Touch of Flame



Instead of soaring through the sky on dragon wings, Ravina decided they should ride their horses. She could spend time with her beloved Darcy, and they could partake in a spirited race, rekindling fond memories of their past competitions.

"You still want to race?" Malachi raised an incredulous brow at her. "I went easy on you last time."

"Well, I am different now. I have dragon blood coursing through my veins too," Ravina replied, a daring spark lighting her eyes.

Malachi smirked, "Is that so? Then perhaps we should raise the stakes."

Ravina chuckled. "I doubt it's a kiss you're after this time."

"I've grown more greedy with time, princess," he said, his voice dropping into a low, seductive murmur. A warm flush crept up her neck. 

"And just how much more do you desire?" she ventured to ask, an enticing challenge lacing her words.

"As much as you can give of yourself," he said, his gaze holding hers captive.

"But what if I can't give much?" she countered, a playful smile curving her lips.

"I thought you claimed to have dragon blood? What happened? Has the dragon before you struck fear into your heart?" He shot back, a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Ravina scoffed, her competitive spirit ignited. "Alright then," she declared, guiding Darcy into position. "Shouldn't you ask what I want if I win?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, "You won't, so why bother?"

"Huh! A dash of humility wouldn't hurt!" she admonished, laughter bubbling from her.

His chuckled. "The price is more alluring than humility."

Maneuvering Rani to stand beside Darcy, he looked at Ravina, "Are you ready? And don't cheat this..."

Before he could finish his sentence, she had already spurred Darcy into a rapid gallop with mischievous laughter. 

The night air came alive as their horses thundered through it, hooves pounding the earth in a rhythmic beat that echoed the racing heartbeats of their riders. The world blurred past them in a whirl of dark silhouettes and starlight, the thrill of their exhilarating chase permeating the night.

Despite her head start, Malachi effortlessly caught up to her, his easygoing posture exuding supreme confidence. His amused laughter rang through the wind as he playfully kept his horse just a stride ahead of hers, a tantalizing lure she kept trying to grasp.

Their high-spirited race ended with Malachi arriving first at the temple, the soft moonlight framing his victorious smirk.

Ravina, though trailing behind, was grinning widely as she arrived. The intoxicating thrill of their race had washed away her disappointment of losing. She dismounted Darcy while Malachi tied Rani to a nearby tree. He then offered to take Darcy's reins from her, suddenly being the gentleman now. 

"I must admit, you've become much faster," he complimented her, his gaze softening.

"But not fast enough," she admitted, a playful pout crossing her lips.

"That's just Darcy being slow," he jested as he secured Darcy away from Rani. 

"Don't pass the blame onto him," she scolded lightly, turning to head into the temple when suddenly, she felt strong arms wrap around her waist. With a quick whirl, Malachi swept her off her feet and hoisted her over his shoulder.

Startled, Ravina gasped, "Malachi, what are you doing?"

Unfazed, he began to stride towards the temple, one hand thoughtfully roaming over the curve of her bottom. "Whatever I want," he declared, his voice a dark, intoxicating rumble.

Her pulse began to quicken. Balancing her on his shoulder, he managed to unfurl a mat on the temple floor with one hand. Gracefully, he knelt, setting her down on the mattress with her hair cascading around her like a waterfall.

His gaze drank in her sight, his deep coffee-brown eyes gleaming with warmth. "You look beautiful in pink," he complimented, his hands languidly tracing the curve of her waist. "I have many ideas on what to paint on you, so I need you to be patient." His finger traced a slow path down her bare stomach, dipping into her navel and drawing a sharp breath from her.

She managed to nod, her breath catching in her throat as her body hummed with anticipation.

"Good," he approved, standing to leave her side. Her eyes followed him as he lit a few candles and began to mix paint. 

Outside, the night was beautiful, and the soft breeze created a lullaby that rustled through the open doors. The sky stretched above them like an endless ebony canvas, dotted with sparkling jewels of stars and crowned by a glowing crescent moon. 

Inside, the flickering candles lent an ethereal glow to the temple, painting the world in soft, warm hues. The candlelight danced on Malachi's sun-kissed skin, making it appear as if he had been sculpted from burnished gold. His muscles moved with graceful power as he worked on preparing the paint. 

When he returned, paint in hand, he settled next to her on the mat. "What are you going to paint?" she asked. 

"It'll be a surprise," he responded. 

She nodded, enjoying the mystery. As the paint-coated brush first grazed the side of her waist, she jerked in surprise.

"Be still," he softly commanded.

"It tickles," she giggled, squirming slightly under his touch.

Unfazed, he pressed his hand gently but firmly on her stomach to keep her still. "Get used to it. This is where I want the paint."

Teeth gritted, she did her best to remain still. But as the brush teased a trail down the side of her waist, her restraint faltered, and she giggled again. "Malachi, I can't..." she gasped through her laughter.

"Alright," he conceded with a gentle smile. "I'll start here for now until you get used to it." He moved his brush upwards, beginning where her top ended just below her chest. The sensation didn't tickle, but it evoked a different reaction – an electrifying jolt that echoed where the brush grazed her skin. 

His focus was thrilling, his gaze following every stroke with such intensity that it felt as though his eyes were creating a scorching trail on her skin.

Her chest rose and fell more pronouncedly as the intensity of the moment seeped into her, drawing her into a heady realm of sensuality. With every dip of the brush into the paint, followed by the soft contact on her skin, her body reacted, a gentle quiver rippling through her.

"The black paint looks exquisite on your fair skin," he murmured, his breath a warm caress that sent goosebumps dancing across her skin. His dedication, the focused way his eyes flickered over her, set her skin alight with a delicious heat.

His other hand rested on her opposite hip as he moved his brushwork downward, outlining something intricate beside her navel. The seemingly intense effort he was putting into his work, made her wonder if he was fatigued.

"Aren't you tired?" she ventured.

He looked up, his eyes capturing hers in a heated stare. "No. I have never wanted to paint this much," he confessed, his voice a low murmur. "I've just begun."

Just begun? 

"Are you tired?" he returned the question.

"No." She was merely lying down.

As he moved below her navel, his hand gently tugged down the waistband of her skirt a fraction, his fingertips grazing her skin. The intimate touch ignited a trail of fire that led straight to her core, her heart pounding like a wild drum in response. 

The exposed sliver of skin, the raw proximity of his hand to her lower body, and the quiet focus of his actions all compounded into a wave of heady desire that washed over her.

Malachi then began to draw near the waistband of her skirt, the tips of his fingers brushing against her in the most tantalizing way. The placement was undeniably provocative but it wasn't enough for him. 

"This will continue along your hip," he said. 

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