Page 52 of Barely Breathing

“Shut up, or I’ll throw you in a lake,”I try to tell the dragon. I don’t think Draakmar hears my thoughts the same way I hear his.

“You’re the one who told me to get out.” I don’t turn around as I attempt to sound calm. My hand rests on the doorknob, gripping it tightly, but I can’t quite make myself leave.

“I should not have lost my temper with you.” His tone is measured.

“You think?”

“The idea of him touching you…” He stops himself. I don’t have to see him to know he’s struggling for his precious control. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “You make me forget myself, and I can’t afford to be distracted.”

I snort in disbelief and roll my eyes. “So now it’s my fault you’re an asshole?”

“Did you just call me an asshole?” he asks in surprise.

“What? Too modern for you? What did they say at the dawn of time? Arsehole?” I might be brave enough to yell at him, but I’m not brave enough to let go of the door in case I push my luck too far. I wonder if Astrid will rescue me if I scream loud enough.

“Would you be reasonable and listen? There is too much at stake for us to be arguing like this. Elizabeth is plotting, the wolves are circling, and you foolishly insist on running headfirst into danger every time I turn around. If I didn’t mesmerize you, I wouldn’t get anything else done. We need to keep cool heads.”

“Did you just callmefoolish?” I shake with unspent anger. Where’s a sharp wooden stake when you need one? Not that I could actually kill him, but I’d like to bash him over the head with it a few times. I stare at the door so hard I don’t see it. “Cool heads? Seriously? Are you kidding me right now? You are so tightly wound I’m beginning to think you’ll implode at any moment.”

Part of me has always tiptoed around supernaturals, trying not to make them mad for fear they’d eat me or worse. A lifetime of hearing you’re less than will do that to a person. But that ends now. Twoinnocent lives are worth more than supernatural politics.

I finally turn to face him, letting my rage show on my face. I don’t think I could hide it if I wanted to. My tone is condescending, but I don’t care, as I explain, “I don’t need you to manage me. I need you to help me find Paul and Diana. I need you to actually do something instead of playing these power games. No more riddles. No more cryptic comments and half-truths. Just say what you mean for once.”

He’s across the room in a blur, hands braced against the door on either side of my head. I fall back against the hard wood. Apparently, he’s not going to hide his anger either.

My heart hammers violently. Oh, fuck. Maybe I should try screaming for help now.

“You want me to help you save him? Risk your life for his? Support you going to reunite with the mortal who holds your heart?” His voice cracks slightly on the last word, revealing a rare vulnerability. “Is that what you’re asking of me?”

“Costin—”

“You want truth? I’ve lived centuries, Tamara. I’ve seen supernatural and human empires rise and fall. I’ve watched you your entire life. And here I am, jealous of a human who had you for mere days.” His eyes shift from anger to sorrow. “I can’t get the image of you two out of my head.”

“I never meant to…” I don’t know how to answer him. I can’t bring myself to worry about his immortal turmoil. Diana and Paul’s situation is much more urgent.

I take a deep breath.

“This isn’t about your jealousy, or about us,” I say. “Werewolves are torturing Paul, and his five-year-old daughter is missing.”

I shouldn’t have to keep explaining this. Why won’t he hear me?

“Stay here. Stay safe.” His forehead drops to mine. I feel him tremble with the effort it takes to restrain himself. “Let the wolves have their mortal. Please. I can’t watch you die for him. Let me keep you safe and I’ll find Diana. I’ll bring her to you. I promise.”

The casual way he dismisses Paul’s life makes my blood boil.

“The mortal has a name.” My voice comes out harsh. “Paul has a life. I don’t want Diana to grow up without a dad. She already lost her mom.”

His expression becomes unreadable.

“You’re not surprised by any of this, are you?” The realization hits hard. Costin wasn’t there when Peter explained everything to us, yet he already seems to know. My stomach twists in knots. I hate feeling like this. “If you value what we have at all, tell me the truth, Costin. Did you know about all of itwhen they took Paul? Do you know about what they want to do at the ritual?”

“What are you talking about?” His confusion seems genuine. “All of what?”

“Peter came by the house this morning.”

“And?” He gestures as if it’s useless information.

“Did you know there need to be three sacrifices?” My voice trembles with uncertainty.

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