Page 123 of The Curse of Golden Blood
"What else would you call it? All that growling and chest-thumping." She reached out, trailing one finger down the center of my chest where my shirt still hung open. The touch was light, casual, and it burned like molten gold. "Very impressive display. I'm sure it works on all the simpering court ladies."
I caught her wrist, not roughly but firmly enough to stop the maddening caress. "I don't want simpering court ladies."
"No?" Her voice dropped to something lower, huskier. "What do you want then?"
The question was loaded with promise and threat in equal measure. I could feel the power radiating from her, warm and intoxicating. Could see the fire beginning to dance beneath her skin.
"I want you to stop pretending you don't feel this too." I tightened my grip on her wrist, drawing her closer. "I want you to stop fighting something we both know is inevitable."
She laughed again, but this time it had an edge. "Inevitable? You really are arrogant."
"And you really are stubborn."
"It's one of my better qualities."
"I can think of others."
"Can you now?" She stepped even closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her skin. "Care to share?"
The sudden vulnerability in her tone caught me off guard. This was still new for her. All of it. The power, the wings, the way she could stand toe-to-toe with a warlord and not flinch. She was learning to inhabit this new version of herself, testing boundaries she'd never had before.
It made her even more dangerous. And infinitely more appealing.
"Your stubbornness," I said, keeping my voice gentle despite the fire building in my chest. "The way you refuse to break, no matter what's thrown at you."
She ducked her head, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "That's just survival."
"No. That's strength." I reached out, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "Most people would have shattered under what you've endured."
"Most people don't have much choice."
"You always had a choice. You could have given up. Could have let the despair consume you." My fingers traced the curve of her jaw. "Instead, you came back from death itself."
She looked up at me then, those golden eyes bright with something I couldn't name. "Only because I had something worth coming back to."
The words hit me like lightning. Direct, honest, devastating in their simplicity.
"Miralyte—"
"Show me," she said, stepping back and spreading her wings. "Show me how to fight like you do."
The sudden shift caught me unprepared, but I recovered quickly. "You want to spar?"
"I want to learn." Her chin lifted with familiar determination. "If I'm going to face Ylvena, I need to know how to do more than just channel sunfire."
She was right. Power was useless without skill to direct it. And if she was determined to challenge the Sun Court's usurper, she'd need every advantage.
"Fine," I said, moving to the center of the chamber. "But we start slow. You're stronger than you realize."
"I'll be careful."
"See that you are. I'd prefer not to explain to Narietta why we burned down the training hall."
She laughed, the sound bright in the stone space. "Afraid of your little sister?"
"Terrified," I said solemnly. "And you should be too."
"Do your worst, warlord. I can handle anything you throw at me."
