Thwack.
I frowned, unable to place the sound.
Erring on the side of caution, I summoned a sword. Only when my hand was wrapped around its grip did I continue forward.
Thwack.
Half a mile later, the trail opened into a clearing.
Thwack.
A man—somehow even taller and broader than Grayson—was splitting wood. Despite the cold, he worked without the benefit of a shirt. He lifted the axe, and the muscles across his back and shoulders rippled.
Thwack.
A log split in two.
I squinted, looking more closely at his skin. A dragon tattoo rose from the waistline of his pants, spread its wings across his mid-back, and breathed fire across his neck. The colors—blue, green, and silver—were mesmerizing. And with my newfound vision, I could discern each scale, each shift in hue, the subtle shading. The tattoo was a work of art.
Thwack!
Again, he swung the axe. The way his muscles bunched and pulled left me near breathless. “Eep.” I pressed my free hand against my lips, but it was too late. He’d heard me.
He turned, lifting the axe as if he meant to throw it.
I didn’t react. I couldn’t. Not when confronted with taut abs and a chest that seemed to go on for days. Somehow, I wrenched my gaze upward.
His face. If I thought looking away from his abs was hard, looking away from his face was impossible. I knew that face. I’d seen it in the pool’s visions—not just glimpsed, but burned into my memory alongside images I’d tried to forget. The strong jaw, the golden eyes, the way his mouth curved when he looked at me. This was one of the men I’d seen when I touched the water. And now those impossible images felt suddenly, terrifyingly real.
He stared at me with a carnal intensity that made me want to run.
I didn’t. Mainly because I knew he’d chase me down.
“You’re here. We’ve been waiting.” His voice was a raspy growl that promised more than mere passion. Passion was a chemical reaction. His voice was whiskey and the grate of stubble against soft skin and the perfect balance between pleasure and pain.
“We?” I squeaked, then I tightened my grip on the sword to make up for the reedy sound that had escaped my lips.
His eyes sparkled as if he knew a joke and couldn’t wait totell me the punchline. “Remy is hunting. We’ve been here for three days.”
The wind swirled around us, carrying the unmistakable scent of hot tea. My mouth watered, not just for the taste, but for the feeling—home.
I glanced at the fire, but no kettle sat on the grate. Where was the tea?
“We knew you were coming.” A slow grin split his face. “You’re even more gorgeous in the flesh.”
My stomach dropped, and heat tinged my cheeks. He’d seen me? The way I’d seen him? “How did you know I was coming?”
“A vision.”
“You’re a seer?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He stretched his arms above his head, and every muscle in his torso rippled. Deliciously. “I catch glimpses of the future.”
Now my cheeks flamed. “Where are we?”
“Rymar.”
I’d been right. Had he noticed my gray Legacian uniform, or did the cloak hide it? “And you are?”
