Page 45 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
“We’ve hit a rough patch,” he says in that way he has, like he alone can see across the expanse of my foolishness. And likehe deserves a medal for having to work so hard. “We both made some mistakes, but I think that gives us an opportunity to bemature. Togrow. Together. We’ll only be stronger once we deal with this.”
And the way he smiles catches at me, deep inside. Because he thinks that’s all that needs to be said. He thinks he’s got this.Me.
He thinks he’s gotme.
“Once we deal with this,” I repeat, slowly. “And, to clarify, thethisyou’re talking about is when I caught youinsideanother woman, Sage? Amarriedwoman? When you and I were still together and had decided to be exclusive? Is that what you think will make us stronger?”
He looks around a little guiltily, like he’s worried someone’s out here listening for his secrets, and I kind of hope theyare. I’m pretty sure Dane Blanchard would beat Sage into a bloody pulp if he got the urge, and certainly if he’d seen whatI saw.
Obviously deciding we’re in the clear, Sage looks back at me. “We can learn something from that, can’t we?”
“Ididlearn something from that,” I reply, with the earnest nod I perfected and used to give him during his insipid lectures, usuallybrought on by someone else’s words. That he heard or read somewhere, or saw on the internet. So desperate to think the rightthings and be seen ascorrectby the right people—and I guess the joke was on me, because I thought someone like that would get me right too, in the eyesof all those people.
Andouch. The self-realization in a breakup isnotfun.
“I don’t want to be with you, Sage,” I tell him, because I am actually an adult. No matter that I doubt it sometimes and feel that everyone else does too. “Even if you hadn’t cheated on me, this would be over. I don’t want a relationship with someonewho could betray me like that and act like it never happened.”
He looks at me like I’ve broken his favorite toy, or maybe insulted James Joyce outright—hurt, but also indignant. And I almostfeel sorry for him, because I can see now, with all that lovely hindsight, that he doesn’t have real friends or even an innerlife. He has nothing to help him see how pointless it all is, desperately feeling around for a sense of importance or proprietyfrom other people.
A lesson I’ve taken a long time to learn, but I’m determined to finally learn it. I’m about to betheHistorian, and I can’t have mommy issues. That would make me no better than that weaselly Skip...
The last name escapes me, a memory that becomes hazy and as I try to grasp for it, slips away. Like a spell, but I forgetall about that because Sage lurches forward and puts his hand on my arm. I don’t like the way he grips me—and I don’t wantCailee’s leftovers, thank you.
Yet when I try to yank my arm back, he doesn’t let go.
I yank again, and he holds on, and the thing is—he’s not that strong. I shouldn’t need to use magic to push him off me. I’venever known Sage to have agrip, and I stare down at his hand—
But that’s all the reaction I have time for.
Because there’s a flash ofsomething, and it smells like burning. Smoke twirls around in the moonlight, and then Azrael is here.
And Sage is dangling about a foot off the ground.
That dangerous dragon gold has taken over Azrael’s gaze, and his hand is around Sage’s neck. It’s as though Sage weighs aboutas much as a feather.
Sage struggles against the hold, his usual superior expression giving way to red everywhere and panic around the eyes.
But I’m not that concerned about AzraelchokingSage, because it looks like he’s about to incinerate the guy on the spot. That’s what has me intervening.
You can’t kill him!I shout into his head.
“Why not?” Azrael says to me out loud, and notably without a British accent. “He put his hands on you.”
I have similar hard feelings about that, but I’m not a member of the Joywood. “It’s against the law, for one thing.”
Maybe for witches. But if you recall, I’m a dragon.
“Pete,” I throw at him from between gritted teeth, because as much as I can admit I’m not hating this—it feels a lot like justice,and it’s even a bit thrilling—we have appearances to keep up. More importantly, we aren’t evil. “Put him down.”You’re supposed to be wan and British, remember?
He sighs. “Very well.” The accent is back.
Sage falls in a heap on the ground, gasping and panting. He looks from Azrael to me, and his gaze darkens.
“Cailee was right. Youwerecheating.”
I’d love to maintain my innocence, but what’s the point? My innocence doesn’t really matter to him, any more than his cheatingmattered to me. That’s the part that’s really sad. “You can call it whatever you want, Sage. It’s over.”
Sage gets to his feet, brushing dirt and grass off his pants. He looks at me with more anger and even hate than I would haveimagined he had in him. And it’s hard for me to understand why a guy who cheated on me would care what I do, when here I am,setting him free with no fight or even an unpleasant scene. He should be thanking me.
