The kiss that burns

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – “The Kiss That Burns”

The Emberfall garden lay hushed in the night, its roses glowing faintly with emberlight. Moonlight spilled in fractured streams across the stone paths, but even the pale glow of the sky seemed dull compared to the restless shimmer of the fire-roses. Their petals pulsed faintly, ember veins flickering as if they, too, were listening for something.

Rowan’s boots whispered against the gravel as she paced back and forth, her steps quick, her breath too tight. The chill of night clung to her skin, but it couldn’t cool the heat that still roared through her veins. The events of the night refused to leave her chest—the spell that had dragged her under, the shadows curling in her lungs, the darkness threatening to swallow her whole. And then him. Kai, cutting through the void like a blade, fire blazing in his eyes, pulling her free when she thought she was gone.

Her throat worked against the lump rising there. He had saved her—again. And she needed answers.

When she heard his footsteps, steady and unhurried, her heart lurched. She didn’t have to turn to know it was him; the air shifted differently when Kai was near, heavy and alive, charged with fire and storm.

Rowan spun around sharply. “Why?”

Kai halted a few paces away. His cloak shifted with the breeze, dark fabric catching faintly in the emberlight. His face was shadowed, but his eyes glowed faint gold, molten and unreadable.

“Why what?” His voice was low, controlled.

Her chest tightened. “Why do you keep saving me?”

The words came out harsher than she meant, her voice cracking at the edges. “Every time something happens, you’re there. You could let me fall. You could let them win. But you don’t. Why?”

For a moment, the garden was silent, broken only by the hiss of roses unfurling wider, as though feeding on the heat of their tension. His jaw tightened, the smallest flicker of emotion betraying him. But he said nothing.

“Is it guilt?” she pressed, anger lacing her fear. She stepped closer, her fists clenched. “Duty? The prophecy? Or is it because you think I can’t stand on my own?”

Kai’s eyes burned brighter in the dim light, his silence more cutting than any words.

“You want an answer?” His voice was rough, strained with something he wasn’t saying.

Her chin lifted, though her chest hammered. “I deserve one.”

The night held its breath. The ember-roses hissed louder, petals glowing like tiny sparks, curling outward as if trying to escape their stems. Then Kai moved. Two long strides, and the space between them vanished.

Rowan froze as the air thickened, heavy with fire, with heat, with something more dangerous than either of them should want. Her body betrayed her—breath shallow, pulse stumbling.

Instead of words, Kai caught her hand. He pressed it flat against his chest, holding it there. Beneath her palm, his heartbeat thundered like a war drum, wild and unsteady.

Rowan’s lips parted, her voice breaking in a whisper. “Kai…”

The heat that surged through the bond wasn’t soft—it was wildfire. It rushed through her veins like a storm tearing apart old walls, demanding to be felt. The dragon sigil on her arm pulsed in answer, a faint glow crawling across her skin as though waking from slumber.

Kai’s jaw clenched. His voice was rough when it finally came. “Every time I tell myself to stay away,” he said, eyes locked on hers, “and every time I find myself running toward you.”

Her pulse hammered harder, her thoughts splintering. “That doesn’t explain—”

His lips brushed close enough that she felt the heat of his breath, cutting her words short. “Maybe it doesn’t need explaining.”

The bond snapped tight, flaring like a bowstring. It pulled her forward, dragged her closer, tugged her heart against his as if gravity itself had decided for them. Rowan should have stepped back. She knew she should. Instead, her fingers curled tighter into the rough fabric of his tunic, steadying herself against the fire roaring between them.

“Kai,” she whispered, voice trembling, caught between warning and plea.

His hand rose, steady, deliberate, until his palm cradled her jaw. His thumb brushed lightly across her cheek, leaving heat in its wake. For once, his mask wasn’t there—the iron control, the walls, the distance he always kept. What burned in his gaze now was raw, unshielded fire. A hunger, a truth, waiting to consume.

And then his lips crashed against hers.

The kiss was not gentle. It was not careful. It was a spark thrown into dry kindling, a storm breaking after years of drought. Fire ripped through her chest, roaring through the garden, spiraling from the roses in wild bursts. Flames shot up the stone walls, raced across vines, burst into the night sky in violent beauty.

Rowan’s body felt like it was breaking open and remade in the same breath. His fire slammed against hers, wild and fierce, and hers rose to meet it, no longer contained. They tangled together until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.

Her hands clutched him tighter, pulling him closer, not out of fear but out of sheer refusal to let go. The bond hummed like molten metal, too strong to resist.

When at last their lips broke apart, both of them breathless, the fire didn’t calm. It raged on, surrounding them, alive, echoing the frantic rhythm of their hearts. The roses burned without turning to ash, the flames bending in strange rhythm, as if the garden itself was bound to them.

Rowan staggered back half a step, her breath ragged, her skin tingling with unbearable heat. She looked down—and froze.

Her hands. They glowed faintly. Light shimmered beneath her skin, crawling along her veins like molten rivers. She lifted her palms, turning them over, staring at the faint shimmer dancing across her arms, her chest, her throat.

“What… what’s happening to me?” she whispered, her voice breaking. Fear laced with awe tangled in her chest.

Kai reached out, steadying her shoulders before she could stumble further. His fingers gripped firm, grounding her, even as faint flames still licked along his own arms. His golden eyes softened, though fire still glimmered at their edges.

“You’re becoming more than Dragonheart,” he said softly, the words reverent, as though the truth itself might shatter if spoken too loud.

Rowan’s breath caught, her chest heaving. She lifted her gaze to his, the glow of her veins reflecting in her wide eyes.

“You’re becoming fire itself.”