Page 93 of Heart of Night and Fire

When she saw nothing, she picked up the hem of her skirt and headed for the tree line. The grass was soft and cool and tickled her bare feet.

As she drew closer, she caught a flash in the darkness. The crescents of dark eyes reflecting in the moonlight. The sight ground her to a stop halfway across the clearing, where she waited, letting the fabric of her skirt settle over her feet.

The air in her lungs suspended at the rustle of leaves, signaling his movements through the trees. What was it about him and this place? Why did she keep returning here? Was this a message? Or a sign?

She ignored a string of intrusive thoughts that suggested this man might be what Row had been so afraid of all this time. But that couldn’t be right.

Firstly, she didn’t want to admit it because she wanted to keep returning. Secondly, it wasn’t possible that a place that instilled such a sense of peace could be bad. Besides, it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter.

Rabin finally emerged and paused as their gazes caught. He approached slowly, then stopped in front of her, searching every inch of her face as if trying to memorize every line and detail he saw.

This place and this rakshasa were also part of the pattern. More threads, more pieces joining to form the whole. This wasn’t a place to fear. This, too, was her destiny.

“You look… beautiful,” he said, his voice jagged. He wore a pale grey kurta with the top few buttons opened to reveal the hard lines of his chest and something dark tattooed on his skin. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealed more dark marks covering his forearms. His dark, gold-flecked eyes were lush waves in a bottomless sea. Without her shoes on, he was even taller tonight. Bigger. Grander. Filling her entire view like a mountain that refused to be ignored.

“I was supposed to go to a party,” she replied, gesturing to her elaborate sari. The words came out in a whisper. She could never catch her breath around him.

The corner of his mouth curved in the barest movement. “Supposed to?”

“There have been a lot of parties this week.” When he raised his eyebrows in question, she added, “I’m visiting a friend in the countryside.”

“Were you dancing, Zarya?”

She smiled and grabbed the edges of her skirt, swirling it back and forth. “I did.”

He tilted his head and then stepped closer so they were almost touching. Zarya’s heart thrummed so hard it felt like it had slipped off course.

Rabin held her gaze for what felt like an eternity before he reached out and gently brushed his thumb across her cheek. She exhaled as her eyes fluttered closed at the contact, and she barely resisted the overwhelming urge to lean in and press her nose to the curve of his throat.

“I didn’t get a chance to properly thank you for helping me,” she said, still trying to find her breath, lost somewhere down at her feet. “You saved me.”

Rabin wrapped his fingers around the side of her neck, his thumb sweeping along her jaw. Zarya placed her hand on his as a hungry flame flickered in her belly.

“Dance with me,” he said, the words a restrained whisper, twisted with an authority that made it sound like an order.

She shook her head. “I’m not very good at it.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. Their bodies flush, the hard planes of his chest and stomach aligned with her softer curves, reducing her knees to jelly and turning that needy place below her navel molten with heat.

She rested one hand on his shoulder while the other joined with his, their fingers interlacing, his broad hand reducing hers to delicacy.

She stared up at him as he moved them both, turning her over the soft grass like they were floating over clouds. She was acutely aware of every place he touched her, the blood in her limbs rushing to find him.

“Have you been practicing? Your magic?” Rabin asked as they swayed as one.

She nodded. “A little. That’s what I was doing when I skipped the party tonight.”

His face registered some kind of amusement. Not a smile; he was too intense for that, but a touch of approval danced across his gaze.

“Your anchors? Did you find them?”

She gave another nod as his thumb swept over her lower back, that simple gesture scattering her thoughts into a constellation of shooting stars.

“There are five,” she said, and he seemed to go still for a heartbeat. Another emotion flickered on his face. Was it fear? Had she imagined it? There was nothing to fear here. Nothing to fear from her. His hand and his touch—this all felt like home.

He moved closer, the air between them humming with a hidden promise. Zarya’s ribs and chest struggled to expand as her breath hitched. He searched her face, and she understood then that she was caught in something bigger than herself. Something bigger than she understood.

His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she licked her top lip, wondering if he was going to kiss her. This felt different than it had with Vikram. That had been fun and exciting, but this, this was the difference between being crushed under a pebble versus a boulder.