Page 41 of Heart of Night and Fire

Layered beneath her sense of alarm was another feeling that pulled her in as much as it pushed her away. The knock of a visitor late at night, begging to be let in and make themselves comfortable. Despite their sudden and violent entrance, their presence wasn’t entirely threatening, either. Such was the inconsistent tangle of her thoughts when she found herself coming to a stop in front of an egg about the size of a melon.

Piqued with curiosity, Zarya kneeled in the grass and studied the egg, noting the striations that marked its surface. She wanted to touch it, though she couldn’t explain why. She reached out before hesitating, thinking of the soldiers that had been sucked into the largest egg.

“Zarya, what are you doing?” She turned to find Yasen emerging through the trees. “Don’t touch that. We just lost nine soldiers to one of those things.”

“I know.” Her hand hovered an inch over the egg. “But I think maybe I can touch it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain it. I just know I can do this.”

Yasen folded his arms, looking down his nose at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. What if it eats you, too?”

“It won’t,” she said, not sure why she was so certain but convinced, nonetheless.

“What happened to your so-called trust issues?”

“I trust this feeling, okay? Leave me alone if you’re just going to be an ass.”

Perhaps sensing he wouldn’t talk her out of it, he crouched down and sighed loudly. “Fine, but I’m going to hold on to you in case it tries to bite your face off.”

Zarya nodded.

With her hand hovering above the egg’s surface, she noted the way its energy spiraled with its own center of gravity, like a planet moving in the heavens. Zarya had spent her entire life held captive by secrets and understood the sound of their call, so she pressed her hand against the egg.

The surface was warmer than she expected, and for a moment, nothing happened. But then a sensation like being swept on a tide engulfed her, her limbs and body turning amorphous at first and then becoming solid.

When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t entirely surprised to find herself standing in the dream forest at the edge of a small clearing, the violet, star-strewn sky shining brilliantly overhead. This place obviously meant something. But why did she keep coming back here? She spun around, searching for a clue.

Lush black trees were silhouetted against the endless, velvety sky. The hairs on the back of her neck stood suddenly at attention. She twisted abruptly, her feet tangling, sending her toppling over. She landed on her ass with a grunt, her teeth clacking together.

Across the clearing now stood the most beautiful man Zarya had ever seen. She was sure it was the same one she’d seen before, only this time he stood cloaked in moonlight instead of shadows.

Straight black hair fell to his shoulders. Tall and broad, his muscled chest and arms strained against his black kurta. A straight nose was centered between high cheekbones and full lips. And his eyes—as dark as the forest but shifting with flecks of gold in the light.

The man said nothing but looked straight at her, his head tilted. His brown skin glowed with the telltale luminescence Zarya recognized as unmistakably rakshasa.

She was too mesmerized to be embarrassed by her fall, and she couldn’t pull her eyes away as he approached her, something dangerous in the way he moved, graceful and fluid, more animal than human. Pale scars marked his hands, another over an eyebrow and one visible above his collar.

As he stood over her, Zarya looked up into the hard planes of his face. The ferocious blaze in his expression. Beautiful, but in a distinctly savage way. Nothing soft about him.

He held out a hand, and she looked at it before once again meeting his eyes and reaching out slowly.

A shock passed through Zarya as their fingers met, his skin hot as his large hand swallowed hers. There was the slightest flare of his nostrils before he stepped back, pulling her up.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his deep, rough voice making something flutter in the lowest recesses of her stomach.

She shook her head. “Only my pride.”

He responded with the barest curve of his mouth and the faintest flicker in his eyes. His calloused thumb swept over her knuckles, and Zarya’s knees loosened to the consistency of jelly.

“Who are you?” Zarya asked, breathless. “What is this place? Why am I here?”

He blinked then, in a brief flash of uncertainty, before opening his mouth to speak. But before he could reply, she was suddenly yanked away.

Voices called her name and tugged her back, her hand slipping from his as she once again plummeted, coming apart and then back together, landing with a thud on the grass.

Now it was Yasen and Apsara hovering over her like two grumpy clouds coming to rain on her parade.