I have never minded being called her twin, but for some reason, her insistence on referring to me in dehumanizing terms rankled a bit. I stifled that as best I could; with the exception of her common sense—a trait that had been given over to me at my creation— she wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t absolutely true.

‘‘You were born,’’ Gabriel said gently, taking her hand from me. ‘‘The black dragons are cursed to never have a mate born to them.’’

‘‘But if May—’’ she started to argue.

‘‘This is a question easily settled,’’ he interrupted. His fingertips suddenly burst into flame, causing Cyrene to squawk and leap backward, yanking her hand out of his when he touched a spot on her wrist.

‘‘My apologies if I hurt you,’’ he said, bending his head over her arm. Cyrene watched with openmouthed amazement as he first breathed on the small burn mark, then lowered his mouth to it, his tongue lathing the spot.

Rage burst into being within me, startling me with both its presence and its intensity. Gabriel was lickingCyrene.

‘‘Er . . . ,’’ I said, taking a step closer.

‘‘It’s all right, don’t be alarmed,’’ Aisling said, watching them with interest. ‘‘Gabriel has the most amazing saliva. All the silver dragons do. They make a wonderful healing ointment out of it, but it’s not quite as potent as when it comes from the source.’’

‘‘Um . . .’’ I tapped Gabriel on the shoulder. He looked up with a distinct twinkle in his eyes. ‘‘That doesn’t look very hygienic.’’

‘‘I assure you, it will do her only good, and no harm,’’ he said, smiling as he returned Cyrene’s hand to her with a little bow.

We both looked. The small red burn mark had disappeared.

‘‘That was amazing,’’ Cyrene breathed, gazing at him with wonder.

I stifled the last little bubble of irritation, reminding myself that he was just doing his job.

He didn’t have to enjoy it quite so much, though, did he?

‘‘And now May,’’ Gabriel said. I looked at him a moment, wondering what sort of a man it was that fate had bound me to. I held out my hand, watching with dispassionate interest as he traced a symbol in flames on my wrist. It burned merrily on my skin, although I felt nothing more than a mild heat.

‘‘Dragon mates have the ability to share dragon fire. They can use it, mold it to their own desire, drawing power from it when needed,’’ he said, watching me as I coaxed the little flame to my fingertips. It shimmered there, as if it was about to go out. I held my other hand out over it, willing it into a small ball, smiling to myself when it obediently formed a sphere. I held it in the palm of my hand for a moment, admiring the beauty and power held within it, before throwing it directly at Gabriel.