falling in quick succession.
The girl had mesmerized me, and I couldn’t look away. I could only stare at pure temptation. Was I angry? Absolutely. She’d gotten out of the tent somehow, ignoring a clear, unmistakable order I’d hated myself for uttering. But I’d done it anyway, just as a good avian should when seeking restitution. She’d impressed me yet again. She had no right to impress me.
Though I hadn’t seen her leave the tent, I’d known the moment she’d exited, the tracker spell alerting me; it also informed me of her quick visit to the Enchantian Forest. A mistake, surely. I’d found her in the camp only minutes later. As she’d paraded past bloodthirsty warriors, I’d followed at a reasonable distance, wondering if she would use her fire magic to protect herself.
She hadn’t. Because no one had dared to approach her. Because I’d cast a warning glare upon any who’d considered it.
Watching her twirl around a firepit, uninhibited and merry, I’d marveled at her grace and enthusiasm. I’d smiled, and I’d fumed. How could a girl who lived with such unfettered joy be the same one who’d stabbed me and murdered my family?
“Saxon,” she breathed, her raspy voice a caress in my ears.
I should add a new punishment to her tally. I would add a new punishment. Only a fool made threats and failed to see them through. All I wanted to do right now?
Dance with her.
She was more dangerous than I’d ever realized. But...
I didn’t care. Not here, not now. I stalked forward, closing the distance.
She clocked my every move, but she didn’t run. No, she stood her ground, her panting breaths growing more noticeable. I stopped after I’d invaded her personal space, expecting her to back down. I towered over her, the giant to her sprite.
She jutted her chin, and I inhaled deeply. Her rose-and-vanilla scent teased my nose, the best parts of me stiffening.
“Why were you speaking with the warlock?” The powerful male was dedicated to aiding her father. “Do you conspire with your prince’s competition?”
“You already know I’m familiar with Milo. He lived at the palace in Fleur when I did, and his father is the one who died with my mother. If I was going to conspire with anyone, it would be Ophelia and Noel, not Milo. I don’t think he’s very nice.”
“You looked friendly with him. Do you forget that he fights for Dior’s hand in marriage?”
“So? You do, too.”
Unable to deny it—yet—I stepped even closer, my body pressing flush against hers. Still she didn’t back down, her display of strength arresting me. How was I supposed to proceed with her?
I couldn’t even look away. Flickering firelight bathed her face, her emerald eyes as bright as the Avian Mountains at sunrise. A time when dew-dampened foliage glistened with life and vitality. Just the sight of her delighted my senses.
In this lifetime, I had little experience with pleasure, so I wasn’t as resistant to its allure as I’d been in the other lifetimes. I’d never had a serious relationship, only a string of temporary companions. I’d never trusted anyone enough. No one had ever felt right.
My relationship with Ashleigh felt just as wrong as the others. And yet, it also felt...inevitable.
Why fight what you cannot stop?
Why not enjoy my descent?
Someone with a bongo drum joined the flute player, keeping the beat. Soft. Seductive. Rhythmic. As if fate had brought the musicians together at just this place, at just this time, for just this moment. Dancers gyrated around us, weaving a magical spell.
“Are you going to drag me back to the tent?” Ashleigh rasped, pressing a hand over her heart. Did it race?
When I spied the golden nails held to her knuckles by a hair ribbon, I almost smiled. I’d left the nails for Leonora, expecting her to melt and trade them, as she’d done in the past. But Ashleigh had armed herself instead. Smart girl. Wily.
“Saxon?” Ashleigh prompted.
I wasn’t ready to part with her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, holding her close, I told her, “What I’m going to do is dance with you, Asha.”
“Dance?” she asked at a higher pitch. Her eyes widened and she flattened her hands against my pectorals, as if to push me away, but she applied no pressure. “Is this dance some sort of punishment? Because I snuck out fair and square.”
“Dancing with me is punishment?”
“Yes!”
“Are you sure?” I slid one hand up, up, her back to cup her nape. A low moan left her. I closed my free