17.

  Faelwen

  I never imagined I’d soar through the skies on the back of a dragon. But there we were, riding the wind, cradled between the wings of this ancient creature.

  The moment the dragonkin shed their human forms had been nothing short of magic. Flesh became scales, bones stretched and cracked into new shapes, and where once stoon men and woman, now coiled magnificent beasts with eyes like molten gold. Some of the children, swept up in the wonder, tried to mimic the transformation. Turning into little dragons with folded wings running around on their unstable legs falling over each other.

  Ash’s arms tightened around my waist as our dragon began its descent, a graceful spiral toward the forest below. From below, I heard a low, indignant whine. Artemis, held gingerly in one of the dragon’s claws, clearly unhappy with the arrangement.

  One day.

  That’s all it took, one day to cross the mountain range and fly all the way here. From Zan’kareths sand covered buildings to the threshold of the Everbloom Wilds, a sea of forest stretching endlessly southward. In the early morning light, its canopy shimmered gold bleeding into green, like sunlight caught in leaf and dew. Somewhere beneath that lush veil lay the old hatching grounds of the dragons. Long abandoned since their kind had fractured and scattered.

  Elora had told us the other party was successful as well. They had received the runestone near Islethys. Two had fallen. The rest now rested on the island, waiting to regroup with us in Sylvaeris, the elven city hidden within the Wilds.

  From there, we would travel to the Ancestral Region.

  And then…

  The battle.

  The thought coiled in my chest like a second heartbeat. A quickening pulse of dread and hope. Exhilaration sparked like lightning across the sky of my thoughts, but beneath it, something darker stirred: fear.

  The dragon’s landing was a gentle thud. I climbed off his back, my limbs stiff after so many hours in the air. Artemis wriggled free the moment he touched ground, bolting to the forest’s edge to await us, tail high, nose twitching.

  We will leave you for now. One of the dragon spoke in our minds.

  I turned, brushing windblown hair from my face and offered the dragons a grateful smile. “Thank you for carrying us so far. I wonder… would you consider joining us in the battle to come?”

  The two dragons exchanged a long look, the kind of wordless communication that made the air around them still. Then their serpent eyes returned to mine.

  We will speak of this with our lady.

  Without further word, they leapt skyward, wings unfurling with thunderous grace. A few strong beats, and they vanished, dissolving into the blue haze of the morning like a dream.

  I turned back just in time to see Spook crouched beside Artemis, ruffling his fur despite the wolf’s narrowed eyes and flattened ears.

  “Such a brave little wolf,” Spook teased, scratching behind his ears. Artemis growled in reply. Not exactly threatening, but far from amused.

  As if he wasn’t pissing himself when we shot into the sky, Artemis’ familiar voice echoed in my thoughts, and with it the memory of Spook’s high-pitched yelp as we launched from Zan’kareth’s wall. I bit my lip, fighting the laughter bubbling up.

  “He’s going to eat your hand,” Elora warned, her arms crossed.

  “Nah,” Spook said with a cocky grin, wiggling his fingers in front of Artemis’s nose. “He wouldn’t dare.”

  Artemis lunged, jaws snapping shut just shy of Spook’s hand. Spook screeched and stumbled back, nearly tripping over a root. Elora laughed openly, and this time I couldn’t hold back either. I stepped between them, hiding my grin behind a hand.

  But the mirth faded as Ash brushed past us without a word, his jaw tight.

  “What’s gotten him so grumpy?” Spook whispered, rubbing his wrist. I shrugged and followed my stormcloud of a boyfriend into the trees.

  The Everbloom Wilds wrapped around us like an old song, thick pine needles underfoot, moss-draped boughs overhead, the scent of wet earth and leaf decay comforting in its strangeness. The deeper we went, the quieter the world became, until even the wind seemed to hush.

  I caught up to Ash, reached out and curled my fingers around his arm, tugging gently until he turned to face me.

  Without a word, I slipped into his embrace. His arms closed around me instinctively, strong and warm, grounding me in a way nothing else could. I pressed my face into his chest and squeezed hard. He chuckled low in his throat, responding with a firmer pull, as if he could anchor me in his arms alone.

  I tilted my face up to meet his gaze. “Hey, mister grumpy. A copper for your thoughts?”

  He raised a single brow and leaned closer, lips quirking. I looped my arms around his neck, brushing my hips against his. His hands drifted lower, squeezing my backside just enough to make me giggle.

  “Can’t this wait until tonight?” Elora’s voice rang from somewhere behind him, far too amused.

  I blushed, stepping back. Ash’s smirk only deepened.

  “I don’t know,” he murmured, eyes fixed on me. “Can it, darling?”

  My cheeks burned hotter. “Y-yeah. O-of course.”

  Ash lifted my chin with a thumb and a finger, tilting my face to his. “I like it when you blush,” he whispered, stealing a kiss, soft, lingering, with a playful nip to my lower lip that made my toes curl.

  Then, without warning, he turned and started toward the others, tugging me along by the hand. And just like that, his grumpy behaviour seemingly had disappeared.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  ? ? ?

  Two days we wandered through the ancient heart of the Everbloom Wilds, searching for the hatching grounds and still, they eluded us. But what we did find was no less extraordinary.

  The forest was alive in a way that felt as ancient as the dragons. Every creature we encountered seemed familiar at first; rabbits darting through underbrush, birds flitting overhead, foxes slinking through the shadows. But the old magic had touched them too, twisting their forms into things of strange beauty. Some had crystals growing along their spines, shimmering with dew in the morning light. Others bore eyes that glowed like starlight, or fur that rippled in unnatural hues, fluorescent pinks and electric blues woven into wild patterns.

  Pixies flitted through the trees, leaving giggles on the breeze. We even stumbled across a few Whimpsprites, who blinked at us with their oversized eyes before vanishing in a puff of lavender smoke.

  But nothing compared to the walking mushrooms.

  A whole colony of them, no taller than a clenched fist, lived in a ring-shaped village beside a quiet creek. We found them quite by accident, while foraging for dinner. One moment Ash was reaching for a clump of ripe mushrooms and the next he was under siege.

  A half-dozen tiny, furious mushroom warriors came charging out of the underbrush, chirping war cries and stabbing him with spears no bigger than toothpicks. Ash yelped, dodging between trees with his coat flapping, the mushrooms hot on his heels like tiny knights defending their kingdom.

  None of them could hurt him, of course, but that didn’t stop us from laughing until our stomachs ached. Ash eventually begged us to return our gathered mushrooms, hands raised in surrender, and only then did the tiny creatures cease their assault and retreat to their fungal stronghold.

  That memory still clung to me when I crawled out of the tent the next morning, my palms sinking into damp soil. The rain from the night before had left the forest drenched in an earthy perfume; wet pine, wildflowers and moss. It smelled like my home with Barnabas, before it burned down.

  I rubbed my hands together to rid them of dirt, taking in our quiet camp. The fire had gone out sometime in the night. From the nearby tent, I heard the low snore of Spook. Elora probably curled at his side, still sleeping. Artemis remained tucked in beside my bedroll, tail twitching, lost in dreams.

  Birdsong filtered down through the high canopy, and soft gold light broke through the mist between the trees. A fragile, perfect stillness settled around me. I closed my eyes, letting it steep into my skin and bones. In the hush, my thoughts drifted and with them, my heart. A smile tugged at my lips as Ash’s face bloomed in my mind, unbidden.

  Gods, I loved that man. And I wanted him.

  Not sweetly. Not gently.

  I wanted to ruin him and be ruined in return. It had been too long. A breathless giggle escaped my lips before I could stop it.

  I followed the tug off the golden thread that connected our souls. That quiet, wordless pull I always felt when he was near. Of course he was at the creek with his nose in a book. He always was.

  There he sat, perched on a smooth rock, back pressed against a tree trunk, a book open in one hand, his journal resting on his thigh. Morning light filtered down through the branches and crowned him in quiet gold. He paused mid-sentence, head tilting slightly. He’d felt me coming.

  “I missed you when I woke,” I murmured, letting warmth curl around the edges of my voice like silk.

  His reply was little more than a whisper, but the command in it wrapped around my spine. “Come here, darling.”

  Gods help me, I was already lost.

  I walked toward him slowly, letting my hips sway just a little more than necessary. His eyes tracked every step. And then, faster than I could blink, he caught my wrist and pulled me onto his lap, stealing my breath with the sudden motion. His book and notebook falling on the ground. I didn’t resist. I didn’t want to.

  A blush crept up my cheeks, heat blooming beneath my skin.

  “You’ve been teasing me all night,” he growled against my ear, the vibration sending shivers down my spine. His fingers skimmed up the inside of my thigh, slow and torturous, his touch a brand.

  I pressed my forehead to his shoulder, drawing in his scent, the ink from his journal, the lingering spice of his soap, and something unmistakably his. Without a word, I shifted, parting my legs in silent invitation.

  “You look at me like you want to be wrecked,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “And then you pretend you’re innocent. Like you’re just bumping into me by accident. That’s cute.”

  His breath ghosted against the shell of my ear, and my whole body reacted, every nerve alive.

  “But I know you, my little troublemaker. I see the way your body answers mine before you even speak.”

  His fingers slid beneath the hem of my tunic. Not deep, just a whisper of a touch. My breath caught. I opened my mouth to say something clever, something to tease back, but all that came out was a soft, helpless whimper.

  Ash laughed, a dark, rich sound full of satisfaction. And I melted beneath him.

  “You think you can toy with me, darling?” He purred against my ear, the low rumble of his voice sending tremors down my spine again. His other hand traced a slow path upward, fingers feather-light along my back until they rested at the nape of my neck. A gentle claim, not forceful, not rough. But unmistakably possessive.

  “You’re mine,” he whispered, his breath warm against my cheek. “And I’m going to make sure you feel it. I won’t stop until you’re sighing my name like it’s the last word you remember how to say.”

  His lips hovered just above mine, maddingly close, yet denying me the kiss I craved. My breath hitched. Every nerve in my body felt like it was straining toward him.

  “Tell me you want it,” he murmured.

  “I want you,” I whispered, the words barely more than a breath and yet they carried all the heat, all the hunger in me. I kissed him, and he met me with a groan, all fire and possession. His grip tightened.

  In one fluid motion, he rose to his feet with me still wrapped around him. I clung to him, laughing softly as he lowered me to the moss-covered earth, soft and damp beneath my bare legs, fragrant with pine and rain. Our clothes melted away in the spaces between kisses, piece by piece.

  Ash lay beside me, his hand roaming with reverence and purpose, his mouth trailing soft kisses along my collarbone. My patience frayed under the heat pooling my belly. I wanted him, all of him. Now.

  I rolled him onto his back, trying to wrap my legs around him with a wicked grin, but he was quicker. He flipped me over in a heartbeat, pressing me into the earth with his body, his chest warm against my back.

  “Not today, darling,” he chuckled in my ear. His hand slid lower, teasing me where I needed him most, his touch maddening.

  “Then what are you waiting for?” I gasped, hips shifting instinctively, searching for more pressure.

  He didn’t answer. He simply pushed his tip inside me, just enough to make my body ache, my heart stutter. I tried to arch back, to take him deeper, but his hand pressed me down, gently but firmly, the fingers of his other hand dancing at my core with wicked precision. The slow build, the restrained pace, drove me wild. I writhed beneath him, my body desperate for more, but he held me in place like a storm waiting to break as he slowly moved. Too slow.

  “Ash…” I breathed, trembling.

  He hummed in response, the sound smug and infuriating.

  “Stop…”

  Another low chuckle. “Stop what, darling?”

  “Teasing,” I groaned, tilting my hips higher, my body offering him everything. He froze, breath ragged, then slipped in deeper, the sharp breath he drew brushing against my ear. I felt him tremble with restraint. I admired him for that restraint. But I wanted him to break.

  “Don’t stop,” I whispered, almost begging. And that was all it took.

  His grip tightened, one hand anchoring my hips, the other sliding to my throat, guiding my cheek down into the moss. Then he moved.

  There was no more holding back.

  He thrust into me with a hunger that mirrored my own, the slow rhythm giving way to something more primal, faster, deeper, harder. My body shattered beneath him, pleasure unfurling like wildfire through my veins. I cried out his name, the only word that mattered, the only truth I could cling to as my world shattered around me.

  He followed with a low growl, his release crashing through him like thunder. For a moment neither of us moved, both trembling, breathless, tangled in each other and the scent of earth and rain.

  He softened, easing his grip as he lowered himself next to me on the moss. I moved, curling against him, my cheek pressed to his chest, my fingers drawing idle shapes over his hot skin.

  He kissed my forehead with aching tenderness, and I leaned up to nuzzle his nose with mine.

  “I love you,” I murmured between kisses, voice heavy with bliss.

  “I love you too,” he whispered, his hand brushing down my back. “Until the end of time.”

  “And even longer?” I teased, voice full of sleepy warmth.

  He smiled, a real, unguarded smile. “And even longer.”

  “Me too.”