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Bound By Fire: The Dragon Prince's Obsession Novel Cover

Bound By Fire: The Dragon Prince's Obsession

Seraphina Carlisle wakes to fire in her veins, surrounded by ice. Once a void operative trained among interstellar empires, she is yanked back to her homeland as the "useless" granddaughter of a Dragon Lord. When her cousin Cammie doses her with a blood-boiling aphrodisiac and hires a thug to ruin her, Seraphina fights back—and uses a stranger as her antidote. But he is no vagrant: Aldric Beaumont, the feared Prince Regent. Now she plans to wield his power to repay every humiliation with interest.
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Chapter 1

Seraphina POV:

A searing heat jolted me awake.

My skin was on fire, a furnace blazing from the inside out. But the air was frigid, biting at my exposed arms. The contrast was a specific kind of hell.

I forced my eyes open. Ice. Everywhere. I was in a natural cave of shimmering, blue-white ice.

My head throbbed. My own memories, sluggish and blurred by the drug, rushed back in a tangled flood.

I was Seraphina Carlisle. Granddaughter of the Dragon Lord of House Carlisle. Known throughout the city of Dragon's Landing as its most useless noblewoman.

Because I couldn't shift. I had no dragon.

But that wasn't the whole story.

I was born here, in this world of dragon-kin, yet years ago, by some twist of fate, I was thrown into another realm, a higher, more advanced civilization: a realm of interstellar empires and esoteric arcane arts, where star‑ships sailed beside floating citadels and reality was woven with cosmic sorcery.

There, I lived, learned, and trained. I became an interstellar arcane medic and a tactical void operative under brutal, efficient instructors.

Then, just as inexplicably, I was pulled back to my original world, back to Dragon's Landing, back to this ice cave, back to being the "useless" noblewoman.

A fresh wave of heat, more intense this time, ripped through me. My stomach convulsed. This wasn't just pain. It was poison.

The memories supplied a name: Chaos Fire. A brutal aphrodisiac of dragon origin. Without a partner to absorb the heat, my dragon-kin blood would boil, and my veins would rupture.

Damn it.

The face of my cousin, Cammie Faulkner, flashed in my mind. Her sweet smile. Her venomous heart.

I suspected she’d poisoned me. She was jealous that, useless as I was, I still had a promising marriage arranged for me.

I had to cool down. Now.

I pushed myself up, my palms sliding against the slick ice wall. The cold was a brief, sweet relief against my burning skin.

A faint light trickled in from the cave's entrance. And in the shadows near it, something moved.

A dark shape. A man.

My training kicked in. I quieted my breathing, what little of it I could manage, and moved toward him, using the jagged ice formations for cover.

He was dressed in rags, his hair matted. A lowlife. He was staring at me, a greedy, disgusting leer on his face. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.

So this was Cammie's "antidote." Tsk, a street thug.

He saw me. A grin split his dirty face.

"Well, well, Lady Seraphina,the useless noble who can't even shift. Your precious fiancé won't want a tarnished whore, will he? Someone's paid me a handsome sum to take good care of you.That Chaos Fire in your veins? I'll quench it, but I won't be gentle – you'll be nothing but a ruined slut by the time I'm done."

He lunged.

I twisted my body, letting his momentum carry him past me. As he stumbled, I drove my elbow hard into his ribs.

He screamed, a wet, gurgling sound. I used the impact to propel myself deeper into the cave, rolling away from the entrance.

But the heat was draining my strength. Fast. I couldn't fight him for long. I needed a real solution. A colder one.

Just as the darkness started to close in, I felt it.

A presence from the deepest part of the cave. An aura so cold it felt like it could freeze my very soul. It wasn't the cold of ice. It was the cold of a living being.

Hope, sharp and desperate, pierced through the haze of pain.

I staggered toward the source of the cold, my body screaming in protest. I rounded a massive ice crystal, and then I saw him.

A man, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

He was meditating. A mane of brilliant gold hair stood out even in the gloom. A thin layer of frost coated his handsome, chiseled face. His lips were purple. He was clearly in his own world of agony.

My medic's brain made an instant diagnosis. This man's profound cold was exactly what I needed. And my infernal heat could be exactly what he needed.

It was a perfect match.

I didn't hesitate. I stumbled toward him.

Behind me, the thug, Rick Tucker, was back on his feet. "You think you can escape? Without me, you'll be dead in minutes!" he yelled, his footsteps echoing in the cave.

The meditating man's eyelashes fluttered. He was being disturbed. He was about to wake up.

I couldn't let that happen. An awake dragon-kin was too dangerous, too unpredictable.

I used the last of my strength to lunge forward, collapsing at his feet. His body was like a block of ancient, frozen marble. The second my skin touched his, a gasp of pure relief escaped my lips.

I could feel a violent, yet incredibly weak, power resisting me from within him. It was the scent of an old wound, a wound inflicted by Dragonslayer Gold, and it was eating away at his soul.

I ignored the deep frown that creased his brow at my touch. I leaned down.

And I kissed his frozen lips.

Rick Tucker skidded to a halt just behind me, his jaw dropping as he stared at the scene.

The man's eyes snapped open.

They were the eyes of a dragon. Pure, molten gold, filled with shock and a universe of fury.

He tried to push me away, but I clung to him, using my years of cross‑world combat training to pin his weakened body.

"Save me," I whispered, my voice a raw rasp against his ear. "And I'll save you."

My Chaos Fire met the Dragonslayer Gold's chill inside him. The two opposing forces collided, not with an explosion, but with a powerful, magnetic pull.

The rage in his golden eyes slowly gave way to a primal, instinctual need. His body stopped fighting me. It started responding.

I tore at the front of his tunic. It was made of rich, heavy fabric, but frozen stiff. The intricate gold-thread embroidery, a pattern of scales, scratched my fingers. This was no ordinary man.

I pushed Rick Tucker from my mind. He was nothing. Only this man mattered. Only this "cure."

We came together skin to skin, his frozen body pressing against my burning flesh.

I straddled him, and we moved as one—frantic, desperate, each thrust and sway feeding the exchange between fire and frost. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, while my fingers tangled in his golden hair.

Our breaths mingled in ragged gasps, and I felt the poison drain from my veins with every pulse of our joined rhythm. When the wave crested, we both shuddered, collapsing into each other, the heat and cold finally balanced.

I could feel the fire inside me receding, replaced by a calm I hadn't felt since I'd woken up in this hell.The toxin in my system has been temporarily held at bay.

The man's breathing was evening out. The frost on his face began to melt. My heat was working.

In the depths of the frozen cave, with a filthy witness, I and this strange, ice-cold man found our mutual salvation in the most primal way possible.

When it was over, I collapsed against his chest, my consciousness fading.

Whoever you are, I thought hazily, you're mine now.

Then, from outside the cave, came the sound of shouting and the flickering light of torches. A large group was approaching.

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