Page 57 of Song of Night

By the time I reach our camp on a cliff overlooking a valley of rolling green hills and snow-peaked mountains, night has fallen and stars have claimed the sky, burning holes in the velvety canvas. A full moon is rising, painting everything in a silvery glow. I have a satchel of supplies from the village below, including a bottle of honey-oak wine I plan to surprise Asher with.

But as I come around the boulder that serves as the entrance to our makeshift home, I stop dead in my tracks.

The cauldron over the fire is kicked over, the bedrolls are strewn about, and there are scuff marks all across the dirt. Asher is nowhere to be seen.

My dagger is in my hand in an instant and I crouch into a battle stance, ready for attack. Slowly, I move forward, my steps silent. I may not be able to bend shadows anymore, but I’ve never really needed them to disappear.

I hear my attacker’s footsteps from behind a moment before they’re on me.

Spinning, I throw out one of my legs to send him sprawling, and in the next instant I’m straddling him, knife at his throat.

“I told you I liked your dagger,” he says in his voice of smoke and steel.

I press the blade into his throat even harder, drawing a thin line of blood. “I brought you wine, and this is your idea of a romantic evening?”

In one swift movement, Asher flips me so he’s on top, grabbing my wrists and pinning them over my head. He bends close to my neck so his words tickle my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Tell me you don’t like it and I’ll release you.”

“As if you could hold me,” I taunt.

I wrap my legs around his waist, feeling him grow hard against me. I buck my hips up and a low rumble moves through his chest. While he’s distracted, I flip him again, rolling him across the grass until we land sitting upright, me straddling his lap. Asher’s hands cup my ass cheeks, peeling up the leather skirt I’m wearing.

“To think I lived centuries without knowing such a wondrous article of clothing existed,” he says, kissing down the side of my neck. “The Tyrlians really know their fashion.”

“Stop talking, Asher,” I growl.

He responds, having gotten my skirt up around my hips, by inserting one long finger inside me from behind. A gasp escapes my throat and I shudder against him. He pumps his finger twice more, curling it inside of me until I see stars.

“Asher,” I moan. “Don’t stop…”

He works at his pants with one hand while he continues to penetrate me with the other. And then something much larger than his finger is pressing against my sweet core. He places both hands around my hips and I take the full length of him into me. The sky spins, and Asher moans, burying his face into my neck.

I roll my hips slowly, pulling off his tunic as I do. He pulls off mine and then we are skin to skin, bare beneath the moon and the stars. We lock eyes as I move, picking up the pace slightly. Asher’s muscular arms are wrapped around my lower back, and I have one around his neck, one around his back, nails digging into him as pleasure spikes through me.

My lips move to the spot where I nicked his skin with my dagger, and I run my tongue across it. Asher lets out another growl and crushes me even closer against him, thrusting up into me as I gyrate my hips. I cry out and lean back, closing my eyes a moment as I grind against him harder and faster. My climax begins to blossom within me, each petal unfurling in a wave of bliss.

I open my eyes again and bend to kiss Asher as a moan moves through me. Our lips meet, and Asher’s eyes fly wide.

“Zara,” he says breathily. “Your eyes… they’re glowing.”

I feel it then, as my pleasure sweeps me away…a rush of magic. Magic that feels like the night sky and the stars overhead and the burning orb of the full moon. A cry rips from my throat, and Asher shudders against me, his own eyes turning molten copper, like flame and blood mixed. He yells and explodes inside me as we’re consumed by our ecstasy and the wash of new magic spiraling around us. Violet and vermillion sparks shoot up into the sky.

We collapse on the grass, trembling and clinging to each other.

“What just happened?” Asher says softly, his voice gravelly and rough from the intensity of our lovemaking.

“I think… I think magic found us again,” I whisper. “But a new magic. Your eyes have never glowed that color before.”

The night hums around us as we lie on the mountaintop, listening to the wind blow and the crickets sing and the sound of our hearts beating.

After a time, we get up, sitting in the grass near the edge of the cliff, fire rekindled behind us. I pour the wine, which luckily didn’t get broken when Asher decided to play his little prank. His wolf trots up from a hunting expedition, nose bloodied, and lays down in the grass while we pass the bottle back and forth.

“I can’t believe you made me think we’d been robbed,” I say with a smile. “You’re a terrible person.”

“And you, my thief and cutthroat, are in no position for judgement.”

He makes as if to hand me the wine, but when I grasp the bottle, he yanks me forward into a kiss.

“Don’t forget liar,” I whisper against his lips.

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