Page 55

FIFTY-FIVE

C rimson light filtered through the bedroom curtains, painting Zina’s skin in shades of ruby. She stirred beneath the sheets, consciousness returning slowly as warmth enveloped her from behind. A strong arm draped possessively across her waist. Xai. The dragon elder whose heat now radiated against her back like a personal furnace.

Zina lay still, savoring the moment. His steady breathing tickled the nape of her neck, each exhale a reminder of their night together. Never had she imagined herself here—wrapped in the embrace of a being who’d lived five centuries, whose power could level buildings, yet who’d touched her with such tender reverence.

She shifted slightly, turning to study him. In sleep, the stern council elder transformed into something softer. His light brown hair fell across his forehead in disarray, his strong jaw relaxed. One small patch of burnished copper scales remained visible on his forearm—evidence of how thoroughly she’d dismantled his legendary control.

Unable to resist, Zina traced her finger along the scales’ edges. The texture fascinated her—smoother than they appeared, warm to the touch. As her finger moved across them, the scales shimmered in response like ripples across a golden pond.

His breathing changed, growing shallower. The arm around her waist tightened imperceptibly.

“See something interesting, lioness?” His voice rumbled against her ear, rough with sleep yet tinged with amusement.

The endearment sent a shiver through her body. Something possessive and primal in the way he said it—not diminutive but acknowledging her true nature.

Zina shifted to face him, their noses inches apart on the pillow. The golden-brown of his eyes had intensified overnight, tiny flecks of amber catching the strange light.

“I’m wondering how many women throughout history have seen the great Xai Emberwylde with bedhead.” She reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’m guessing not many.”

His lips curved upward, revealing a rarely seen dimple in his left cheek. “Significantly fewer than you might imagine.”

“Their loss.” She traced her finger along his jaw, still marveling at her newfound freedom to touch him this way. “You make quite the pretty picture in the morning light.”

Xai captured her wandering hand, bringing her palm to his lips. “And you’re dangerously distracting.”

The heat in his gaze sparked an answering warmth low in her belly. How could he affect her so strongly with nothing more than a look? A week ago, that same intensity had intimidated her during his inspection of her spa. Now she recognized it for what it was—desire barely contained.

She leaned forward to close the distance between them, but froze as the strange quality of light finally registered in her brain. The crimson glow filtering through her curtains wasn’t sunrise.

Xai noticed her hesitation, following her gaze toward the window. In one fluid motion, he rose from the bed, crossing to the curtains. His muscular form silhouetted against the fabric as he pulled it aside.

Crimson moonlight spilled into the room, painting his bare chest in blood-red hues. The scales that had been confined to his forearm now spread across his shoulders in response to the unnatural light.

“The blood moon rises early,” he murmured, tension evident in the set of his shoulders. “Severin will be making preparations.”

Reality crashed back with brutal force. Their enemies. The ritual. The threat to everything she’d built.

“How much time do we have?” Zina slipped from the bed, pulling on a robe as the comfort of moments ago evaporated.

“The moon reaches its zenith at midnight.” His eyes tracked her movement across the room, his expression shifting from lover to warrior. “Eighteen hours, at most.”

Eighteen hours to prevent catastrophe. To protect her mother’s legacy. To save Enchanted Falls from whatever madness Severin Madrigal planned.

And yet, as Xai reached for his shirt discarded on her chair, Zina couldn’t help but pause to admire the play of muscles across his back. Even in crisis, her body remembered the touch of those hands, the heat of that skin against hers.

He caught her staring, a knowing smile ghosting across his lips. “Later,” he promised, his voice dropped to a register that made her toes curl against the hardwood floor. “When this is over, I intend to properly appreciate waking up beside you without magical catastrophe interrupting.”

Zina crossed to him, rising on tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll hold you to that, dragon.”