Page 39 of Dragon Fires Everywhere
I should probably take the necklace off. I don’t.
Azrael sighs, but impatiently. As if I’m the problem here. “You should tell your friends the things that happen to you. Thisis common knowledge. I solved this problem for you.”
“It isn’t up to you to tell anyone anything. Or to solve a problem I didn’t ask you to be involved in. It’s up tome.”
“But I am right,and you were wrong.”
I remind myself that smiting other beings is wrong, no matter the justification. “Forget it.”
“You admit I was right, though.”
It’s like arguing with a brick wall. I turn to walk away, but he appears in a puff of smoke in front of me, blocking my escaperoute.
He looks annoyed, but... indulgent? I don’t like it. No matter how it winds its way inside me, joining that hot, deep ache.“Very well, I am sorry for... doing the right thing that you did not want me to do.”
He’s impossible. I tell him so, and not very nicely.
Azrael only shrugs. “I am a dragon.”
It shouldn’t be endearing. I shouldn’t want to smile. I certainly shouldn’t forgive him.
Then again, hedidapologize. And he’s wearing a tuxedo. A very elegant, fashionable tuxedo. I thought it was bad enough when he was walkingdown the street in his casual clothes. No one who has ever lusted after a man in any form is going to be able to handle himlike this.
Iam not particularly able to handle him like this.
And it is clear from that hungry look on his face that he knows it. “We should go,” I tell him. Like a warning.
“Have you forgiven me?” he demands, clearly ready to keep barring the way. And we don’t have time for this.
That’s why I say, “Yes.”
Expediency, that’s all.
There’s that gleam in his gaze again. “Let me back in.”
I frown at him. I’ve already forgiven him, but that doesn’t mean I want him in my thoughts again. “Can’t you just break in, if you’re so mighty and powerful?”
He grins. “I could.”
There’s something about the fact that hecould, but hasn’t, that I assure myself means he’s growing. Understanding boundaries better. I close my eyes and picture turninga key in a lock—essentially undoing the block I put up.
“Excellent,” he says, and then he puts his hand at the small of my back and leads me toward the stairs. As if nothing everhappened and we’re the best of friends.
Or something more thanfriends,maybe, a voice inside me whispers, but I’m not about to acknowledge what else we might look like, walking down the stairs in elegantclothes like this, his palm a shocking bolt of heat against that tender place on my back.
Wilde House is full-on decorated now—a product of both Emerson’s and my magic—for the historical home tours I’ll be givingthis weekend. We went with a 1950s vintage look. Plenty of bright colors and tinsel and grinning Santas.
Everyone else is already waiting in the bright and sparkling foyer, even Jacob, who got a last-minute Healer call earlierto deal with a small, random attack that reeked of black magic.
“We clean up nice, don’t we?” Emerson beams at all of us like she dressed us herself—an offer she made that was declined.
I feel like everyone is staring at my necklace, but if so, they don’t mention it.
Emerson switches modes and starts instructing us on what’s to come as she herds us out of Wilde House and we head over to the ball. Zander and Ellowyn wave down one of the horse-drawn carriages that are out tonight, creating a nice vintage feel to the cobbled streets on such a cold evening. Zander shoos away three crows that have been perched on the back of the carriageas he helps Ellowyn climb inside. Rebekah and Frost flag down their own.
The rest of us walk, and we all arrive at the same time to go inside together. Emerson is waylaid by members of her committeealmost immediately, and I look around at the winter holiday wonderland she’s created in the community center. It looks likehalf of St. Cyprian is here already, with more pouring in the doors by the minute. We know almost everyone, because smalltowns are like that. The difference is that these days, everyone wants to make sure they know us too.
As we make our way through the crowd, we notice the Joywood contingent, huddled together in one corner. They’re dressed up,but they don’t look... quite themselves. Festus has one pocket hanging inside out, which is just strange from a fastidiousman like him. Maeve is wearing mismatched shoes and an overlarge hat, as if trying to hide her hair. Felicia Ipswitch hasa bandage around her hand in a way that almost appears as though there’s no hand beneath it.
