Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,62

merciless demon.

He had meant what he’d said to Leena back at the hospital—he had been betrayed and broken, and might never have a whole heart to give to another. Beyond that, the Phoenix Prince was a powerful enemy of the Shades, and so anyone he loved was a target. Paya had been a victim. What right did he have to put Leena in danger, too?

Absolutely none, yet survival demanded light. Life demanded a future. He had reached for Leena like a plant seeking the sun, or roots finding water. She was food, drink, and air to him. She was healing. She was life.

When had that become the truth? When had he begun to take pleasure in her smiles, or feel her every bump and bruise as sharply as his own? When she’d first danced for him? When she’d taken his hand and dragged him into the human realm? When she’d picked up a spear and stabbed a Shade? She’d astonished him into feeling again.

Was that what he wanted?

Leena was no courtier’s daughter. She was little more than a barbarian, and a prince couldn’t afford to follow his heart. But did that matter? He was no longer the haughty warlord who had believed himself invincible. Juradoc had taught him despair.

But he’d come too far for surrender. His people, his land, were in danger, and he had to fight. He had to defend what he loved.

Yes, despite all his doubts and struggles, he’d remembered how to love.

Slender arms wrapped around him from behind. His hands went to hers, feeling the softness of her skin. Even kissed by the sun, she was moon pale, a child of the mountain snow. Given distance, rank, and history, it was miraculous they had even met. And yet—he couldn’t imagine standing here with anyone else. She was his luck, a shooting star that had changed everything.

Morran pulled her to his side, enjoying the sense of familiarity in her touch. She was clean and dressed, clearly refreshed by the Temple’s power. And lovely—so lovely. They fit well together, her long legs making up for her smaller form. He put an arm around her, tantalized by the silky warmth of her long, fiery hair.

“Are you watching for the Shades?” she asked. “Do you see them?”

“No,” he replied. “See for yourself. There’s a good view of the desert.”

Leena left the circle of his arm to peer out. He knew the scenery well, having stood in this exact place so many times before.

“When I thought of the Great Temple, I imagined gold and jewels,” she said, sounding wistful. “Great pillars and tamed elephants. That seems childish now.”

“No,” he replied, “not childish. You are thinking of the Great Temple’s peacetime mood. It has many faces, so be patient. It does not show all its secrets at once.”

She turned to face him with a wistful smile. “What secrets?”

“Well, for one thing, there are ramshackle tunnels beneath the inner courtyard. I was delighted to discover them as a young boy.”

“What are they for?”

“I believe they were made so one can pass from one pyramid to another without interrupting a ceremony or having to push through a crowd. They’ve fallen into disrepair. I think the temple cats use them the most.”

Her lips parted to ask another question, but they were so full and soft, he kissed them instead of letting her speak. Leena tasted of wine and dates and the spice of pure female. She pressed into his embrace, her response instant and unguarded.

A moment later, the sky darkened, plunging them into shadow. For a desire-soaked instant, Morran imagined Leena’s touch had robbed him of sight, but then he turned to the window. A giant wing blotted out the sky. It was storm-gray, the membrane between the bones seeming fragile despite its size.

“What is that?” Leena’s voice was a whisper.

“Dragon,” he replied, leaning out the window for a better look. “If the dragons are here, that means the fae armies have come down from the north to join the Tymeeran army. We saw the remains of the last battle. The next fight will be a full-scale war.”

The idea was gratifying and horrible. He watched the dragon swoop across the sky, its long tail snaking behind it. That was Ronan of the Brightwing Clan, if he wasn’t mistaken, as fierce a warrior as ever sailed the clouds. The dragon angled into a tight spiral, then swooped down to land on the far side of the pyramids, beyond the northeast corner of the Temple grounds. That would