Song of Fire and Flame

2 - The burning inside

Lincoln

“Come on, Lincoln. It’s not like I’m asking you to come away with me for a month. It’s just one night.” My older brother, Christian, whines.

I don’t have time for this. I’m supposed to be working on plans for the Winter Ball. We have a month before the Ball, but there is so much to get through. Helping organize this Winter Ball keeps my mind off of other things - things that cause problems for my family. By that, I mean my out-of-control anger.

Five years ago, something happened to me that left me almost dead. I was ambushed, drugged, and almost killed. The drug used weakened my Lycan and Dragon, and I thought I was about to lose my life.

I fought, even in my weakened state, and I won. I killed the twelve men who thought they could take on a Demi-God and win.

However, I lost all strength and couldn’t call for help. But out of nowhere, a beautiful woman crouched beside me. I couldn’t be sure if she was real, but I watched her kill four more men who came out of nowhere with the intention of ending my life. She was so agile, and she moved like a seasoned warrior. Those men stood no chance against her.

She crouched beside me again, her hand on my face, asking me to stay with her and not close my eyes. She fed me a potion from her bag and bandaged the wounds that weren’t healing because of the drug in my system.

I wanted to ask her name, but I couldn’t speak. I was too weak to do anything. I leaned back against the tree, all the while she told me that everything would be okay. I must have passed out because the next thing I knew, I was at home in my own bed. I was healed physically, but I was altered mentally.

I never found out who the woman was who helped me. Believe me, I searched far and wide for her. I came to the conclusion that she never existed. She was just a figment of my imagination, and she would never be anything more.

For five years, I have struggled with my anger, which is why I need to keep my mind occupied. What I don’t need is my older brother whining about going out tonight.

I drop my pen on my desk and look at him. “Aren’t you bored with this yet?”

Christian wants to go to the club again tonight. The Gilded Cage is a seedy strip club in town. Okay, it’s classy, and the dancers are never naked. Not all of them strip; some just dance seductively to turn the customers on. It’s also clean and looks expensive. The private booths alone cost a fortune to get into. He says the club helps him escape his thoughts about Evangeline, even if only for a few hours.

Money means nothing to us. We’re Princes of Dragons and Lycans. We’re rich beyond compare. That doesn’t mean I waste my money on such things.

I’ve been to that club plenty of times. I won’t lie, I enjoy myself most of the time. But I feel like we go because Christian needs the distraction, even though for me, it’s getting old fast.

Christian snorts while crossing his arms over his chest. “Why would I be bored with watching beautiful women dance?”

“Because you have a mate,” I say with a smirk. “How about you go claim her instead of getting your rocks off with other women?”

Christian shoots me a death glare, his eyes blazing with an anger not far from heartbreak. Talking about Evangeline, daughter of Hades, is a wound that never quite heals for my brother. It was foretold before Christian took his first breath that he would end up with the firstborn daughter of Hades. Fate feels cruel in this moment.

The problem is that Evangeline recoils at even the mention of Christian. To her, he’s not just older—he’s a pervert. He dismisses her as a child. Their stubbornness is maddening! She’s in her twenties; he’s thirty. They both need to grow up!

“Look,” I sigh while shifting in my seat. “Why don’t you just reject Evangeline and move on?”

Christian grits his teeth, jaw tight with pain I've grown used to witnessing. Mentioning rejection always wounds him, slicing a scar open again. He clings to the hope that Evangeline will come around. He might argue with her, but he loves her. My chest aches for him. I pray he’s right, even if doubt gnaws at me.

I sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine.” My brother mumbles. “I just thought we could have some fun. But if you’re not up for it…”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

My brother smiles. “I knew you’d see it my way.” He leaves the room before I can say anything else.

Asshole. My frustration flares—a mixture of irritation and resignation.

Before I can get up from my desk to start getting ready, Mom walks into my office, stopping me.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” She smiles slightly.

My mother is one of the most beautiful women I have ever known. Not just her looks, but her personality. As the daughter of the previous Lycan King, and the sister of the present King, not to mention the mate of the youngest Dragon Prince, Mom holds dual titles - Princess of Lycans and Dragons. But she’s down to earth and never believes she’s better than anyone else. Aurora Lightborne is everything a Princess should be.

Mom raised my brother and me to know we were not better than the beggar on the street. She taught us to treat everyone as our equal, hoping we’d be compassionate leaders one day. If ever we stepped out of line, which we didn’t because we knew better, Mom would make sure we learned the hard way. She always made me smile.

“Mom, is something wrong?” I ask.

Mom shrugs while sitting in the seat opposite me. “I just wanted to check in and see how things are going.”

I chuckle. “Mom, you saw me an hour ago. We live in the same house.”

She smiles. “It’s not the same as having a moment alone with you. The palace might be big, and I see you all the time. But that doesn’t mean we speak enough.”

I nod. “True. So, what is it?”

“Well, I want to invite Evangeline over for a few days.”

I shake my head. “Oh, Mom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” She asks, tipping her head slightly.

“For one,” I say. “Evangeline would never agree to it. Secondly, Christian wouldn’t thank you for it.” I sigh. “I know you want this whole mate thing between them sorted because you want to see Christian happy. But you can’t force it, Mom.”

Mom groans, her face tight with worry. “I know, Lincoln. But your brother is falling apart inside. He jokes, he smiles, but I see the cracks. Knowing his mate wants nothing to do with him is shattering him. Why can’t Evangeline just free him from this pain?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, Mom. Look,” I lean forward in my seat, leaning my arms on my desk. “I’ll speak to Evangeline and see if I can find out what the problem really is.”

Mom nods, unconvinced. “Okay. I’ll leave it to you.”

“Try not to worry, Mom. Everything will be alright in the end.”

She smiles at me and leaves the room.

With a resigned sigh that feels heavy in my chest, I stand. Dread clings to me as I start getting ready for the night I never wanted.

Two hours later, Christian, I, and two of our friends, Phil and Zack, are on our way to the club.

I like nights like this. The city is loud, alive, pulsing with heat and neon. Christian walks beside me, laughing at something one of our friends said, and I feel that familiar hum of anticipation in my chest — the thrill of being out, of being anonymous, of being free from the expectations that come with being a prince. No one knows who we are when we’re out. We keep our hoods up, our faces obscured. If word got back to our Dragon King Grandfather, the places we’ve been frequenting, he’d string us up!

Suddenly, pain stabs my chest—a sharp, panicked jolt that snares my breath. Cold fear prickles my skin, flooding me with confusion.

I stop walking abruptly, pressing my hand against my chest as the pain hits.

Christian turns immediately, eyes narrowing. “Lincoln. What was that?”

I force a slow exhale, rolling my shoulders as if I could shake the sensation off. “Nothing. Just… something weird. I’m fine.”

Christian doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. He knows better than most that my instincts — especially the ones tied to my Dragon — are unpredictable. Powerful. Sometimes dangerous. I won’t let Theron, my Dragon, take over tonight. I’ll keep him locked away.

I keep walking, but a cold ache lingers in my chest, echoing like a warning I can’t read. It gnaws at me, making my steps heavy.

What was that?

I don’t have time to think about it because we reach the club a few minutes later, slipping through the back entrance where the staff already know how to look away. The doormen know who we are, yet they say nothing. Their lives wouldn’t be worth living if they did.

Christian and I pull our hoods higher, completely masking our features. Our friends do the same. No one needs to know who we are — not tonight.

Inside, the air is thick with perfume, sweat, and the low thrum of bass vibrating through the floorboards. A host hurries over, bowing slightly before leading us to a private booth overlooking the stage. He knows who we are. Of course, he does. The man is a prick. He’s sleezy and probably needs a good beating. But he keeps his mouth shut about who we are, so we leave him alone.

The private booth gives us the perfect view of the stage and dancers. It’s the perfect cover.

I lounge back, letting the noise wash over me. My friends order drinks. Christian cracks jokes. And for a while, I let myself enjoy it — the anonymity, the freedom, the sense that tonight will be uncomplicated.

“I wonder if she’s dancing tonight.” Zack ponders.

“Who?” Phil asks.

“The girl we saw the other night,” Zack says as if Phil should automatically know who he’s talking about.

I don’t have a clue because I don’t come here as much as they do.

Dancers come and go on the stage, and each one is met with cheers and applause. They’re good in their own right, but none of them catches my attention. I watch with mild interest, sipping my drink, letting the warmth of the spiked whiskey settle in my chest. Alcohol doesn’t affect Dragons as it would humans, so we put Molhoa Root into it, which helps us get drunk. Not that I drink enough for that, but many others do. Each to their own and all that.

The night hasn’t offered much excitement, which isn’t surprising considering I hadn’t wanted to go out in the first place.

The stage manager steps forward. “Ladies and Gentlemen. The last dancer of the night,” he announces.

Electricity jolts through me—my spine tingles, my heart hammers with an intensity that drowns out the noise. My hand trembles around the glass, breath catching in my throat. I am slammed into the moment, my senses narrow and hyper-alert.

And then she walks onto the stage. I don’t know her name, but she’s small. Too small. Too thin. Her movements are graceful, but not the practiced seduction of the others — more like someone who has learned to move beautifully despite pain.

She’s wearing a mask that hides most of her face, but it doesn’t matter. I see everything else through the scraps of flowing fabric on her body.

The bruises.

The fading marks on her arms.

No amount of makeup could fool me. Others wouldn’t have noticed unless they looked closely enough. But I know those lust-filled perverts won’t even care.

The way she holds herself is like someone who expects to be hurt again.

Her eyes lock on mine—a piercing, impossible connection. She shouldn’t see me, not with the shadows and lights, but it’s as if she’s staring through every layer of me. I freeze, heart pounding, drink forgotten in midair.

A surge of emotion explodes inside me—not lust, not curiosity—raw, old, violent rage. An urge to shield, destroy, protect, wells up so fiercely it shakes me. I burn with an instinctive fury that eclipses everything except her.

My Dragon.

‘Lincoln,’ Theron growls in my mind. ‘She needs help. Her soul is crying out. Can’t you hear it?’

‘Yeah,’ I mumble in reply. ‘I can.’

Christian notices immediately. “Lincoln. What is it?”

My jaw clenches until it aches. My whole body floods with heat, too fast, too bright. When I blink, the world is edged in sharp color—a telltale shimmer of Dragonfire. I’m barely holding the fury inside.

“Lincoln,” Christian hisses, grabbing my arm. “Calm down. You’re burning.”

“I know,” I growl, though the words barely make it out. “I can’t—”

I can’t look away from her.

Every instinct I have screams the same thing: She’s hurt, she’s afraid, she’s mine to protect.

The Dragon inside me surges, furious and wild.

Christian tightens his grip on my arm. “You need to breathe. You’re going to shift if you don’t get control. You can’t let Theron out here, Lincoln. He’d bring the place to the ground!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Zack hisses.

I ignore them because my control is slipping.

I tear my arm free and stand, ignoring my friends as I push through the crowd, eyes fixed on the stage and moving with purpose.

I reach it just as the lights dim.

But when I look again, she’s vanished from the stage—gone in an instant.

I stride to the stage manager, grab him by the front of his shirt, and haul him close. “Where is she? The dancer. Where is she?”

The man pales. “I—I don’t know her name. She comes in, dances, and leaves. That’s all I know.”

Theron snarls inside me, heat rippling through his veins. The air around me shimmers with it.

‘He’s lying, Lincoln.’ Theron snarls. ‘He’s the manager, he has to know who his dancers are.’

“Don’t lie to me.” I hiss.

“I swear!” the manager cries. “She’s not on the roster. She’s not paid through us. I don’t know who she is! She won’t even be here right now. As soon as she leaves the stage, she’s gone.”

“Don’t bullshit me, you bastard!” I yell in his face. “Lie to me once more, and I’ll kill you where you stand!”

“T-the boss,” the manager stammers. “Only he knows who she is. Talk to him!”

My hands tremble. Not with fear — with the effort of holding myself together. My Dragon is too close, too furious, too ready to tear this place apart.

Christian appears at my side, gripping my shoulder hard. “Lincoln. You need to get out. Now.”

He’s right.

If I stay, he’ll lose control. And if I lose control, this club — everyone in it — will burn.

I push the manager aside and turn away, chest heaving, vision flickering with gold.

I push through the exit doors and stumble into the cold night air, dragging in breath after breath, trying to cage the Dragon clawing at my insides.

But one truth burns hotter than the fire under my skin: I have to find her.

Whoever she is.

Whatever she is.

She’s in danger, and she’s mine to protect.

Tonight, I saw her.

Tomorrow, I’ll find her.