Page 18 of Dragon's Flame
The thought was like the projectile still lodged in his chest, sharp-edged and unyielding. Desperate to keep her, terrified oflosing her to time, he’d broken every rule—defied every law of magic—to make her immortal. He hadn’t considered what it might cost her—or him.
And now she was scared of him.
That was worse than her rejection.
That she could think, even for a moment, that he meant her harm—it felt like the missing piece of his soul, that he’d given to her, had left a hole that was fracturing, carving him deeper and deeper inside.
And—somehow he was still injured.
He’d been brushing it off because it didn’t make any sense to him, his time recuperating at his brother’s home should have made him whole.
But whatever was draconic inside him hadn’t managed to seal the wound, and now he was bleeding badly enough for her to notice. He didn’t have time for the luxury of weakness right now.
He stole a glance in her direction. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, her gaze fixed stubbornly out the window. The anger radiating off her was almost palpable, but there was nothing he could say.I stole your mortality. Once upon a time, I anchored you to me, and now it is against your will.
But I would do it all again just to keep you near.
The road ahead stretched into darkness, twisting with uncertainty—much like his path with her.
16
KENNA
Somehow, despite the terror, Kenna slept—and dreamed familiar nightmares. About seeing fires, things burning, losing her family, and part of herself—then when the road beneath them changed, and tires crunched gravel, she startled herself awake.
It was still dark outside—and even more oppressive than it had been. There were tall redwood trees on either side of them.
“Where are we?”
“We need to stop,” he—Tarian, he’d told her—said, his voice rough.
“Why?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking. The obvious answer was that they were at his serial-killer house now, and horrible-er things would start happening at any minute.
“Because,” he said, and it wasn’t an answer—although now that Kenna could look at him, she had a guess.
The entire front of his dress shirt was covered in blood that looked black by the moonlight.
“We will be safe enough here for a while,” he panted as they passed a sign for a Rivermist Lodge, and beneath it “vacancy.”
Her heart leapt into her throat. Of course. They were down in Big Sur somewhere. It was desolate, but there were pockets of civilization, and if he thought she was going to play Miss Susie Homemaker with him in some rustic cabin, he had another think coming.
Except the foliage on either side of the road was thick—like no cars had passed through in months. And the buildings ahead? Their sagging rooflines made it clear; they’d been abandoned for even longer.
Which meant she was trapped, in the middle of nowhere, with a bleeding insane man.
He put the van into park and got outside, coming around to gallantly open her door for her. The dog zoomed out and into the darkness, but she thought about jerking it closed and locking herself inside the van. But then what? Sit alone in the dark, miles from anywhere, while he bled out—or worse, broke through the windows and came back angry?
“Come on,” he urged her. “We can rest.”
“Can we now?” she said sarcastically, but still stepped out. She was glad she’d put sensible boots on with her dress earlier in the night, even though Sarah had tried to talk her out of them.
Sarah wouldn’t be expecting her home till morning, and she’d cut her a few hours slack just in case she wasgetting some, or having brunch at Zachary’s diner.
Maybe Cliff had called the cops. She was sure he would—but after tonight? He’d never want to see her again.
And what would he tell the police? That a girl he’d tried to get with had been absconded by a hulking stranger?
That sounded like a one-way ticket to jail for him, assuming anyone ever came out here and found her body.
