“A fist fight?” I chuckle deeply, my dragon clawing up my throat. “You’re dreaming.” She growls in rage, and I arch a mocking brow. “At least that sound was scarier than your punch.”
My provocation must ignite her inner motivation because she goes feral in an instant. She speeds up to a blur, uses the blinding sun to her advantage, and attacks lightning fast. Her elbow collides with my jaw, her foot with my ribs, and then she fucking stomps on my foot before I even get a good enough look at her to get out of her path of fury.
Smirking, she dances back a split second before I can retaliate.
“Made you mad, did I?” I smirk back.
“Made me something,” she mutters.
She lunges again, fire-snap quick, but I’m ready for her this time and sidestep, sweep her feet out from under her, and reach for her as she goes down. I catch her mid-fall and yank her back up, crushing her against my chest. She struggles, and I keep one arm banded around her back as I grab a handful of her hair, wrap it around my fist, and tug her head back, baring her neck.
She inhales sharply, going rigid in my arms.
“So quick. So strong.” I trace my thumb down her neck, avoiding the wounds and stopping over her fluttering pulse.
She breathes hard, her parted lips entrancing me. Idallia’s arousal tinged with rage is the most delicious thing I’ve ever scented.
Her voice low, almost trembling, she tells me, “If you say, ‘And you’re dead,’ I’ll do everything in my power to knee you in the balls.”
I smile. How long has she desired me? “You can’t move, Sunshine. Not unless I let you go.”
Her jaw firms, and she doesn’t say anything else. My hand loosens in her hair. I resist stroking the fantastically smooth locks, but can’t help gently brushing the healing wounds on her neck. She softens at my light touch, and a physical ache throbs low in my abdomen. Can she feel my half-hard cock?
Her eyes start to change. The angry fire dims. Uncertainty replaces it, and she pushes at me. It’s a clear message and has nothing to do with sparring. My dragon roars in protest, but I let her go.
She runs a shaky hand through her hair, stepping back.
I don’t move, rooted to the spot as if standing still will make her come back into my arms. “You’re a different creature altogether when you’re angry or scared.” My eyes snag on the blunt end of the hair I sheared off. My skin burns where my new treasure is hidden in my pocket.
“I wish I could be that fast and strong all the time,” she says.
I step to the side, not wanting to shade her from the sun. “Sometimes unlocking full potential is dangerous. And changes everything.”
I hear her heart thud like slow but heavy footsteps. “What do you know, Bale? If you know something, then tell me.”
My heart thuds too. My tongue burns with everything she should know, but instead of answering, I shift into my dragon form, tucking skin inside scales and answers under subterfuge. “Behold the sun, Idallia. It suits you better than the shadows.”
I move toward the rock she likes to sit on and wait. She’ll need the height to climb onto my back for the flight home. I don’t care who sees us fly in. Maybe Kellan will, and this time he’ll be the one who can’t stand seeing her gripping scales that aren’t his.
She clambers up, and I take off with a strong leap, forcing her to squeeze her legs around me. Instead of bringing relief, her tight grip just unleashes more cravings, more pressure, more desire.
The land races beneath us, bold and beautiful. I barely see it, all my focus on Idallia. She’s supposed to be the ace up my sleeve, and right now—when I no longer think I can protect Torridaig without launching my kingdom into war—is my last chance to whip her out and fling her at Rannigan Bloodthief.
Cold air hits my fangs from my own mocking smile. Hasn’t time proven I’d rather keep Idallia in the dark and endanger my border towns just to keep her with me? I’m no better than Rannigan in this, but at least the darkness I keep her in comes with sunlight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IDALLIA
I don’t see Bale over the next few days, which is probably good for me. He’s busy with the final preparations for the Ellonrift Council, and no emergency calls us to the war room. My heart still explodes every time I even think he’s around a corner, and my sleep has been terrible, leaving me irritable and with dark smudges under my eyes.
I keep dreaming about a marble floor slicked with red, black nails on blood-covered fingers, and crimson talons that look just like Bale’s. I wake up with a sharp pain in my right arm every time, just under the one scar I’ve always had. Two actually. They’re round and identical and not far apart on my inner wrist. Rita and Gerard told me that I was bitten by a dog when I was little, but I don’t remember that at all, and I remember almost everything. And now that I have matching marks on my neck, thigh, and upper breast, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a dog.
My natural healing ability didn’t do away with those old marks any more than with these new ones, but why would I scar when other people heal from vampire bites?
With these disturbing dreams, unsettling questions, and lasting scars, I want to know more than ever what in the blazing stars happened to me in the early months of my life before my perfect memory kicked in. How did vampires get to me? Did they get to my family? Is that why they sent me away?
I don’t ask my questions because no one has answers. Sometimes I think Bale might, but I’m not certain enough to outright accuse him of anything, and I’m not sure I want to. Things have already changed enough between us. Everything I wanted to avoid seems to be barreling toward me like an unstoppable storm on the horizon, and I’m starting to think I can’t hold off this need to seek him out and be with him any more than I can an inevitable tempest.
