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long golden-brown hair, tossing them around
you have to be kidding yourself. You have your Marilyn Monroe curves, your long golden-brown hair and big blue eyes. You’re
shining from his bronze skin. As he got closer, I noted that his golden blond hair was shaved close on the sides, longer on top. As I moved from his hair to his face, I had to physically stop myself from reacting verbally.
This man had a face built of hard lines and perfect angles, topped by sinfully full lips. His eyes were narrowed on me, but from the light of his skin I could see that they were a piercing green and gold, the shimmery gold closest to the iris and brighter than any pigment I’d ever seen. He also wore armor, with a golden shield across his chest, and straps emerging from the edges to wrap around very muscular arms. The front of his thighs were encased in a similar sort of armor that followed the line of his dark pants, finishing up with heavy combat-style boots.
My hair was messy, but attractively so. Like I’d had it styled and then took a nap, so it wasn’t perfect but also not the bird’s nest I expected. My curls were more defined, falling down past my collarbone, and the gold seemed brighter in the brown lengths as well. Leaning over the stone basin, I found myself staring harder, as if the image before me would change the longer I examined it. Why was my skin so clear? My eyes were brighter blue than I’d ever seen, and they’d already been bright.
He leaned down, and the scent of fresh air and sunshine followed. Most of the time the sun god smelled of a perfect summer day, except when he was pissed, then he smelled of fire and ash.
“Yep. First thing is the obstacle course, so we can assess your abilities.” “What the fuck did you just say?” I gasped, missing a step. If that didn’t prove my abilities without need of an obstacle course, nothing ever would. “Come on, Morgs. You’ll be fine. I’ve seen you leapfrog a table in the bookstore to get the last copy of a special edition hardback.” “That was life and death,” I shot back. “Like mothers lifting a car off their child. This is a completely different situation.”
It was darker, filled with spice, unlike Drager’s sunlight and summer. Zahak was the icy rains teamed with the rage of fire as you desperately clung to its warmth.
