“You were burning up earlier,” he whispered. “I reached out to you, and for a moment you were like the dragon. Nothing but flame against my skin.” She saw the fear then, fear that he had tried to hide before—not for himself, but for her. She reached out and touched his shoulder, and he melted, as though she really were fire, sinking his head toward her hand. “I’m all right. Because of you.” Talasyn dragged her fingers down the muscled cords of Alaric’s bare arm. “As soon as you touched me, it drew out the fever. It felt …” Like someone stopping her fall. Like the end of a long journey home.”
Book:A Monsoon Rising