He raised his glass again. “To gold.”
“To gold,” Journey repeated, and they both drank again.
She licked a scarlet droplet from her lips. Lucas watched her tongue moisten her full lips, and imagined it flicking against his. Tasting and caressing its way down his body. Tracing the dragonmarks on his belly and chest. Then licking further down...
He forced his mind away from those images, and lifted his glass for the final toast. “To the open sky.”
No dragon could have spoken the
final toast with more longing than Journey as she repeated, “To the open sky.”
They drained their glasses. The dragonfire burned its way down his throat, sending tendrils of heat coiling around his limbs. Its flavor lingered on his lips, and its perfume surrounded him.
“I can still taste it,” whispered Journey.
She leaned in as she spoke, making him long to bend down and taste it on her lips. Lucas felt dizzy, as if he was floating in flames, and couldn’t tell if it was the dragonfire or being so close to Journey. She was barely a handspan away from him. He could feel the heat of her body. It was maddening that he couldn’t touch her.
Then he realized that there was a way that he could.
“Dance with me,” he said, and offered her his hand.
Her warm fingers closed over his. That simple contact was more arousing than caressing the naked bodies of any of his previous partners. He had to take a deep breath to steady himself before he stepped out with her on to the dance floor.
The orchestra was playing a slow waltz. Lucas put his palm on her back and began to lead her. Her skirts whispered against his legs and her breasts brushed against his chest. He could feel every breath she took. The perfume of the dragonfire still hung about them as they moved together as easily as if they’d been dance partners all their lives.
“What was that drink?” Journey asked. Her voice was soft, pitched to carry only to him. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“Shall I tell you, or do you want a chance to guess?”
“Some kind of fruit brandy? Not pear... Not plum... Not cherry...” With a mischievous smile, she guessed, “The forbidden fruit?”
“Very good! Yes, it’s brandy distilled from forbidden fruits.” He’d tell her later that the aged brandy was then finished with a breath of actual dragonfire.
Journey’s eyebrows rose. “Come on, what is it really?”
“But that’s exactly...” Then Lucas realized the nature of her misunderstanding, and laughed. “It’s not the actual forbidden fruit from the Garden of Eden. It’s a native fruit that’s called after it because it’s so delicious and rare. It’s only ripe for about two weeks in the height of summer.”
Journey laughed as well. “Oh! Well, no wonder I didn’t know about it. I’ve never been here in summer; I only arrived three months ago.”
“Directly from...” Lucas had to pause to recall the strange name. “Lummox?”
“I love the way you say it,” she said with a grin. “It sounds exactly the way I feel about it. No, I traveled in other parts of Europe for nine months before I ended up here. I was originally only going to stay for a couple weeks, but I got an offer for a more long-term job. And I really like it here.”
“There is much to love,” Lucas replied. He meant it. But he also wished he could love it as uncomplicatedly as she.
His tone must have said more than he had, because she replied, “Of course, it’s easy to love a place when you’re just visiting. It’s different when you have history there.”
Lucas nodded, but did not reply. Journey didn’t speak again, but the silence wasn’t awkward. Their conversation seemed to continue, but in the motion of their bodies rather than in words. Couples moved and swirled around them, but Lucas felt as if they were dancing alone. They seemed to float across the dance floor, as if they were waltzing in mid-air. Nothing existed but the warmth of Journey’s body in his, the sound of her breath, the fire in his blood, and joy of moving in harmony.
Then Journey sighed, her breasts moving against his chest. “I shouldn’t monopolize you like this. I know you’re supposed to dance with as many women as you can. In fact, I know who you should dance with next! There’s a girl who’s about to turn eighteen, who’d get the thrill of a lifetime—”
Lucas followed Journey’s gaze until it settled on a pretty young girl in a crimson gown waltzing in the arms of an equally young man. He was a graceful dancer. The girl’s eyes were closed, an expression of utter bliss on her face, as he guided her across the floor.
“I do not think she wishes to be interrupted,” Lucas said, relieved at the easy excuse to stay with Journey. “Not even for the good luck of dancing with me.”
“I think you’re right.” Journey too sounded relieved. “Looks like she’s had her good luck already.”
The orchestra finished the waltz, and Lucas brought them to a graceful halt.