Page 82 of Wild Flame

His eyes flared, and he raised one bronze finger to skim the lines of my face. “More,” he stated emphatically, his voice an even huskier rasp than before. And this time, when he leaned down to kiss me, the thought of pulling away didn’t even enter my mind.

His lips had barely grazed mine when there was a knock on the door.

Seconds later, Harun’s muffled voice spoke through the wood. “Apologies, Your Majesties, but there is an urgent message for you, my king.”

Malik released a beleaguered sigh and collapsed onto me for a second before groaning, “You’re certain it’s urgent?”

I lifted a hand to stifle my sudden giggle at his response. He shot me a mock warning look.

“Do you think I would seek you out the morning after your Marking Ceremony if it wasn’t?” came Harun’s crisp and somehow apologetic reply.

Malik sighed. “One moment. This is not done,” he told me softly, cupping my face. Then, showcasing his Zehvitian lack of modesty, he rose from the bed completely naked and unashamed of his nudity. Though with a body like his, he hadno reason to be. He at least deigned to pull on some pants while I scrambled out of the bed and pulled on my robe. I was still careful not to turn my back to him, and I wondered if there would ever be a day where I was comfortable letting him see it.

Pushing that thought aside for now, I belted the robe and quickly braided my hair down my back.

“Enter,” Malik called when I was finished, his eyes on me as the door opened and his second entered.

Harun wore his riding leathers, and a harried expression as he bowed his head in acknowledgement to me before turning to his king.

“What is it?” Malik asked, straightening at his friend’s look.

Harun sighed. “There has been another attack.”

“What are these called?” I asked Zara, pointing at a leafy bush with giant blue-black flowers so large they nearly overwhelmed the poor thing.

Zara had been surprised when I knocked on her door this morning since, in her words, it was expected her brother and I would be “occupied” for some days to come after our Marking Ceremony. But then I had explained about Harun’s message and the attack that had happened late last night in Henevar, a town just north of Taveran. Thankfully, there had been no casualties, but no one had seen anything either, including who the rider was who perpetrated the attack. Malik was preparing to leave with several of the Fangdar to investigate. Since Zara had a rare day off from rider training, she had readily agreed to accompany me on a walk to distract me.

Selasi and Yesh walked a few paces behind us as we strolled along a section of the gardens that I had not explored before in my wanderings.

“Cyalla.” Zara answered my question while shooing Mesmera away from the tiny butterfly she had been stalking as it flitted skittishly about the flowers. “It meanssky bloom,” she explained, glaring down at her dragon, who now sat sullenly at her side. “They’re beautiful, but are one of the deadliest plants here. They even put scorpion and manticore venom to shame.”

Having been about to touch one, I yanked my hand away.

Zara laughed. “They’re only poisonous when eaten.”

I scowled at her, and she shook her head as we continued walking, her dark hair gleaming in the sunlight.

She waved her hand in the air, the bangles on her wrist clinking together. “Enough about plants. Plants are boring. I want to talk about the ceremony. You looked so beautiful. My brother couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She smiled and sighed. “And your dress. When Malik had it commissioned, I knew it was perfect for you. I bet all the dressmakers are already being bombarded with similar orders by all the betrothed women in the kingdom . . .”

Her mentioning Malik had my mind drifting to memories of last night and everything we had done, and I had to repress a shiver. Even now as I walked along, only half listening to Zara as she continued to gush about the ceremony, I could still feel the slight ache between my legs and had to fight back the erotic images that tried to replay in my mind.

Absentmindedly, my fingers began tracing the new markings on my wrist and the design that whirled partially up my forearm. I knew it wasn’t possible, but I swore I could feel the ghost of him pulsing through it.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

The exasperated tone came from beside me, and I startled. “What?”

Zara rolled her eyes. “It’s fine. I can guess where your mind was if that smile on your face is anything to go by.” She held up a hand as I opened my mouth to protest. “And since it involves my brother, I don’t want to know.”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at her. My gaze returned to the path ahead as she linked her arm through mine. But I halted almost immediately when a flower I knew all too well caught my eye. I blinked and then immediately broke away from her and strode over to the small collection of them on the side of the path.

“What flowers are these?” I asked, gesturing to the beautiful blooms. Each flower had five pointed petals with a light shock of violet in the center that bled out into the deep orange, nearly red color at the tips. They were identical to the flowers Malik had been leaving for me since he announced our betrothal.

“Isholets,” Zara replied.

I froze, then turned in surprise at hearing that word from her. “What?”

She gave me a bemused look. “They’re isholets,” she repeated. “It meanshidden flamein one of the old tongues. The late queen—Malik’s mother—had them planted here, I believe. They were her favorite flower.”

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