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Sunstrike's markings were just as resplendent, but her hues were lighter, resembling the purest strands of sun-kissed silk. Her stripes bore a more delicate pattern, like the brushstrokes of a master artist painted in every shade of brown. Around her liquid-gold eyes were faint ivory lines, giving her an air of wild beauty.
Suddenly, the two cats moved together, defying gravity as they pounced upon each other, leaping and playing.
The ground beneath my feet trembled, and I clutched a nearby tree for support as the two exmoors began a lively game of chase.
I watched in fascination. Nightclaw would crouch low to the ground, his powerful hind legs coiling with energy before he sprang forward in pursuit of his mate. Sunstrike would evade him with agile twists and turns before finally letting him pin her to the ground as they growled and wrestled.
“He’s missed you.”
I turned towards the familiar voice, hardly surprised that he was the next to appear here.
“Draven.”
I had thought myself prepared. Even so, my breath caught in my throat as I took him in.
Dressed in attire befitting the lord of a realm, he looked every bit the enigmatic figure that had captured my heart and imagination from the first day we'd met.
His black trousers, tailored to perfection, clung to his long, lean legs, revealing the toned muscles beneath. They disappeared seamlessly into polished, black riding boots that he must have been using while training Sunstrike and added an air of authority to his stride.
His raven hair, glossy and dark as midnight, had been slicked back, accentuating the chiseled contours of his face. The horns he had sawed off during the Blood Rise looked the same as they had before the trial. Small and black, sleek and alluring, they adorned his brow, made of an ebony bone that seemed to soak up the very light around them.
My heart flip-flopped as I took in the familiar angles of his jawline and cheekbones, remembering the way his bronzed skin felt beneath my lips, under my tongue.
His mesmerizing green eyes held my own with an intensity that pierced my soul. I felt myself being beguiled as always, spellbound and intrigued by this man who always seemed to remain tantalizingly out of reach—full of secrets I doubted I'd ever fully be able to claim.
“Where are we?”
He ignored me, stepping past to watch the exmoors. “When you left, he was all alone.”
The guilt came instantly.
“He was miserable without you. Hardly eating. Refusing to hunt. I couldn’t leave him like that. We’d already tried introducing him to Sunstrike once before. But Hawl suggested we try again.”
He stopped, watching as the exmoors' wrestling match came to an end and they lay down, basking side by side with their tufted tails entwined. Nightclaw lifted his head almost lazily before licking at Sunstrike's neck with a long, slow stroke. The battlecat's eyes met mine. There came a brief wink of gold. I smiled.
“And?” I prodded. “What then?”
He shrugged, rolling his broad shoulders with practiced arrogance. “You see the results.”
“That easy, was it? This time?” I said, almost flippantly.
Why? Why was I being like this? He hadn’t tried to make me feel guilty about leaving. He had only spoken of Nightclaw. But what did he feel?
Did he even miss me?
He turned to look at me, and the world around us came to a standstill. There was a raw, untamed power in his emerald eyes that was as intoxicating as it was formidable. His gaze held me captive. It was a look that spoke of a hunger for something deeper, of a fierceness that went beyond fury and passed into longing.
A longing I knew could consume us both.
I drew in a sharp breath and opened my mouth. But Draven was already saying something.
“The bond just snapped into place,” he said. “For both of them.”
And somehow I knew he wasn’t just talking about the exmoors.
