Page 104 of A Flame of the Phoenix

At that, Kyleer barely smiled. He squeezed her thigh before releasing her, and he turned the opposite way.

Zaiana relaxed when she was released from his attention, but his words were going to replay in her mind for some time. When her head grew too heavy and Kyleer’s breathing deepened, she risked shuffling to lie down, facing his broad back.

The impulse to feel the wavy locks of brown hair spilling behind him itched her skin so much that she turned around. Thewarmth of him behind her became a craving she was restless to resist. The slither of cold space between their backs sent a chill rippling down her spine.

At the first chime of his shackles, Zaiana rolled as he did, purely out of a triggered instinct since he could easily wrap his chain around her neck with her back to him.

When they both stilled, they shared a breath, and his heartbeat echoed into her vacant chest. The only barrier between them now: the tip of her blade under his chin. His large hands wrapped around her wrists, but she was confident she could end him swifter than he could stop her.

“This is better,” he said, the gravelly lilt in his voice crawling over her skin. “That breeze between us was terrible.”

To her utter dismay, he closed his eyes again, peaceful despite the threat of her blade. In her annoyance, she scratched the tip under his jaw, and his lids flew open with a frown of annoyance.

“Let me go,” she hissed.

“My hands can’t really go anywhere else. Besides, maybe you’ll actually sleep knowing your blade can take my life at any second and you’ll wake up if I release you or move.”

He had a point. But how was she to sleep when his face was so close to hers? His mouth was a temptation she shouldn’t think about, but her traitorous eyes explored every part of him.

“Sleep, Zai,” he said, as much to himself as her.

The warmth was nice. His body shielded her from more cold than the blankets could, and she fought her body’s desire to bathe in it.

Just one night. Just for warmth.

She let her eyes close but kept her hearing sharp. Soon she found herself only focused on two things: his breathing in tempo with his precious heartbeat. Sounds that, against her better judgment, she found peace, maybe even safety, in the cadence of.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Faythe

Reylan put her back in the Magestone shackles. They’d walked in silence for a measure of time lost to Faythe. Though she could have been free, she didn’t regret not leaving him when she had the chance.

“We’ll get rest here,” he said at last.

Faythe looked up from watching her feet sink into the snow. Across a short, undisturbed blanket of snow stood what looked to be a temple long in ruins. The roof was partially caved in at the front, but it expanded farther back and might provide more cover.

“Why here?” she asked. He’d taken them far away from any life or buildings.

“You can’t destroy anything of value if you decide to be foolish again.”

Faythe internally winced. She’d been battling gut-wrenching guilt ever since he’d woken quickly from where they’d lain in the wreckage and immediately restrained her, then he’d marched her away from the pain and destruction she’d caused.

“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, more to herself.

Reylan answered anyway. “Exactly. It’s a miracle you’re still alive with your unpredictable, impulsive nature.”

Honestly, Faythe had to agree with that statement. He guided her with a hand on her arm toward the temple.

White trees surrounded them, and Faythe’s face was numb from the bitter temperature. Lakelaria was a kingdom of ice and beauty, a land that appeared too pure and peaceful for this world, but Faythe decided she preferred a warmer climate. Her chest beat with the pride of the Firebird.

While the ruins wasn’t much of a barrier against the cold, Reylan led her over to a corner that still had a roof.

“Why don’t we venture in further, to a room that isn’t half-exposed to the elements?” Faythe asked, surveying the beautiful decay of the space.

“This temple has a rather cursed history. Most believe it’s superstition.”

“Cursed?”

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