Page 219 of The Dryad Storm

Onlyhim.

Only his body merged with mine. Both of us one being of flame.

Fully Wyvernbonded.

As our merged fire settles, Yvan stills, holding me suspended and pressed to the tree, his skin slick against mine as our chests rise and fall against each other, the sting along the inner edge of my shoulder rapidly shifting to a pleasurable, fiery blaze.

I glance down to find a half-moon of violet flame marked there, a stunned delight igniting.

Yvan gives me an impassioned look, emotion lashing through our now fully linked fire. He lowers his head and tenderly kisses the mark, then runs his tongue over it as tears of joy blur my vision.

I send my own fire out to him, astonished to be so fully connected with hispower. I pull on it, and his flame slides right through my rootlines. A shiver of astonishment flashes through him as he does the same, drawing my fire into his own, our fire magic fully melding into a shimmering, blazing caress.

Yvan murmurs a stream of words in the deeply sibilant language of Western Wyvern’kin, and I’m stunned anew to be able to fully comprehend his ardent words.

My beautiful mate.

My fire.

My Wyvernbonded love.

Chapter Twelve

Shadow Dragon Rising

Elloren Guryev

Zhilaan Forest

I’m wrapped around Yvan, lying on the mossy soil of the Zhilaan Forest’s western edge, our limbs entangled. In his sleep, Yvan’s fire flows through mine with steady force, more intimately than I could have ever imagined, his wing draped over my shoulder, his strong arms embracing me.

His love for me burning bright through our merged fire power.

I glance at the Wyvernbond mark emblazoned on the inner edge of my shoulder. It burns violet bright against the night, the Forest’s approving affection swirling through it.

Love swelling in my breast, my gaze slides over Yvan, tracing his handsome face, his normally serious angular features softened by sleep. He put his pants back on at some point, and his crimson hair is tousled charmingly around his dark horns, his chest rising and falling against mine, his heartbeat reassuringly strong, the Varg iron-protection rune marked in the center of his chest glowing emerald bright.

My smile wavers, and tears warm my eyes, the real world intruding on my idyllic moment. The battle with the Magedom looms tomorrow eve. I slide a protective arm around Yvan, wanting to hold on to this precious, suspended moment.

Yvan smiles slightly in response to my caress, his eyelids fluttering in sleep as he nestles me closer. My heart twists with a surge of feeling for him, just as a knot of glowing milk white flowers past him in the distance snag my attention.

Norfure blossoms.

My heartbeat quickens.

The essential ingredient in Norfure tincture, one of the only formulations able tocure the vicious Red Grippe, and desperately needed by the refugees streaming into the East. I look past the small knot of blossoms and can just make out a larger patch of hazy glowing white. My pulse jumps into an even faster rhythm. Norfure blossoms are a touchy night-blooming flower, exceedingly rare and difficult to grow in captivity.

And there just might be enough here to cure hundreds of people.

I gently disentangle myself from Yvan.

“Elloren,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep, eyes half opening. His gaze zeroes in on my Wyvernbond mark, glowing as bright as the violet fire overtaking his eyes.

“I’ve spotted Norfure flowers,” I tell him as I pull on my melded-leaf garb. “I think there’s a larger patch of blossoms just ahead. They’re difficult to spot during the day because they curl into themselves.”

“Stay close,” he urges.

“I will,” I promise, pointedly lifting my living branch and giving Yvan a significant look as I sheathe it at my side. He nods, caressing me with an encircling rush of heat before he closes his eyes once more.

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