Page 34 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
Something deep within her responded to that restraint more powerfully than any declaration could have. He wanted—oh, how he wanted—yet he waited for her choice.
Taking her silence as a reply, his fingers resumed their work, spreading cooling balm across her abdomen where the itching had been fiercest. The relief was immediate, yet paradoxically, her body now burned with a different kind of need. Each caress kindled awareness that had nothing to do with discomfort and everything to do with desire.
When he finished, Sora felt simultaneously better and worse. The maddening itch had subsided, replaced by an emptiness that tugged at her core and slick between her legs, that wasn’t from the balm he’d spread there.
“Thank you,” she managed, rubbing her shaking hands all over her arms, to feel how smooth and cool they’d become. “I thought I was going mad.”
“You should dress,” he said, his voice tight as he stepped away. “Ember expects you for training sometime.” His wings shifted restlessly against his back as he recorked the vial. “Though I intend to test your abilities first after the morning meal, before I hand you off to her.”
“Test me?” She pulled the sleeping shift over her head. “How? Why?”
A smile curled the edge of his mouth, revealing the hint of sharpened teeth. “I need to know what my most precious treasure is capable of before allowing my delta guard the honor of training you.”
Heat that had nothing to do with her transformation rushed to her cheeks. “I’m not a warrior. On Earth, I was a scholar.”
“You’re whatever you choose to be,” he corrected, moving toward the door. “And here, knowledge alone won’t protect you. The royal family won’t rest until they’ve captured—or worse, killed—what they believe threatens their power.”
The memory of Princess Jewels’ calculating eyes at the Selection Ball flashed through Sora’s mind, followed by the horrifying accounts of omega essence harvesting. A shiver traced her spine despite the chamber’s comfortable warmth.
“I’ll be ready,” she promised, though uncertainty coiled in her stomach. She’d never fought anyone in her life, other than the dairy cows at her family’s farm.
But that was many years ago—a whole different life than the one she had here—in a body of a royal maid.
Ignis nodded, crimson gaze lingering on her. “I have no doubt.”
* * *
Morning light filtered through crystal veins running through the cavern’s upper reaches, casting rainbow patterns across the training grounds carved from living stone. Glowstones scattered around the space cast an ethereal glow, softening the area farther—clashing with the deadly seriousness it was meant to hold.
Sora circled cautiously, keenly aware of Ignis’s predatory grace as he matched her movements with fluid precision.
“Focus,” he instructed, taloned hands held in loose approximation of human fighting stance. “Your opponent will exploit any distraction.”
Easy for him to say.
Each time he moved, muscles rippled beneath ruby scales, wings shifting with perfect balance. Everything about him radiated controlled power—beautiful and lethal. Her eyes kept tracking to the curve of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders, the intensity of his gaze.
The training garments Zalaya had provided—form-fitting trousers and a sleeveless tunic made from some strange material that clung snuggly on her, but didn’t restrain her movement—offered surprising freedom. Silver scales now permanently adorned her forearms and traced delicate patterns across her collarbones, catching light as she moved.
“Your stance is too rigid.” Ignis circled closer. “Dragons fight with fluidity, not mechanical precision.”
“I told you I’m not a warrior,” she reminded him, mirroring his movements with growing frustration. “In my world, historians and researchers don’t typically engage in combat training.”
“In this world, everyone knows basic self-defense.” He lunged suddenly, reaching for her shoulders.
Instinct kicked in before conscious thought. Sora twisted beneath his grasp, body moving with surprising grace as she ducked under his arm. The maneuver felt distantly familiar, as though recalled from another life. The baker’s daughter’s body remembering what her Earth-born mind had never learned.
Ignis’s crimson eyes gleamed with approval. “Better. Your body knows more than your mind admits.”
But why would the other Sora—the real royal maid—know how to react?
They continued circling, a dance of advance and retreat. Sora found herself anticipating his movements, reading subtle tells in the shift of his weight, the tension in his wings. Each time they made contact—his hand on her wrist, her palm against his scaled forearm—electricity sparked between them.
“You’re holding back,” she accused after successfully evading a series of controlled attacks. “Fighting like you’re afraid to hurt me.”
Something dangerous flickered across his expression. “I am.”
“I can’t learn if you treat me like glass.” Heat flared beneath her skin, fueling her newfound confidence. “I’m stronger than I look.”
