The Dragon Who Doesn’t Share
1172 Words
Aria
The fire starts before sunrise.
Not close enough to burn the territory. Not close enough to threaten the pack walls. But close enough to be seen.
A crimson glow stretches across the distant mountains, staining the horizon in violent shades of gold and red. The entire pack feels it immediately — the shift, the warning, the instinctive understanding that something dangerous is approaching.
And beneath my ribs, the bond erupts.
Not painful. Worse.
Possessive. Wild. Ancient.
Heat floods through my chest hard enough to stagger my pulse. I stop breathing for half a second.
Kaelith.
There’s no question anymore. No uncertainty.
The dragon king is here.
The realization slams through me like impact.
Lucien felt sharp. Eryndor felt chaotic. Cassian felt steady.
Kaelith feels inevitable.
By the time I reach the outer walls, the entire pack is already awake. Warriors line the battlements. Orders echo across the courtyard.
Fear spreads fast in situations like this — especially when dragons are involved.
Torin reaches me first.
“Tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”
“It’s exactly what you think it is.”
He curses immediately. Reasonable.
Darius stands near the front gate, arms crossed as he watches smoke curl upward in the distance. Unmoving. Unimpressed. Like he
expected this.
Honestly, he probably did.
“He’s close,” I say.
The bond surges violently in agreement. Heat tears through my ribs again — not random, reactive. Like something inside him feels
me too.
Darius notices my expression instantly. “Control it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
The heat spikes again.
Gods.
This is nothing like the others. This isn’t awareness. This is instinct.
Primal. Possessive. Territorial.
This king is dangerous in ways the others are not.
The explosion shakes the walls hard enough to silence the entire courtyard. Stone trembles beneath our feet. Several warriors
stumble backward.
Then — silence. Heavy. Absolute.
And through the settling smoke, he walks forward.
Kaelith.
No guards. No army. No diplomacy.
Just one male crossing into enemy territory like the world itself would move before asking him to.
The first thing I notice is size. Not merely tall — massive. Built like violence given form. Dark clothes cling tightly enough to reveal
powerful shoulders and heavy muscle beneath them, but none of that matters compared to the feeling rolling off him.
Power. Raw. Barely contained.
His dark hair falls loosely around his face, shadows cutting sharply across severe features as molten gold eyes lock directly onto
mine.
The bond detonates.
Heat slams through me so violently my knees nearly buckle. Not soft. Not steady. Claiming. Possession crashes through the connection hard enough to steal my breath.
Mine.
The word echoes through the bond like instinct. Not spoken aloud — felt.
The terrifying part? It doesn’t feel human.
Kaelith stops moving the moment our eyes meet. The entire world stills around him. The heat in the air rises sharply. Several wolves
instinctively step backward.
Smart. Very smart.
Kaelith’s gaze never leaves mine. Not once. Like the rest of the world simply stopped existing.
Torin moves slightly in front of me automatically — protective.
The reaction is immediate.
Kaelith’s expression darkens. Not jealousy. Worse.
Dragon instinct.
The air grows hotter.
Darius steps forward before things escalate. “You’re in pack territory.”
Kaelith finally looks away from me. Barely. His attention shifts toward Darius slowly — predatory, measured.
“And?”
The single word lands like threat. Several warriors tighten their grips on their weapons. Kaelith notices. Completely unimpressed.
Gods. He really doesn’t fear any of them.
Darius remains unmoved. “You’ll respect the territory while inside it.”
Kaelith’s gaze sweeps lazily across the gathered warriors, then returns to me. Always back to me.
“I didn’t come for the territory.”
The bond tightens sharply — possessive. Heat floods through my chest again. Not painful. Demanding.
“You’re affecting the bond,” I say.
That finally gets his full attention.
Kaelith studies me carefully for the first time. Not my appearance. Not my body.
Me.
Like he’s trying to determine whether I understand what’s happening between us as deeply as he does.
“You feel it,” he says.
Not a question.
“Yes.”
He takes another step forward. The entire courtyard tenses. The temperature rises with him — literally. Smoke curls faintly from the
stone beneath his boots.
“That seems unnecessary,” Torin mutters.
Kaelith ignores him completely. Not dismissive — irrelevant.
“You should have called sooner,” he says.
I blink. “That sounds dangerously close to blame.”
“It is blame.”
The honesty catches me off guard. No manipulation. No diplomacy. Just truth.
“You were alone.”
The bond pulses violently. Protective. Ancient fury crashes beneath the connection hard enough to make my pulse stumble.
“I wasn’t helpless.”
“That wasn’t the statement.”
Silence.
He isn’t angry because I was weak. He’s angry because I was unprotected.
That distinction matters more than it should.
Kaelith steps closer — too close now. The heat surrounding him wraps around my skin like living fire. The bond hums violently
between us — wild, hungry, terrifyingly aware.
“You rejected your mate,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I exhale sharply. “You all really need another word.”
For half a second, something almost amused flickers across his face. Almost. Then it vanishes beneath intensity again.
“He was wrong for you.”
The certainty hits harder than expected.
“You don’t know me,” I say.
“No.” Another step. “But I know what should never have been yours.”
The bond surges so violently my breath catches. Not romance. Not softness.
Instinct.
Kaelith doesn’t approach this bond like fate. He approaches it like ownership.
And somehow — that should make me step back.
Instead, I hold my ground.
Kaelith notices immediately. The heat sharpens — interest, approval.
Dangerous approval.
“You’re not afraid,” he says.
“No.”
His gold eyes narrow. “You should be.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Silence.
“No,” he says finally. The heat intensifies. “I’m warning everyone else.”
The courtyard goes completely silent. Even Torin stops breathing.
Gods. The terrifying part? I believe him.
Kaelith’s gaze never leaves mine. Not for one second. Like the bond itself refuses to allow it.
The connection tightens again — violent, ancient, possessive in ways that feel far older than language itself.
And standing there in front of a king who looked less like a ruler and more like a natural disaster barely pretending to wear human
skin, I finally understood something horrifying.
Lucien tempted me. Eryndor unsettled me. Cassian steadied me.
But Kaelith — Kaelith was the first one who made me understand exactly how dangerous this bond could become.
Because dragons do not share willingly — and the look in Kaelith’s eyes promised one terrifying truth:
He had no intention of learning quietly.
- Writer
