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When I groan, Aya tips her chin up to me. “Is something wrong? Where’s your dragon?”

Her voice still has a croak in it, and my dragon pushes up for her. My wings tear free and lift us into the air.

“Nothing,” I lie as we climb higher. “I think my dragon is feeling just as guilty as I am.”

We soar over the town with Wintermoon Medical shrinking behind us. Aya cranes over my arm to watch the treetops rush by below. I could listen to her giggle at the wind all night. I’m taking her up again as soon as she’s feeling better.

We reach my cabin on the community lands in six minutes flat. She locks her arms tighter around my neck on the drop toward the clearing. I take my time bringing us down. When my dragon rumbles, Aya curls her fingers into my shirt. He hasn’t been this content since the lightning struck her.

I touch down barefoot in the grass out front. I kicked my shoes off on the hospital steps before I shifted, but I’ll grab them later. Most dragons can’t stand them. Staff have to wear them at the medical center. That’s about the only time you’ll catch us with our feet covered.

Aya wiggles in my arms. “All right, Ezra. I think I’m fine to walk.”

I carry her up the porch stairs instead and stop at the front door. It isn’t locked. No one on this island steals from a dragon. I shoulder it open and stare down at her while she scrunches up her nose. She’s being a beautiful brat, and I love it.

“Ezra,” she huffs. “Put me down.”

She can hear my heartbeat kick up when I step over the threshold. It took a broken window and a lightning bolt to get her here. Now my mate is under my roof, and I’m not giving her back. My dragon presses close to the surface to watch.

I set Aya on her feet with my hands still on her waist. She meets my eyes and gasps.

The mate bond burns up my arms where we touch. Can she feel it too? Does she know what she means to me? I’ve wanted this moment for so long.

She doesn’t pull away when I kiss her. Her lips are dry, but they open under mine. I keep it sweet because she’s hurt. My dragon is after a lot more than that. But she sags into my grip and winces from standing. I scoop her back up.

Aya breaks the kiss and pouts. “It was just a little wince. I’m just sore is all.”

“Aya,” I say. I wait until she’s paying attention. “You know how much I love you.”

She opens her mouth and nothing comes out. I’ve been telling her I love her since she was a pup and I was a hatchling. I’m the one who used to beg her to look in my direction. Years of poems and patience, and she still doesn’t know I kept count.

She grumbles at me up the stairs to the bedroom without putting up a real fight. I ease her down onto the mattress and take the duffel bag to the dresser to unpack. I already bought her plenty to wear here. Still, I know she’ll want her own things.

I put everything away in the drawers and lay a nightgown and some panties out on top. My dragon wants to steal them, and if I’m honest, so do I.

Aya smooths her hand over the comforter and looks around the bare room. I rub the back of my neck while she studies the empty walls. I never hung a picture or added a thing to the furniture that came with the cabin. All I needed was a place to sleep until she got here. She can change every inch of it if she likes.

I can’t stand still with her hurting. “How about a nice soak in the bath?” I ask.

She narrows her eyes at me and swings her feet up to stretch out. She pats the spot next to her. “Come get into bed with me,” she says. “It’s been a long night and I’m still tired.”

I leave the dresser and crawl into bed. As soon as I’m flat on my back, she scoots over. I wrap my arm around Aya and tuck her into my side. She’s pressed against me from shoulder to hip. The bond tugs low in my belly with every breath she takes. My dragon rests easy now that she’s home.

“I’ve had moments where I’ve been close to you,” she says, “but never anything like this.”

She sighs, and her scent goes sweet. Has she been aching for me as bad as I’ve wanted her and hiding it all these years? I don’t push her on it. I squeeze her closer instead.

“It’s magical.” I trace slow circles on her back. “Like the alignment of twin stars finally crossing paths after orbiting separately for millennia.”

Aya yawns. “You sound like your father.”

I snort. She isn’t wrong, and I’m not even mad about it.

“I’ll take a bath in the morning,” she tells me.

I prop myself up on my elbow. “You need water. Mom said⁠—”

She pushes me back down with a weak hand. “I’m fine. I’m sure she pumped me full of fluids. Hydration is a big deal with her.”