Fire Rising (Dark Kings) by Donna Grant

when she found some rocks protruding from the mountain. They’d shelter her in case it rained during the night, as it was wont to do in the mountains.
    She ate the lone apple in her bag, and then discovered that she had managed to drink her last bottle of water throughout the day.
    Sammi sighed and got to her feet. She had heard water as she walked. It couldn’t be that far. If the mist would clear she would probably be able to find it easily enough.
    Not wanting to get turned around again, she dug into her large bag and pulled out the colored chalk she used to write on her board at the pub and made a big X on the rocks so she could find her way back.
    She followed the sound of the water and surprisingly found it easy enough.
    “If only everything was this easy,” she mumbled as she knelt beside the water.
    Above her, cascading over dozens of rocks, was a waterfall that fell ten feet into the stream that then meandered down the mountain.
    Sammi pulled out both of her empty bottles and filled them. She was putting the cap on the second when she glanced at the water and saw an image of a man as if he stood over her.
    He had black hair shot with silver, but it was his red eyes that took her aback. She instantly recognized him as the man from the restaurant.
    She whirled around, but no one was there. A glance in the water showed only her reflection.
    “Maybe I am going crazy. Dragons and guys with red eyes. That’s just no possible.”
    After going in two different directions and not finding the marks on the trees, Sammi began to get anxious. She let out a loud sigh when, on the third attempt, she found her marks that led her back to her camp.
    Sammi settled back against the rocks and looked out over the mountains. It was hours before dark would descend in the Highlands, but her eyes were already getting heavy.
    She was getting weaker, her shoulder ached, and the meager food she had bought wasn’t going to last her another two days, especially when she could eat it all right then.
    After wiping away the blood from her stitches, Sammi settled on her side and used her purse as a pillow after taking out the water bottles.
    In that place between waking and sleep, Sammi found herself thinking about Tristan and the dragon, until they became one and the same.
    Tristan with his mysterious air about him, and the dragon, a creature of myth and legend come to life.
    She thought of Tristan’s soulful dark eyes and the dragon’s alarm and concern—that same look had been in Tristan’s gaze when she had tried to leave Dreagan and he’d stopped her.
    Sammi’s eyes flew open as realization hit her. She knew why the dragon’s gaze had looked so familiar. It reminded her of Tristan.
    Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a flash of amber through the clouds. The sun had set behind a mountain peak casting the side of her mountain in shadows. She kept still as if asleep, and closed her eyes until they were slits but she could still see.
    And then she waited.
    Between dozing, she would wake, thinking she heard the dragon getting closer and closer. This last time was different. She cracked open her eyes to see the dragon glide effortlessly down from the clouds heading straight for her.
    Her breath locked in her lungs as she watched the dragon tuck his head and roll as the amber scales changed into sun-kissed bronze skin.
    The man rolled as he hit the ground and came up on bent knees with his hands on the ground and his head still tucked, his long, light brown hair falling to hide his face. Slowly, almost warily, he lifted his head and his hair fell around his shoulders in disarray.
    Sammi recognized him before he stood. She knew that hair, had longed to run her fingers through it. Then he straightened.
    She drank in the sight of him, from his wide shoulders corded with muscles to his narrow waist to his tight butt and long, muscular legs.
    Her eyes jerked up to his lower back where she saw what had to be a tattoo, but it was so