Page 43 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
“Go take the dragon for a stroll,” Svenn orders his shadow.
The shadow scratches his head in annoyance. But he obliges, tying a vine around Coral’s neck.
“Now where were we?” His eyes glow with desire and danger. Just looking at him has heat pooling low in my belly. He coasts his hand up my waist but stops just short of cupping my breast.
Svenn lets me do things at my own pace. He is miles apart from his terrifying dream version. That Svenn would have pushed me against the tree and made love to me in the open.
My sweet Svenn in the real world brought a blanket to make sure I’m comfortable.
I keep touching him wherever I please.
The raw longing in his eyes has my hands trembling a little. This man says I’m his everything… Well, he’s my everything too.
I run my thumb on the seams of his lips as I lean down to claim them. “Svenn…”
Darkness curtains my vision momentarily.
It’s like night has suddenly descended upon us. Is it a sudden eclipse? Confusion sweeps through me and I look up to the sky.
A wyvern soars the heaven, the largest I have ever seen, with scales as red as blood. Tendrils of hot breath and smoke curl from its vicious maw. The hair on the back of my neck prickles at the terrifying sight.
“There is something different about that one,” Svenn mutters, narrowing his eyes to the red wyvern as it makes its descent near the house on the long hill.
I let out a small sigh, trying to expel the fear in my lungs. Fully grown wyverns are mostly black or mottled-gray, but there’s only one wyvern known to have a crimson coat.
Sanguisyl the Red Rain.
I can’t tell if it was bestowed with that name because of the color of its scales or because legend has it that wherever the wyvern flies, blood will pelt the earth in an endless barrage.
Other wyverns back away from the red one. They launch to the sky one by one at his approach. The air pulses with the sound of leathery wings, like a thousand moths taking flight.
Just as I begin to wonder whether its infamous rider is there—I see him.
By the gods… he’s right there.
My heart freezes at the sight of the fae on top of Sanguisyl’s neck. Its rider is none other than Eirik Bloodhound’s son himself.
The Fae Prince of Avalon.
Chapter 6 Rhianelle
“Stop it, Coral,” I beg her, using all my strength to hold her down.
All the other wyverns are cowering from Sanguisyl and yet here’s my Coral, leaping to go to him.
“Maybe it’s because of his color,” I muse, stroking her smooth suede horn gently.
Svenn doesn’t comment. He simply turns to Ken and says, “This is your fault.”
I kneel next to the wyvern and touch her scales. “This is just paint, Coral. You’re not really red.”
My easily distracted baby wyvern plops her belly for a rub, all thoughts on Sanguisyl abandoned. Coral may have forgotten him, but I can’t stop looking at the red dragon and its rider.
Finnbheara, the Fae Prince of Avalon, is right there. He’s just sitting there watching his wyvern wrestle with the other bulls. The thrumming in my chest refuses to slow down to allow me to think.
This is my chance. I check the knife and weapon in my satchel.
“What are you doing?” Svenn asks, surprise coloring his face.
