Page 13 of Dragon's Flame
Tarian turned his head slowly, his expression grim. “What?”
“I don’t know,” the dog admitted, his head tilting. “But I bet you shouldn’t be alone.”
There were no truer words in the world. Seris was his mate—he knew it, felt it in the marrow of his bones—and yet, here he was. Without her.
“So I’m here,” Rocky said firmly. The dog settled on all fours before wriggling his way between Tarian’s arm and his side. Slowly, he rolled over, exposing his belly with a wag of his tail.
Tarian exhaled, his lips twitching faintly. “You are a poor substitute.”
“Maybe,” Rocky said, his tone unapologetic. “But I’m what you’ve got.”
Tarian’s hand moved to the dog’s stomach, his fingers running through Rocky’s fur as the dog’s tail thumped against the bed.
10
KENNA
Kenna couldn’t stop smiling as they drove down Ocean Street toward Cliff’s hotel, and he couldn’t keep his eyes—or free hand—off her.
They were both giddy and stupid, and Kenna was just buzzed enough to let herself revel in it. For the first time in forever, she felt young.
Alive.
For so long during her recovery, “living” had just been survival. A day-to-day grind of surgeries, physical therapy, and learning how to be in her own skin again. It had taken years to claw her way back to somethingresemblingnormal.
But now?
She was excited. She wasliving. And when Cliff’s hand slid a slow line up her leg, she didn’t stop him.
They pulled into the hotel parking lot, and before she could unbuckle her seatbelt, Cliff leaned over and kissed her.
What started as a sweet press of his lips quickly became a mess of hands, mouths, and heat. They fell apart and came back together in the car, then outside of it, pressed against thedoor. They made out their way up the stairs and then down the hallway, stumbling, laughing, until they stood together in front of a door. Cliff pulled his keycard out at once, tapped it to the lock, and while she wasn’t precisely sure how they were going to spend the next four to six hours, her enjoying it felt inevitable.
11
TARIAN
Tarian woke to the familiar sensation of being bitten.
He shouted, bolting upright, and heard Rocky yelp in fear.
“WHOA!” the dog howled midair, tumbling as Tarian flung him across the room, to land with an indignant yip. “The second you fell asleep, you started growling!”
His breath came hard and fast, his chest heaving as he tried to reorient himself. It took a moment to remember. The dark hotel room. The soft hum of foreign machines. The glow of the clock. He hadn’t been asleep long—not since failing to reach Seris.
“I was?” he rasped.
“Yeah,” Rocky grumbled, creeping back warily. “I was trying to wake you up. You were fighting something.”
Tarian pushed a hand through his hair, his fingers catching on tangles. The sheets were tangled, kicked loose by his thrashing. The dog was right. And when Rocky’s teeth had grazed him, his mind had gone straight back to the Gate.
The biting. The beating. The clawing.
The Sirens.
The memory raked at his mind, and suddenly his clothes felt suffocating. He yanked at his suit jacket, half-ripping it off just to breathe. His chest rose and fell as he fought the lingering ghosts of his nightmares.
And then he felt it.
