Several hours later, Octavia spotted her cave in the distance. Decades had passed since her last visit, but hopefully, her treasure was still untouched. After all, she’d paid a witch an indecent sum of money to ward it.
All dragons in the Rose Empire had hoards. It was in their blood. Most people assumed that because the dragons lived in villages like Firefall, they were poor, but that wasn’t the case. They pooled resources and ensured everyone was looked after, but each dragon’s treasure belonged to them.
In theory, everyone was cared for, and no one was lonely. It was just a fucking theory, though. The past few decades had taught Octavia that loneliness could still exist even when someone was surrounded by people.
But she wasn’t lonely anymore.
Roaring, she banked her wings and hoped that Flynn was holding on tight. She angled towards the ground and touched down smoothly right in front of the cave entrance. A perfect landing.
Thumping her tail on the ground, Octavia patiently waited as Flynn slipped off her back.
He moved in front of her and studied the mountain. An opening just large enough for two people was cut into the mountainside. “It’s a…cave.” He lifted a brow. “Is this… your cave?”
She nodded. She claimed it after her very first messenger job. She’d delivered a missive to Lord Caron, a high-ranking noble of the Emerald Court. The lord had paid Octavia handsomely, and once she’d outfitted the cave, she’d hired a local witch to enchant it for her.
If Flynn tried to enter it now, he would be stopped by magic. Hopefully, he would wait. Octavia had no desire to see what would happen if someone tried to enter the cave without her dismantling the wards. This was one of those moments where it would’ve been helpful if she could communicate with Flynn while she was in this form.
Lifting her head, she gestured for Flynn to back up. He did, intrigue filling his eyes.
Octavia pulled on the shift and let the rapid change come over her. By the time she stood on her two legs, Flynn had fished out her clothes and held them out to her with his eyes squeezed shut. That was an unexpected, albeit unnecessary, sweet gesture.
“Thank you,” she murmured and took the clothes.
“Always.”
Gods, why did that one word sound like a promise?
Octavia took her time as she dressed, taking advantage of the opportunity to look over her witch. Maybe it was the bond between them, or maybe it was something else, but she was drawn to him more with each passing day.
Flynn stood still, the slight movement of his chest the only sign that he was alive. His reddish-brown hair was disheveled from the flight, his cheeks were red, his lips were as kissable as ever, and his eyelashes were long.
The dragon shifter stood by her initial assessment of the witch—he was far too handsome for his own good. The difference between now and their first meeting was that this time, Octavia didn’t mind his handsomeness.
Not. At. All.
“I’m decent,” she said as she drew her curly black hair out of the tunic’s collar. “Can I borrow your sword?”
Flynn’s brows shot up as he opened his eyes. “Uh, sure.” He slid the weapon out of its sheath, his muscles rippling with the movement. “Here.”
Accepting the blade, she held the hilt with one hand and sliced her other palm against the sharpened steel.
“What the fuck?” Flynn snarled.
She handed him the blade, her dripping blood staining the grass red as she studied the cave entrance. “Relax, I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding!” Panic sharpened his voice. “By definition, that’s not fine.”
His concern was admirable, and Octavia’s heart swelled. “It’s okay. I’ll heal. I just need to find the key to the blood ward…”
Her voice trailed off as she found the rock she was looking for. She crouched, placing her bleeding palm on the gray shale. The gentle hum of magic crawled over her skin like an endless brush of feathers. Several heartbeats passed before the air shifted.
“There.” Octavia straightened and flexed her palm. A dull pain was present, but her hand was already healing. There were benefits to being a Mature dragon shifter, after all. She reached over and laced her fingers through his. “Hold on, this shouldn’t hurt.”
“Wait. Shouldn’t?”
They were already through the entrance by the time Flynn finished speaking. The ward ran over her like water, but theywere both able to step through. That was good. She would hate if her mate were hurt because of something she did.
Exhaling, Octavia released his hand and grabbed the gnarled walking stick she’d left here. “Come on, Flynn. It’s safe.”