I wipe them on the bedsheet and grab my handbag. It seems Mark Loxley hasn’t lost his touch; my body reacts at just the thought of seeing him.--Mark...is sitting at the bar when I get down, wearing dark jeans, boots and a charcoal-coloured jumper. His hair is damp and tousled from the rain.He greets me warmly and pulls a stool out for me. I pretend not to notice as he appraises my body and rests his eyes on my chest, where the silver necklace grazes my breasts. He orders a bottle of red and. Such struggles always left Swyena tired, not least from how her heart had beat rapidly in terrified exhilaration during every moment of combat, despite how safe she had been from swords and lances, high upon Dumin's back. The dragon was the only real fighter of the pair, unlike some brides who prided themselves on being as dangerous on the ground as their mounts were in the air. Having to associate with her fellowship had also been tiring - there had been endless questions in every spare moment. More

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