Page 43 of Forged in Fire
The shadows pulse with my heartbeat, wrapping us closer together. In this confined space, pressed against each other from shoulder to knee, I can feel every breath he takes. Every subtle shift of muscle as he stays perfectly still, letting my power protect us both.
“Why should I tell you about myself when I don’t even know your name?” The admission slips out before I can stop it.
Why the hell should I care what his name is?
Silence stretches between us, filled only by the distant voices of our pursuers. For a moment, I think he won’t answer. That even facing death together, he’ll keep his secrets locked away.
Then, so quietly I almost miss it: “Riven.”
Just that. Just his name. But something in my chest loosens at the sound of it, a lock finally clicking open.
“Riven,” I repeat, testing the syllables. They fit him—sharp and strong and slightly dangerous. The kind of name that belongs to someone who lives in darkness and makes impossible choices.
The shadows around us pulse once, responding to the shift in energy between us. To this first fragile thread of trust.
“Now… what are you?” he repeats.
“I… Dragon,” I say, because I don’t really know more than that. It’s always been obvious to me that I was different, but no one ever knew why.
“More than dragon,” he says.
“Yes.” I don’t elaborate.
“So what—?”
“Over here!” A voice, too close. Boots on stone, weapons cocking.
We freeze, pressed together in our cocoon of darkness. Riven’s body is tense against mine, every muscle coiled for action. I can feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt, quick and strong. Can smell leather and gunpowder and something that makes my pulse skip, even though death lurks so close.
The Guild operatives pass within ten feet of our hiding spot. I hold my breath, maintaining the shadow barrier with everything I have while trying not to think about how perfectly Riven fits against me. How his injured arm wraps around my waist to steady us both. How easy it would be to tilt my head back and—
Stop it.
But when one of the operatives pauses directly in front of our crevice, when his flashlight beam sweeps the area where we should be visible, my shadows hold firm. They keep us hidden, safe, invisible.
Protected.
“Nothing here,” the operative reports. “Moving to on.”
The voices fade. Footsteps recede. But we stay frozen in place, hardly daring to breathe until the mountain falls silent again.
That’s when I realize how close we are. How his face is only inches from mine in the darkness. How his lips are right there, and all I’d have to do is shift slightly…
The thought makes my head spin. This man tried to kill my brother. Kidnapped me. Turned my entire world upside down in the space of a few hours.
And I want to kiss him.
What is wrong with me?
Adrenaline. It’s just fear and adrenaline turning my brain to mush.
“Iris.” My name on his lips sounds different than it ever has. Rougher. Hungrier. Like he’s thinking the same impossible things I am.
His free hand comes up to touch my face, fingers tracing the line of my cheek with surprising gentleness. The contact sends fire through my veins, making my shadows flutter like startled birds.
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper, but I don’t pull away.
“No,” he agrees. “We shouldn’t.”
