When her red hair has dried into lustrous curls and she is clean and warm, Ronyn prepares the bed.
He lays the mattress atop plastic sheeting to protect against damp stone, covers it with clean sheets, then layers furs on top, forming a nest worthy of our perfect mate.
We lay her down together and replace the towel with a sheet, tucking it around her.
She looks unreal like this. Peaceful and too still, like a girl trapped in a fairytale curse.
Sleeping Beauty.The thought hits me with sudden clarity. She was also a woman cursed by magic, waiting for something to wake her.
Darial steps back, eyes glassy with helplessness. Ronyn folds his arms, jaw clenched, heat simmering beneath the surface as rage at our mates' circumstance tears at his restraint.
“She should be waking,” he growls.
“She’s exhausted,” Darial replies. “Her reserves have been emptied.”
“And if she doesn’t wake?” Ronyn presses.
The thought is a dagger through my heart. We have waited so long, and there is a chance our fated and beloved could be taken before we know the sound of her voice and discover her name. Before we experience her soft, sweet lips on ours.
I step closer to the bed, drawn by an instinct so deep that it sends a shudder through my coiled form. The dragon inside me bows before her. Alpha means dominance but also responsibility.
I lower myself beside her, studying the faint part of her lips, the slow rise and fall of her chest, and the furrow between her brows. I have waited so long for my mate that being so close to her is like a fever dream.
I refuse to lose her now.
I lean in and brush my mouth against hers, sending a prayer to the goddess who controls all things, that our patient, hopeful wait won’t have been in vain.
I hold my breath.
Please.Wake up, beauty. Wake up.
Warmth sparks beneath my lips.
Her breath catches.
Her eyes flutter open.
Green meets silver.
And in that heartbeat, I know with absolute certainty that nothing in my life will ever be the same.
6
AURA
I wake as if surfacing through warm water, as though the cold has finally loosened its grip on my bones. My body is heavy, wrapped in softness, the ache of exhaustion dulled to a distant throb.
For a breath, I let myself believe I’m dreaming, until an unfamiliar scent reaches me: smoke and rich perfume.
My eyes fly open, registering a face before me.
He is far too close.
Silver eyes, molten and luminous, hold mine. A man’s strong, angular, and impossibly beautiful face comes into focus. His breath is warm against my skin, and my lips tingle with the memory of contact. A kiss echoes through me before I can decide if it is a dream or reality.
I gasp, and the movement jolts me, awareness slamming into me all at once. My fingers grip the ground beneath me, but it isn’t dirt or my old pallet; it’s soft fabric and fur.
This isn’t the forest.
