Page 26 of Dallas

“You aren’t really clever, you know. You only think you are. That is what bothers me more than anything. You have this air about you, so amusing and witty and clever. Always the first to break the silence with a comment or a quip.”

“That’s just how I am.”

“You do know it isn’t a crime to be silent, don’t you? There’s no need to fill every moment of silence with your voice.”

She was so frank, so unflinching, I couldn’t help smiling in spite of the dressing down she delivered. “I was silent for much of the flight.”

“Only after you made a fool of me.”

“You made a fool of yourself by pressing me.” This was no longer a laughing, joking matter. I put aside the pair of stones I’d planned to use for sparking a fire and looked her in the eye. “You inserted yourself into the conversation—one which did not involve you at that time—and pressed me. Teased, if that’s what you wish to call it, lass. If it eases your conscience somewhat. You did not need to do that, yet you did. You deserved to be put in your place.”

“That’s what you call it?”

“Do you have a better description?” I asked as she backed away.

“Put in my place,” she grumbled, turning to Callie. “I need to wash the blood from her hair.”

“You no longer wish to tell me everything you find wrong with me?” I asked.

“Now you are the one pressing me,” she muttered.

“You know how it feels now.”

“Shut up.”

I clicked my tongue in mock disappointment. “I’d expect better from you.”

When she refused to answer, I returned to the task of starting the fire. Within minutes, flames began to build and grow, filling the cave with welcome warmth and light.

“Thank you,” she murmured, turning her face,

I took note of her profile. She was quite striking, especially in the fire’s glow. It played off her fair hair and skin, the shadows dancing along her delicate features. One might believe her to be a person with a soul when they saw her that way.

What a pity she happened to be my mate.

No, she did have a soul. She loved her sister. I felt it. Which was what made it even more difficult to understand why she refused that which would heal her quickly, painlessly.

“How is she?” I asked as I moved about the cave, picking up more wood wherever possible. Anything we used for the fire would naturally have to come from inside—everything outside was hopelessly saturated.

“Peaceful,” Hecate whispered. “Which she won’t be much longer, I know. I can’t keep her this way indefinitely.” She moved aside, allowing Callie better access to the fire’s warmth.

“You ought to change her clothes.”

“I know. I hate to think of undressing her in this condition—or redressing her, for that matter. I’m not even certain I want to see what her legs look like under her pants.”

Her voice broke on the last word, which surprised me so that I almost stood straight up in spite of the cave’s low ceiling. Only quick reflexes kept me from a sharp blow to the head.

She bent over, elbows on her thighs, her face in her hands. Though she remained silent, her shoulders shook.

“Hecate.” I went to her, lowering myself to one knee by her side. “I know this pains you.”

“You can’t know,” she managed to choke out between quiet sobs.

“But I do.” I reached for her—slowly, hesitantly in spite of the dragon’s urging.She is ours, he reminded me in exasperation. He could not understand why I would hesitate to touch that which was mine.

He understood nothing of the way her mind worked. Hell, neither did I, but I was trying to learn.

My hand landed on her back, and to my relief, she didn’t shake me off or push me away. “I do understand,” I murmured, starting to rub in slow circles. “I do. The incident, remember?”

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