Page 31 of Dallas

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking away as a deep blush colored her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Why not? Look at me, please.”

I reached for her, but she pulled away and retreated to the cave’s entrance. I was not about to be put off that easily, so I followed.

“Leave me be,” she whispered, arms wrapped around herself.

She stared into the woods, where the rain was now nothing more than water falling from leaves and branches. Each gust of wind sent down another shower, but even the wind seemed to be calming. How long had it been since we wrecked? I’d lost all track of time.

The sky was lightening, however, and based upon the time of year, I guessed it had been roughly twelve hours. Only half a day, which in the course of a lifetime as long as mine was no more than the blink of an eye

It might as well have been an eternity.

“What if they didn’t make it?” she murmured after a long silence, the two of us staring out at the darkness which lessened with each passing minute. “What if they crashed somewhere further up the mountain and no one is coming to retrieve us because no one knows we’re here?”

“Then I’ll hike up there.”

“What if there are too many obstacles?”

“There’s no such thing as too many obstacles.” I jerked my head in the direction of the tree I’d moved aside that we might not be trapped. “You saw the short work I made of that.”

“How many miles of debris could you possibly move before it becomes too much? Not that I do not trust you or that I think little of what you did. It was incredible, watching you do that,” she admitted with a ghost of a smile. “It seems like a lot, however. Asking you to do more.”

“You wouldn’t be asking me to do it. I would do it because I, too, need to get out of here. I would like to eat at some point, if it’s all the same to you. And drink, and bathe, and rest in a bed. This isn’t all about you or even your sister.”

“You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?”

She looked at me, the dark circles beneath her eyes more evident than ever in the dawn’s growing light. “It isn’t only us I worry about. What of your clan? My coven? What if they didn’t make it?”

“They made it,” I decided.

“How can you be so certain?”

“I would feel it.” I placed a hand over my heart. “Here. And here.” I tapped my temple. “The dragon always knows. When we were kidnapped, the dragons who live here felt it. They had no understanding of what they felt, but the heartbeat we all hear—a heart beating in all of us, somewhere in the earth or of it, binding us together, grew so faint as to be almost inaudible. You cannot underestimate the ties between us.”

“Be that as it may, it means little if Iris or Electra were injured—or worse.”

I shrugged. “Then it would be my hope that neither of them were as stubborn and short-sighted as yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I would hope they’d accept the offer of dragon blood more quickly than you did.”

“It wasn’t stubbornness, damn you.” Her delicate eyebrows drew together over her nose, her brow furrowing as she concentrated.

And for a moment, she froze me in place. I could do nothing but breathe, see and hear. But a mere moment was all it lasted, and I had control over myself again.

“What was that?”

She blinked hard. “That was my pitiful attempt to remind you of my powers. Something about being here has drained them, or at least dulled them beyond the point of usefulness. I wanted… I wanted to make you pay for what you said.” Her head lowered until she was staring at the ground.

In light of the situation, I let it slide. What I couldn’t let slide was how angry my accusations made her. “You’re telling me it wasn’t stubbornness, then? What was it? What possible reason could you have for denying what might have healed her swiftly?”

“Aside from fear of what might happen to her? And a general distaste for the entire process?”

“Aside from that.”

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