He stripped, tossed his clothes on a rock near the cave, and shifted, his massive dragon form unfurling as the mountain air flooded his lungs. Other males would give him a wide berth—or fight him. Dragons were selfish bastards, especially where airspace was concerned.
He glided across the midday sky, circling the jagged ridges until the valley opened below. Earth-brown creatures scattered across the field, six-limbed and quick. He banked lower, talons unfurling?—
He veered away, settling on a rocky ledge and letting them flee. Their lives intact. For now.
He rested on his forelimbs, his head canting.
Unease prickled through him, his pulse spiking. Someone was close. He could feel it, the faint trace of another presence riding the wind, staying downwind.
Race launched himself skyward, his wings hammering the air, dread slamming through him.
Ash had better still be in the cave.
The crunch of twigs and shifting rubble snapped Ash out of the exhausted sleep she’d fallen into, her heart hammering. She jerked upright.
Race stalked inside, barefoot and shirtless again, a bundle of clothes gripped in one hand—no signs of blood or anything suggesting he’d fed—and clad only in loose black pants, leaving little to the imagination. Heat spread to her face. “You’re back.”
He tossed the bundle on a rock nearby, his brow furrowing as his gaze swept over her. “You didn’t eat?”
“A little,” she murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
He strode across, bringing the freshness of wild forest and chill air with him, mingled with his own unique male scent, trapping her in its snare.
She rubbed her nose, as if it would stop this madness.
He crouched near her, opened the backpack, and handed her the food parcel. “Eat.”
She frowned. “I said I did.”
“Alittle?” His eyes narrowed, firelight shadowing the hard cut of his face. “You haven’t eaten anything since I pulled you from the pyre.”
Was it that long? “Guess adrenaline is a good substitute.”
His expression didn’t so much as twitch. He just held out the food, his stare unwavering.
Not in the mood to fight him, Ash unwrapped the parcelagain, pulled out a skewer, and bit into the cold meat. Chewed. Swallowed, forcing down each bite while he watched, feeling like a wayward child under discipline.Ugh.
The fire popped softly, filling the silence that stretched between them. Tension clung to the cave, like blades. Finally, he rose, only to pace the floor, his steps measured, controlled. At the entrance, he paused, staring at the brightness outside.
Frowning, Ash packed the food away, then she grabbed her coat and joined him at the narrow opening. “What’s wrong?”
“Why would you think that?” he asked, his frame a solid barrier between her and the outside.
She stared at his broad back. “Race, besides my sixth sense clanging like a bell, you’re guarding the entrance like it’s a shrine.” She rolled her eyes. “Except I’m the one inside. Bit too late to make me a saint.”
“You do have a way with words, don’t you, vixen?” he drawled, that hint of amusement back in his voice. He slipped out into the afternoon.
Ash followed, shivering in the growing cold, and hastily put on her coat. “Dodging my questions by stomping outside won’t change anything. I’ll still be here.”
“Indeed.” He lifted his gaze skyward. “Just keeping watch.”
“Of course, you are.” She drifted closer, drawn to his warmth despite herself. Questions about her powers pounded her mind once more. He was immortal and lived a long time. Maybe he would know something.
She stopped near him, watching those perfect features as he studied the empty sky. “Race, what’s happening to me? These storm powers—this lightning—it’s driving me mad not knowing why.”
“As I mentioned, you are a Storm Summoner, and extremely rare,” he said. “Your kind can command the elements themselves, channel lightning, call on storms.” He glanced at her. “In the wrong hands, that ability could devastate entire territories. Dragons hoard power like humans hoard gold.”
Her mouth fell open. “Oh, for the love of Christ, you can’t be serious?”
