Page 50 of The Dragon and the Dove

Her need.

Shadows pooled, spanning the walls like the wings of an avenging angel. The dark made the gold of his eyes shine even brighter, made her feel like she was the only thing in his world.

‘I’m here,’ she whispered, bowing up to meet his lips. ‘I’m yours.’

‘Always.’ He claimed her mouth, stole her breath. ‘Always.’

Her own magic unspooled, that force inside her rejoicing as he moved on top of her.

Fisting his hair, she listened to him murmur her name in her ear, the rightness of their joining like a song in her heart.

It was heady, heaven. Soft and slow at first, then deeper, faster, both urgent, groaning. Desire tangled with magic, and love bloomed, as hot and bright as the Lightfire in their blood.

And as he dropped his hand, bringing her towards an earth-shattering crescendo, she cried out, ‘Bastian!’

It was so perfect that Seraphine forgot every nagging anxiety, the terror of today falling away until she collapsed, boneless, in the warm cradle of his arms.

Afterwards, they lay together in contented silence, his breath feathering her collarbone as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

Spent.

Sleeping, for the first time in days.

She held him there, willing the moment to last, but when midnight came, he stirred against her, as though the beast in his soul was keening to be let out.

Sitting up in bed, she raked the tangled hair from her face and watched him get dressed in a slant of moonlight. She studied the hard lines of his shoulders as he put on his trousers, the swell of his biceps as he fastened his shirt, the black whorls across his smooth olive skin disappearing with each button.

Sensing her watching him, he looked over his shoulder. A smile softened the edge of his jaw. ‘You look like a painting, Seraphine.’

‘So paint me.’

‘Some day.’

The darkness gathered at his ankles and crawled up his legs, until he wore it like a second skin. He paused in the doorway, like he was allowing himself one last look at her.

She flung a pillow at him. ‘I told you, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You’d better not,’ he said, teeth winking in the dark. ‘I still have to take you to the ball.’

‘When you see me in my dress, you’ll fall to your knees, Dagger.’

‘Already there, spitfire.’

Sera was blushing long after the door closed.

Later still, when the rest of House Armand was asleep, Sera crept downstairs to the cloakroom. The door was ajar. When she slipped inside, Theo was sitting on the window ledge. His forehead was pressed against the glass, his eyes on the faraway moon.

It might have been peaceful, were it not for the desperate look on his face. Sera had never seen worry like that.

‘Hey.’

Their eyes. Tonight, she stared a little harder, looking for threads of gold. Some sign of sainthood.

Seeming to notice her scrutiny, he slid off the windowsill and busied himself at his workbench. ‘What are you doing here so late?’

‘I need a favour.’

Retrieving two empty mugs, he set them down between them. ‘Please don’t say more steelfire. If I have to hammer any more blades tonight, my shoulder will fall off.’