Page 46 of A Witch and Her Dragon
I smile slightly against his throat. “What you want to do to me.”
Against his skin, the chain starts to glow blue. Raelan is breathing harder now, the trembling of his body intensifying. I pull back to look at him, but he has his eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed with pain or concentration—I can’t tell which.
His eyes open, finding mine.
And I can see the dragon within him. Flecks of gold have appeared in his eyes, beautiful and otherworldly.
“Alina, I—”
Raelan’s head jerks abruptly to the side, his words cutting off as his gaze snaps to the mouth of the alley. His eyes narrow, and I follow his gaze.
Across the road, a few people are walking, drawing their cloaks closer about their bodies against the breeze. Dancing leaves swirl down from the trees lining the cobblestone walkways, coming to rest upon the road, where they will soon be crunched into leaf dust by horses’ hooves or carriage wheels. I can see nothing of note.
“What is it?” I whisper. “Did you see something?”
Raelan pushes off the wall, his slitted eyes still turned away from me, but what they’re searching for, I’ve no idea.
“I don’t know,” he says at long last. The tightness in his trousers lessens, leaving me feeling frustrated. What will it take for him to finally touch me in the way I crave? “But we should get back.”
Raelan draws himself up, looking every bit my protector. I just don’t see what he thinks he needs to protect me from.
I ease myself off the cold brick wall, feeling chilled now without Raelan’s body heat to keep me warm. Disappointment floods through me, twisting my stomach into a knot. But I try not to let it show. “Very well.”
Chapter 22
Raelan
IT WAS HARD TO TELL through the desire and heat flooding my body, but I felt a threat, felt eyes roving over us, felt a curious intensity that made me pull back from Alina and scan the cobblestone road. Though I saw nothing, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been watching us.
The entire way back to the academy, I was quiet, focusing my full attention on scanning our surroundings and ensuring Alina—and her dizzying scent—didn’t distract me. After that moment in the alley, I felt nothing else, but I’m still on high alert even now as I sit with Alina and her roommates in the stands flanking the runeball field.
I’ve never been interested in sports, and I don’t believe Alina is either, but energy thrums through the onlookers, and it seems the students are grateful for time away from their studies. The smells of spun sugar and toasted cinnamon pecans fill the air, making my mouth water. Perhaps I’llgo to the nearby cart and purchase some—maybe even try to enjoy myself while I’m here, seeing as Alina doesn’t seem eager to leave anytime soon.
“Which one is your brother?” Lyra asks. She’s seated on Alina’s other side, some sort of apple-scented sticky-pop held in one hand. Her tongue is stained green from sucking on it.
Maeve lifts a hand and points, bracelet jangling on her wrist. “There. The big one.”
All our gazes follow her finger, and I home in on a player who towers well above the others. His long hair is pulled back into a messy bun, the sides of his head shaved just above his pointed ears. His skin has a slight green tint to it, and small tusks protrude up from his bottom lip—an orc, then.
Together, we all look back at Maeve. She pushes her glossy hair over her shoulder and says, “We’re stepsiblings. My mom married his dad.”
That would explain it.
“It’s Aric, right?” Lyra asks.
Maeve nods.
In what I’ve come to know as being typical of the fire witch, Lyra pushes to her feet, waving her hands in the air, and screams, “Go, Aric!”
His gaze shifts in our direction—along with the gazes of everyone else in the vicinity. Between Maeve and Lyra, Poppy sinks down, looking humiliated to have so many pairs of eyes on her. ButLyra just screams again, “Crush them!”
I’m not even sure who the other team is—it looks to me like they’re all Coven Crest students of varying ages—but the sentiment makes Aric smile, and he thrusts a burly fist into the air.
“Lyra!” Poppy whispers. “Sit down! Everyone’s staring!”
“Oh, it’s fine, Pops.” Lyra takes her seat on the bench and slips the sticky-pop back into her mouth, waggling her fingers at the other onlookers who’re still staring at her.
Beside me, Alina laughs. It’s a beautiful sound.
