Twilight's POV
The morning bell was a hammer on my skull.. I could still taste Isla on my lips.
I stepped out into the hall."You look tired, Draven," he sneered, falling into step beside me.
"Bad dreams?"
I kept walking. "Wonderful dreams. None of your business."
"I think it is my business. See, I have a theory. I think your little obsession with our dear General is becoming a problem."
"Let go of me." I said.
"Or what? You'll stab me again?" His face was close, his breath hot.
"I heard things. Whispers from the dragons.
They sense desire, you know. It's like a scent
and your scent is all over her."
He smirked, a nasty, knowing curl of his lip.
"What would the king say if I told him his
prized general was being dreamed about by a degenerate? That in your little fantasy, you
kissed her? That you had her moaning in the dirt?"
Ice flooded my veins. He couldn't know. It was just a dream. "You're insane."
"Am I?" He released me, wiping his hand on his trousers as if I were dirty. "Stay away from her. Or your redemption will end at the executioner's block." He strode away.
The encounter lit a fire under me. I went to the library.
I moved like a ghost through the stacks. The burgundy book was gone from its slot.
Then I heard a soft scratch of a quill. There was Nixon, hunched over a desk.The burgundy book was open before him. But it wasn't empty. He was drawing in it. I edged closer, holding my breath.
On the page was a dragon. But not like any I'd seen in the history books. This one looked different, cooler and kind of scary. The weirdest part was that it looked like it was eating the light, like the darkness was alive.
Nixon was adding detail with intense focus, his tongue between his teeth. He murmured to himself, "The convergence is near… the bond will seek its mirror…"
He wasn't just a scholar. He was a seer. And he was drawing my dragon.
A floorboard creaked under my boot. Nixon's head snapped up. He slammed the book shut, but it was too late."Twilight! I can explain!"
I didn't stay to listen. I turned and ran.
I burst out into the courtyard, needing the sky, only to skid to a halt.
A new arrival stood in the center, surrounded by guards. She looked ordinary, but the air
around her buzzed with a quiet, potent energy. The guards gave her a wide distance, not with fear, but with a strange, wary respect.
Everyone was staring. Then General Isla stepped out of the administration building to greet the newcomer.
"Welcome. You will be assessed."
The new girl just nodded.
But I couldn't look away from Isla. The scent of her hit me from across the yard of wildflowers. The dream rushed back, a tidal wave of sensation.
Isla's gaze suddenly landed on me.
She took one step in my direction. Then another.
"You," she breathed, the word almost a growl.
A tremor ran through her. "You're… everywhere."
I couldn't speak. I just stared, lost in the heat of her.
"My quarters," she commanded. "Now."
She didn't wait for an answer. She just turned, dragging me by my clothes, away from the crowd, toward the officers' towerThe last thing I saw was James's furious face, and Nixon's knowing, terrified eyes, before
Isla pulled me into the dark, private stairwell.
She pushed me back against the cold stone wall. Her heat was everywhere.
"I can't think," she panted. Her breath was sweet and hot on my lips. "I can only smell you.
Taste you. I've been dreaming about it for days."
"The dream," I whispered, dazed. "You had it too?"
"It wasn't a dream," she growled, and her mouth crashed down on mine.
This was nothing like the gentle kiss from my sleep, This was hunger. Her lips were demanding. Her tongue swept into my mouth, claiming it. I moaned, my hands flying up to tangle in her hair, pulling her closer.
"Gods," she whispered. She dipped her head, her mouth following the path of the ink. Her lips were scorching as they traced a line from my shoulder to the peak of my breast.
When her tongue flicked over my nipple, I cried out, my back arching off the wall.
"Isla…"
"Quiet," she murmured, her mouth closing over me, sucking deeply.
She switched to my other breast, lavishing it with the same desperate attention.
One of her hands slid down my stomach, over the waistband of my trousers.
"Please…"
"So wet," she breathed, her voice thick. "For me."
"Yes. Only for you."
A finger slid inside me, deep and sure. She added a second, stretching me, filling me
perfectly.
It was too much. She held me through it, her fingers working me gently until the last tremor subsided. I was boneless, panting, clinging to her.
But her heat hadn't faded. It radiated from her. She pulled her hand free, bringing
her fingers to her own mouth. She sucked them clean, her eyes locked on mine, blazing with possessiveness."Not enough," she said, her voice rough. She grabbed my hand and pushed it against the front of her trousers.
"You feel that?" she said, grinding against my palm. "That's what you do to me."