Firelight

26

I’m awake when Tamra leaves for school on Monday morning, but I don’t get up. I pretend to be asleep as she dresses. When she and Mom are gone, I rise and make a cheese omelet like Dad used to make and eat it in front of a morning talk show with dull awareness.

In the afternoon, I’ve had enough of the tomblike stillness of the house. Enough worrying over what Will will or won’t do. I take a walk. Within five minutes, I’m plucking at my tank clinging to my sweating body. When I reach the golf course, I pause to feast my eyes on the verdant expanse so out of place in the midst of dry, cracked earth. I park myself on the edge of the green and run my fingers through the grass until I earn curious stares from silver-haired retirees in bad pants. Vowing to try another flight this week, I head for home, plotting my next move — breaking into Will’s house and getting another look at that map.

When I arrive, Mrs. Hennessey is outside watering her plants. “So you’re the one.”

I stop. “Excuse me?”

“Your mother told me one of you got suspended from school.”

Great. I’ve fulfilled her every suspicion that she let a family of miscreants rent her pool house.

“I guessed it was you,” she adds with a certain amount of relish.

Nice, I think, slinking toward the pool house.

“I made goulash,” she calls out.

I pause. “What’s that?”

“Beef, onions, paprika. Little sour cream on top.” She shrugs. “In case you’re hungry. I made plenty. Never did get used to cooking for one.”

I stare at her for a moment, reevaluating my opinion of her. Maybe she’s not nosy so much as lonely. Especially stuck all day and night alone in a quiet house. Lonely, I get.

“Sure,” I reply. “When?”

“It’s hot now.” She shuffles inside.

After a moment, I follow.

The next day, I don’t wait for an invitation. I head over to Mrs. Hennessey’s soon after Mom and Tamra leave.

Mrs. Hennessey doesn’t talk much. She cooks. And bakes. A lot. She wasn’t kidding about always making too much food. She feeds me like I’m an invalid who needs fattening up. It’s kind of nice.

The company helps keep my mind off Will.

Over a breakfast of French toast sprinkled liberally with powdered sugar and dripping syrup, I hear a sound. Knocking. I lower my fork to my plate.

Mrs. Hennessey hears it, too. “That your door?”

I shake my head, rising and moving to her living room window. “I don’t know who it could be,” I say as I peer through the blinds.

Will stands at the pool house door.

I freeze, weighing my options. Can I drop to the floor and hide without him catching the movement? I’m not ready for this. For him.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

I angle my head. “No…yes…no.”

Mrs. Hennessey laughs, the sound rusty. “Well, he’s something to look at, that’s for sure. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

I swing her a glance.

“What? Bad idea?” she asks. “What’re you afraid of?”

I shake my head a little too fiercely. “Nothing.”

But it’s a lie. Yes, I’m afraid. Afraid of what he’ll say. Afraid of the words that he failed to say in the girls’ bathroom but were there, in his eyes. And now, he would have them solidified, ready to fling at me like barbed arrows.

I scoot to the side of the window, peering out. Watching him knock again.

He calls my name through the door. “Jacinda?”

Mrs. Hennessey squints through the open blinds. “If you’re not afraid, why are you hiding? He’s not abusive, is he?”

“No. He wouldn’t hurt me.” At least I don’t think he would. He didn’t the first time we met. But now…I snort. Bury shaking hands in my shirt.

My skin tightens. I scan the backyard as if I expect to see his cousins hiding in the bushes, waiting to pounce. I glance upward through the blinds. No buzzard-circling choppers.

I remember him in that bathroom. Looking over the stall at me. I haven’t been able to shake off the expression on his face. The wide-eyed horror. The shock as he looked down at me — a girl he liked — transformed into the very creature he’d been raised to hunt. Such a contrast from the last time he saw me in draki form. That difference is what makes my stomach twist into knots.

“Well, then what are you waiting for?” Mrs. Hennessey asks.

For it to get easier. For life to stop being so hard.

Since that’s not going to happen, I send Mrs. Hennessey a shaky smile and step outside.

“Hi, Will,” I say softly.

He spins around. Looks me over like he’s checking for something. What? Does he expect me to stand before him in full manifest? Wings, fiery skin, and all?

His gaze shifts over my shoulder and I know he sees Mrs. Hennessey in the window.

“Let’s go inside.” I quickly walk past him into the pool house, into the blast of icy air that acts like a salve to my steaming skin. I turned the thermostat lower when Mom and Tamra left, craving the coolness, the frigid air on my skin.

I’m especially glad for it now. With him here.

I hear the door close after me. In the middle of our small living room, I turn and face him. Dig my hands deep into the pockets of my shorts. The waistband rides low. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

He stares at me. His eyes intense. Bright. More gold today than brown or green, and my heart pinches a bit as I’m reminded of the amber Mom sold, a piece of my soul lost. His eyes have always been piercing, but this is different. It’s like he’s seeing me for the first time.

And I guess, in a way, he is.

It’s there in those expressive eyes. The hurt. The betrayal. I did that to him and can’t hide from it. Hurting him hurt me. More than I could ever expect. The pain is up there with losing Dad. With leaving the pride, leaving Az and Nidia. With feeling my draki slip away like mist between my fingers. And betraying my kind…even if they were planning to clip my wings and betray me.

“I took the day off,” he announces. Like I asked.

“Your dad just lets—”

“I don’t ask my dad. For pretty much anything. As long as I don’t flunk out, he doesn’t care.” The grooves along his cheeks deepen. “He cares about other things.” He nods slowly at me. My stomach cramps. “You can guess what those things are.”

The cramping takes a severe twist. Here we go. I might as well say it. Get it out there. He knows I know.

“The family business,” I volunteer.

His lips press into a grim line. “Yeah. My family business is hunting your family.”

I inhale, hate to ask, but have to know. “Did you tell them about—”

His voice bites out, “Do you really think you would still be alive if I had?” His angry eyes claw me.

I sink onto the couch, pluck at the edge of my shorts. “I guess not.”

He shakes his head. “You saw that room at my house—”

“Yes,” I say quickly, not wanting to discuss his family’s trophy room. It haunts me every time I close my eyes. “I know what your family is capable of.”

“And you still came to my house?” he snaps. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I didn’t have much choice!” I hug myself, squeeze tightly as if I can shield myself from his anger.

Sighing, he lowers himself beside me. Closer than I expect. Closer than I want him right now. I smell his soap. His skin. Slowly, the smolder builds in my chest until I taste heat in my mouth. Smoke in my nose.

“Guess you’re not an enkros,” he says. “You’re a…dragon.”

I can tell he has a hard time saying this. I almost smile. “No. I’m not an enkros. And we’re not dragons. Not in a long time. We just descend from them. We call ourselves draki.”

“Draki.” He nods slowly, then leans in close, eyes angry. “You’ve had a good laugh over all this, huh?” His voice is as soft as a feather dragging across my waking skin.

“No.” I tremble. From dread or pleasure, I don’t know. Maybe both. He really shouldn’t be this close to me. “None of this has been what I’d call amusing.”

“I guess not. You know, you could have told me—”

“Could I?” I rub a hand over my forehead, directly at the center where it’s starting to throb. “Like you were so open with me.” At least my voice is strong, even as my insides quiver.

His expression hardens to stone. “What did you expect me to do? Tell the girl I can’t get out of my head that my family hunts mythical creatures? That they’re obsessed with the chase? The kill, making money by butchering up—”

“Stop!” I hold up a hand, working my lips, trying to chase down the bad taste from my mouth, stop the churn of my stomach. Because I don’t want to know all the details. Can’t bear hearing about what his family does to my kind. What he’s witnessed them do…maybe even had a hand in it. Standing in that shop of horrors he calls home is a memory I’ve yet to erase from my head.

“But you knew,” he says. “You saw me before.” His eyes are fierce, his words a savage rush — each one like the sharp dig of a knife. “You knew me from the mountains. That first day in the hallway, you recognized me.” His eyes feast on my face, dropping to my neck, down my body. Again, like he’s seeing me as he did in that cave. In the bathroom. Seeing through my human skin to the draki underneath. “You had to know I could never hurt you. I didn’t then. How could I now?”

I get up and move into the kitchen, desperate for distance from him just then. But he’s not about to grant me that.

He follows close on my heels, announcing, “I knew it was you all this time. Don’t kid yourself.” His gaze burns feverishly bright. He reaches for my face with both hands, like he’s going to pull me close for a kiss.

“What do you mean?” I jerk away, and move around the small island, comforted to have something between us.

Frowning, he stares at me and continues, “Before I could understand it, I…remembered you. Sensed you.”

Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me. Standing at my locker with Tamra, there had been something in his eyes, his face.

He lifts a hand again, and this time I let him touch my face. I turn into his hand. My skin sighs against the cup of his palm. I move my mouth, taste the salty musk of his flesh.

His voice stokes the fire within me.

“I remember you. You were like burning firelight in that cave, all shimmery, dancing color.” I lean closer over the island, mesmerized by his words, his hand on my face. If he keeps talking this way, he’s going to see me like that again. “Tell me you thought about me. That you think about me now.”

My lips move, but I can’t speak.

His hand drops, and I feel suddenly cold. Bereft. The way I’ve felt for so long now. Even before arriving in Chaparral. Since I manifested at age eleven and lost myself. Became simply the fire-breather to everyone who knew me. My parents. My sister. Cassian. They saw me as that first and foremost. I guess even I’m guilty of that. Of seeing myself as nothing beyond the last draki fire-breather.

Only now, here with Will, I realize I’m something more. Someone not bound by the rules of her pride, her race, her family. Someone who can be loved for herself, draki or not.

“I thought about you,” I whisper, my voice not my own. It belongs to someone else. Someone brave, someone about to risk everything and follow her heart. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you.” Somehow, I doubt I ever will.

Then, I’m rewarded with his hands on my face again. His lips on my mouth, brushing so softly, so tenderly, but the hunger is there, held in check. I feel it like a storm rising on the air. My breath shudders against his lips and he kisses me harder, his hands on my face tightening. For a moment, I let myself forget the rumbling winds. As his hands angle my head, I grip the hard curve of his biceps and enjoy the press of his body against mine.

His lips start to feel cold, icy moving against mine, and I realize it’s not him. It’s me, growing hotter. Too hot. With a gasp, I break from him, round the island, and grip the hard edge of the counter in both hands. The storm winds settle. He still doesn’t know about my particular talent, and I’d rather him not learn this way.

His chest lifts and falls with ragged breaths. He says my name with such need that I take a long blink. When I reopen my eyes, he looks calmer, steadier. I don’t feel quite the same need to bolt when he holds out his hand. His eyes promise the refuge I crave. Placing my hand in his, he guides me back into the living room.

“Tell me now,” he urges, the glitter in his eyes desperate and hungry for the truth. “I want to know everything about you.”

He already knows. At least the biggest secret of all. And while logically I know I should keep as much as I can to myself — for the sake of my pride, my species — I can’t. Not anymore.

Not with him. I can hold nothing back. Not with the boy who protected me countless times. In the mountains. In his house. Even that day at school. If he wanted to harm me, he would have done so long ago. If he wanted to hurt me, he would not look at me the way he does. He couldn’t fake that. I don’t want anything coming between us again. It’s time for the truth.

“My mother, Tamra…they’re not like me. Not…draki.”

He looks at me, confused as he takes my other hand in his. I plunge in, explain the pride to him, how we live, manifest and demanifest. How our evolution has provided us with the greatest means of protection — allowing us to shift into human form. “You see, it’s impossible to maintain human form while we’re afraid and threatened. It’s a defense mechanism of our species…to revert back to our true form where we’re stronger and can use our talents. That’s why I started to manifest in the bathroom when Brooklyn and her crew jumped me.”

We’re quiet for a few moments, then Will asks, “You mentioned talents. What’s yours?”

I look away. “You might have noticed mine already.”

This is the hard part. It shouldn’t be. He already knows I’m draki, after all, but this takes it to another level. I’m not just a draki. I’m a draki that’s freakish even among my own kind.

Drawing a deep breath, I face him. “I’m a fire-breather.”

He looks confused, and I yearn to smooth the wrinkle from his forehead.

“There’s no such thing. Not anymore,” he says. “There are no reports of any fire-breathing—”

“Guess I pulled some lucky recessive genes.”

He doesn’t smile. His hand flutters over my face, hovering. But this time he doesn’t touch me. Gradually, understanding fills his eyes. “In the stairwell…your skin got so hot. Your lips…just now…”

My face burns even as his words make me feel bitter cold inside. I nod. “Yeah, I kinda…heat up when you kiss me.”

“So…what does that mean? When we kiss I might catch on fire or something?” His eyes widen then. “That’s why you’ve avoided me. Why you ran away when we kissed that night.”

I resist pointing out that’s why I ran away every time, not just that night.

His hands touch his lips as if remembering the warmth of my lips moments ago. I laugh. A miserable sound. Can this be any more mortifying?

“I can only hurt someone if I release fire or steam,” I confess. At least I think that’s true.

As I speak, his fingers trail down my arm. I’m just so relieved he’s willing to touch me after I’ve told him this. He turns my hand over and traces the fine lines on my palm. “And?” He looks up beneath heavy lids. “What else should I know about you?”

“My skin—” I stop, swallow.

He leans down, presses his lips to my wrist in a feathery kiss. “What about your skin?”

“You know. You’ve seen it,” I rasp. “It changes. The color becomes—”

“Like fire.” His gaze lifts from my wrist and he says that word he said so long ago surrounded in cold mists, tucked on a ledge above a whispering pool of water. “Beautiful.”

“You said that before. In the mountains.”

“I meant it. Still do.”

I laugh weakly. “I guess this means you’re not mad at me.”

“I would be mad, if I could.” He frowns. “I should be.” He inches closer to me on the couch. We sink deeper into the tired cushions. “This is impossible.”

“This what?” I clutch the collar of his shirt in my fingers. His face is so close I study the varying color of his eyes.

For a long time, he says nothing. Stares at me in that way that makes me want to squirm. For a moment, it seems that his irises glow and the pupils shrink to slits. Then, he mutters, “A hunter in love with his prey.”

My chest squeezes. I suck in a breath. Pretty wonderful, I think, but am too embarrassed to say it. Even after what he just admitted.

He loves me?

Studying him, I let myself consider this and whether he can possibly mean it. But what else could it be? What else could drive him to this moment with me? To turn his back on his family’s way of life?

As he looks at me in that desperate, devouring way, I’m reminded of those moments in his car when he tended the cut on my palm and ran his hand over my leg. My belly twists.

I glance around, see how seriously, dangerously alone we are. More alone than in the stairwell. Or even the first time together, on that ledge. I lick my lips. Now we’re alone with no school bell ready to rip us apart. Even more alarming, no more secrets stand between us. No barriers. Nothing to stop us at all.

I hold my breath until I feel the first press of his lips, certain I’ve never been this close to another soul, this vulnerable. We kiss until we’re both breathless, warm and flushed, twisting against each other on the couch. His hands brush my bare back beneath my shirt, trace every bump of my spine. My back tingles, wings vibrating just beneath the surface. I drink the cooler air from his lips, drawing it into my fiery lungs.

I don’t even mind when he stops and watches my skin change colors, or touches my face as it blurs in and out. He kisses my changing face. Cheeks, nose, the corners of my eyes, sighing my name like a benediction between each caress. His lips slide to my neck and I moan, arch, lost to everything but him. In this, with him…I’m as close to the sky as I’ve ever been.

I make grilled cheeses for lunch, one for me, two for Will. We don’t have any chips, but I find a jar of pickles in the pantry.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” He pauses for a drink, staring at me over the rim of his glass of juice.

“It’s the provolone,” I say, swallowing my last bite.

“It’s the chef.”

I smile and look away.

We listen to music. Talk. Kiss until my flesh glimmers gold-red. Warms to the touch from the deep scald at my core. He stops to watch. Leans his face close to my neck and smells my skin. Like I’m something he might taste. He sweeps his hands along my arms…making me burn hotter.

“Is this what it’s like for other fire-breathers?” he asks, winks, holding my hand up in his broad palm. “Or is it just me and my magic hands?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m the only one in my pride.”

His gaze snaps to mine, laughter gone. “Seriously?”

I nod. “That’s why we left the pride. Mom says it isn’t safe for me there anymore.”

His hand on my arm tightens. “They would hurt you?”

I shiver, thinking of the wing clipping they planned for me. I close my hand over his, force his fingers to loosen their grip. “No. Not like you think. They just want to plan out my life for me.” I think of Cassian and shiver again. “Own me.”

His brows dip. “What do you mean?”

“Your information wasn’t totally off. Fire-breathers were thought to be extinct, lost. Then I came along. I’m the first fire-breather in my pride in generations.” I shrug, trying to make light of my words. “And they want more. More like me. It’s simple, really.”

I deliberately don’t tell him about the wing clipping. Maybe I don’t want him to think we’re barbaric creatures. Considering his family, I know it shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. It shames me that my brethren planned to misuse me so cruelly.

He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes hard, penetrating, processing. Then, he gets it. Understands how my pride plans to get more fire-breathers like me. His hazel eyes deepen to a forest green. He utters a profanity. “Your pride expects you—”

“Not the entire pride,” I say quickly. I can’t think that Nidia does. That’s probably why she let us escape that night. Az and my other friends wouldn’t support such abuse of me either. “Our alpha picked his son, Cassian, for me….” I wince at his expression, slide my fingers over the back of his hand. “It’s all right.” I lean over and kiss the side of his mouth. “I’m here now. With you. They’re not going to find me.” Well, except Cassian, of course. He already has. But I’ll deal with him later. I still have a few weeks until his return.

He turns his hand over to lace his fingers with mine. “Promise me you’re not going to leave.”

I hold my breath, stare into his eyes, know I must decide now. Not whether I’ll return to my pride. That’s already decided. I can never go back there. But I need to figure out once and for all if I’m going to stay here in Chaparral and forget about finding another pride.

Will could help me leave. I believe he would, if I asked, if I convinced him I needed to go. Explained to him Cassian would be coming for me soon. He cares enough to do that for me even if he doesn’t want to see me go.

He squeezes my hand. “Promise.”

“I promise,” I whisper. Even if I shouldn’t. Even if a small part of me will never feel safe here and never should.

At least I don’t need to leave anymore in order to keep my draki alive. With Will around, it will never fade. And together, we can keep what I am hidden from the world. I believe that together we can do anything. And Mom and Tamra get the lives they want. Win-win for everyone.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear a sound. A yippy, broken ka-kaa-kaa. It’s that bird again. Or one just like it. From the night it rained. The one I thought too stupid for failing to seek shelter.

“What is that?” I ask.

For a moment, he looks confused, then Will hears it, too. “Desert quail. Distinctive, huh? They come into town when it starts getting hot. Looking for food and water. A mate.”

For some reason, I shiver once again.

“You cold?” He chafes my arms.

I haven’t been cold since I moved here. This is something else. “No, but you can put your arms around me anyway.”

That afternoon, Catherine comes over after school.

“Miss me?” she asks with her usual wryness, tossing her backpack on the floor and dropping down on the bed beside me like she comes over all the time. “I feel like a rebel just knowing you. Everyone keeps asking me if you really lit Brooklyn on fire.”

I arch a brow. “On fire?”

Catherine plumps up a pillow beneath her head. “The actual event has gotten a bit exaggerated.” Her lips twitch. “Maybe I had something to do with that.”

“Nice. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“So I guess I’m pretty much done for at school.” For the first time, it matters to me. If I’m to stay here and make a go of it, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few friends. To not be a social outcast. Especially since it seems pretty important for Tamra’s success at school, too.

“Are you kidding? You’re a hero.” Her lips twist with a smile. “I think you’ve got a shot at homecoming queen next fall.”

I give a short laugh, and then her words sink. Next fall. Might I be here then? With Will? It’s almost too sweet to believe.

“So,” Catherine begins, picking at the loose paper edging my spiral. “Rutledge was absent today.”

“Yeah?” I try for nonchalance.

“Yeah.” She stretches the word, her blue-green eyes cutting meaningfully into mine. “And his cousins were around, so he’s not off somewhere with them. I wonder…” She cocks her head, her long, choppy bangs, sliding low across her forehead. “Wherever could he have been?”

I shrug and pick at the flaking tip of my pencil.

She continues, “I know where Xander thinks he was.”

My gaze swings back to her face. “Xander talked to you?”

“I know, right? Can my days as a pariah be coming to an end?”

“Where does he think Will was?”

“With you, of course.”

“Me?” I moisten my lips. “He said that?”

“Well, practically. He expected me to confirm it when he cornered me in study hall.”

I swallow. There’s no help for it. Xander still thinks I know too much, and Will’s involvement with me isn’t going to change that.

“Why’s that guy have it out for you?” Catherine asks.

“I don’t know.” I shrug one shoulder.

“Yeah, well, he definitely creeps me out. He reminds me of my mom’s old boyfriend, Chad. He gets that same intense look on his face. We finally had to get a restraining order on him.”

“I don’t think it will come to that.”

Catherine shakes her head with a wisdom beyond her years. “You never know about these things, Jacinda. You never know anyone. Not really.”

“True,” I murmur, wishing it were anything but…wishing I could see the world and everyone in it for what they truly are. No lies, no pretense, no masks. But then I wouldn’t live a very long life without my own masks.

Later that night, my skin still hums with warmth, glowing faintly from the day spent with Will.

I have the house to myself. Catherine stayed for dinner, but left just before Mom went to work, and then Tamra left for a study group. I’m reading To Kill a Mockingbird on my bed. I like it but haven’t turned a page in half an hour. My concentration drifts.

The scratching at my window begins subtly. It takes a moment to penetrate. At first I think it’s nothing more than a branch. Blowing in a nonexistent breeze…

A chill runs through my skin. I slide off the bed, stare hard at the window between my bed and Tamra’s. In the low glow of lamplight, I make out a shadowy shape behind the blinds. Immediately, I envision Xander, imagining he knows the truth and is here to claim me. Not because Will told him, of course, but because Xander figured it out on his own.

Then, I think of the pride. Cassian. Severin.

I draw air deeply, expand my lungs. Remember that I’m no victim. “Who’s there?” I demand.

The sound at my window grows louder, like someone’s fighting with the screen. I hear a pop, then a vibrating jerk. The screen is off.

“Who’s there?” I repeat, smoke filling my mouth, puffing my cheeks, rushing from my lips in a cloudy gust. My back tingles. My wings move, crawl beneath my skin like beasts seeking escape.

The window slides open. The blinds rattle noisily, ripple with movement. My skin ripples, too. Heat rolls over my flesh in a current. I part my lips, ready to blow fire.

The blinds shove upward, and Will’s head pops inside. Those bright eyes lock on me. “Hey,” he breathes.

“Will!” I rush forward and hold the blinds so he can climb inside the room. “What are you doing? You gave me a heart attack.”

“I saw your sister leave, but figured I shouldn’t knock on the door. Is your mom here?”

“She’s at work.”

He grins, moves in, and wraps his arms loosely around me. “So I have you to myself.”

I smile, squeeze him back, loving that he misses me like I miss him. Even though we saw each other earlier today, I feel stronger with him here, the world not so scary and overwhelming.

We sit on the floor, our backs against my bed. Hands laced together, we talk. He tells me more about his family. About his cousins. All of them. Even his uncles and other cousins. But it’s Xander that worries me.

“Xander hates my guts,” Will comments.

“Why?”

Will pauses, and I feel the tension tighten his body. “My dad, my uncles…they favor me.”

“Why?”

He sighs, and there’s pain in the sound. “I don’t want to talk about—”

“Tell me,” I insist, determined to figure out this thing with Xander.

“I guess I’m better at certain stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” I ask, even as a whisper winds through me, warning me to stop, to end this line of questioning. That I don’t really want to know.

“I’m a better hunter, Jacinda.”

My hand stills in his. I stare down at it, marveling at my hand nestled so trustingly in his, and I feel a little sick. I try to tug it free. Because it’s just too much. How am I supposed to handle that?

He clamps down. “I don’t want to lie to you, Jacinda. I’m the best tracker in my family. It’s like I’m tuned in to your kind…. I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling I get whenever I’m close—”

I nod. It makes sense now. The way he reacted that day in the hall; it was like he felt me there before he even saw me. “It’s okay,” I murmur, and realize that I mean it. If this is part of the reason he’s drawn to me, I couldn’t hold it against him. Not when I crave him like oxygen for my starved lungs to keep my draki alive. “So that’s why your family needs you so much.”

“Yeah.” He nods, his honey brown hair tossing forward on his forehead. “But it never felt right. I never believed dragons, uh, draki, were dangerous creatures in need of killing. Not like my father wants me to think. Ever since I saw you in the mountains, I haven’t led them to any more draki. I can’t. I won’t.”

I smile then and start to wonder if my coming here hadn’t been for this reason. For Will. For me. For my species everywhere.

Eventually, we get around to the question I hoped it would never occur to him to ask. Another matter I have not let myself think upon too much. Because I can’t stand the prospect.

“So what about life span?” His head drops back on the edge of the bed, watching me. “Is it true?” So calm. So easy. So natural. It’s always like this with him. Like he’s not asking me this. Not asking me for my expiration date. “You can live forever?”

“We’re not immortal.” I try to cough up a laugh. Fail. “We can’t live forever.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Still watching me with a calmness that doesn’t meet the bright gleam in his eyes. Because he knows. He knows that even if we’re not immortal, it’s not as simple as being mortal. “How long do you live?”

I wet my lips. “It’s different for everyone, of course—”

“How long?”

“Nidia, the oldest draki in our pride, is three hundred and eighty-seven.” For a flash of a second, he looks stricken. Then it’s gone. Cool neutrality back in its place. I quickly add, “That’s long. Really old for us. Not the norm. Two hundred…three hundred is a closer average.”

“Average,” he echoes.

I keep talking, like I can stop him from thinking about it…about the gulf my words build between us. Not that we don’t already have enough obstacles. “We think sheer will alone is keeping Nidia alive. She’s special to our pride. We need her too much, so she’s hanging on for us.” I laugh weakly, hating how quiet he is.

“So you won’t start looking old until…when?”

I shrug uneasily. “Well, we never really look…old.” Not “human” old, anyway.

“How old does this Nidia look?”

I bite my lip and lie. “Maybe fifty-five. Sixty.”

Not quite the truth. She looks closer to mid-forties, and that’s as old as I’ve seen any draki ever look. We simply don’t age the way a human does. My mom is only starting to age because she’s suppressed her draki for so long.

“So when I’m a silver-haired sixty-year-old you’ll look…?”

“Younger,” I say, my throat tight and aching. And not because he’ll look older or less beautiful. But because if I’m around, I will be able to do nothing. Nothing but watch him decay, weaken, and ultimately die.

“Can we talk about something else?” I tear my hand from his to drag it through the impenetrable mass of my hair, hoping he doesn’t notice when I sneak in a rub at my eyes.

Right then, I hear the front door open and shut.

We scramble to our feet in a mad rush. Will’s out the window minutes before Tamra enters the room.

Sitting on my bed, I try to look casual, try not to glance at the window he disappeared through. Try not to think about our last words, the look on his face…the chill in my heart knowing he will die long before me.

I never let myself think about it before, never mulled over the distant prospect. But knowing what I do now — that he loves me, that I’ll never leave here, that I want us to be together forever — it’s impossible to stop the dread from sinking its teeth into me.

Forever won’t last that long for him.