Page 28 of Blood Singer

Our eyes had met fourteen times. I counted. Every single time, a hot jolt of electricity rushed straight through my bloodstream, making my skin prickle and my chest tighten despite the crisp night breeze sweeping through the open balcony doors. Every single time, his golden gaze locked onto mine for a fraction of a second too long, blazing with an intensity he tried desperately to hide, before he looked away.

Every glance landed like a fresh cut of rejection.

"You're doing that thing again," Binwee said from beside me, her voice pitched low enough that only I could hear over the music and conversation.

"What thing?" I asked, though I knew exactly what thing.

"The thing where you stare at the king like you're trying to set him on fire with your mind while simultaneously looking like someone kicked your favorite pet." She took a sip from the goblet of wine she'd been nursing all evening. "It's not subtle."

I dragged my eyes away from Kavan, who was currently cornered by an older warrior with silver-streaked hair and blazing gold irises, and looked down at my petite mentor.

"I'm not staring."

"You're absolutely staring. You've been staring since we arrived an hour ago." Binwee's dark blue eyes were knowing in a way that made me want to squirm. "What happened on that mountain?"

"Nothing happened." The lie tasted like copper on my tongue. "He showed me his dragon form. We flew. We had lunch. He brought me back. That's it."

"Uh-huh." Binwee's tone made it clear she didn't believe a word of it. "And that's why he's been avoiding you for a week and you look like you're about to either cry or commit regicide?"

"I don't look like that," I protested, but even as I said it, I could feel the tightness in my throat, the sting behind my eyes that I'd been fighting since we'd landed back in that courtyard seven days ago.

Something had happened between us on those high cliffs, hovering just inches from the edge of absolute surrender. The memory of his heat shielding me from the mountain wind, the raw vulnerability in his golden eyes as he leaned over me, and the deep rumble of his laughter still haunted me. I had wanted his mouth on mine with a hunger that frightened me to my core.

Then he had frozen, looked at me with stark panic, and closed the shutters on his soul before flying me home in absolute silence.

Since that morning, I had caught only two fleeting glimpses of him. Once in a sunlit corridor where he offered a stiff, polite nod without slowing his stride, and once across the garden courtyard where he stood conferring with Sanyra, seemingly oblivious to my existence.

I knew I had no business feeling this bruised. I was an intelligence operative on a critical diplomatic assignment, not a lovestruck girl chasing after a brooding dragon king with centuries of unprocessed trauma. Yet the dull ache in my ribs refused to listen to logic.

"Leila." Binwee's voice gentled, and when I looked down at her, I saw sympathy in her expression. "Whatever's going on, you need to either address it or let it go. You can't keep walking around this distracted."

"I'm not distracted," I said automatically, but even I could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

Before Binwee could respond, a human woman approached us with a warm smile. She looked to be in her late twenties, with dark hair pulled back in an elaborate braid and a deep red gown that complemented her olive skin. "You must be the Alliance diplomat everyone's been talking about. I'm Catherine. My mate is Lord Darius—the one over there who looks like he's about to fall asleep standing up."

She gestured toward a massive Drakhoni warrior who was indeed swaying on his heels while an enthusiastic noble talked his ear off.

A genuine smile finally broke through my gloom. "Leila Hunter. And this is Binwee Jazarazant, also with the Alliance."

"It's wonderful to meet you both." Catherine's enthusiasm seemed genuine, her eyes bright with curiosity. "I've been dying to talk to someone from Earth. Well, someone who's been there recently. I was taken from London in 1343, so my Earth is probably very different from yours."

"1343," I repeated, trying to wrap my head around that. "That's... over eight hundred years ago."

"Eight hundred and twelve, actually. Though seven hundred and fifty of those were spent in hibernation, so I suppose I'm really only sixty-two." She laughed at what must have been my stunned expression. "The envenomation extends our lifespans considerably. I'll probably live another eight hundred years or so, barring accidents."

Hearing her speak so casually about centuries of life made the room tilt slightly. Living eight hundred years sounded like something out of legend.

"Is it strange?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Being so far from your time? From everything you knew?"

Catherine's expression softened with understanding. "At first, it was terrifying. But Darius was patient with me. Helped me adjust. And eventually, I realized that home isn't a place or a time—it's the people you love." She glanced over at her mate with such obvious affection that something in my chest ached. "I wouldn't trade this life with him for anything."

During the hour that followed, I spoke with several more human women who had bonded with Drakhoni warriors. Their origins spanned different eras of human history, yet their stories shared a common rhythm. Fear had given way to patience, and patience had blossomed into deep, enduring love. They talked about their children and grandchildren, the rugged beauty of Drakhone, and the steady warmth of the bond they shared with their mates.

Every single woman looked at her partner with the same tender devotion Catherine showed Darius, holding a quiet certainty that they had found their true place in the universe.

I did my best to absorb every detail for my mission reports, but Kavan remained an inescapable gravitational force across the room. Even when my back was turned, the prickle on the nape of my neck told me exactly where he stood.

He had discarded his everyday warrior leathers for royal formal wear that seemed spun from midnight. Deep black leather trimmed with dark burgundy hugged his broad chest and powerful shoulders. Silver embroidery curled across his torso in ancient symbols of lineage and power, gleaming in the candlelight. A ceremonial broadsword rested at his hip, its silver hilt set with luminous jewels.