Vincent's wings moved slowly, each motion scattering fragments of molten light like drifting gold and embers.
Crimson sparks trailed through the air around him, blooming and fading with every breath he took.
His long hair lifted in the heat, his fire-lit eyes steady—deep, intent, filled with something that burned far hotter than flame.
Rory found herself staring, spellbound.
For a fleeting moment, it felt as though she were watching a firebird's life unfold—from the fragile struggle of a hatchling breaking free of its shell, to its first unsteady wingbeats… to its final, breathtaking ascent into the heavens.
Then, Vincent stopped in front of her.
His wings folded inward, enclosing her completely within their radiant embrace.
The outside world vanished.
He bent slightly, his breath warm against her ear, sending a fine tremor through her body.
"Rory…" His voice was rougher now, lower, threaded with heat. "There's fire in your eyes… it's my color."
The warmth drew closer.
