Page 23 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
I don’t know what to do with this. Or I do know, but I won’t. Particularly when he crouches next to the chair so we’re almosteye level, lifts the teacup, and hands it to me. There’s gold threaded in the black of his gaze. And there’s danger and mayhemstamped all over him, but something different at the center. Something calm and sure and...
“You’ve been a faithful friend to me, Georgina,” he says, very seriously.
My heartbeat kicks up again. “I didn’t know you werereal.”
He cocks his head, looking almost amused. Almost. “Didn’t you?”
I don’t know how to answer that. I always thought he was anenchantment because that’s what made the most sense. A spell, not adragon. A magical newel post, not a sentient being.
But if I sit here and think on it, whether the realistic Historian part of me tried to rationalize it away or not, I treatedhim like he was real. Havingconversationswith him. Calling it sleepwalking when I knew full well what I was doing. What I was dreaming.
What I’ve been dreaming my whole life. Innocently, when I was small.
Much less innocently as I came of age.
And it wasreal, because he left me trinkets to cheer me up. Because when he spoke in my head, however infrequently, it washim. Real this whole time.
Mine this whole time.
He pushes the tea at me once more. I take it, breaking his gaze because it feels like all that black and gold has rearrangedsomething inside of me. Or maybe burned away some strange little walls I didn’t know were there, keeping all my selves compartmentalized.
Bemorefanciful, Georgie, I tell myself harshly, the way my mother would. And I take a big, bracing sip of the too-hot tea.
“Georgie?”
It’s Rebekah shouting from downstairs.We’re coming, I tell her in our inner coven channel.
I put down the teacup. “Rebekah and Frost were with me.” I push to my feet. “I’m sure they’re worried too.”
Azrael makes a noise that isnotagreement, but he doesn’t argue. He follows me out of the room, shooting an irritable glance at Octavius when he winds hisway in front so that he’s walking between us.
We head downstairs and find Rebekah and Frost in the entryway. Frost has the giant ancient book from Germany that I left behind.Rebekah looks ready to fight, until she sees Azrael behind me.
“Everything’s okay, I take it?”
“For now,” Azrael says, holding up the book. “I suppose you all think this means I’ve been threatened.”
“Sort of a rational conclusion to draw,” Rebekah returns.
But Frost shakes his head. “That book is not dark magic. It’s no friend to the Joywood. What itcouldbe is a harbinger of what’s to come. So, not a threat. A warning.”
Azrael looks at the cover again, considering the illustration. “It would take considerable magic to kill me. If the Joywoodcould have managed it, they would have done so years ago, and with great glee.” He looks up, that dragon grin on his face.“They did not.”
Frost lifts a shoulder. “Unless all their dabbling in dark magic has made them stronger than they were when they cursed you.Or since it’sonlyyou now, instead of the entirety of some magical creature populace, it would be easy.”
“You would know how that works, of course,” Azrael responds silkily.
But Frost doesn’t rise to the bait. “We should do the spell to shroud you sooner rather than later,” he says. “Unless youwish to test this theory of yours.”
Azrael laughs, but it’s a bitter sound as he comes around me as if preparing to fight. “Let’s not pretend you care about myfate.”
“I care about the fate of the Riverwood.” Frost looks grim then, not his usual coolly sardonic self. “And it’s clear fromthe books and from what little I can remember that you’re right, dragon. The fate of the Riverwood rests on having a magicalcreature as part of its coven.”
I take a deep breath. Then I reach out and put my hand on the big, muscled, dragony shoulder that is still higher than mine,though he’s two steps below me.
I will catalog the wildfire that roars in me at that touch later. I will analyze the fact that my palm feels scalded. I willprobably dream about the slow way he turns, and the hunger in his dark gaze when it meets mine.
I will spend a long time sifting through the feeling offatein my veins, like desire.
