Page 61 of Stolen
Can you even imagine that?
Meeting an insanely hot guy who steals you from your home, brings you to another realm, turns into a creature of legend, and then looks at you like you’re made of magic?
Oh my God. Do I sound nuts?
“Not at all. It is very astute of you,Myrrin,” his voice rumbles through my mind—rich and deep, like thunder veiled in silk.
“All Dragons come from magic.”
Of course they do.
“I knew it,” I breathe aloud, clutching the leather straps that serve as makeshift reins.
“You’re made of it. Nightfall. Stars. Fire, air, bone, flesh and something else. Something almost holy.”
I pause and take a breath before saying aloud that thing I never dreamed I’d ever say.
“Magic is real.”
He lets out a breath that stirs my hair, and the corners of his mouth curl in what I swear is a smile.
Or the Dragon version of one.
“Yes. And now you’re part of it, too.”
Me?
A part of this?
Something expands in my chest—an ache I’ve carried for so long I didn’t even know it had a name.
He steps into a clearing at the edge of a secluded glade, his tail sweeping behind him like a banner.
His presence shakes the very trees.
Birds—creatures that shimmer like crystal-laced finches—flutter above.
Light dances off the pool beside us, fed by a waterfall so clear and bright it looks like it fell from the moon.
“Climb down,my viyella.”
The way he says it. Like it means something special.
His voice, even like this, sinks into my bones and wraps around my heart.
That word—viyella—it sounds like a spell.
Like a sacred promise only the stars would dare witness.
And fool or not, I want to believe it.
I slide my leg over and begin to climb down, my hands trailing over the smooth, warm scales of his flank.
They’re sleek and solid beneath my palms, humming with energy.
“Smooth on the way down,” he warns gently.
“But do not try from the other direction. My scales are armor. A defense. They would slice your delicate skin without meaning to.”
