Page 47 of Born in Fire
I nod, fumbling with my keys. My hands are steady enough to unlock the door to the foyer, but as we enter the building, my legs suddenly refuse to support me. The delayed reaction to the confrontation hits me all at once—trembling, nausea, tunnel vision.
Before I can collapse, Dorian sweeps me into his arms as if I weigh nothing, carrying me up the stairs to my apartment. The casual display of strength should alarm me, but all I feel is safe. Protected. Claimed.
Inside my apartment, he sets me gently on the couch, kneeling before me with intensity etched on his features.
“Deep breaths,” he encourages. “You’re safe now. I won’t let him near you again.”
I follow his instruction, focusing on his face as I breathe. The amber of his eyes definitely holds an inner light, pulsing with each beat of his heart. His skin radiates heat like a banked fire.
“What did he mean, ‘this isn’t over’?” I ask when I can speak again.
Dorian’s expression darkens, something feral flashing across his features. “Empty threats from a dead man walking if he tries to touch you again.”
“You don’t know Tyler. He doesn’t give up easily.” I reach for Dorian’s hand, needing the anchor of his touch. “And what happened out there? With you? Your eyes are… glowing.”
“Trick of the light,” he says, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.
“And the heat? You’re burning up.” I press my palm to his forehead. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine.” He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. “It’s just adrenaline.”
I know he’s lying. I don’t know how I know, but I do. However, the questions dissolve on my tongue as he leans forward abruptly, his expression morphing into something raw and possessive.
“He doesn’t get to touch you,” he says in a low growl that vibrates through me. “No one touches what’s mine.” And then, before I can consider the strangeness of his words, his lips crash against mine with a ferocity that steals my breath.
This isn’t the measured passion of our previous encounters—this is something wilder, more desperate. My back presses into the couch cushions as Dorian’s weight shifts over me, his hands everywhere at once. The heat of his body engulfs me, his touch branding my skin.
“Need you,” he growls against my throat, the words vibrating through my skin.
A rush of liquid heat floods between my legs, my body responding to the raw claim of his kiss with an intensity that shocks me. I should be frightened by this possessiveness, this animal hunger—instead, I’m consumed by answering need.
“Dorian,” I gasp, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, too impatient to manage them properly. He solves the problem by simply tearing the fabric apart, sending buttons scattering across my floor. The sight of his bare chest, with those dragon tattoos seeming to writhe against his skin, ignites something untamed in me, and I claw at his shoulders, pulling him closer.
My blouse disappears next, his hands impossibly hot against my skin. I arch into his touch, wrapping my legs around his waist as he lifts me from the couch. Somehow we make it to the bedroom, a trail of discarded clothing marking our path.
He lays me on the bed with a gentleness that contrasts with the urgency of his movements. His jeans join the pile on thefloor, and then he’s above me again, skin against skin, nothing between us but the heat of our bodies.
“Juno,” he breathes, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “Fuck… I need you.”
“Yes,” I gasp, pulling his face down to mine. “Yes, I want you, I need—”
The words die in my throat as I meet his eyes. They’re not just bright with passion—they’re literally glowing, irises transformed into molten gold that illuminates the darkness of my bedroom. His pupils have contracted to vertical slits like a cat’s… or something not quite human.
What the fuck?
I freeze beneath him, my heart stopping mid-beat. “Dorian, your eyes…”
He blinks, turning his face away. “It’s nothing.”
I catch his jaw, forcing him to look at me. The glow pulses with his rapid heartbeat, impossible to dismiss as a trick of light.
As I stare at him, something flickers beneath his skin—a shadow of scales rippling across his cheekbones before disappearing. His teeth, when he parts his lips to speak, seem sharper than before.
“Oh, my God,” I choke out. “What… what’s happening to you?”
His weight shifts as he tries to pull away, but I hold firm, needing answers more than distance.
“Juno, please.” There’s something like fear in his voice now. “Can we just—?”
