Nora Roberts' Circle Trilogy: Dance of the Gods, Chapter 1
She lifted a leg behind her into the air, bent at the knee, reaching an arm back to grasp her bare foot. The shirt rose up her torso to reveal more flesh. It would be a sorry man, Larkin decided, who didn't enjoy the view.
Her hair was short, raven black, and her eyes were bluer than the lakes of Fonn. She wouldn't have been deemed a beauty in his world, as she lacked the roundness, the plump sweet curves, but he found the strength of her form appealing, the angles of her face, the sharp arch of brows interesting and unique.
She brought her leg down, swept it out to the side, then dropped into a long crouch with her arms parallel to the ground.
"You always eat that much sugar in the morning?"
Her voice jolted him. He'd been still and silent, and thought her unaware of him. He should've known better. He took a bite of the cake he'd forgotten he held. "It's good."
"Bet." Blair lowered her arms, straightened. "Earlier rising for you than usual, isn't it?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"Know what you mean. Damn good fight."
"Good?" He looked over the burned ground and thought of the screams, the blood, the death. "It wasn't a night at the pub."
"Entertaining though." She looked as he did, but with a hard light in her eyes. "We kicked some vampire ass, and what could be a better way to spend the evening?"
"I can think of a few."
"Hell of a rush, though." She rolled any lingering tension from her shoulders as she glanced at the house. "And it didn't suck to go from a handfasting to a fight and back again -- as winners. Especially when you consider the alternative."
"There's that, I suppose."