Chapter 68
The Infirmary Rule: No Biting (Technically)
The infirmary smelled like sage, antiseptic, and bad decisions.
Thorne carried me through the double doors like I weighed nothing, kicked them shut behind us, and set me on the closest bed with a gentleness that felt criminal.
The room was empty (white curtains, moonlight filtering through iron-barred windows, a tray of silver instruments that looked more torture than treatment).
He locked the door.
Click.
My pulse spiked so hard my scales lit up like runway lights.
"Relax," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm not going to bite you."
"Yet," I muttered.
He shot me a look that could have melted steel.
The fever was worse now: skin on fire, dragon blood boiling, every heartbeat trying to claw its way out of my chest. I gripped the edge of the bed to keep from shaking apart.
Thorne grabbed a crystal bowl from the counter, filled it with something that smelled like frost and lightning, then knelt in front of me.
"Shirt off," he ordered.
"Buy me dinner first."
He didn't laugh. "The scales are spreading. If we don't cool them down, you'll combust. Literally."
I hesitated, then peeled the shredded tank over my head. The scales had crawled across my collarbones, down between my breasts, glowing molten gold against my skin.
Thorne's breath caught (audible, ragged).
For a second the hunger won. Fangs fully extended, eyes bleeding to black.
I didn't flinch.
He closed his eyes, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went bloodless.
"Riley," he said, voice shredded. "I need you to trust me."
"I don't trust anyone."
"Then fake it for five minutes."
He dipped his hands in the bowl. The liquid turned to living ice, climbing his fingers like frost vines.
Then he touched me.
Cold met fire and screamed.
His palms pressed over the scales on my sternum, pushing the frost deep. My back arched off the bed; a cry tore out of me that was half pain, half something else entirely.
The ice sank in, racing through my veins, wrestling the dragon fire into submission. Every place he touched went numb, then electric, then aching in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.
I grabbed his wrists to steady myself (or to pull him closer; I wasn't sure).
His shadows slipped free, sliding over my bare skin like silk, drinking the excess heat. The more he took, the steadier I felt.
The more he took, the hungrier he looked.
Minutes or hours later (time had melted), the glow under my skin dimmed to embers.
I was breathing hard. So was he.
His hands were still on me, one over my heart, the other low on my ribs. Frost and shadow curled between us like smoke.
"Better?" he asked, voice rough.
I managed a nod.
He didn't move his hands.
I didn't ask him to.
We stayed like that (frozen in the moment where cold and fire learned they could coexist), until the door handle rattled.
Thorne yanked back so fast he nearly fell.
Li burst in, took one look at us (shirtless me, Thorne on his knees, frost and shadows still clinging to both of us), and her eyes went comically wide.
"Oh my gods, I'm interrupting vampire-dragon foreplay."
"Get out," Thorne and I said at the same time.
She held up both hands. "Just came to warn you—Elowen's on her way with the Council. They felt the flare. They're… concerned."
Footsteps echoed in the hallway (multiple, heavy, official).
Thorne cursed under his breath, grabbed my ruined tank, and helped me pull it back on with clinical efficiency that still managed to feel like sin.
The door opened again.
Elowen walked in flanked by two ancient vampires in Council robes and Professor Grimshaw looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Elowen's gaze went from my flushed face to Thorne's still-extended fangs to the frostbite-shaped handprints on my skin.
"Well," she said calmly. "That's one way to stabilize a dragon flare."
Thorne stepped in front of me, shadows rising like a wall.
"She's under control," he said.
"For now," Elowen replied. "Council wants her in warded quarters until the next trial. Separate dorm. Silver restraints at night."
"No," Thorne and I said together.
Again.
Elowen's eyebrow arched. "Then you give me another option, Blackwood. Because the alternative is execution at dawn."
Silence.
Then I stood (legs shaky, but standing).
"I'll behave," I said. "But I keep my roommate, my classes, and my dignity. And he stays close enough to cool me down when I overheat. Doctor's orders."
Grimshaw snorted. "That's not how medicine works, Kane."
"It is now."
Elowen studied us for a long moment.
"Very well," she said finally. "But the first time you lose control, dragon girl, the leash becomes a noose."
She turned to leave, then paused.
"Oh, and Blackwood?"
He met her gaze.
"Next time you decide to play doctor, lock the door better."
The Council left.
Li whistled low. "You two are so expelled. Or married. Hard to tell."
Thorne and I didn't look at each other.
But under the bed, where no one could see, his shadows brushed my ankle (gentle, reassuring, possessive).
And my scales answered with a soft, secret glow.
Trial by Fire (Literally)
They held the first official Trial at moonrise in the old dueling arena (a sunken stone circle ringed by bleachers carved from dragon bone). Torches burned blue witchfire. The air tasted like ozone and anticipation.
Four hundred students packed the stands. Betting slips changed hands faster than spells. Someone had chalked "DRAGON VS. VAMPIRE – PLACE YOUR BETS" across the entrance arch in what looked suspiciously like blood.
I stood at one end of the circle in academy-issued combat gear: black leather reinforced with dragon-scale mesh (ironic), hair braided tight, silver cuffs on my wrists that hummed with containment runes. Thorne stood ten feet away, same gear but sleeveless, shadows curling lazily around his forearms like living tattoos.
Elowen's voice rang out from the judge's platform.
"Trial by Fire. Objective: subdue your opponent without killing them. First to yield or be forced from the circle loses. Begin on my mark."
Jax leaned over the railing above me, grinning like a maniac. "Try not to barbecue the prince, Kane. Some of us still need him breathing."
Li, beside him, waved a little flag that read TEAM FORBIDDEN ROMANCE in glitter.
I flipped them both off.
Elowen raised her hand.
The torches flared.
"Begin."
Thorne moved first (a blur of shadow and lethal grace). I barely tracked him before his shoulder slammed into my chest and the world spun. We hit the ground hard, rolled, came up with him pinning my wrists above my head.
His mouth was an inch from my throat.
The containment cuffs sparked, trying to leash my fire. They failed.
Scales erupted down my arms, molten gold under the moon. Heat poured off me in waves.
Thorne's eyes went full black. Fangs fully extended.
"Yield," he growled.
"Make me."
I bucked hard. He lost his grip for half a second (enough). I twisted, got a knee between us, and flipped him over my head. He landed on his back in the dirt with me straddling his chest, hands braced on his shoulders.
The crowd lost its collective mind.
Fire licked along my palms, close enough to singe his jacket.
His shadows surged up my arms, cool and hungry, drinking the heat like wine.
We froze.
Because the second shadow touched fire, something snapped into place.
The bond.
Not a leash. Not a curse.
A circuit.
His power flooded me (cold, endless night). Mine flooded him (wildfire, sunrise, dragon rage).
For one perfect heartbeat we were one creature: ice and flame, hunger and heat, predator and prey learning they were the same damn thing.
The containment cuffs exploded off my wrists in a shower of silver sparks.
The crowd went dead silent.
Thorne's pupils shrank back to storm-gray. My scales dimmed to soft ember-glow.
We stared at each other, breathing the same air, feeling the same impossible pull.
Elowen's voice cracked across the arena like a gunshot.
"Stand down! Both of you!"
We didn't.
I leaned down until our foreheads touched.
"Truce?" I whispered.
His answer was a shaky exhale against my lips.
"Truce."
Then Jax's voice, awed: "Holy shit, did they just… merge?"
Li squealed loud enough to shatter glass.
Elowen looked like she was calculating how many centuries of paperwork this was going to cost her.
Thorne and I separated slowly, reluctantly. The bond snapped but didn't break (it just coiled tighter, waiting).
I offered him a hand up.
He took it.
The second our palms met, the arena torches flared gold and black in perfect rings.
The crowd finally found its voice: a roar that shook the dragon-bone bleachers.
Elowen pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Trial declared a draw," she announced. "Detention for both combatants. And someone get me a drink."
As we walked out of the circle (still holding hands because neither of us was ready to let go), Jax vaulted the railing and jogged alongside.
"So," he said cheerfully, "when's the wedding?"
Thorne's shadows flicked out and tripped him into a torch post.
I laughed so hard my ribs hurt.
But under the laughter, the bond hummed (low, steady, inevitable).
We'd just shown the entire academy what happened when dragon blood and vampire prince decided to stop fighting each other.
And somewhere in the shadows, something ancient opened one eye and smiled.