I flicked his nose, which only made him laugh harder. “See? Prickly,” he said between breaths.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I couldn’t fight the grin tugging at my lips. “You like it.”
He nodded once, voice softer now, gaze unwavering. “Yeah. I do.”
The air thickened as we sat there, nearly tangled. I cleared my throat and nodded toward the tomes resting atop my satchel.
“I have to admit… I’ve been avoiding looking through them.”
Rhodes followed my gaze and caught my meaning. “Why?”
A heavy sigh escaped as I rose and paced the small room, hands on my hips. He stood too, eyes tracking me with quiet concern.
“What are you so afraid of?” he asked gently, his voice brushing against my back like a breeze before a storm.
I spun around, throwing my hands into the air—but the words wouldn’t come. They clawed at my throat, screaming inside my head, yet refused to take shape. A sharp ache pulsed behind my eyes, my temples pounding with unspoken truth.
Rhodes must’ve sensed my internal war, because his hands found my shoulders. He bent his knees, dipping his head just enough to meet my gaze.
My voice came as a broken whisper. “Whatever is in those tomes… it could lead to the restoration of the Mareki.”
He straightened. I lifted my chin and held his stare.
“Isn’t that the objective?” he asked.
“Freeing the Mareki of its curse means I loseyou, Rhodes,” I said, voice cracking. “If we can’t find a way around it… I lose you. And I’m afraid ofthat.”
Hot tears spilled; he caught them with his thumbs.
Unlike me, Rhodes didn’t waver. “What did you tell me that night in the forest—when I confessed everything about the curse?”
I rolled my eyes and tapped my boot, dodging his gaze. His hands stayed firm.
“You told me I’d better not dare give up,” he said, the words tight in his throat, almost a growl. He stepped closer. “And what did I tell you on the forest canopy in the Glade? Do you remember?”
The memory twisted in my chest. I was not good at this—at vulnerability, at letting people in. I searched for an excuse, for frustration to push him away.
But he cupped my face and leaned closer. “I told you the curse would have to pry me away from you, my thorn.”
My eyes shot to his. My defenses crumbled. My lips parted as he traced a finger along my bottom lip.
“And I meant it,” he said softly. “I may not have ancient tomes that reveal themselves only to me, but I’ve been searching. Since the day you ordered me not to give up, I haven’t stopped.” One hand slid to my waist. “I’ve had Noemi digging through every scrap of history she can find through other dragons. I’ve spent hours buried in archives in both the Glade and the Hollow. Scarlet—” He swallowed. “I even cameclean to Shayde.”
My heart stopped.
“He’s been helping, too. Balveer shared stories—old Mareki myths passed down around campfires. We’re closer than you think. And I know you. You don’t give up. So why doubt yourself now?”
I pressed trembling hands to his chest, fingers curling. “I guess… because it’s starting to feel real. The idea of losing—”
His lips crashed into mine, stealing my words and breath.
When he pulled back, our noses were barely apart, his forehead almost brushing mine.
“I’m real, my thorn,” he whispered. “What I feel for you is real. I am yours. And this world will crumble in my fingers before I let it rip me from you.”
Our chests heaved in unison as he rested his forehead against mine, his hands cradling my face. I breathed him in, etching the moment into memory.
Then he pulled away. A rush of cold air struck where his touch had been, and I nearly gasped at the loss.
