The night air was thick with power.
The moons hung low, twin orbs casting pale gold over the obsidian spires of the palace. From my chamber window, I saw them—hundreds of torches lit along the path of the Flameward Court, flickering like watchful eyes. A hush had fallen over the kingdom. Even the dragons nesting along the cliff edges were silent.
I stood alone, cloaked in a black mantle. Beneath it, my skin trembled with fire.
Tonight was the Rite.
Tonight, he would claim me—not as a king claims a servant, but as a dragon claims his mate.
I had been prepared. Trained. Taught how to call my fire, to wield it, to temper it with will. But nothing could have readied me for the gnawing ache that started in my core and spread outward like molten metal.
Sereth entered without knocking.
Her silver tattoos glowed softly in the dark.
"He's waiting," she said. "At the Heartflame."
I turned. "What if I lose control?"
"You won't. You were born for this."
My heart thundered. "And if I refuse?"
She studied me with calm eyes. "Then you will live half-lit for the rest of your days. Never whole. Never truly burning."
I wanted to scoff—but deep down, I knew she was right.
The fire inside me had a voice now.
And it whispered his name.
---
The Heartflame chamber was carved into the base of the mountain—an ancient place, older than the palace, older even than the dragon kings.
Its walls pulsed with runes that shimmered gold and red, their meanings lost to time. At its center stood a pool of liquid fire—white-hot, swirling, alive. It cast the entire chamber in a warm, shuddering glow. And standing at the far end, bathed in it, was Vaerion.
His wings were outstretched, wide and regal. His chest was bare again, muscles carved from shadow and strength. A new mark shimmered over his heart—one that mirrored the shape of mine. A dragon coiled in flame.
When he turned, the weight of his gaze struck me like a blow.
He was furious.
And ravenous.
"Why did you keep me waiting?" he asked, voice low, dangerous.
I stepped forward, trembling. "I was… afraid."
He stalked closer. "Of me?"
"No," I whispered. "Of what I'm becoming."
Vaerion stopped before me, reaching up to remove the cloak from my shoulders. I let it fall.
I wore only a thin slip of flame silk—translucent, clinging, alive with embers. It did nothing to hide my body.
"Then stop becoming," he said, voice like a growl. "And be."
I shivered. "And what am I?"
He touched the mark on my neck.
"Mine."
---
The ritual began in silence.
We stood before the Heartflame, the heat stealing every breath. Fire licked along the edges of the stone altar, rising like hungry fingers. Vaerion raised one hand—and the chamber answered. The flames grew, forming a circle around us.
Then he spoke in the ancient tongue. A language I didn't know—but felt in my bones.
His power thrummed in every word.
"I call forth the bond sealed in heat.
By fire and blood, I claim what is mine.
Let her flame answer mine.
Let her soul burn beside me."
My mark flared. I gasped, stumbling—heat surged through me, wild and consuming. My legs buckled. He caught me.
"Breathe," he said.
"I can't—" I choked, "I'm burning—"
"You are."
He held me tighter, pressing my palm to his chest.
"Feed it. Don't fight."
My fire answered his. A thread of flame leapt from my body to his, twisting together in the air. It was beautiful. Terrifying.
And then the claiming began.
---
He kissed me like it was a vow.
Hard, deep, possessive.
I melted against him, every nerve alive. His tongue tasted like heat and smoke, his hands like iron and silk. When he lifted me into his arms, I didn't resist.
He carried me into the center of the flame circle. Fire didn't burn me now. It danced.
He laid me down on the altar—warm, smooth obsidian. The moment my skin touched it, the mark on my neck erupted with light.
Vaerion climbed over me, wings spread, gaze devouring.
"I've waited long enough," he growled. "You're ready."
"I'm not," I whispered.
"You are. Your fire tells me so."
His hand slid between my thighs—finding proof of the truth. I cried out.
"You're wet for me, little flame," he said darkly. "Even now. Especially now."
Shame burned. But it was swallowed by something deeper.
Need.
"Say it," he commanded. "Say who you belong to."
"You," I gasped. "I belong to you."
He growled, mouth descending to the mark again.
Then lower.
He tasted every inch of me—thighs, belly, breasts—until I was writhing, begging, lost in flame.
"Please—Vaerion—"
"I said I wouldn't take you," he murmured. "Until you begged me with your fire."
My body lit up—flames crawling down my arms, licking across my hips.
"I am begging," I moaned. "Take me. Claim me."
His eyes turned gold. Glowing.
"Then burn with me."
---
He entered me in one slow, punishing thrust.
I screamed—pleasure and pain intertwined. His fire fused with mine, our magic colliding in a shockwave of heat that shook the walls.
Vaerion didn't move for a moment, just held himself inside me, forehead pressed to mine.
"This is your true form," he rasped. "Lit from the inside. Made for me."
Then he began to move—deep, slow strokes that left me crying out with each thrust. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, needing more. Always more.
He claimed every part of me—my body, my fire, my soul.
We moved together, flames rising around us like a storm. My back arched. His name tore from my throat.
"Let the world burn," he whispered. "Let them all see who you are now."
I shattered beneath him—fire erupting from my skin, my mark blinding gold.
He roared—low and inhuman—as he followed me into the abyss.
---
When it was over, the flames calmed.
He lay beside me on the altar, one wing draped protectively over my body. His chest heaved. My skin still shimmered with embers.
But I felt whole.
Not owned.
Not broken.
Claimed.
Loved.
Vaerion looked at me—something wild and soft in his eyes.
"You are mine now," he said. "And I am yours."
I nodded, voice barely a whisper.
"I know."
The bond pulsed between us, alive and unbreakable.
Vaerion couldn't get enough,his golden eyes still blazed with fire and he took me to his chamber.
The mark on my neck pulsed, deeper and darker now. Not just a mark. A brand.
And when the door opened, Vaerion lost the last shred of control,he pinned me to the wall.
My breath caught.
He moved toward me, slowly, reverently, as if I were sacred.
"I dreamed of this," I whispered.
"I built those dreams for you," he murmured. "To prepare your soul to bear me."
When his lips touched mine, it was not soft.
It was claiming.
And I gave in.
I burned for him—against the wall, beneath him on silk sheets, in his lap before the fire. He kissed every part of me that had once known shame and turned it into worship.
His name became a prayer on my tongue.
And when he bit me again—lower this time—I screamed, not from pain but from the rush of belonging.
He entered me again with a growl, and I shattered like glass beneath a dragon's claw.
"Say it," he ordered, teeth at my throat.
"I'm yours," I gasped.
His roar echoed through the mountains, and my fire exploded outward, dancing across the walls like a living creature.
I thought I would break.
But instead—I was remade.
—
When I woke, he was gone.
But the bond was sealed.
His magic throbbed inside me like a second heart. My fire obeyed me now, whispering secrets only his kind could know.
And as I stepped into the mirror, I didn't see a slave anymore.
I saw a queen in the making.
Vaerion had marked me. Claimed me.
But I had chosen him.
The world would burn for us.
And I was finally ready to light the match.