Page 22 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

We remain there, momentarily stunned. My wings are pinned under me, the stone-like ridges scraping against the packed snow. She lifts her head, bracing her hands on my chest, eyes wide with a mix of triumph and shock. “I… I knocked you down?” she whispers, exhilaration leaking in her voice.

I blink, inhaling cold air. “So it would seem.” My chest rumbles with a grudging chuckle.Maybe I underestimated her cunning.The bond thrums, an intimate warmth that draws me too close to her racing heartbeat. Her breath mists in the frigid air, tangling with mine.

“Ha,” she exhales, her lips curved in a grin. Then realization dawns that she’s practically draped over me. Our gazes meet, and everything shifts. The teasing, combative tension morphs into something hotter, more potent. I feel her pulse thrumming under the brand on her wrist, sense the quickening beat in her veins through our tether. Heat coils in my core, and for an instant, I forget the cold altogether.

Her cheeks flush deeper. She tries to scramble off me, but her foot tangles in my tail. She squeaks, and I shift to help untangle us. Our limbs collide, and she ends up braced over me, face mere inches from mine.

I swallow, awareness roiling in my chest. Her hair, streaked with silver, drapes over her shoulder, nearly brushing my face. The tether’s hum intensifies, filling my ears like the echo of my own pulse. I can smell her skin—salt, a hint of a faint floral note that clings to her, and the unmistakable tang of magic.

She inhales sharply, eyes flicking to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean—” she stammers.

“It’s fine,” I rasp, voice rougher than usual. My hands move instinctively to her waist, steadying her. Beneath my palms, I feel her warm, lean frame. A surge of conflicting emotions tangles in my chest: the part of me that yearns for closeness after centuries in stone sleep, and the part that remembers Nerezza—what it meant to be intimate with a purna and how devastatingly that ended.

Sariah’s breath hitches, her gaze locked with mine. For a heartbeat, I almost lean closer, drawn by the magnetic pull of her presence. The bond crackles, a current that begs to be acknowledged. But a wave of caution douses the fire in my veins.I cannot repeat the past.I forcibly clear my throat, shifting to break the moment.

She scrambles away, cheeks blazing. I sit up, ignoring the dull ache in my back from the fall. An awkward silence descends, broken only by our ragged breathing. I run a hand through my hair, dislodging bits of snow. She busies herself brushing ice from her cloak.

She mumbles, “So… that was, um… your demonstration in melee?”

I snort softly, half-laughing at her attempt to lighten the mood. “I’d say you demonstrated more than me, knocking me flat like that.” My tone is a touch gentler than before, grudgingly impressed.

She rubs her arms, probably from the cold but also from lingering embarrassment. “I took a risk. Didn’t think it would work.” A hesitant smile ghosts her lips. Her eyes flicker with a mix of pride and a leftover spark of that heated moment.

“You did well,” I acknowledge. “You combined a minor spell with a physical maneuver. That’s what I meant by synergy—using magic and body in tandem.”

Her expression brightens. “Really?”

I nod, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Yes. Keep practicing. Next time, I won’t go easy on you.”

She exhales a soft laugh, stepping back. “I’m almost afraid to see what not ‘going easy’ means for a gargoyle.” Then, sobering, she adds, “But thanks, I guess. For showing me how to push beyond what I learned in my coven.”

I grunt. “You’re welcome. Now let’s?—”

A sudden noise in the distance startles us both: a harsh caw, perhaps from a carrion bird, or maybe a raven. We both go still, scanning the horizon. I’m instantly on alert, wings half-raised. Sariah stands poised as well, the slight glow of magic flickering around her hands.

After a moment, the sound doesn’t repeat. I relax marginally, though my heart still pounds from the scare and that unexpected near-intimacy. “Probably just wildlife,” I murmur, though I remain vigilant. The bond’s tension has sharpened, as if reflecting our combined wariness.

Sariah looks at me, worry etched in her features. “We should do a perimeter check before we settle down. We don’t need a random predator or Drayveth’s scouts catching us off-guard.”

I incline my head. “Agreed.” Then, as we gather our cloaks and prepare to move, I add, “We’ll continue training tomorrow. For now, let’s be certain we’re safe.”

Her expression shifts to something approaching relief, though a trace of lingering heat remains in her eyes. “Sure. Tomorrow.” The word holds an undercurrent of promise—and wariness.

We leave the small clearing, trudging side by side across the snowy expanse to our makeshift campsite. The earlier tension from our sparring still crackles in the air, though we keep our distance. My back aches from where I hit the ground, but a faint sense of amusement underlies the pain. Sariah might not realize it, but toppling a gargoyle is no small feat—even if my slip on the ice gave her an advantage.

She glances at me occasionally, as though testing the waters of conversation. The bond hums, making me hyper-aware of her presence. I can sense her pulse calm as the minutes pass, the flush receding from her cheeks. My own breathing steadies, yet my thoughts race with complicated feelings:Admiration, guilt, desire, caution.After centuries sealed in stone, I didn’t expect to find myself in such a precarious alliance.Nor did I expect to be so drawn to a mortal woman with a brand on her wrist and fearsome magic surging in her veins.

Before these reflections can trap me, I focus on the immediate task. We circle the perimeter of our camp—a shallow depression behind a tangle of rocks—and find nothing amiss. The wind picks up, sending swirling flurries of snow in our faces. Sariah shivers, hugging her arms. I step ahead, letting my broad frame shield her from the worst gusts. The bond thrums with subtle warmth, reminding me how closely our fates are entangled.

We return to our shelter, a crude arrangement of stone slabs and the remains of an old wall that we pieced together. The sun hovers low, the sky awash with wan light, creating long shadows across the snow. Evening will come soon, bringing colder temperatures. My wings shift, tail flicking as I scan for anything we can use for firewood. The environment is sparse, but we’ve managed to scrounge enough dry branches to keep a small flame alive each night.

Sariah helps arrange the kindling, her breath puffing in the cold. She kneels, murmuring a soft incantation. A spark of purna magic ignites the sticks, and flames crackle to life. I settle on a flat rock opposite her, letting the heat wash over my stone-cold limbs. My runes glow faintly, resonating with the comfort of open flame.

For a while, we sit in companionable silence. The day’s training weighs on Sariah, I can tell—her eyelids occasionally droop, and she rubs her temples as though warding off a headache. I wonder if the tether amplifies her fatigue, or if it’s the bruises forming on her arms from our sparring. Guilt twists in my gut. I’m pushing her hard, but we have no choice. We’re running out of time, out of safe spaces.Better she be bruised in training than dead in a real fight.

Eventually, she clears her throat, looking at me over the fire. “You mentioned synergy. How exactly do we… use that?”

I arch a brow. “You felt it just now, didn’t you? When you combined your spell with your physical strike. My power responded, as if our energies recognized each other.”

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