Chapter 167 The Problem Was Never The Fire

Chapter 167 The Problem Was Never The Fire
Ashlyn

Paul doesn’t move when the fire dies down. He stays where he is, boots planted near the riverbank, hands loose at his sides, shoulders relaxed like this is exactly what he hoped would happen when he brought me out here. The flames shrink back into glowing embers, smoke lifting and thinning until it’s just heat and the sound of water rushing past, loud and constant, like the world refusing to make a big deal out of what I just did. I wipe my hands on my thighs out of habit, even though there’s nothing on them. My pulse is still racing, fire buzzing low under my skin, satisfied in a way that makes my limbs feel loose and heavy all at once.
“You’re smiling,” I say.
Because he is. He's sporting the kind of smile you don’t put on unless you mean it.
“You needed that,” he says.
I scoff lightly. “You say that like you planned it.”
He shrugs, slow and unapologetic. “I hoped.”
I look back at the scorched ground, the blackened wood still faintly glowing, the way the river reflects the firelight so beautifully.
“I usually get yelled at for that,” I admit.
Paul’s brow furrows. “For burning things?”
“For being too much,” I say, and it slips out easier than I expect. “Too loud. Too angry. Too sharp. Too… fiery.”
He takes a step closer, the space tightens, and the air feels warmer for reasons that have nothing to do with flames.
“I don’t think you’re too much,” he says. “I think you were never given a place to put it.”
I let out a quiet breath.
“You’re very calm about this,” I say. “Most people would be backing away slowly.”
“I told you,” he replies. “I come here to burn things too.”
I glance at him, sceptical. “You do not.”
He smiles, wider this time. “Not like you, but anger has to go somewhere, Ash. I’d rather it go into fire and stone than into people.”
The way he says my name like that does something strange to my insides. I step closer without deciding to, toes brushing the edge of the scorched earth.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” I ask.
Paul doesn’t answer right away. He lifts one hand slowly, giving me time to pull back if I want to. I don’t. His fingers hover near my wrist, close enough that I feel the heat of him.
“Because you don’t burn without reason,” he says. “And because you stop when it matters.”
His hand closes gently around my wrist, fingers sliding cautiously down and threading with my own. My fire settles even further, curling in on itself like it’s decided he’s safe.
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You are very inconvenient.”
“So I’ve been told.”
We’re so close now. Close enough that I can see the flecks of colour in his eyes, the faint scar near his jaw, the way his breath changes when he realises I’m not backing away.
“You’re not going to tell me to calm down,” I say.
“No.”
“You’re not going to tell me to behave.”
“No.”
“You’re not going to lock me in a room and tell me it’s for my own good.”
Something dark flickers through his expression, gone as fast as it appears. “Never.”
That’s it. That’s the line I needed. I step fully into his space, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, right over his chest. His heart is racing. So is mine. His dragon stirs in his eyes, watching something unfold that it doesn’t want to miss.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Then we’re going to have a problem.”
His mouth curves. “I suspected as much.”
I tilt my head, studying him, this man who brought me to a place where fire was allowed to exist without apology, who stood there smiling while I let myself unravel. This man, who involuntarily tied his soul to mine, was willing to lose his mind rather than force me to love him.
“Are you going to ask permission?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says immediately.
I lean in until our foreheads nearly touch.
"May I kiss you?" He whispers.
“You may,” I tell him.
His hand tightens slightly on my mine. His other hand lifts, settling at my waist, and then he leans in, lips colliding with mine. The kiss is soft. A brush of lips that feels like a question instead of a claim. His breath hitches, and when I deepen it, just a little, he follows, careful not to overwhelm me, like even now he’s listening with his mouth. His dragon answers with a deep, rumbling purr that vibrates through him, spreading throughout my body and making me giddy. When we part, it’s only because breathing becomes necessary.

“Well,” I murmur, resting my forehead against his. “That didn’t ruin anything.”
Paul laughs quietly. “Thank the gods.”
I pull back just enough to really look at him. There’s no fear in his eyes. No urge to cage or tame. There is a heat held in check by respect, and an undeniable awe in his eyes, though.
“You know,” I say thoughtfully, “this is usually the part where everything goes wrong.”
“Does it have to?” he asks.
I consider that, watching the river, the embers, the way the smoke drifts harmlessly into the sky.
“No,” I decide. “I don’t think it does.”
He smiles again and offers me his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go back before you decide to burn something else.”
I lace my fingers through his. “No promises.”
We walk away from the river together, leaving scorched earth and cooling embers behind us. My fire is quiet now, like it’s found somewhere it doesn’t need to fight. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m running. I feel like I’m choosing where to stand still... and honestly, if it's beside this giant dragon man, with a heart of gold and a soft spot just for me to see, I'm okay with that.