Page 39 of Shifting the Flame

For a moment, they simply lay there, their breaths mingling as they came down from their shared high. Asher rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so she was nestled against his chest. Her body felt small and soft against his, her warmth a soothing balm to the storm that had just raged between them.

"That was..." she trailed off, her voice still shaky with the remnants of her orgasm. Her hand rested on his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over his skin.

Asher couldn't help but smile. "The best sex of your life?" he teased, his voice laced with satisfaction.

She laughed, a soft, breathless sound that made his chest tight. "Definitely," she admitted, her eyes meeting his. "But it's not just that, Asher. It's... you. Everything about you."

His heart swelled at her words. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. "You're mine, Danica," he murmured.

Her smile was soft, her eyes filled with a warmth that made his dragon purr in contentment. "And you're mine," she whispered back.

FIFTEEN

DANICA

Danica stretched languidly across the silk sheets of Asher's bed, her naked body still tingling from the memory of Asher's touch last night. Morning light streamed through the half-open curtains, casting golden patterns across her bare skin. She smiled into the pillow, inhaling his scent—something clean and cedar and uniquely wild.

Last night had been... transcendent. The way he'd taken her and claimed her with such primal intensity—her body still hummed from it. Every muscle felt pleasantly sore, bearing the sweet ache of passionate use. She rolled onto her back, gazing at the ceiling and replaying how his massive frame covered hers completely as he'd driven into her with relentless precision.

"Who knew dragons were so... thorough," she whispered to herself, a delicious shiver running through her.

But it wasn't just the sex that had transformed her. Flying on Asher's back through the night sky had awakened something inside her she never knew existed until last night. The rush of wind against her face, the powerful muscles rippling beneath his scales, and the way she'd instinctively known how to balanceherself—it was as if her body had always been designed to fly with him.

"It shouldn't feel this natural," Danica murmured, running her fingers over the sheets. "Three days. It's been three days since I met him."

The thought sent a flutter through her chest. Three days, and she felt connected to him on a level that defied logic or time. If Gerri hadn't called her about this festival—if the circumstances had been even slightly different...

She quickly pushed the thought away. That path led to an emptiness she couldn't bear to contemplate.

Danica glanced at the alarm clock. 7:15 AM. They'd set it for 7:30 to give them time to shower before heading to the festival. She reached across to Asher's side of the bed, finding it cool to the touch.

"Asher?" she called, lifting her head to peer into the adjoining bathroom. No steam escaped from the door. No sounds of running water or movement.

She frowned, sitting up. The absence of his powerful presence felt wrong, almost jarring after the intensity of their connection last night. Had he gone downstairs to make coffee? It seemed unlike him to leave the mansion without waking her, especially after the wolf attack last night. He hadn't let her out of his sight since that strange encounter.

Her fingers traced absently over a slight red mark on her hip—a testament to his passion and his need to possess her completely. The memory sent another wave of desire washing through her. She was already addicted to his touch and to the way his green eyes darkened just before he claimed her.

"Get it together, Ulrich," she whispered to herself. "You've still got a festival to run for a town full of dragons. They're depending on you."

Yet even as she tried to focus on her responsibilities, her mind drifted back to the sensation of soaring through night clouds, clinging to Asher's scales as they cut through the darkness together. That feeling of absolute freedom mixed with absolute safety—she'd never experienced anything like it.

"Where are you, Asher?" she murmured, glancing toward the bedroom door, expecting it to open and reveal his tall frame. "You can't just give a girl the best night of her life and disappear."

She slid from beneath the silk sheets, her bare feet touching the cool hardwood floor. She shivered slightly, the morning air caressing her naked skin. Where was Asher? The emptiness of his side of the bed still bothered her.

She padded over to his dresser, sliding open the top drawer to find a neat row of folded t-shirts. Selecting a white one with a faded university logo, she pulled it over her head, the soft cotton cascading down to mid-thigh. The fabric carried his scent—that intoxicating blend of cedar, smoke, and something wild and untamed that was uniquely Asher. She brought the collar to her nose and breathed deeply, closing her eyes.

"God, I'm acting like a lovesick teenager," she murmured, but couldn't help smiling at herself.

She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, wincing at a particularly stubborn knot—a souvenir from last night's passionate entanglement. The memory sent another flush of warmth through her body.

"He must be making breakfast," she reasoned, remembering how she'd done the same for him days ago. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. "He's probably trying to return the favor."

She opened the bedroom door quietly and stepped into the hallway, her bare feet silent against the hardwood. The mansion was quiet in the morning light, every surface gleaming withunderstated luxury. She headed toward the stairs to go down to the kitchen.

Instead, she heard voices coming from further down the hallway—loud, insistent male voices coming from his office. She headed down the hallway but slowed her pace as she got closer to his office, hesitating a foot away from his office door.

"—need to address this immediately," a gravelly voice was saying. "After last night's attack?—"

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