Page 60 of Only Flames Remain

I gulped back a fresh wave of fear. “There has to be another way. Where is Stormgaard? We can go on horseback—I am quite good on a horse.”

Sorin shook his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “It is across the sea, south of the Whispering Tides.”

My eyes narrowed, mouth popping open. “We can take a ship, then.”

Sorin laughed this time, the dark circles under his eyes lessening with the way his smile lit his expression. He appeared younger when he laughed, the rising sun casting a warm orange glow against his skin.

“Taking a boat out of Southgate would take days. We don’t have days. I fly quite quickly, I assure you.”

“That is exactly what I am worried about,” I replied drily.

He inclined his head in my direction. “Scared of heights, Little Dove?”

My mouth dropped open once more to protest. One quick gaze over the balcony at my back reminded me we were many stories up. I swallowed hard, my ears heating as panic rose in my throat. I turned toward him with another protest on my lips, but nothing came. I wasn’t merely frightened; I was terrified. My face was hot and my ears were ringing. We were going to fly over the Saltale Sea?

I was going to be sick.

I turned toward the railing, my raven hair whipping back from my shoulders as a gust of wind blew across my face. Sorin stepped up to the railing beside me, his gaze softening.

“You have nothing to fear. I have never, ever, dropped anyone into the open ocean.”

My sideways glare pinned him in place before he dissolved into laughter again. “Not that I have carried a great many women across the sea in the first place. But I can assure you, it is perfectly safe.”

“You plan to carry me?” I shook my head. “I don’t even have to go. Honestly, I will remain in the castle. I won’t go into town. I will avoid the citizens of Gothryn. I promise you. I will remain isolated.”

Sorin’s lips pulled up into a smirk. “Where I go, you go. At least for the time being. Now hold still and let me—” He reached for me and I stepped back out of his reach.

“What do you plan to do?” I asked, my voice jumping up an octave.

His expression turned deadpan. “Carry you. As I said.”

“But…but—”

He sighed heavily. “I can certainly take my full dragon form if that would make you more comfortable. That way you can ride on the ridge of my back, between my wings. In my human form, it would be too cumbersome to do so. Too narrow. I wouldn’t be able to reach my full wingspan—”

“Fine!” I cut him off, hand outstretched as if I could physically stop him from speaking. “Fine. You can carry me. Happy?”

“Quite,” he replied, trying—and failing—to conceal his grin.

When he reached out for me this time, I let him, scooping me into his arms. When he gripped beneath my knees to hoist me into the air, the lining of my dress rode up. His arm brushed against the exposed skin of my calf.

A gasp escaped my parted lips at the feeling of his skin against mine. It sent a shock through me, straight down to my toes. I had expected his touch to feel like burning. A scorching flame. But what I felt was a cool caress. The slight pebbling of mist against skin as the fog encroached.

We locked eyes.

A muscle flexed in his stubbled jaw, his deep, sun-kissed gaze stirring with uncertainty.

Had he felt that, too?

A shiver ran through me at the cool, dewy sensation. Sorin quickly pulled my skirts firmly back into place, his touch no longer chilling my skin. Without another word he stepped up to the railing, spreading his wings wide behind him.

My gaze was still locked on his as he leaped into the air, his dark wings unfolding to their full and terrifying length. They beat rhythmically at his back as we ascended into the morning sky, the horizon pink beneath the warm sun.

Backlit this way, the sun painting his skin in hues of orange and pink, the golden flecks in his eyes sparkling—he was utterly and entirely breathtaking.

For a moment I was brave enough to glance away, to see how high we had soared into the air and what Gothryn might look like from high above. Before I could so much as turn my face an inch, Sorin read my intentions. His husky voice cut through the wind that stirred my hair and whistled in my ears.

“Eyes on me, Little Dove.”