Page 18 of Miles

She sighed, then nodded.

“It isn’t easy for me to maintain a lie,” I admitted. “I’ve always found it easier in the end, to tell the truth. This way, I don’t have to keep track of the lies I’ve told. I’m not very good at it, either. So it’s better for me to be honest with you. This is a special place. All of us… well, we’re here for different reasons, but the resort isn’t open to outsiders. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Another nod.

She chewed her lip harder than ever.

“None of us would ever make you leave,” I assured her, trying to foresee what could cause her strain. The dragon wasn’t pleased with my approach, to put it mildly.

You’re a fool. You’re pushing her away. We need to pull her in, tell her how things truly are, that she is ours. We need her. His thoughts became my own.

Yes, and that need pressed itself against my consciousness and threatened to overtake my good sense. I needed her with every fiber of my being. Just looking at her sent flames of desire shooting through me, threatening to burn too hot to control.

She took a deep breath, looking down at her hands. Would she speak? What did she fear revealing if she did?

“You have nothing to fear here. Don’t you know that yet? I don’t know who you are or why you did what you did.”

She looked up, her eyes sharp.

“I wouldn’t judge you, either,” I continued. “And it’s not a matter of feeling as though you owe me an explanation, because you don’t. But it would be a hell of a lot easier to know how to move forward if I knew even the first thing about you.”

Her eyes were overly bright with unshed tears which soon spilled over, onto her cheeks.

I wanted to hold her in my arms, to wrap myself around her and promise anything in the world so long as it would bring her some measure of peace. What had she been through? I knelt at her feet, taking her hands in mine.

“Tell me, tell me,” I implored. “You don’t owe it to me, but it’s breaking my heart to see you like this and I can’t explain why. You can tell me. I might be able to help.”

She shook her head. “Nobody can help me.”

Her voice, even shaky with tears, was like music to my ears.

“So you can speak.”

“Of course, I can speak,” she wept. “Maybe it’s better for all of us if I don’t. I knew this was too good to be true. I’m putting you all in danger just by being here. Why did you have to save me?”

So, she admitted there was danger in her being there.

“How would we be in danger? I mean, if you were discovered here.”

She looked straight into my eyes—into my soul, it seemed. “I’m not asking for you to explain what makes this place special or who you people are. Why you don’t want to be discovered. Please. Do me the favor in return of not pressing me on this. I’m begging you. I’ll leave as soon as I’m well. Only please, don’t ask me for more than that.”

“I never said I want you to leave.”

“No, but it would be better—besides, you’re not the only person here. You have to think of the others. Whoever they are.” She looked over her shoulder, to the resort. “You’ve all been so nice to me. I’ll go away, disappear, like I was never here. As soon as I can get around on my own. It will take some time, of course, but I’ll stay quiet until then. I won’t even leave my room, if need be.”

The desperation was plain in her voice. What was her secret?

“You should take me back,” she announced, wiping her wet eyes with the back of her hand. “Please. I’ll feel better there.”

I couldn’t argue that and would be foolish to try. “Can you tell me one thing about yourself, at least? Just one little thing?”

“Maybe. Depending on what it is you want to know.”

“What’s your name?”

She gasped softly, then surprised me by chuckling. “Right. Of course. You can call me Anna.”

Another half-truth, or a flat-out lie. “I didn’t ask what I can call you. I asked what your name is.”

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