The moon hung low and heavy over the Dravik estate
Amara sat at the vanity, the ornate silver-backed brush moving through her hair in slow strokes. On the velvet armchair nearby, the dragon-scale vest Feralia had given her caught the light, its iridescent surfaces shimmering like the skin of a deep-sea creature.
She felt Darien's presence before she heard him. It was a shift in the atmospheric pressure, a sudden warmth that bloomed at the small of her back. He emerged from the shadows of the dressing room.
He walked up behind her, his large, scarred hands coming to rest on her shoulders. He simply watched her reflection in the glass, his eyes tracing the curve of her neck with a hunger that he made no effort to hide.
