Dreagan is Scotland," Asher said. "The land draws you in a way you can no' begin to understand. You feel the majesty and magic of the ancient land. From the tallest mountain to the lowest valley, in the leaves of the trees and in the currents of the streams, you feel an overwhelming and unshakable need to want to be a part of such a place. To want to belong.It doesn't confine you. Instead, it cradles you, offering its beauty and solitude for those who answer its call. It's wild and free. It's fierce and unbreakable. It's home.
He set his whisky tumbler on the table, but kept his fingers around it. "What do you see in my eyes?"..."Tell me, lass," he urged softly.She suddenly understood the term 'old soul,' because one sat before her now. And, as if opening a book, she caught a glimpse of Asher. The words then tumbled out of her mouth. "Endlessness. Sorrow. Agony. Distress. Rage.
The shadows parted and a large head took shape, looming above her.Her mouth fell open when she spied the silver scales covering the wide head of the dragon. She took in the slitted obsidian eyes that were trained on her and tried to scream, but no sound came out.The head moved farther out of the darkness to reveal a row of dark silver tendrils at the base of his skull and disappearing into the shadows. More of those same dark silver tendrils surrounded his mouth, which parted to show her rows of very sharp white teeth.She could swear he smiled, a growl rumbling through his chest.Death was staring her right in the face.And there was no escaping it.