Page 61 of Dance of Stars and Ashes

The cool breeze chilled her skin, and she shivered again. Could she learn to control this if this was a manifestation of her own mind? Was this typical of Aazheri magic, or did it have to do with the secrets she harbored?

She circled the clearing, peering into the depths of the dark trees, telling herself she wasn’t disappointed about being here alone. She’d been here alone before. The day Vikram had taken her to the Maya Quarter, and she’d seen this place in the mirror. She hadn’t been asleep then, so that wasn’t a requirement. She’d also been awake when she’d first met Rabin after she’d touched the egg that had fallen from the sky.

What was the connection between all these seemingly disparate events?

Regardless, she knew she belonged here. She couldn’t explain why other than she felt a gnawing hunger in its shadows, like they were trying to consume her and make her one with every blade of grass, every buzzing dragonfly, and every spark in the sky.

Then, she felt him.

Like a craving churned from the very depths of her starving soul, she felt him. It drew her into some central force of gravity like she was a moon and he was her planet. She couldn’t have pointed to the specific direction it towed her, only that it felt like water seeping into her lungs, trying to drown her.

She stopped and listened for a rustle in the leaves that signaled his approach.

When nothing happened, she took a few more tentative steps.

“I know you’re there,” she called in a sing-song voice. “I can feel you.”

Her hands brushed the leaves again, creating a soft whisper.

“What kind of warrior are you?” she taunted. “Hiding in the trees? Afraid that I’ll beat you at sparring again?”

She couldn’t really claim she’d won that day, but that was hardly the point.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe. I’m not carrying a weapon tonight.” She looked down, realizing just how obvious that was, given the scant presence of her undergarments. Finally, a movement caught her eye, and she halted.

Rabin emerged from the trees across the clearing, and her breath seized in her chest.

Apparently, he’d also been pulled from slumber because his top half was bare, and he wore only a pair of loose black pants that hung low on his waist, revealing the cuts of muscle angling along his hips.

Whatever pithy comment she had planned withered on her tongue as he tipped his head and studied her, his penetrating gaze lingering on her face and then her shoulders, sliding down the length of her torso and legs. She felt it all intimately, like he was running his hands carefully over every inch of skin, ensuring he didn’t miss a single spot.

A pulse throbbed between her thighs as his gaze snapped up to meet hers.

“You did not beat me,” he said, taking a few steps forward. Gods, he was magnificent. All hard muscle and smooth planes over warm brown skin contoured by the soft glow of starlight. Iridescent dragon scales continued up his arms and over the rounded caps of his shoulders, meeting at a point at the center of his chest.

On his ribs was another tattoo—this one of a black dragon perched mid-flight, meticulously drawn with the same iridescent ink that reflected blue and purple and green.

“I definitely made you sweat,” she said, then bit her tongue, realizing how that sounded. As he shifted, she noticed a line of silvery scars—dozens of horizontal lines bisecting the branching rivers of his thick veins—laddering up his left forearm.

“That you did,” he said, his voice low and rumbling.

He stalked closer to her, and she gripped the tree behind her for balance, worried her knees would melt out from under her.

He stopped a foot away, and she took the opportunity to let her gaze wander over him, drinking in the view.

“The dragon?” she asked, tipping her chin at his ribs. “Do you have a picture of yourself tattooed on your body?”

He frowned, his dark eyebrows drawing together. “It helps control my transformation. Magic can be tricky, as you know.”

She blinked, surprised he’d offered that glimpse into his vulnerabilities. She did know, recalling how he’d released her magic in the forest when she’d been suffering.

“Why did you help me that night? You’ve actually saved my life twice now.”

“The binding on your magic wouldn’t have killed you,” he said. “Not technically. Though you probably would have wasted away to nothing eventually.”

She hooked up an eyebrow. “I’m trying to thank you, and again, you’re rebuffing me?”

“Was that a thank you? That wasn’t what it sounded like,” he asked, and she sucked in an angry breath.