Page 105 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
Zayn stopped marking me and he set me down. He took a step back so he could drink me in.
I pouted, “Come back.”
“Those pouty lips… gods. You are a fucking vision.”
“I recalled you wanted to shut these pouty lips up…” I slowly started to walk towards him. “Perhaps it’s time I show you how much of a good girl I can be.”
His knees buckled. His jaw tight, lips parted, chest rising and falling too quickly for someone pretending to be composed. “You like to be told what to do, don’t you?”
I bit my lower lip. “You’re looking at me like that again,” I whispered.
His emerald eyes burned, dark and hungry. “Like what?”
“Like you want to ruin me.”
Zayn stalked toward me, voice low and dangerous. “That’s because I do.”
His mouth crashed against mine. The kiss was fire and lightning, his hands griped my hips as if he were afraid I’d disappear. I tangled my fingers into his hair and kissed him deeper, our magic crackled between our bodies like a storm barely contained.
I pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips. “I want to see you.”
“You do see me,” he growled, breath heavy.
“No,” I said, stepping back. With a blink, I let my glamour drop. The illusion around me faded, and my Fae form shimmered into view—a glow bloomed across my skin like moonfire. My hair fell in golden waves down my back, and I felt my magic under the surface of my skin. My senses sharpened instantly—the room grew clearer, sharper. I could see the tiniest crack in the stone wall, the dust motes suspended midair. And Zayn—gods—Zayn—he smelled like storm winds and frost-kissed pines, like power barely leashed. That scent curled into my lungs and stirred something primal in me.
Every part of my body called to him.
My magic rose to the surface, warm and electric, dancing over my skin like it wanted to reach for him, to close the space between us again.
Zayn sucked in a breath like I’d stolen the air from his lungs. He dropped to his knees. “Holy gods…” he whispered. “Elara…”
He was transfixed, eyes tracing every inch of me like I was the first and last star he’d ever see. His fingers reached for the hem of my dress but stopped, shaking. “You’re not real,” he murmured, voice thick. “You can’t be real.”
“I am. And I want all of you,” I said, gently lifting his chin. “Drop your glamour, Zayn.”
His expression darkened. “No.”
“Why not?”
He stood suddenly, and I pushed him back towards his bed, hands flat on his chest. “Tell me.”
“Because,” he growled, “if I do, I will kill any fucking man who dares to touch you. You don’t understand the gravity of what we are… of what will happen… there will be no going back. No more men. It will be you and me. Forever. You don’t understand what that means, Elara.”
“Then make me understand.”
He shook his head, eyes closed. “Your influence on me… it’s too strong. If I drop it now, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
I smirked and leaned up, brushing my lips against his throat. “That’s kind of the point.”
“Elara—”
I didn’t let him finish. I slid my hands down his chest, fingers teasing the hem of his tunic, and slowly pulled itupward. His breath hitched as my touch slid across his skin. “Drop it,” I whispered again.
“Stop,” he warned, voice low and strained.
But I didn’t. I kissed his jaw, his neck, the line of his collarbone. Then I pulled my dress off my arms slowly and let the fabric pool at my feet.
Zayn cursed and stepped back. He closed his eyes. “Ten.”
