Seraena slipped into the hot pool.
Delicious steam curled around her. It had been two hours since the semi-finals race, and she still couldn't shake the chill; the cold seemed to have coated her bones in frost. She tipped her head back, smiling at the rocky ceiling.
It had been worth it, though.
Just to see the look on Mack's face when she beat him.
Besides, Seraena reflected, she deserved this — especially considering her conversation with Vulcan. She grimaced. Her older cousin had cornered her after the race, rain-soaked and furious. His dark eyes had been fathomless pits.
"Pull out of the Grand Race," he spat. "Now."
Seraena had sighed. "Lovely to see you too, Vulcan."
"I'm serious, Seraena." He'd leaned close to her, close enough that she could smell his breath, sweet as rotting fruit. "This is your only warning."
"You don't scare me."
"No?" His smile was hideous. "Because I should."
Seraena shivered, slipping into the hot pool. The entire conversation had left her feeling... well, unsettled. She knew the cruelty that Vulcan was capable of; she'd seen the scars on Hellart's back, the shadows in Flint's eyes.
But would Vulcan do that to her?
His own cousin?
Footsteps sounded behind her. Makenna, she thought, turning, but the figure was tall. Muscular. Blond hair came into view, followed by cornflower blue eyes. A towel was slung low on his waist, revealing a deep V.
Flint.
His smile was devastating. In fact, Seraena thought, she'd known quite a few girls on the Islands that had fallen prey to that smile. "Can I join you?"
She frowned. "How did you get in here?"
"Skill."
Ah. "Mack let you in, didn't he?"
Kane's smile turned sheepish. "He showed me the secret entrance." He paused. "You're not naked, are you?"
"Why?" She smirked. "Would you be a gentleman and leave?"
Seraena expected him to say something snarky; she would have, if the situation was reversed. But Flint's gaze was steady. "If you asked me to leave, then I would turn around and go. Simple as that."
Oh.
Something in her softened. "You can join me; I don't mind."
She was wearing a white shift today, although it was so dark that she doubted Flint would be able to see anything. He dropped his towel, wincing as he stepped into the hot pool. She hid a smile; he really was such a bheela.
"Congratulations." Flint sunk into the water. "On qualifying. You flew a good race today."
Her amusement vanished. "I should have done better."
"You did pretty damn well."
"Arlo used to say that you're only as good as your last race. And third place isn't first." Seraena dragged her fingers through the water. "You must be happy about second."
Flint's brow furrowed. "I didn't beat Vulcan."
Ah. So they were alike, in that regard: if they didn't win, then it wasn't good enough. Especially if the winner was her cousin.
"I saw your mother on the cliffs." Seraena smiled at the memory of the blonde healer, running around like a hatchling, her hands flapping in excitement. "She was telling everyone how proud she was of you."
He sighed. "Sounds like Mum."
Seraena could hear the fondness in his voice, and a stab of envy hit her. It wasn't that her parents were bad people, but she didn't, well, know them; her mother spent most days sipping tea with ladies at the palace, and her father — Ambassador to the High Lord — was always travelling for work. Arlo had been the only real parent in her life.
And her uncle was gone, now.
"Makenna looked happy," Flint said, reclaiming her attention. "I thought she might cry when you placed."
"Makenna's got a good heart." Seraena fiddled with her earring, feeling the dragon's sharp teeth. "I wish I could say that she's like a sister to me, but you don't make many friends in this family. Not when they're your biggest competition." She dropped her hand. "What about you? Do you have siblings?"
Immediately, Seraena knew she'd said the wrong thing.
Flint's expression shuttered. "I had an older brother. Rourke. He died three years ago. My parents..." His throat bobbed. "It was part of the reason we moved here."
She could have kicked herself. "I'm so sorry."
"Thank-you."
"What was he like?"
It was one of the questions Seraena wished people would ask her about Arlo: not how he had died, but how he had lived. Flint's face turned thoughtful.
"Kind. Protective. Anna — the girl I mentioned — was his best friend. I was always running after them, trying to join their games of knights and devils." His lips twitched. "Most brothers would hate that, but Rourke included me. Even if I had to be the knight's donkey."
Seraena's lips quirked. "Well, you are kind of an ass."
Flint splashed her. Her smile grew.
"Kidding." She drifted closer. "For the record, I think you would have made a very cute donkey. All big ears and lanky limbs."
Flint raised an eyebrow. "Seraena Agnirian. Are you calling me cute?"
"Only the donkey version."
"Well," Flint said, "it's a start."
His blond hair was curling slightly in the humidity, his cheeks flushed with heat. His shoulders — freckled, toned from riding — peeked out from the water. Her mouth went dry. She wanted to touch those shoulders. To feel the slick skin under her fingers.
Seraena drifted closer. And slowly — ever so slowly, the way she might touch a frightened hatchling — she placed a hand on his forearm.
This was a sympathy touch.
Kane had to remind himself of that over and over again, even as hot blood roared in his ears. Seraena's delicate fingers rested in the crook of his elbow. His elbow. Good gods, if that was enough to set his heart racing, he didn't want to know what would happen if those fingers moved elsewhere.
He dragged his mind away from those thoughts.
They led in a bad direction.
Very bad.
She's touching you because you just told her a very sad story about your dead brother, idiot. This is pity. She pities you.
But Kane couldn't make himself believe it.
There was something in Seraena's eyes; the warm amber seemed to flicker, a honey-coloured flame. Her breaths were fast and shallow, her lips slightly parted. He wanted to melt into the heat of her. To draw her closer to him.
And that damned shift wasn't helping matters.
Kane was doing his best to keep his eyes on her face, but that thing was designed to kill any man with working vision. The white was translucent in the water, clinging to her brown skin. Water droplets pooled at her collarbones.
"Seraena."
His voice was a threat. She smiled.
"Don't you want to claim that kiss?" she murmured.
Oh, gods. "You won our race."
"Yes," she said. "But you beat me today, didn't you?"
She leaned closer, and he bit back a groan. Okay. So this wasn't about pity — but it was still a very bad idea. She was the competition. And Seraena was also an Agnirian, which meant that Mack would tear Kane apart and feed him to his dragon for even considering kissing her. Yes. Bad idea all around.
Unfortunately, Kane thought, his pulse spiking, he found that all the things worth doing in life started with a bad idea.
"You have ten seconds," he warned. "My self-control won't extend beyond that." Not with her teasing him like that, anyway.
Seraena's lips curved. "I bet I can make it five." She lifted his palm, brushing a kiss against the damp skin. "Or two."
Oh, screw it.
Kane pulled her on to his lap. The white shift hiked up around her hips, and he ran a hand up those long legs, just as he had wanted to do the first time they were in these caves. Her breathing hitched, and masculine pride swelled in his chest. Good. He would do worse to her, in a moment.
He ran a thumb along her jaw. "This is a very bad idea."
"I know."
His mouth found her neck. "Your cousin might kill me."
"Which one?" She sounded breathless.
"All of them."
"Do you care?" Seraena murmured.
No. Kane raised his head to meet her amber eyes, his mouth curving. "I've always liked to play with fire."
He lowered his mouth to hers. Seraena made a little noise — half a laugh, and half a gasp — and the sound of it sent hot blood pulsing through him. She tasted of summer nectarine, of flames and golden honey. He pulled her closer, and she wrapped those long legs around his waist, shifting in his lap in a delicious sort of torture.
Kane bit back a groan. He would pay for this later. No question.
But it was gods-damn worth it.
His hand climbed up her thigh, tracing lazy circles near her hipbone. He could feel her heart hammering against his chest, separated from him only by that damn slip. That slip was swiftly becoming his worst enemy.
He pushed one of the thin straps aside, tasting the wet skin there. Seraena's head fell back, her eyes fluttering closed. Even now — even when she was trembling — there was a sort of grace to her movements, and Kane thought of that very first day, when he thought she looked like a blazing arrow. How right he'd been.
Kane nipped at the sensitive skin of her neck, and her hands fisted in his hair. She arched into him, and liquid heat coursed through his body. More. He wanted more. He felt like a somnium addict, so drugged out of his mind that he wasn't thinking clearly. He'd never felt this way with a girl. Never.
His hand strayed higher, stroking the skin of her inner thigh, and she let out a gasp.
"Flint."
Kane flinched.
The word was a slap. A reminder of his deception, of all the lies that stood between them. He raised his hand — an impulsive gesture, to cover her mouth — and Seraena caught it. The heat was fading from her amber eyes.
"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." Her voice was soft. "Is this about the race?"
"No," he grunted.
Her mouth tightened. She slipped off his lap, and Kane felt the loss of her weight. The heat of the pool was suddenly unbearable.
"Talk to me," Seraena said.
He shrugged. "You owed me a kiss; I kissed you. End of story."
She stilled. "That's it?"
"That's it."
Seraena pulled the strap of her white slip up. "I don't believe you." Her eyes narrowed. "You froze when I said your name. You're hiding something."
Fear spiked through him. Kane felt himself turning into rock, solidifying into one of the fanged stalactites. She couldn't know the truth; that much was clear. If it was just about him — if he was the only person affected...
But he wasn't.
If Seraena found out the truth about who Kane was — about why his family had run from Wynterlynn — then she could walk to the upper floor of the palace, tell Makenna, and have them all deported. They were illegal refugees, after all, seeking asylum in a foreign country.
Nightweavers.
Kane's fingers tightened on the rock. He didn't think Seraena would tell anyone, but was he willing to take that risk? Willing to risk his mother's life? Willing to watch Ryne Delafort cut off his father's head, like they'd done to Rourke?
The answer was obvious.
Kane forced himself to recline in the pool. Forced himself to smirk at her. "I kiss a lot of girls. I'm sorry if you thought you were special."
She stiffened. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Is it flattery if it's the truth?"
"You kissed me, flamebrain."
"Really?" He smirked. "I distinctly remember you suggesting it."
"Maybe I just did it to shut you up," Seraena snapped. "Has anyone ever told you that your voice is really annoying?"
Kane drifted closer. "I don't think my voice is what you were after."
Heat flared in her cheeks. Seraena stormed out of the pool, dripping water all over the black rock. Her white shift was sheer, clinging to every curve of her body, and her lips were still swollen from kissing. When she spoke, her voice was husky and laced with honey.
"I hope you cry when you lose the Grand Race next week. There's nothing better than making a beautiful boy cry."
Something dark and heavy stirred in his chest. "Seeing as I plan to win, you'll never find out."
Seraena rolled her eyes. "Do you just talk to hear yourself talk?"
"Do you call all your competitors beautiful?"
Seraena's lovely face twisted into a scowl. She turned for the door, shooting him a vulgar gesture over her shoulder. The smell of nectarine and honey lingered. Kane sunk into the pool, his heart pounding. Something must be seriously wrong with him, he thought grimly, because he was suddenly in need of a different sort of bath.
A very cold one.