Page 93 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I remembered Queen Faylinn speaking of Dragonic—a language only dragons and…
My breath caught. Holy Divine.
“Have you heard of the Elementara Fae?” I asked slowly.
He nodded. “I read about them when I was younger.” His voice dropped. “Elara…” He stared at me as if I were unraveling everything he thought he knew. “They were the only Fae able to speak Dragonic. Because they had dragon blood in their veins. But they’ve been extinct for centuries.”
I didn’t answer. I just took another bite of peach, too shaken to form words. The juice trickled down my chin again, but this time, I didn’t bother wiping it away.
Zayn did.
He stepped closer, lifted his hand, and wiped the juice from my skin. His fingers were gentle. Possessive. And that tick in his jaw…
I looked down—mistake. His abs were flexed, his torso inches from me. Sculpted. Strong. My hand moved before I could stop it, tracing the edge of his stomach.
He hissed. Not in pain—more like restraint snapping. The dull buzz of magic sparked beneath my palm, his energy calling to mine, demanding it. Welcoming it.
Shit. What the Hel was I doing?
I yanked my hand back like I’d been burned. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He said nothing.
Not one. Gods-damned. Word.And that pissed me off for some reason.“You know what? I don’t think Genevieve would appreciate you staying in my room,” I snapped. “Maybe you should be with her. Which, I assume, is exactly where you were last night.”
He smirked, infuriatingly calm. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not! I don’t give a shit who you fuck—”
He cut me off as he stepped forward, voice low. “Admit it, Peach. You are jealous. So gods-damned jealous that it’s not you underneath me, begging me to make you come.”
My jaw dropped.
Anger started to overshadow the ache I was just feeling. “Jealous? Please—of what, your ego or harem of women who have more curves than brains? I don’t need to beg you for shit.”
Zayn stepped closer, voice low and smug. “It’s kind of cute… how flustered you get when I’m around you. Your heartbeat quickens; your cheeks get flushed… In fact, I can smell your arousal right. Fucking. Now. I just think you hate that you can’t pretend you don’t want me—when every breath you take is a silent plea for me to notice you.”
Without even thinking, my hand cracked hard and fast across his cheek. And he grinned, lips curling like he enjoyed the sting. “Such a fucking brat.”
“Piss off, Zayn. Go fuck one of your little whores or Genevieve.” I went to storm off, but his hand grabbed my wrist tightly and he pulled me hard against his chest.
His breath was hot in my face, my pulse raced, “She isn’t you.”
I backed up until my spine hit the cold stone wall. “Wh-what?”
“I said… She. Is. Not. You.”
He was so close now, I could taste him. His gaze dropped to my lips, then my chest, then slowly back to my eyes. “Say it. Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll leave.”
“I don’t want you.” The words flew out of my mouth quickly, but I lied.
He bit his bottom lip, then turned abruptly toward the door. Hand on the handle.
Paused.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and started pacing back and forth like he was contemplating whether to stay or leave.
He froze, then turned to look at me.
