bothered, and unless rules were broken, no one would.
Malachite raked the bar’s interior. “I hate to say it, but Bas is wrong. She’s not here.”
Obsidian pressed his lips together, not answering yet. Right now he was undecided and uncertain – a state of mind he rarely felt, and a state he loathed. He needed Bas to right, that Ashirah was here, so badly his hands trembled every time he let himself realize what it would mean, that over twenty years of searching would be over.
But for her to be here… Someone from here would not know how to survive his world. Would not have been brought up to fulfill the duties of mate of the Clan Leader. It would be impossible for her to truly act as a mate in all the ways he needed. Governing his people and keeping his Clan safe in this world was not a job he could put down and take up. It was everything he was. Someone from here would have no idea of the true meaning of what he’d require of them.
Maybe this was a sign, a signal to stop his search and turn back. It had been so long, maybe the bond would have died by now. Or maybe it was stronger in his mind that what the reality would be.
There were plenty of females who wanted to be his mate. His Clan was powerful and ancient, and any of the other clans would welcome an alliance and a mating.
Yes, it was time to go. It was time to give up the dream of finding Ashirah and do what was in the best interest of the Clan. It was time to stop being alone and take a companion for himself, one who was suited for his world and would be strong at his side.
Yes. That was best.
Obsidian nodded to Malachite. “It’s time to-”
Craving burst through him, stopping his voice and rooting his legs into the ground. The sharp essence of fire, the smell of heat and ash, burrowing into his nose and coating his tongue, then diving deeper, a molten flame which ran over every nerve ending, singing everything in its wake, burning off what was old and deadened so what remained now opened in sharp and vibrant life .
Obsidian turned his head to see a woman emerge from the back door of the bar, carrying a case of beer. Her black, shiny hair hung down over her back and shoulders, the only adornment a small braid hanging in the front. Her vibrant green eyes were lined in heavy black, and her generous mouth was coated in red. She wore a black halter top that left her shoulders and stomach bare, allowing an uninterrupted view of the flat plane of her stomach and swell of her breasts.
Like everyone else, she had tattoos. On the side of her torso were several lines of script, but with her movements, he couldn’t concentrate to read what it said. Her left arm had a large piece that looked to be some sort of gate. As he pondered what that could signify, she turned around to reach for some of the liquor bottles lining the mirrored shelves.
His breath froze in his throat at what he was seeing.
As if she wanted to show him, her hair fell forward so that it left her back bare. The band of her black shirt still covered a large chunk of the tattoo, and he crushed the desire to run to her and pull that shirt off, to look at the tattoo with no interference.
It took every inch of space from the turn of her shoulders down to the small of her back. It was all bold color and large lines, meant to grab attention and hold it.
There were dragon’s wings above her shirt, and dragon’s claws below it, and he hated that piece of fabric for keeping him from seeing what the dragon’s face was.
And the dragon was red .
Obsidian stepped forward as she turned back from the shelves, putting the liquor on the bar top. Lazily her head came up to look over the room, a normal sweep of an employee making sure all was well.
Her eyes caught his and she stilled, a rabbit aware it was being watched by a hawk.
He hadn’t made up the color of her eyes. That jade green haunted him some nights, to the point he told himself a color like that didn’t exist in reality. But he had
Malachite raked the bar’s interior. “I hate to say it, but Bas is wrong. She’s not here.”
Obsidian pressed his lips together, not answering yet. Right now he was undecided and uncertain – a state of mind he rarely felt, and a state he loathed. He needed Bas to right, that Ashirah was here, so badly his hands trembled every time he let himself realize what it would mean, that over twenty years of searching would be over.
But for her to be here… Someone from here would not know how to survive his world. Would not have been brought up to fulfill the duties of mate of the Clan Leader. It would be impossible for her to truly act as a mate in all the ways he needed. Governing his people and keeping his Clan safe in this world was not a job he could put down and take up. It was everything he was. Someone from here would have no idea of the true meaning of what he’d require of them.
Maybe this was a sign, a signal to stop his search and turn back. It had been so long, maybe the bond would have died by now. Or maybe it was stronger in his mind that what the reality would be.
There were plenty of females who wanted to be his mate. His Clan was powerful and ancient, and any of the other clans would welcome an alliance and a mating.
Yes, it was time to go. It was time to give up the dream of finding Ashirah and do what was in the best interest of the Clan. It was time to stop being alone and take a companion for himself, one who was suited for his world and would be strong at his side.
Yes. That was best.
Obsidian nodded to Malachite. “It’s time to-”
Craving burst through him, stopping his voice and rooting his legs into the ground. The sharp essence of fire, the smell of heat and ash, burrowing into his nose and coating his tongue, then diving deeper, a molten flame which ran over every nerve ending, singing everything in its wake, burning off what was old and deadened so what remained now opened in sharp and vibrant life .
Obsidian turned his head to see a woman emerge from the back door of the bar, carrying a case of beer. Her black, shiny hair hung down over her back and shoulders, the only adornment a small braid hanging in the front. Her vibrant green eyes were lined in heavy black, and her generous mouth was coated in red. She wore a black halter top that left her shoulders and stomach bare, allowing an uninterrupted view of the flat plane of her stomach and swell of her breasts.
Like everyone else, she had tattoos. On the side of her torso were several lines of script, but with her movements, he couldn’t concentrate to read what it said. Her left arm had a large piece that looked to be some sort of gate. As he pondered what that could signify, she turned around to reach for some of the liquor bottles lining the mirrored shelves.
His breath froze in his throat at what he was seeing.
As if she wanted to show him, her hair fell forward so that it left her back bare. The band of her black shirt still covered a large chunk of the tattoo, and he crushed the desire to run to her and pull that shirt off, to look at the tattoo with no interference.
It took every inch of space from the turn of her shoulders down to the small of her back. It was all bold color and large lines, meant to grab attention and hold it.
There were dragon’s wings above her shirt, and dragon’s claws below it, and he hated that piece of fabric for keeping him from seeing what the dragon’s face was.
And the dragon was red .
Obsidian stepped forward as she turned back from the shelves, putting the liquor on the bar top. Lazily her head came up to look over the room, a normal sweep of an employee making sure all was well.
Her eyes caught his and she stilled, a rabbit aware it was being watched by a hawk.
He hadn’t made up the color of her eyes. That jade green haunted him some nights, to the point he told himself a color like that didn’t exist in reality. But he had
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