Page 35 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
“You’ve no idea what you’re asking,” he warned, but his wings flared slightly, betraying interest. “Dragon combat training isn’t gentle.”
“Neither are royal guards with omega-poisoned weapons.” She raised her chin in challenge. “Show me what I’m facing.”
For a moment, she thought he’d refuse. Then his posture shifted, power unfurling like a banner as he launched into motion. The attack came faster than before, less telegraphed, more fluid—like a predator no longer playing with his prey.
Sora barely evaded the first sweep of his arm, heart pounding, breath sharp, body reacting faster than thought.
They moved together as though choreographed, attack and defense blending into continuous motion. Each time his scales brushed her skin, awareness sharpened. His scent—midnight stone and ancient fire—wrapped around her, simultaneously disorienting and focusing.
And yet, each of his marks upon her skin left no trace of blood.
Taloned fingers closed around her wrist, tugging her off-balance. Sora twisted, using his momentum to slide within his guard. Her back pressed against his chest, his arm locked around her waist. Heat radiated from his body, seeping through her training clothes.
“Caught,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Now how are you going to escape?”
Something molten pooled low in her abdomen. The dragon blood in her veins sang with recognition, with awareness more profound than mere attraction. Every nerve ending where their bodies touched seemed to ignite.
It was a dangerous game they were playing… and still, some part of her ached to fall into temptation. Throwing caution to the wind, giving in to what he wanted from her… needed from her.
“What would you do now?” she challenged, voice emerging huskier than intended.
His arm tightened fractionally around her waist. “That depends on whether I meant to kill or capture.”
“And which is it?”
The rumble in his chest vibrated against her back. “Neither. What I want from you requires willing surrender, not dominance.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with fear. For a heartbeat, Sora allowed herself to imagine it—surrendering to the pull between them, exploring the heat that kindled whenever they touched.
Then reality reasserted itself.
How could she bewitha dragon?
“Let’s try again,” she said, pulling away before temptation overwhelmed reason.
They resumed their sparring dance, each exchange growing more intense. Sora found herself adapting with surprising speed, body responding to challenges with increasing confidence. More alarming was how natural it felt—this lethal choreography, this intimate battle.
Almost like a mating dance between two potential partners…
Ignis moved with liquid grace despite his formidable form, each attack precise yet controlled. When she successfully countered a complex maneuver, satisfaction gleamed in his crimson eyes.
“You learn quickly,” he noted, circling her with predatory focus. “I was right. Your body remembers what your mind has forgotten.”
“But how canIdo this?” She blocked his downward strike, twisting to create distance between them. “I’ve never fought like this before.”
“Perhaps not in this lifetime.” His wings shifted with the subtle redistribution of weight that she now recognized preceded an attack. “But you have dragon blood within you.”
Before she could respond, he lunged—faster than before, deadly grace unleashed in controlled aggression. Sora’s newly heightened reflexes barely saved her from being pinned against the stone wall. She ducked beneath his arm, pivoted, and found herself pressed against his chest.
Time suspended. Her palms splayed against golden scales that burned beneath her touch. His heartbeat—slower, stronger than human—pulsed against her fingers. Dragon fire and ancient stone enveloped her senses, his scent obliterating rational thought.
His head dipped lower, breath caressing her cheek. “Your scent changes when we fight.”
“Does it?” The words emerged breathless, barely audible.
“Sweeter. Headier.” His taloned fingers traced her jawline with exquisite gentleness. “Like moonflowers in bloom.”
The training grounds receded, awareness narrowing to the infinitesimal space between them. His pupils expanded, crimson irises reduced to burning rings around absolute darkness.
