The Harbinger's Forbidden Mate

POV: Rory Hale

"Dragon-born," Maya said, almost reverent. "Better pray he's not paired with you."

"Rory Hale."

The sound of my name shattered like thunder.

Every head turned.

Blood drained from my face.

"No," I muttered. "No, that's not fair"

"It's perfect," the Headmistress stated coldly. "Let us see what the Marked One is worth."

The mob parted, propelling me forward into the circle. Darius's smile was slow, predatory.

"Lucky me," he drawled. "Fresh blood."

I forced myself to face his eyes. "I don't want to fight you."

"Then you'll lose quickly," he remarked, his voice silky but vicious. "And losing here means bleeding."

The room vibrated with tension as he circled me, his eyes burning brighter.

"Defend yourself," he hissed.

"I can't," I muttered.

"Then burn."

The shift raced through him in a swirl of heat and light. Scales shimmered down his arms, his teeth lengthened, and fire licked between his lips.

Someone yelled. Someone else cheered.

And then the globe burst in flames.

The fire roared toward me like a live thing, gold and scarlet, filling my eyes. Heat surged into me with furious forceI threw my arms up, braced for anguish, for my flesh to blister and burn.

But the ache never arrived.

I opened my eyes.

The flames curled about me, dancing down my arms, my hair, my body... yet not scorching. Not even aching. It seemed like the flames knew me, sliding over my skin like liquid light, warm but secure.

Gasps filled the room.

"What the hell" Maya's voice pierced through the silence.

Darius lurched back, his eyes wide, his flames choking into smoke. "No. That's... that's impossible."

I dropped my arms carefully, marvelling at the faint golden glow lingering on my skin. My voice trembled. "Why didn't it hurt me?"

Darius's countenance twisted fear, bewilderment, wrath all entwined in his fiery eyes.

"You should be ashes," he snarled. "No one survives dragon fire. No one."

"I'm standing right here," I muttered.

"Exactly," he yelled, his voice harsh with panic. "And that means you're not what you think you are."

The crowd erupted in murmuring. Some glanced at me with wonder, others with hunger, but all of them with something keen in their gazes.

The Headmistress's lips twisted into the slightest, most menacing smile.

"Interesting," she mumbled. "Very interesting."

Darius came closer, chest heaving, his voice lowering low so only I could hear.

"What are you, Rory Hale?"

I shook my head, voice breaking. "I don't know."

But the truth is buried firmly in my chest.

Maybe I wasn't just prey. Maybe I was something worse.

I should have been dead. Instead, the dragon fire had clung to me like it belonged.

Why didn't the flames burn me?

The gym lights flickered, shadows flashing over the walls. My army cursed arm began to glow softly again, threads of gold under my skin.

Gasps swept through the crowd.

"She's the Marked One," someone muttered.

Darius froze, staring at the radiance like it was the end of the world.

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "Not Marked. Something worse. Something... older."

The term older blasted at me like ice.

Before I could ask, the Headmistress clapped her hands once. The sound was harsh as steel.

"Enough," she commanded. "Class dismissed. Except..." Her stare fastened on me, cold and thrilled. "Rory Hale stays."

The other kids faded out, their whispers like daggers against my skin. Darius didn't move. He just kept staring at me, his mouth clinched so firmly I felt his teeth may snap.

Finally, he continued, "If you survive here, Hale... it won't be because you're lucky. It'll be because the rest of us are too terrified to touch you."

His comments remained like smoke as he turned and stormed out.

The Headmistress's voice drifted into the silence. "You should be dead. Yet here you stand. Tell me, Rory, how does it feel to go through fire?"

I swallowed hard. "I don't know what's happening to me."

Her smile sharpened. "Oh, but I do. And very soon... so will you."

The Headmistress moved closer, her whisper curling like smoke against my ear.

"Tell me, child... why didn't the flames burn you?"

The first time I saw him, the air in the classroom stopped moving.

He strode inside, towering and sharp like shadows cutting through sunlight. His coat was black, too clean for this dilapidated school, and his presence quieted the muttering of even the cruelest kids.

But it was his eyes that destroyed me.

Cold, gray, interminable. And when they found mine, the globe tilted.

"It's you," he muttered. Not loud, but enough.

A wave went through the room.

My stomach sank.

Me?

I shifted in my seat, heat rising to my face. My voice shook. "Do... Do I know you?"

His eyes pinned me like steel. "No. But I know what you are."

My heart stumbled. Around me, the other students muttered, their curiosity like blades at my back.

"Professor Ward," the Headmistress stated from the doorway, her tone sharp. "Is there a problem?"

His jaw stiffened. "Not yet."

I sat frozen as he turned away, writing his name across the board with steady strokes: Professor Elias Ward.

Maya nudged me, muttering beneath her breath. "He looked at you like you were dinner and disaster all at once. What the hell did you do?"