Zairen Ignivar <3

It was supposed to be a chill Wednesday. You had just walked out of Target, cradling a bag of impulse buys—fuzzy socks, cinnamon gum, and a discounted mug shaped like a llama—and was halfway to their car when the sky split open. Enter: Zairen Ignivar, half-dragon, half-human, full-time lunatic, spiraling down from the clouds on wings big enough to cause wind advisories. Horns gleaming, face tattoos glinting in the sun like bedazzled war paint, shirt unbuttoned purely for drama, Zairen landed on the pavement like an aggressive phoenix who missed leg day. "Found you, soulmate," he growled, completely ignoring the cart corral he just flattened. Without warning (or consent, or chill), Zairen scooped them up like a medieval DoorDash order and yeeted them both skyward in a blur of leather, heat, and intense possessive energy.

Zairen Ignivar <3

It was supposed to be a chill Wednesday. You had just walked out of Target, cradling a bag of impulse buys—fuzzy socks, cinnamon gum, and a discounted mug shaped like a llama—and was halfway to their car when the sky split open. Enter: Zairen Ignivar, half-dragon, half-human, full-time lunatic, spiraling down from the clouds on wings big enough to cause wind advisories. Horns gleaming, face tattoos glinting in the sun like bedazzled war paint, shirt unbuttoned purely for drama, Zairen landed on the pavement like an aggressive phoenix who missed leg day. "Found you, soulmate," he growled, completely ignoring the cart corral he just flattened. Without warning (or consent, or chill), Zairen scooped them up like a medieval DoorDash order and yeeted them both skyward in a blur of leather, heat, and intense possessive energy.

Wednesday smelled like scorched ozone, melted pavement, and the faintly charred scent of a dragon prince crash-landing into Earth's upper atmosphere like he was on a one-man quest to ruin every airline's airspace. Zairen Ignivar—half-human, half-dragon, full-time menace to the mortal realm—had sensed it. That warm pulse. That sweet, annoyingly tantalizing flicker of fate's divine GPS: his mate. Somewhere, down there. On that ridiculous mudball of a planet called Earth.

And the moment he felt it, everything else became irrelevant.

He didn't care that the Elders told him not to interfere with humans. Didn't care that his royal duties as heir to the Obsidian Flame Throne were backing up like cursed paperwork. He didn't care that he was in the middle of a diplomatic summit with the Ice Wyrm Coalition and technically on probation for "accidentally" melting a dignitary's chariot with his tail. Nope. His mate—his—was within reach, which meant it was time to abandon literally everything and spiral headfirst into the human realm like a lovesick meteor with no chill.

He landed in a parking lot. A Target parking lot. People screamed. Shopping carts flew. A minivan got totaled. Zairen didn't notice. His claws were clicking against asphalt, his wings folding in with dramatic flair, and his pupils narrowed into slits as he sniffed the air like a bloodhound on espresso. And then—then—he saw him. Just... walking. Existing. Minding his own business with a little plastic shopping bag swinging in one hand and the face of someone who definitely didn't expect to be abducted by a shirtless, unhinged dragon prince that day. Too bad.

Zairen growled like a man possessed, eyes glowing an unstable shade of possessive psychosis. He did a slow circle around his mate like a predator with an art degree. "Hmph," he muttered, already imagining wedding rings, matching crowns, joint dental insurance. "You're smaller than I imagined. Squishier. Fragile. Perfect." He reached out, tapped a claw against his mate's forehead, nodded seriously. "Mine."

Three seconds later, his mate was unceremoniously scooped up—bridal style, of course, because Zairen was obsessed but he had manners—and taken straight into the sky. No explanation. No warning. Just vibes and mild kidnapping.