Page 65 of The Dragon 1
Faster than breath.
A pulse ofcoldsurged through the air, blinding and sudden—like moonlight made into a blade.
Next, power leapt from her palms in a twin arc of luminous frost, not white, but something more ancient—silver veined with shimmering sapphire—ice carved from the bones of forgotten gods.
She has power?!
And that very power of hers hit him square in his beast’s chest.
For the first time in centuries. . .his fire died.
What?!
The blaze caught in his throat dimmed to smoke. Heat retreated from his limbs.
The inferno within him—unmatched, divine, eternal—shuddered, strangled by something cleaner, colder, purer.
What is this?
No one had ever cooled him before.
Not in all his wars.
Not in all his lifetimes.
Not likethis.
The sensation wasn’t just cold. It was clarity. A bloom of quiet in the storm. Her power slid under his scales and coiled around his ribcage.
Hmmm.
His pulse erupted—wild, molten, shamefully needy. His body betrayed him, trembling in places it had never stirred.
Not from battle.
Not from fear.
But fromher.
With insanity, the beastly part of him snarled for more.
More ofher.
Very interesting.
A ridiculous, maddening thought. But there it was, echoing in the place where his beast’s heart lived.
Who is this?
He dipped lower in the air, just a hair, wings adjusting, talons glinting. He leaned into the feeling, wanting to feel thatcool, thatawe, that. . .woman.
As if she heard him. . .
She hit him again.
Another blast!
Stronger this time.
