He spun away from the window. The lamp on the nightstand spilled across Ash’s sleeping form, casting a warm glow over her. Every breath he drew filled him with her arousing scent of summer rains and ozone. It crashed through his system, tearing at his restraint.
His dragon clawed at his mind, feral and desperate.Take her.
No!He ground the thought out like a curse.She nearly died for us holding that storm. I won’t risk her!
Race resumed pacing, crossing from the window to her bedside and back again, like a caged storm in motion. Hell, he should have already left, with his control hanging by a thread, but gods! He had to see she would be okay first.
Ash moaned.
Race was at her side in a heartbeat, brushing the sweat-dampened hair from her brow. The tonic seemed to be working. Her ghostly pallor had eased, color returning to her golden-brown skin.
Thank the gods.
When she’d crumpled on that mountain ledge?—
He scrubbed his face and continued pacing. Yes, she would risk her life—for him, for those who couldn’t protect themselves.That’s who she is.
Now the children were safe, and she was healing. Everything else could wait. He was no good for anything further in his current state?—
“Race?”
Her sleep-husky voice, heavy with exhaustion, had him pivoting.
“Rest, my heart,” he whispered, sitting by her side and gently brushing back her damp hair, his touch light even as everything in him screamed to rip off the shirt she wore, one he’d put on her after removing her wet, frozen clothes.
He was fucking losing his mind.
“The healing tonic is working,” he rasped. “Sleep a while.”
Her fingers found his hand as if to keep him there. With a soft sigh, she drifted back under.
Voices rose from below as the others returned.
He stayed until her breathing deepened, then carefully removed his hand and rose. He couldn’t delay any longer.
Three fucking days until this shit burned through him.
He headed downstairs. “Report.”
Attor stood near the table, his weathered face grim. “The young are secured at the safe house in Mor with a healer.” He shook his head, gripping the back of the chair, his knuckleswhite. “Once this world is purged of that bastard, maybe then itwill give them hope that this horror is finally over.”
“Indeed.” Race’s voice came out low, taut, every muscle in him stretched to splitting. “Soon, it will. I need to leave for a while. Stay with Ash until my return.”
He strode for the back door.
“Sire.” Rhaedra’s voice cut through the quiet. “A moment?”
It took everything in him not to growl at the delay as he turned.
She glided closer, her copper hair catching the firelight, eyes bright and far too knowing. “I know what plagues you,” she purred, her fingertips grazing his arm. “I can give you what you need.”
“No.” Ice coated the single word, and his dragon surged, furious. “I don’t require your assistance?—”
“You’re burning up.” Her tone dropped to a seductive whisper. “The rut is upon you. I felt it in the tunnels. There’s no shame in taking ease with your own kind?—”
A floorboard creaked on the stairs.
Race looked up to find Ash gripping the banister, hair tousled, skin pale again, her expression cool. She wore only his shirt, her legs bare, and in the firelight, her champagne eyes burned molten.
