“You have?” She blinked rapidly, her voice surprised and a little awed. “I mean, you actually saw one? And…lived?”

I gave a solemn nod. “Yes, but everyone in the Order has seen this particular Viper,” I said. “Not firsthand,” I added quickly, as her eyes got huge. “No one who was there that night survived. But we’ve all seen the footage. It’s from a security camera the Order managed to recover from the area. They make us watch it as part of our training. To fully realize what we’re dealing with.”

Ember wrinkled her nose. “That’s morbid.”

“Yes.” I paused, remembering the fuzzy, black-and-white images: a warehouse aisle, a flickering overhead light, four soldiers creeping forward with guns raised. A blur of shadow as something dropped from the ceiling, into their midst. Screams. Gunfire. The light swinging wildly back and forth.

And then silence, as the lamp swayed over a blood-streaked floor and the sprawl of blackened, shredded bodies, the killer nowhere to be found. “They didn’t have a chance,” I said, remembering the horror I’d felt when I first saw the footage. I was eleven years old, and for weeks afterward, I couldn’t walk into a dark room without scouring the ceiling for dragons. “There was no hesitation on the Viper’s part. It knew exactly what it was doing.”

Ember was still watching me as if she could see the scene play out in my eyes. “That dragon from the video,” I went on, my voice just a breath between us, “the assassin, the killer…you’re not like that, Ember.” I paused, then said, very softly, “You’re not like any dragon I’ve seen before.”

“What am I, then?” she whispered.

My heart was pounding again. Slowly, I reached for her arm, turning her to face me. If she stiffened or pulled back in disgust, I would let her go. But her gaze rose to mine, direct and unafraid, and my breath caught.

“You’re the girl who taught me to surf,” I said, holding her stare. “And shoot zombies. And dance. And to never make you angry, even in human form, or risk being kicked where the sun don’t shine.” She snorted, not quite smiling, but her eyes lightened a shade at the memory. I smiled and eased closer, feeling the heat pulse between us, even in the stifling Vegas air.

“You’re the dragon who chose not to kill a soldier of St. George when you had the chance,” I went on in a softer voice. “You risked your life to break into a compound full of enemies who would slaughter you on sight, to rescue someone you should hate.” Unbidden, my other hand rose, brushing a fiery strand of hair from her eyes, and she shivered. “I don’t know what that makes you, exactly, but from where I’m standing, I’d say it’s pretty amazing.”