Page 17 of Stolen
It’s simply coming home.
I carry her through the stone halls of my keep, down the spiral corridor to the chamber I’ve prepared.
To my bed.
“Easy,viyella,” I murmur, frowning.
The word formateslips too freely from my tongue.
I ignore it, settling her atop the bedding.
She looks so pale and soft, shimmering like a silver star across the midnight colored blankets and sheets.
My magic stretches with a sigh, curling around us both like smoke seeking flame.
I breathe it in, holding her tighter.
Her scent is a balm in the storm.
Warm, light, and soft sweetness, threaded with exhaustion and unspent dreams.
Yes. She’ll do. More than do.
I don’t know why or how, but I feel something stirring.
Like something is shifting inside me, too.
And I can’t tell if it’s the realm, the magic, or her.
Nightfall always welcomes my return with shadows and silence. But now the air is thick with the scent of power and the weight of old magic.
I stare at her helpless to do otherwise and feel my loins stirring in response. It’s unexpected. And so damn powerful, I almost groan aloud.
I don’t mean to take her. Not tonight. Not yet. But I can’t deny my attraction to her.
And the scent of her—gods, the scent of her—is already driving me mad.
Her cheeks are still flushed from the transition to this realm. Her dark curls are sticking to her skin.
I frown, noting her jeans are dirty and her shirt is splattered with cheap vodka and spilled beer.
That won’t do.
I wave my hand, using my magic to remove her clothing and freshen her skin. I keep her modesty in place, hiding her luscious form beneath a silken sheet.
Fuck, she smells divine.
Like something mine.
I lean closer, inhaling at the curve of her throat.
Creamy. Warm. Sweet.
I nuzzle a little nearer, letting the scent settle into my bones.
Something animal in me purrs in response. My Dragon memorizing her already.
Then she stirs.
