Obsidian dagger drawn, its woven leather handle felt cold in her hand as she swiped it out to her side. Ready to strike. She stalked behind the crouching body at the stream. Her breath, slow. Embers, burning. Every muscle settled in perfect position; she was trained for this advance.

With a swift slice through the shadows, Alora’s hand fisted into the Raven’s thick hair, wrenching his head back to face the night sky as her dagger pressed cold to his throat.

The metallic smell of his blood teased her senses. She had sunk the blade a little too far.

Not far enough, though.She growled to herself.

Shadows shrouded his face, but in his darkened eyes, she could see the glowing reflection of the stars.

“Show me your hands or this dagger will gut you entirely.”

The Raven didn’t move.

“Hands.Now. Before I cut your starsdamned head off.” She pressed on the dagger. The blade sunk deeper into his skin. A pleasing amount of blood followed.

Andnow, she’d bleed him dry to find Garrik, to save those she had spent months training to protect.

The Raven’s hands still didn’t move. But in the golden moonlight, she saw a twisted smile.

His cold, deep voice wickedly snickered. “I dare you… clever girl.”

Ice enclosed her trembling palm, still woven through his hair. That all-familiar chill like death touched her hand, pulling the blade back slowly—carefully—until cold crimson dripped down the lump onGarrik’sthroat.

His hooded features were no longer obscured within the inky darkness, and familiar silvers glared back at her.

“Alora. Unless you wish to turn this into something more, I suggest you let me go.” Garrik wolfishly grinned.

But her handhold pulled his gray hues tighter, hovering the blade there, and she realized that the silver she’d seen, that small gleam, must’ve been an illusion of his power.

He hissed and gritted his teeth, yet remained docile beneath her.

“I thought you were a Raven! I thought you were injured!I could’ve killed you!”

Garrik’s grin widened, baring his gritted teeth under the pain of his taut hair. “Do not insult me. I am far better looking than any of those ilk.”

Seething, Alora growled, “What in Firekeeper-filled-hell are you doing out here lurking in the darkness?”

“I should ask you the same. Did you not think I knew you were following me? You should know by now that you cannot hide from me. And as much as I am enjoying being on my knees before you, I do not have much time to make this pleasurable for you so?—”

Garrik winced a jarring laugh as Alora wrenched his head back further. The skin of his neck stretched to its splitting point, yet his smirk grew wider.

“This little game you are playing will have to resume another time. There is not much time left. Let me loose, or will you need persuading?”

Alora’s eyes flickered to her blade, where Smokeshadows whorled. Slowly, tauntingly, they swirled. Climbing across the jagged edge, daring her to stop them when white flames pricked from her skin and ignited across the embellishments, licking the shadows. The two powers intertwined, her fire dancing. His shadows whirling.

On close inspection, the sparkling embers in the flames flickered like stars inside his night-like darkness.

A wicked grin later, Alora’s sapphires shot to him. “Careful, mighty prince. Don’t you know it’s dangerous to play with fire?”

Garrik’s growl reverberated through his body and vibrated across her palm to her racing chest. “I am not afraid to get burned.” He paused and smiled. “And I take considerable pleasure in fanning flames.”

She leaned close enough to share breath. “You take pleasure in toying with me.”

His eyes cut to her mouth before following their gaze back to hers. “I take great pleasure in anything that involves you.” The tendril of shadow receded, misting away into his skin as his body relaxed below her.

That look in his darkened eyes …

It sent molten sparks inside her veins.