Chapter 31
Kael
The healing bond is gone. I feel the absence like a missing limb. That constant awareness of her—the pull that told me where she was, how she felt, whether she needed me—severed.
Clean cut. Final.
Elena and Lila gather their supplies. Blow out the candles. Pack everything away quietly. They don’t speak. Don’t offer comfort or congratulations.
Just finish the work and prepare to leave.
Mara sits in the center of where the circle was. Cross-legged. Hand pressed to her chest. Looking at me with eyes that hold too many questions.
“K?”
“I’m here.”
“Do you—?” She stops. Swallows. “Do you still feel anything?”
Elena pauses at the door. Lila beside her. Both watching. Waiting for my answer.
I should tell Mara the truth. Should explain that, yes, I still feel—
But the words stick.
Because what I feel is complicated. Confused. Not the bond—that’s truly gone, snapped clean as a severed rope—but something else. Something stirring in the space the healing bond left behind.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit.
It’s honest. Not the answer she wants, but honest.
Her expression crumples slightly. Just for a moment. Then she locks it down. Forces something like a smile.
“Right. Yeah. That makes sense. We both need time to—” She gestures vaguely. “To figure out what’s real.”
Elena touches my arm as she passes. “Give it time. Both of you.”
Then they’re gone.
Leaving Mara and me alone in the aftermath.
She stands slowly. Tests her balance. No pain. No weakness. The healing complete.
I should feel relief. I do, in a way. Knowing that her life no longer hangs in the balance. But there’s something else as well. Something like… grief.
“I should probably—” She looks around the room. At anything except me. “I should go get some air. Let you have some space to process.”
“Mara.”
“It’s fine, K. Really. I get it. You need time to—”
“I want you to stay.”
She freezes. “What?”
“Stay. Please.”
“Why?” Her voice is small. Uncertain. “If you don’t know what you feel, why do you want me here?”
Because even without the bond, I’m acutely aware of her. The sound of her breathing. The particular quality of her presence that makes the room feel less empty.
Because my fire recognizes her. Responds to her proximity in ways that have nothing to do with healing magic and everything to do with—
Something.
“Because I would like to talk,” I say. “About what happens next. About what we both feel without the bond forcing connection.”
She considers this. Chewing her bottom lip.
“Okay,” she finally says. “We can talk.”
But neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks.
The silence stretches.
I should know what to say. Should have prepared for this moment. But my mind is a mess—memories of the past mixing with the sensation of the bond breaking mixing with the hollow space left behind.
“Are you okay?” Mara asks quietly. “You look—” She stops. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”
“I don’t know what I look like. I don’t know what I feel.” The admission costs me. “The bond is gone. I should feel relief. Freedom. Instead, I feel—”
“Empty,” she finishes. “Yeah. Me too.”
We’re both standing in the middle of this room. Three feet apart. Neither willing to close the distance or widen it.
“Can I ask you something?” Mara wraps her arms around herself. Defensive posture. “And you have to be honest. Even if the answer hurts.”
“Yes.”
“Do you wish I were her? Lyria?”
I blink at the question.
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because you said her name when we were—” She stops. Can’t finish. Still hasn’t dealt with that moment.
“I know what I said.” Shame curls in my chest. “And I wish I could take it back. Wish I could explain it in a way that doesn’t sound like excuse or justification.”
“Try.”
I lean against the wall. Need the support.
“When we were together—when I was inside you—I felt something I haven’t felt in all my life.
Connection. Intimacy. The vulnerability of being truly known by another person.
” I pause. “And for a moment, my mind couldn’t reconcile what was happening with who was making it happen.
Old patterns surfaced. Old grief. I spoke a name that belonged to a memory instead of the present. ”
“So you were thinking of her.”
“I was thinking of what it felt like to be seen. To be wanted. To matter to someone beyond duty or necessity.” I meet her eyes.
“And yes. For that moment, I confused past with present. But Mara—” I push off the wall.
Take a step closer. “You are not her. You have never been her. And I do not wish you were.”
“Then what do you wish?”
“I wish I understood what I feel. Wish I could separate what was bond from what is—” I stop. Search for the right word.
“Real,” she supplies quietly.
“Yes. Real.”
She’s quiet. Then: “Can I tell you what I felt? When the bond broke?”
“Please.”
“Terror.” The word comes out raw. “Not because it hurt; it did, in a way, but that’s not what scared me. I was terrified that without the bond, you’d look at me and see nothing worth keeping. That I was only interesting because magic forced you to care.”
The pain in her voice cuts.
“That was never true.”
“How do you know? How do either of us know?”
“Because—” I stop. Feel it.
The fire.
My dragon recognizes her. Has recognized her since I pulled her from the wreckage. But with the healing bond dominating everything, I couldn’t distinguish what was magic and what was—
This.
This pull that has nothing to do with necessity and everything to do with the way she moves through the world. The way she makes me want to understand the present instead of mourning the past.
Understanding begins to dawn on me. And it sucks the breath from my lungs.
“Kael?” She’s watching me carefully. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” I take another step closer. “Something is happening.”
“What?”
“I feel you.”
“I’m standing right here. Of course you—”
“No. I feel you. Not the healing bond. Something else. Something—” I press my hand to my chest. Where the bond used to hum. “Here. Where the bond was severed.”
Her eyes widen. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the healing bond is gone. But something else is still here. Something that started the moment I was drawn to that helicopter and has been growing stronger every day despite the healing magic masking it.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispers.
“That is because you are new to our world,” I say, almost not believing what I am feeling. “You have heard of fated mates, yes?”
“Sure.” She nods. “Like Caleb and Elena. Sounded freaky to me, but she seems happy, so who am I to judge, right?”
“Right,” I say. “I think that’s what this is.”
She stares at me. “What?”
“It’s what drew me to you. When the crash happened. My dragon…” I shake my head. “He felt you. Felt his mate in danger. That’s what this is.”
“A mate bond?”
“I think so. Yes.” It’s not true. I’m sure of it. More certain than I’ve felt about anything since I woke in the mountains.
“So…. So what? Now we date?” She’s still staring at me.
I smile a little. “Dragons don’t… date, Mara.”
“Fuck. Of course they don’t.” Her eyes narrow. “Wait a bit… Did you do this?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t create it. It’s been there. Building. Waiting for the healing bond to get out of the way so I could feel it properly.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my fire knows you. Has known you from the beginning. I thought it was just the healing magic responding to your need. But it’s more than that. My dragon recognizes you as—” The word catches. “As mine.”
“Yours,” she repeats flatly.
“Yes.”
“So what… I’m just magically yours now? Because dragon instinct said so?”
“No. Because you are fundamentally, essentially you. And my soul recognized yours before my mind caught up.”
She’s shaking her head. “This is too much. This is— I can’t process this right now, K. I just had one bond ripped out of my chest. I can’t immediately sign up for another one.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“For time. For patience. For the chance to let this develop naturally instead of forcing it or running from it.” I hold her gaze. “The mate bond is forming whether we want it or not. But we can control whether we accept it. Whether we let it complete.”
“And if we let it complete?”
“Dragons mate for life, Mara.” I focus on her, not allowing myself to hope yet. “You would be mine. I would be yours. Forever.”
“Forever,” she breathes. “Holy shit. That’s… that’s a lot.” Her throat works. “What if I don’t want it?”
The question shouldn’t hurt. But it does.
“Then I will walk away.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
She studies me. Looking for the trap. The manipulation. The thousand ways this could be another form of control.
She won’t find any.
“I need—” She stops. Starts again. “I need to think. Without you standing this close, making my brain short-circuit.”
“Understandable.”
“And I need coffee. Real coffee. Not the terrible instant stuff I’ve been drinking for a week.”
Despite everything, I almost smile. “Also understandable.”
“So I’m going to go. Find the cafeteria or commissary or whatever this place has. Drink something that doesn’t taste like confusion. And figure out what the hell I want.”
“And I will be here. When you’re ready to talk.”
She moves toward the door. Pauses with her hand on the handle.
“K?”
“Yes?”
“This… mate bond. If I say yes—if I let it form—you say it’s… it’s permanent?”
“Yes. Irrevocable. Forever.”
“That’s a really big decision to make about someone I’ve known for eight days.”
“It is.”
“And you’re okay with that? With me taking time to decide if I want to be magically bonded to you for the rest of my life?”
“I would rather you choose freely, knowing what you’d be getting into.”
She nods. Opens the door. Then looks back one more time.
“For what it’s worth? When the healing bond broke, and I thought I might not feel anything anymore?” Her voice drops. “I was terrified. Because I didn’t want to stop feeling this. Whatever this is.”
Then she’s gone.
I’m alone with the absence of the healing bond and the presence of something new. Something that pulses quietly where the old connection used to scream.
A mate bond. Beginning to form. Tentative. Patient.
Waiting for her to decide if she wants it.
Waiting for me to accept this could be real.
I turn to the window and stare out at the mountains beyond. Peaks and crags that feel familiar, even though this is a part of the world that is foreign to me. Time trickles by as I try to get to grips with the impossibility of my life right now.
There is so much at stake. I should be fighting for this.
I should find her. Should explain better. Should—
The floor shifts beneath my feet.
Not literally. But the sensation is unmistakable. Like standing on unstable ground. Like the mountain itself is—
My dragon surges. Responding to a threat I can’t see but definitely feel.
Something is wrong.
I’m moving before conscious thought forms. Out the door. Down the hallway. Following instinct that tells me—
Mara.
If something’s wrong, she’ll be in danger.
I round the corner at a run and nearly collide with Viktor.
“My Lord! Good. We need you.” His voice is clipped. Urgent. “Syndicate activity. Intel just came through. They’re moving.”
“Moving where?”
“Here. They know where we are. They’re coming for you.”
Of course they are.
“How long do we have?”
“None.” Viktor’s expression is grim. “We’re evacuating non-essential personnel. Fortifying defenses. But they’re bringing numbers. And they know our layout.”
“Because Vex is here. Do you think they’ve found a way to communicate somehow?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.” His jaw sets. “Goddamned Syndicate. Sneaky fuckers.”
My mind races. Strategic calculations forming.
“I need to—”
“You need to help us plan defense,” Viktor cuts me off. “Caleb’s already coordinating with his people. We need your insight into battle strategy.”
“But Mara—”
“Will be taken somewhere safe. And she’ll stand more chance of staying safe if you help us keep them out altogether.”
He’s right. I know he’s right.
But every instinct screams to find her. To keep her close. To—
Stop panicking. Think rationally.
“Lead the way,” I tell Viktor.
But as I follow him toward the command center, one thought circles:
The Syndicate is coming.
And they’re coming for me.
Which means everyone near me is in danger.
Including Mara.