Page 42 of A Kiss of Flame

The sweet admission struck her heart like an arrow, and she couldn’t help but relax. Levian smirked. "We have danced on other occasions," she reminded him.

He nodded and smirked himself. “Aye, but never during Beltane."

Levian smiled as she tried to recall all the Beltanes they’d shared over the years. She could have sworn they must have, but as the blend of vivid and fuzzy memories played in her mind, she couldn’t recall one of them dancing together. She took in a breath to tell him that she would save a dance just for him during the next celebration but remembered that she couldn’t—or shouldn’t—because he would be mated by then.

Her heart ached, remembering how insensitive she'd been when he'd first arrived in Berlin and the many times since. He clearly was tortured over the idea of mating with a woman with whom he felt no real romantic connection. Levian had watched Barith chase love and lovers for centuries, hoping to find the one creature that matched him. At times, it had irritated her; during others, it had amused her. The night they’d spent together during Beltane had been deeply special to her, but Levian had known then that she could never be the woman Barith desired. She was not capable of the love he dreamt of. But she cherished him and their friendship and knew it wasn’t worth sacrificing over a little fling that would ultimately end the same way as all her others—with her fluttering off the moment her partner grewtoo attached, knowing she could never fully give her heart to anyone.

Levian had been consumed with desire back at the pool in Kamár, and her better senses had evaporated. She glanced at the fire and recalled the flash of fantasy that had made her recoil so quickly—of her and Barith spread before the same hearth she looked at now, lost in each other. Something within her heart throbbed painfully. "Dance with me," she said, the words falling from her lips before she could think.

They were exhausted, and all the serious talk and reminiscing made her head and heart ache far too much. In the full light of day, they would be forced to deal with her bargain with the Eldreth, Barith’s eminent return home—all of it—but for that moment, they could simply be. Levian rose from the couch and held out her hand to him.

“It’s not Beltane," he told her, not entirely rebuffing her request.

Levian cut him a look. “Clearly, but you could dance with me all the same.”

He took her hand slowly and rose with a slight grunt. “We've no music,” he pointed out.

That was true. The record player that had once been in the library had been destroyed last fall when Gwendolyn had accidentally blown up the room and its contents. They hadn't bothered to replace it. She had a new phone somewhere, but something about that seemed unfitting. "I think we can manage to hum a tune," she offered as a solution.

Levian took up the bottle as Barith pushed the coffee table out of the way and the few chairs around the fire back to give them sufficient space for a little turn. Once clear, she lifted her hands out to him. The dragon continued to eye her strangely but took them.

"I think one of the Summer Fae songs," she suggested. "MaybeDelight of Streams?"

He grunted with disapproval. "How aboutThe Fox's Hunt?"

Levian smiled. It was one of her favorites—a bit harder to hum the melody, but she thought they could both manage. She began to hum the tune as she placed Barith's hand at her waist and settled hers on his shoulder. He held her other hand in his and led. It took a moment for them to find their rhythm as she giggled through some of the melody, but once they found their stride, he joined her—his baritone harmonizing with her soprano. The song’s tempo began to pick up, and their dancing became more playful, much like if they’d been dancing amongst the crowd at Beltane.

Barith spun her around, and Levian leaned into the movement, laughing openly. They sang and danced before the fire until the rather long song neared its end, and they were both smiling stupidly and far more out of breath than they should have been.

The dragon tugged her closer. “Remember when we danced at that Winter Fae ball?” he asked her.

Levian laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “The one where you trod on that High Fae Lady’s foot and nearly got us thrown into the dungeon by her snooty husband?”

The dragon smirked down at her, pulling her waist closer. “Aye, that one.”

“You did nearly crush her foot,” Levian reminded him smartly.

Barith grunted. “The High Lady should have thought of that before she called ye a darkling halfbreed.”

Levian grimaced at the slur and looked up to Barith. She hadn’t known the fae had called her such a thing; if she had, she would have likely caused a much larger scene and mostdefinitely would have gotten them thrown in the dungeons. “You didn’t tell me,” she accused him sharply.

The dragon held her close, continuing to lead their steps and hum the melody. “I knew it would upset ye, and she wasn’t worth ruining the whole evening over. Besides, she was just jealous ye looked so fine in that white gown of yers that even her angry, snooty husband couldn’t stop staring at ye.”

She barely remembered the dress or that night, but Barith remembered all of it. Levian’s heart thrummed as he ran his hand to the center of her back, lost in the movement of their dance. Levian glanced up at him, and he smirked down at her, his amber eyes easy and his expression light and cheerful.

Her insides ached with a sudden surge of possessiveness. Levian couldn’t guess how many times the dragon had likely defended her when she hadn’t known. She’d done the same for him several times. They were both outcasts in an immortal world that relished tradition and order. Oddities together.

The dragon let her hand go so he could lift his own and brush a bit of her pink curls from her face that had dislodged in their revelry. Her breath caught, and his amber eyes grew dark. His touch lingered as he finished the song on his own, and they remained in the center of the room. The air suddenly felt very thick as the fire crackled, and the dawn began to threaten in this distance.

Levian’s body ached for more of his touch; her heart ached for a different reason altogether. Soon, he would be gone, and things would never be the same. Maybe it was indulgent, impulsive, and possessive, but she didn’t care. She raised her hands to his chest, running them up to his collarbone. The growl that vibrated through him under her touch made her core throb in response.

She knew it was foolish, but she wanted him just like she’d wanted him that night of Beltane—just like she’d wanted him back at the pool in Kamár.No. She wanted himmore.

Instinct overrode her better senses, and she leaned up to brush a gentle kiss over his lips. Barith’s entire body went rigid. Levian leaned back, and they both froze, the air between them growing heavy. The dragon searched her eyes, his own growing more molten with each passing second. Levian knew he wanted her, and it made her core throb that much more. Barith hesitantly pulled her in, so the front of her body pressed against his. Levian leaned into him, and his gaze darkened.

As his wings appeared at his back, there was a flash of fire and the scent of ash. Levian gasped.

“Touch me,” he whispered low. Not a demand but a plea.