Her hands slow their movements in her hair. She’s thinking about him in leather for real now. Clearly, she likes that idea.
“Not until I’m better,” she says.
She really likes that idea.
“Fair enough. You should leave your own leathers hanging in the closet when we arrive at Windhaven. Until you’re better.”
That gets her attention, and she finally glances over her shoulder at him and does a double-take.
“What’s wrong, love?” he asks. “Have I rendered you speechless?”
“What?”
He pushes off the doorframe and wanders toward her. “You know, the heartlanding is very accommodating, when it wants to be.”
“I see that.”
“Are you ready to chase dragons, love?” He holds his hand out to her. She starts to place her fingers in his upturned palm but stops with her hand hovering above his as her brows wrinkle.
“What’s wrong?” he asks more seriously.
“Is that a tattoo?”
“What?”
“On your wrist. It’s...it’s my name. In Elvish.”
“Oh. I wrote it there in the real world. It was in your book. I didn’t expect to see it in the heartlanding, though.” He examines it more closely. “It is a tattoo here. Huh. That’s fascinating. It’s just pen ink in the real world. I was thinking about asking Tharios to make it permanent, though.”
She stares at him, and he clears his throat.
“I may be a little obsessed with you,” he whispers.
“You wish to tattoo my name on your wrist?”
“Is that silly? I just love looking at it. There’s this strong center line pointing true north, but it’s surrounded by swirls, and I can’t decide if they look more like water or fire. Maybe both? Imagine if some of them were orange and some were blue. It would be perfect.”
She continues staring at him, and he tugs his sleeve lower again. What is she even thinking? What was he thinking?
“Rominy,” she breathes.
“Shall we chase your dragons now, love?” Anything to distract from how ridiculous he feels now.
“Right. Dragons.” She glances at the open bedroom door before looking back at him. “I haven’t painted my eyes yet.”
“I wish Elowyn’s eyes were painted,” he says, and the heartlanding grants his request. Hopefully, that’s all right with her.
Something about the way her gray eyes almost glow with the korathite framing them makes his heart beat a little faster. Her heart’s racing too.
“Shall we?” he asks.
She nods and strides toward the door, and he follows. Before they step through, she grabs the doorknob and closes it. Then she turns and leans back against it, and memories of the way their last dragon adventure ended fill him. They stood here, just like this. Before she yanked his shirt off. That was the night she got sick.
“This looks familiar,” he whispers.
“I changed my mind. I don’t want dragons.”
A smile threatens to sneak up on him. “You don’t?”
