it to liquid gold.
A roar that shakes trees and sends men scattering.
Something huge and terrible and magnificent descending from the sky like vengeance given form.
Dragon.
The word surfaces. Certain. Undeniable.
K.
I try to reach for him, but the dream dissolves. Darkness rushes in, thick and absolute.
I claw my way toward consciousness, fighting through layers of fog.
My eyes open.
Stone ceiling. Firelight dancing across rough walls. The small dwelling in the village.
Safe.
I’m safe.
I turn my head—too fast, the room spins—and find him.
K sits beside my pallet, one hand resting near mine on the blanket. Not touching. Just… close. His face is drawn, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something darker.
Guilt, maybe. Or fear.
It’s not the first time he’s watched over me as I’ve slept. When I woke after the crash, I found him monitoring me with that same focused intensity. Like if he looked away for even a second, I might disappear.
But this is different.
We’re different.
Everything is different now.
“You’re awake.” Relief floods his expression. “How do you feel?”
I take inventory. Fuzzy head. Dry mouth. Body aching like I’ve been through a tumble dryer. But alive.
“Like I got drugged and kidnapped by paramilitary operatives,” I rasp. “So… not great.”
His jaw tightens. “They will not touch you again.”
The certainty in his voice sends a shiver through me. Not fear. Something else.
Because I saw what he did to them.
What he is.
The memory crashes back—wings spreading wide enough to block out stars, fire pouring from his throat in waves, men screaming as they scattered.
K isn’t human.
He’s a dragon.
And somehow, impossibly, that makes perfect sense.
“We need to talk,” K says quietly.
“Yeah.” I push myself up to sitting, ignoring the way my head swims. “We really do.”
He studies my face like he’s trying to read my thoughts. “You are angry. With me. For—” He stops. Swallows hard. “For what I said. Before.”
Lyria.
The name sits between us like a live grenade.
Part of me wants to throw it back at him. Demand answers. Make him explain why he was thinking of another woman at a time when I should have been the only one on his mind.
But the larger part—the part that saw him transform, saw him tear through armed operatives like they were nothing, felt him cradle my unconscious body with impossible tenderness—
That part knows anger is pointless.
“I’m hurt,” I say honestly. “And confused. But mostly I’m just—” I gesture vaguely at the ceiling. “Processing. Because a lot happened in a very short time.”
“Yes.” He drops his gaze to his hands. “I owe you an explanation. Several, perhaps.”
“Yeah. Starting with—” I pause, choosing words carefully. “Starting with how you rescued me from that strike team.”
His head snaps up. “You remember?”
“Bits and pieces. Enough.” I meet his eyes. “Is there something you need to tell me?”
The color drains from his face.
Silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating.
Finally: “I do not know how to say this.”
“Just say it.” I try for levity, falling short. “I promise I can handle whatever weird explanation you’re about to give me.”
He takes a breath. “I am not human.”
“Yeah, I got that part.”
“I am—” He stops. Tries again. “The things I can do. The heat. The strength. The way fire responded when you were trapped in the wreckage. It is because I am—” His hands flex. “I believe I am what your world calls a dragon.”
What your world. As if he doesn’t belong in it.
He’s watching me carefully. Waiting for disbelief. For horror. For me to run screaming. Or laugh.
I should probably give him something. Some reaction that matches the enormity of what he just said.
Instead, I hear myself say: “I know.”
He blinks. “You— What?”
“I know. I saw you.” I gesture vaguely. “The whole… wings and scales and breathing fire thing. Kind of hard to miss.”
“And you are—” He searches my face. “You are not afraid?”
“Should I be?”
“I do not know.” His voice drops. “I barely understand what I am. What I can do. The transformation happened without thought. Pure instinct when you were in danger.”
“Instinct to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“From men who wanted to hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“By turning into a giant golden dragon and scaring the shit out of them.”
His mouth twitches despite everything. “Yes.”
I lean back against the wall, processing. “Okay. So. Dragon. That actually explains a lot.”
“It does?”
“The body heat. The impossible strength. The way you survived up here with no supplies. The survival skills that come from nowhere.” I tick them off on my fingers. “The fact that fire didn’t burn me in the crash. You pulled me out, didn’t you? With—” I gesture vaguely. “Dragon magic or whatever?”
“I… believe so. Though I do not remember the act itself. Only knowing you needed help. And responding.”
“Right. Because you’re a dragon with some kind of protective instinct toward random humans who crash helicopters near you.”
“Not random.” His voice is firm. “Never random. You are—” He stops. “You matter, Mara. For reasons I do not fully understand.”
The words make my resolve weaken.
I want to hold on to my anger. My hurt.
But looking at him now—exhausted, guilty, trying so hard to explain the inexplicable—I can’t.
“This doesn’t upset you?” he asks quietly. “Knowing what I am?”
“K.” I meet his eyes. Time to just spit it out… the unbelievable truth of my own crazy world. “I work for dragons. My boss is a dragon. Half my friends are dragons or witches or phoenixes or other things that shouldn’t exist but do. Your world? I’ve been living in it for months.”
His expression shifts. “You… knew? About my kind?”
“Not that you specifically were one. But dragons in general? Yeah. I’ve known since—” I stop. “Since my friend hooked up with one.” God, that sounds almost as impossible as my life has become. “And I met everyone at the Aurora Collective.”
“Aurora Collective.”
“Long story. But the short version is: I accidentally exposed the existence of dragons to the internet, almost started a supernatural war, and now I work damage control for the good guys.” I pause. “Well. The better guys. It’s complicated.”
K just stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You have been carrying this knowledge. This entire time. Protecting it even from me.”
“Yeah.” I shrug.
“Why?”
“Because I promised I would. Because exposing dragons to the world—” I shake my head. “It’s not my secret to tell.”
“But you would have told me. If I asked.”
“If you knew to ask. If you remembered what you were.” I reach out, touch his hand where it rests on the blanket. “I couldn’t just drop ‘hey, by the way, dragons are real and I work for them’ on someone with amnesia, K. That’s not… That wouldn’t have been fair. You were confused enough.”
His fingers curl around mine. Warm. Solid. Real.
“You protected me,” he says quietly. “From knowledge you thought would harm me.”
“Or confuse you. Or… I don’t know. I just knew you weren’t ready to hear it.”
“And now?”
“Now you figured it out on your own. By turning into a giant fire-breathing lizard to save my ass from mercenaries.” I squeeze his hand. “So yeah. Cat’s out of the bag. Or dragon’s out of the… cave?”
He almost smiles.
Then his expression sobers. “There is more. About what happened. Before.”
My stomach drops. “Lyria.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t look away. Doesn’t make excuses. “I do not know who she is, Mara. I swear this to you. I have pieces—rain and ash, grief like a wound that will not heal. But no face. No name beyond what I spoke.”
“You loved her.”
“I…” He struggles. “I believe I did. Once. Before I lost my memory. Before I woke in these mountains knowing nothing.”
“And you still do.”
“I do not know.” His voice is raw. “I feel… obligation. Duty. The shape of what love was, perhaps. But not—” He stops. “Not what I feel when I look at you.”
My breath catches.
“I am not asking you to forgive me,” he continues. “What I did was unforgivable. Speaking another woman’s name while—” His jaw tightens. “There is no excuse. But I need you to know you are not a second choice. You are—”
The door bursts open.
Nicolae stands in the entrance, breathing hard. “The elder wishes to speak with you. Both of you. Now.”
K and I exchange glances.
“Can it wait?” I ask. “We’re kind of in the middle of—”
“No.” Nicolae’s expression is serious in a way I haven’t seen before. “Grandmother says there are things you must know. About the men who hunt you.”
My blood runs cold.
“The fire-blood’s transformation drew attention,” Nicolae continues, looking at K. “From those who would see you as threat. Or weapon. Or both.”
K rises smoothly to his feet. “Then we go.”
He offers me his hand. I take it, letting him pull me upright.
The room spins slightly. He steadies me, arm around my waist.
“Are you well enough to walk?” he asks quietly.
“I’m fine.” I’m not. I’m still recovering from the crash, and being snatched up by hired killers didn’t help any. But I’ll be damned if I show weakness now. “Let’s go hear what the cryptic old woman has to say.”
We follow Nicolae out into gray morning light.
The village is quiet. Too quiet. I see curtains twitch as we pass. Faces in windows. People watching with expressions I can’t read.
Fear, maybe. Or awe.
They saw what K did last night.
They know what he is.
And they’re not sure if that makes him savior or threat.
Nicolae leads us to Dragana’s dwelling—larger than ours, with intricate carvings around the doorframe. Symbols I don’t recognize but that make my skin prickle.
Protection wards, maybe. Or warnings. Elena would know more. My best friend’s a witch. Go figure.
Inside: one large room dominated by a central hearth. Herbs hanging from rafters. Shelves lined with jars and bundles. A metallic tang hangs in the air.
Magic.
The word arrives with certainty. This place hums with it.
Dragana sits in a high-backed chair near the fire. She looks older in daylight—lines deeper, eyes sharper. But her spine is straight. Her gaze piercing.
“Sit,” she says. Not a request.
We sit.
Nicolae hovers near the door, uncertain.
“You may go,” Dragana tells him. “This conversation is not for young ears.”
He leaves without argument.
The door closes. Silence settles between us.
Dragana studies us—K first, then me, then back to K.
“So,” she says. “The fire-blood remembers himself.”
“Not entirely,” K replies. “But yes. I know what I am.”
“And you?” Her attention shifts to me. “You knew already.”
Not a question. A statement.
“Not about him specifically,” I say. “But yeah, I know about dragons. I work with them. Have for months.”
“Interesting.” She reaches for a clay cup, takes a measured sip. “And yet you did not tell him.”
“It wasn’t my place.”
“No.” She sets down the cup. “It was not. Knowledge freely given is knowledge without weight. Better he discover on his own.” Her gaze sharpens. “But now that he knows… Now we must speak of harder truths.”
My pulse kicks up.
K leans forward slightly. “What truths?”
Dragana’s attention fixes on me. “Tell me about the men who hunt you.”
The blood drains from my face.
“I don’t—”
“Do not insult me with lies, girl.” Her voice is icy.
K turns to me, something shifting in his expression.
“They’re… contractors,” I say carefully. “Private military.”
“Military does not hunt fire-bloods in remote mountains. Not unless they know what fire-bloods are.” Dragana leans forward. “Do these people know of dragons, Mara?”
“Yes,” I murmur. Guilt floods me. Not only have I dragged K into this shitshow, but I’ve brought it to their doorstep. “Yes, they know.”
“And why are they here?” She tilts her head.
“They… I…” I trail off. Where the hell do I begin? “They’re at war with the organizations I work for,” I say at last.
“And who do you work for?” Dragana presses.
“The Craven clan,” I reply. “And a group of people who protect supernaturals from those who would exploit them.”
“The Aurora Collective,” Dragana says.
I blink. “How do you—?”
“I am old, girl. I know of the factions at war in the world beyond these mountains.” She studies me with ancient eyes. “And I know the Syndicate when I see their mark.”
“The Syndicate.” K’s voice is careful. Controlled. “Who are they?”
“Extremists,” I say before Dragana can answer. “Dragons who believe in purity. In dominance. They capture supernaturals, experiment on them, try to weaponize their abilities.”
“And they hunt you because—?”
“Probably because I know too much.” My voice cracks. “I came here with a team to hide any signs that there’d been a battle in these mountains. The Syndicate probably sees me as a liability they want eliminated.”
The words hang in the air.
“We need to leave,” K says. “Mara and I. We need to lead them away from the village—”
“Too late for that.” Dragana’s expression is grim. “They already know you are here. Both of you. Leaving now would only divide our strength.”
“Then what do we do?”
Dragana opens her mouth to answer, but doesn’t get a chance to get the words out. The door bursts open.
“Grandmother!” Nicolae stands breathless in the doorway. “The men. They’re here!”