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She was Arianna, the White Wraith; the hem of her white coat flapped around her calves, and she would walk like the bloody god she was, come to pass judgment on this backward land.
He reached for her chin. To do what, Arianna didn’t know. But the motion felt sickly condescending following his declaration. She didn’t hesitate to draw her dagger. The golden blade was still ringing from its sheath when it sliced into his flesh. Sharp and precise, she cut off the tip of the offending finger before it could touch her.
coming to peace with the notion that the face of the woman she loved could well be the last thing she ever saw.
She was Arianna the Rivet. She was the White Wraith. And she would not scream.
he wanted nothing more than to be by her side. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be alone.
“You think I’m not used to this?” Her mouth curled into a mad grin. “I’ve been fighting my way out of the darkness my whole life. And you’re not going to stop me now.” Gunshots echoed through the forest.
Arianna paused with a dramatic sigh. “Cvareh, no Dragon, Fenthri, Chimera, or creature on Loom or Nova or anywhere else needs this many plush objects to sleep upon. A glass doll would call it excessive.”
But with Derek and Nora the pressure sat in her stomach, closer to her abdomen. It was the first time she’d felt such tension. She was smart enough to understand lust, but she wasn’t fully aware for whom it stirred.
“I want you for my lover, for my mate. I want to lay you down and take you to the pinnacles of delight. I want you… even while not knowing if you could ever grant me your favor.”
“Nothing, Arianna. Nothing in your world or mine, or the next, would make me want you less.”
She grinned, the flat line of her Fenthri teeth showing. “You’re a fool, Cvareh.” “I am,” he agreed with a grin of his own. Cvareh closed the gap at last, and found her lips with his. His chest was flush against hers and his thigh pressed between her legs. He held her fingers with white knuckles, as if to hold in place the tension he was struggling to let out only a moment at a time, savored like sips of the most perfect wine, held on the tongue to embolden the flavor.
He should be afraid of her—of them. The idea of him and her becoming a “they” would be the worst thing that could happen to either of them. She would consume him. She would use him for her own delight. But if it ever suited her, she would break him. She would cast him from the pinnacles of pleasure upon the cold and lonely world below. It made her afraid of herself.
“I love you, Arianna. And I will not stand in your way, but I will also not let you flee from this. Reject me if you must, and that will be that. Until you do, I will see my future built with space for you in it.”
She would fight against the Dragon King until her last breath because she was Arianna, the White Wraith.
