Page 109 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
“I like that sound. But not as much as I like the way you moan.”
I bit my lip. “Why do we have this?” I motioned to the golden flames on my skin and to his black, inky shadows.
“Because we are fated mates.”
“I knew that…”
“Because our bond is so incredibly strong. So rare,” he stroked my cheek. “It will fade soon. It’s our magic intertwining. It’s a mark of divine favor—an ancient trait gifted by the old golds to only the most powerful or destined of Fae. When we bonded, baby, something ancient awakened—something buried deep within our blood, our magic, and our souls. Our magic doesn’t just complement one another—it was completed. And the gods remembered.”
I pushed Zayn on his back and climbed on top. His onyx shadows flared beneath him, and mine responded. Myflames slithered from my arms as Zayn’s did from his, and they wrapped into one another like vines—becoming one. Zayn’s green eyes flared amber like fire, and mine did the same.
“Now, let me make you feel good.” I sank myself slowly down his length, and his eyes rolled back as he groaned.
We were the only ones in existence. Everything else fell away. And the way he touched me… the way his mouth claimed me… the way he gave me pleasure again and again…
This was no longer a dance.
It was a surrender.
I had only one thought burned in my mind as Imade love to my mate.
Mine.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Misundranaryan’s voice slid through the shadows of my mind, deep and resonant, the words curled like smoke.“Flameborn.”
The darkness shifted, and there it was again—that massive iron door, its surface etched with silver symbols that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. But this time… this time, in the dream, it opened.
A whisper stirred behind me, soft and achingly familiar. My mother’s voice.“I think your parents were more than just Fae.”Her words tangled with my own thoughts, with the memory of the Mage book that had claimed Mage Hand wasnot summoned, it wasborn. I remembered the magic flowing so easily through my fingers, as natural as breathing.
The floor beneath me shifted, stone turning rough and damp. A cave. The air was heavy here, smelling faintly of ash and something older than the realms themselves.
From the shadows, a white-scaled nose emerged, the same one I had glimpsed before—its sheer size enough to blot out the space between us. Then came the flames, roaring around me but not touching me, and through the fire I heard Zayn’s voice—low, certain. “Dragon blood. Elementara Fae.”
Misundranaryan’s rumble followed, vibrating through my bones.“Yes… Flameborn.”
I reached out my hand, unafraid. And in that moment, the truth unfurled inside me like a banner catching the wind. I knew what I was—what I had always been.
“I know what you are,”I whispered.
“I know what you are.”He paused.“Say what I am.”His deep voice roared.
The word fell from my lips without hesitation.“Dragon.”
My eyes flew open. The dream dissolved, and I was back in the quiet warmth of the real world, my body curled into Zayn’s chest, his steady heartbeat anchored me to the present.
I blinked against the soft morning light that spilled across the wreckage of the room. My head still felt hazy, the dream lingering like embers in my chest.
Zayn stirred behind me, his bare chest warm on my back. His voice came low and drowsy, curling around me like silk. “Morning, Peach,” he murmured. I turned to face him, his fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from my face. “You know, you’ve ruined me. You got me thinking about you all day long—from the second I wake up to the second my day is done—not a moment passes that I don’t think of you. Crave you. Even in my dreams, you’re there.” His gaze held mine, slow and deliberate. “Your eyes… are remarkable enough to make even a god pause.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks, though I tried to mask it with a smirk. I tilted my head up and kissed him.
We lay tangled together, skin to skin, the air still humming faintly with the aftermath of what we had done last night—six times. The magic we had unleashed hadn’tsimply faded; it lingered, swirling faintly in the corners, glimmering like dust motes made of glitter. Every so often, the air crackled as though the room itself remembered. The space bore the evidence of our storm. The armoire stood shattered, one of its doors hanging from a single hinge. Clothes lay strewn, glass gleamed across the floor in dangerous little constellations, and the bed—well, the bed had clearly lost the battle, its frame splintered and listing to one side.
A laugh burst from me, unexpected and bubbling. “Yara is going to be pissed with this mess.”
His grin was slow. “You’re confident Yara and Kalista won’t say anything about what you are?”
