Page 24 of Scorched By Fate

He wasn’t handsome, not really. That word was for softer things. Safer things.

What Vyne was … it didn’t fit into anything soft or safe.

And that dip in my stomach as my gaze moved along his line another fraction farther?

Definitely the heat.

Darkness descendedon Volcaryth in a slow, simmering fade, turning the molten glow of the landscape into something ember lit. Even the heat withdrew, leaving a sharp breeze behind. I huddled against a wedge of stone, arms wrapped around my knees, trying to ignore the clammy cling of my sweat-drenched clothes.

Vyne settled across from me, rummaging through the pack by his side. Weariness seeped into my bones after the day’s flight, but it was the gnawing anxiety over the healers that kept me restless. I watched him produce a few strips of dried meat, and my stomach knotted. When he offered one, I accepted, chewing carefully.

His tail drifted in a lazy arc behind him, but there was nothing lazy about his vigilance as he scanned the sky every so often for threats. Even so, he placed a canteen of water beside me with a gentle motion. For a moment I resented that kindness, how it stirred a raw, unfamiliar ache.

“You’re worried,” Vyne said at last.

No shit.I swallowed the dry hunk of meat, trying to gather my thoughts. “The healers—the sickness.” My throat tightened, forcing me to reach for the water. “I keep picturing them, waiting … running out of time.”

His eyes searched mine. “We’ll find this blasted plant,” he said. “They’ll hold on until then.”

“You can’t know that,” I whispered. Fear and guilt twisted in my chest.

Vyne exhaled, his tail brushing once against the stone before it fell still. “What use is it to fear otherwise? Now eat.” He handed me another strip of meat.

I forced it down.

Later, Vyne beckoned me toward a slab of rock that formed a partial windbreak. I glanced at the sky’s bruised purple glow, night swallowing the last thread of daylight.

“You should get some sleep.”

The dropping temperature made me shiver even harder, and I wrapped a cloak around my shoulders and settled in, my knees pulled tight against my chest as the wind hissed over the ridge. My mind felt too loud for sleep, every half-formed worry fixating on Scalvaris and its ailing patients.

Time slipped.

It could have been minutes or hours of half-dream, half-wake, when the rustle of wings startled me. Vyne knelt close, his face caught in shifting shadows, the draconic lines seeming even more alien in the faint light.

“You’re trembling,” he said. “Are you cold?”

“I’m okay,” I muttered, but I couldn’t hide the way my teeth were practically chattering.

“Suffering will do neither of us any good.” He hesitated, then extended one wing around my side. The great, leathery span shut out the wind and was almost shockingly warm.

A ripple of heat spread through me. I breathed in, trying to collect my wits as the sudden contrast—bitter cold on one side, radiant heat on the other—made my awareness spike. Who was I kidding? Awareness and Vyne went hand in hand. Every time he was near, it was like my entire being was attuned to him.

Still, I shifted closer, letting my shoulder rest against him.

He lowered himself so that we lay side by side, not quite touching beyond the drape of his wing. His wing formed a canopy, deflecting the punishing wind, and gradually, my shivers calmed. I hovered in that strange half-sleep again, the day’s exhaustion pulling me under with awkward, uneven surges of rest.

At some point, I must have drifted into sleep. If I dreamed, I couldn't say of what, only that the shadow of a Drakarn warrior stood over it all.

When dawn finally came, it snuck in on a faint, pewter glow. My eyes blinked open to discover the cloak had been pushed aside in favor of something warmer—Vyne. My cheek tucked against his shoulder; one of his arms curved around my waist, claws splayed over the hem of my shirt. His other arm was beneath my head, his fingers near my ear in a loose, almost protective grip. Even more startling, his tail coiled possessively around my calf.

My pulse thudded in my ears. This was too close, too comforting. His body heat soaked into me, each breath measured and slow. I knew I should recoil, should disengage from the intimacy that threatened to tip over the line if I so much as breathed too hard.

But I didn’t. Not right away. I relaxed a fraction, letting the lingering chill recede a bit further. There was no time to waste, but for just one moment, I let myself steal the comfort.

TEN

SELENE

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