“That will make sure you’re not disturbed,” Talon said. He gave Jared an easy salute and left.

Taking one last deep breath, Jared opened the bedroom door.

Lia sat in the chair, fretting the sweater.

Jared leaned against the door and smiled when she peeked at him through her lashes.

“It’s not as if you haven’t seen me before,” Jared said, charmed by the shyness.

“That was different,” Lia muttered, focusing on his bare feet.

Jared took another breath . . .

. . . and heard the drums.

Heard the Priestess’s voice rising out of the twilight to call the men to the dance.

His nostrils flared. His blood heated. Tension flowed out of him as desire saturated his body.

He flicked a glance at the hearth. The wood that had been readied to take the evening chill out of the room began to burn.

A flick of his hand closed the curtains. Only the young fire lit the room, smudging all the sharp lines until there were no lines, until the walls seemed to disappear and go on forever.

Another flick of his hand vanished all the furniture except the bed and the small tables on either side of it.

Lia yelped when she landed on the floor. “Jared, what—”

He walked toward her. Her eyes widened.

“Can you hear the drums, Lia?” he asked softly.

“I—”

“Can you hear them? Like the land’s heartbeat. Or the heartbeat of the Shalador people.” He held out his hands. “Let me show you the Fire Dance.”

He lifted her up and pulled her against him. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm. Her cold hands pushed at his waist.

He did nothing but hold her, letting his eyes wander over her face.

When she stopped trying to push him away, he slowly lowered his head, his lips parting for a kiss.

She arched back to escape his lips. He smiled because it only pushed her hips tighter against his.

Since she wouldn’t give him her mouth, he took her throat. Soft kisses. Gentle sucking.

He licked her jaw.

Her hands clamped on his waist.

“Do you hear them, Lia?” he asked as he licked the corner of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

“I—I hear something beating.” Her voice had gone husky.

“The drums.” Jared brushed his lips over hers.

Her eyes were dark smoke. “Is there someone singing?”

“Yes,” he whispered into her ear. “Listen to her. Follow her. The Fire Dance lies at the end of her voice.”

He covered her mouth with his and let them both sink into the drums and the voice and the musky twilight.

Stepping back, he drew her into the center of the room.

Lia plucked at the sweater. “It’s warm in here.”

“Take it off,” Jared suggested quietly as he slowly circled her, his feet automatically following the set pattern of steps.

Lia tossed the sweater aside. She puffed out her cheeks. “Maybe we should open a window.”