Page 45 of Dragon Cursed
He forced himself to look at her clinically, the way a healer might assess an injured patient after the worst of the danger had passed.
The strain showed now that the adrenaline had faded.
Color had drained from her face beneath the warm glow of the firelight, and exhaustion weighed visibly at her shoulders.The burst of magic she had unleashed across his lair had cost her dearly.He did not yet understand what she had done or what price her body would eventually demand for it, but the aftermath lingered beneath her skin like the fading echo of lightning.
“We walk?”she asked quietly.
“No.”
Her brow furrowed.“No?”
“It is twelve miles to your cottage through forest he knows better than you do.”Alsander crossed the chamber toward the dying fire.“I am not leading you through those woods on foot tonight.”
Realization flickered slowly across her face.
“Then how?—”
He lifted a brow.
Her eyes widened almost instantly.
He caught the beginning of a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
The soft disbelief in her voice scraped dangerously close to amusement, and after centuries of silence, the sound unsettled him more than it should have.
Alsander lifted a hand.
Magic stirred inside him, answering the summons instantly.Since Poppy had first appeared in the clearing, his strength had been returning more each day.He was, at long last, at full strength.Magic poured into him, through him, his to command.
Warm gold light unfurled through the chamber in slow ribbons, curling gently around Poppy.She went perfectly still as the magic swept over her, moving carefully, carrying away the grime, sweat, blood, and smoke of the last brutal days.Tangled hair loosened and softened beneath the glow.All traces of the morning’s activities were replaced by the fresh scent of sun-warmed skin that was uniquely hers, crushed herbs, wild rain and woodland moss — exactly as she’d smelled the first time he saw her.It was a combination forever imprinted on his memory.
The fur draped around her shoulders shimmered.
Heavy wool layered itself beneath it, piece by piece, forming close-fitted trousers lined with soft fleece and a thick tunic belted at the waist in dark leather.A second layer wrapped over it — deep charcoal trimmed with silver stitching that caught the firelight like frost.Fur-lined boots climbed to her knees, lacing themselves securely along her calves before settling comfortably against her skin.A new cloak trimmed in silver flames settled across her shoulders, held clasped at her throat with a large, sparkling emerald.Thick gloves appeared last, tucked into the pockets.
Clothing built for cloudy skies and brutal wind.
For flying.
The same magic then rolled over Alsander moments later, replacing black trousers with dark leathers reinforced at the shoulders and forearms, fitted for shifting and flight alike.A heavy cloak settled across his back before dissolving again almost immediately, discarded by instinct before he even consciously rejected it.
Poppy stared openly now, fingertips brushing the embossed sleeve at her wrist.
“I feel like a princess mixed withHarry Potter.Or maybePeter Pan.Do I get a broomstick, or will you be sprinkling me with fairy dust?”she mused, only half joking.
“I don’t know of thisHarry PotterorPeter Pan.I have summoned the attire of a dragon’s mate, suitable for riding atop my dragon.If it is not to your liking, tell me what you don’t like, and I will do my best to fix it.”
“No.”She grinned.“I love it.Truly.It’s silly, but I forgot you could do that.Make your own clothes, I mean.What else can you do?”
“I can do many things.”The words emerged rougher than intended and loaded with inuendo.
Her gaze roamed over him, traveled over every inch, her eyes heating as she took in his appearance.By the time she reached his eyes, her own had grown sultry with desire.“I believe it.”
