Right. Ash tilted her head, closing her eyes. The air brushed over her skin, light and teasing, shifting in temperature and weight. “It’s like…music, almost. Different rhythms in the air.”
“Then conduct it.” He slid his hands down the length of her arms in a slow, deliberate caress, and her breath caught. “Make the storm dance to your song.”
A spark of heat curled low in her belly at the way he said it, part challenge, part promise. She opened her eyes, staring at the sky again, this time letting her awareness stretch far and wide, mapping the invisible currents and pockets of moisture. The clouds responded to her call, drawing together until they hung dark and heavy above.
“Now, make it rain there.” He pointed toward a distant, jagged peak resembling the letter M.
Ash drew a breath, lifted her hand, and pushed. The cloudbank shifted, holding its shape as it rolled toward the target. A sharp tickle built in her nose?—
“Achoo!”
Rain promptly dumped down over the wrong slope.“Noooo!”
“You would’ve hit that target if it weren’t for?—”
“Stupid bloody sneeze,” she grumbled, glaring at the slope.
Her back straight, she refocused, raising her arms and reaching and coaxing the pressure to build again. The clouds thickened, and with her mind, she sailed them across to the distant peak and released. Rain spilled in a silver curtain, glinting against the rock face.
“I did it!” she shouted, spinning toward him, grinning. “Did you see?—”
He cut her off with his mouth on hers, the kiss deep and claiming, tasting of dragon heat and the cool triumph of rain. She swayed into him, but he’d already pulled back, his expression back to serious.
“Again,” he said, “and this time, draw the pressure along. Spin it into a gale.”
The high of success faltered under a dart of panic. A fluke was one thing. Doing it twice, with more force, was another.
“You can, Ash,” Race said, that low rumble of certainty in his voice wrapping around her like armor. “I believe in you.”
Those four words steadied her nerves.
Power prickled through her veins as she lifted her hands again, to bend the weather to her will.
Two days to master the storm and call a gale.
Two days before the mountain fell.
Hours later, they reformed in front of the cave, exhaustion sweeping through Ash. Late-afternoon sunlight bled russet-gold through the enormous trees outside, their long shadows stretching over the clearing like watchful sentinels.
Hell. It had been a long, trying day.
Her stomach growled, low and insistent. She groaned. “Hold your horses, I have some breakfast bars.”
Race’s mouth thinned, as if her hunger were a personal insult, that he hadn’t cared properly for his mate. “Stay here. I’ll get you something.”
He dematerialized before she could say a word.
Sighing, Ash settled on a rocky outcrop near the cave’s entrance. She leaned back on her palms, still feeling flushed from her earlier victory. Through their bond, Race’s presence brushed against her mind—focused, intent—likely tracking something that had clearly given him quite a run.
Caught you, you ornery pest.
His triumphant thought sparked through her, and a grin tugged at her mouth. She could feel her mate’s satisfaction—even hunting a six-legged hare the size of a Labrador required effort here.
For god’s sake, please skin and gut it before you bring it back,she shot through their mind-link.
Rich, warm laughter rolled through her mind, his voice curling inside her head.Already done, heart-fire.
Smiling, Ash summoned her dagger from where it had fallen near the trunk she’d used for target practice earlier and flipped it experimentally. The hilt slipped through her fingers, clattering to the ground.
