The sight made something in her chest purr with satisfaction, even as her human mind tried to make sense of where she was.
Next, Sol's breath caught as she became aware of the bodies pressed against her. The warmth radiating from her left—a sun-soaked heat that seeped into her bones. The cooler presence on her right—not cold, but temperate, like shade on a summer day.
She turned her head slowly.
Korin.
He lay facing her, one muscular arm draped possessively across her waist, his golden eyes closed in sleep. Even at rest, he was devastating—all sharp cheekbones and full lips, his dark hair spilling across the pillow like ink.
His bare chiseled chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths, and Sol's gaze traced the planes of muscle, the golden skin that glittered faintly along his shoulders and down his arms, not fully hidden even in human form.
He’s my. . .mate.
Sol swallowed hard and turned her head the other way.
Pyrran.
To her shock, he was awake.
She tensed.
Those terrifying silver eyes watched her with an intensity that made her skin prickle—but there was no cruelty in them now.
No cold amusement.
Instead, she saw something that looked almost like. . . wonder.
“You’re awake,myqueen." His voice was low and rough, as if he too had only recently surfaced from sleep. "How do you feel?"
Sol opened her mouth to answer—and realized she didn't know.
Her body ached in unfamiliar places. Her muscles felt wrung out and exhausted in ways she couldn't name. But beneath the fatigue, there was something else. A hum of power still thrumming through her veins. A heat pooling low in her belly that had nothing to do with temperature.
The dream rushed back to her.
The colors.
The flight.
The spiraling together in pleasure through clouds. . .
She swallowed and sat up. "I don't know how I feel."
Pyrran's lips curved—not quite a smile, but close. "You flew magnificently. For a first shift."
"I crashed into a mountain."
"Magnificently," he repeated, and this time there was definite amusement in his voice.
Sol didn't know what to do with this version of him. The Pyrran who had dropped her from the sky had been easy to hate.
This one—soft-voiced in the candlelight, watching her like she was something precious rather than something to be destroyed—felt far more dangerous. Like he was seconds from eating her up.
"You tried to kill me." Her words came out more quietly than she intended.
“I did.” Something flickered across his face. "I am sorry."
"I don’t accept your apology."
