Chapter
Twenty
If ever your flame snuffs out—don’t let your flame snuff out.
-Humaning for Beginners: A Dragon’s Tale of Human Management
“Go,” I told Adelaide, my voice low and firm.
She looked like she wanted to argue, but in the end, she nodded and slipped away, the faint patter of her footsteps filling my ears long after her departure. Finally, though, I stood alone with Taron, the air thick, tasting of soot and smelling of ash.
He didn’t turn to face me.
The bars stood open—Adelaide’s doing, no doubt—inviting disaster. As I stepped into the cell, the muscles across his back rippled beneath bruised, bloodstained skin. A quiet tension coiled around us, heavy with things unsaid. But I couldn’t stay away. Not when a battle loomed. Not when we were running out of time.
“You don’t want to be near me rightnow, Lyssa,” he croaked.
“I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“I won’t burn you. Don’t ask for it.”
A tide of compassion surged up and broke inside me. Iknewthe war that raged within him. And now I understood what he’d endured every time I told him no. Every time I fought what blazed between us.
“Taron,” I rasped, my voice cracking. “Love.” The endearment came unbidden, but it was right. Obvious and undeniable. Love for Taron shone as bright as the sun, all shadow and doubt gone.
Without fear clouding my judgment, I saw the truth so clearly: he wasn’t just someone I’d fallen for by circumstance. He was the love of my life. Terrible, perfect and inevitable. The storm I’d fought, but the anchor I’d needed.
Piece by piece, day by day, I’d ceded my heart to him. Now, there was no turning back.
“I’m not leaving,” I whispered. “But Iamgoing to touch you. All right?”
He didn’t speak, just bristled, his shoulders rising. But he didn’t pull away, so I crossed the final distance between us and pressed my chest to his back, wrapping my arms around him, delighting as his heat enveloped me. For the first time since waking in my bed, I warmed up.
He drew in a sharp breath as I held him close and steady.
“Did Adelaide tell you my father is approaching with an army?” I asked, petting the hard-packed muscle under velvet skin.
He hissed. “Yes. We gave him exactly what he hoped for.” Bitterness tinged each word.
I kissed his shoulder, but relaxation never came to him. Guess I’d have to ramp this up a notch. “Will you play a game with me?”
Silence stretched. Then, wary and gravel-voiced, he asked, “What kind of game?”
“Twenty confessions. Similar to twenty questions, but we’re gonna share our deepest, most personal secrets.”
He tensed, but I felt his heartbeat quicken beneath my palm. Then he finally spoke. “What are the rules?”
“We take turns. No lies allowed. And,” I added with a half-smile, “we cuddle on the cot the whole time.”
A beat. Then he shifted to face me. His eyes searched mine. Ancient wild flames swirled in his irises, the amber now lit with a thousand different hues of color. My chest clenched. As much as I wanted the dragon back, I had to admit those flames looked good on him.
He reached for my hand and guided me toward the narrow cot resting against the cold stone wall. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “I see my sisters have been here.”
They’d left their mark: a scarlet pillow, a woven rug in my favorite rose-gold hue, forest green, gold-trimmed blanket, and a wall tapestry of an ocean shore at sunset. An island of rest amid the dungeon’s gloom.
We lay down together carefully, testing the sturdy frame. His arm slid around me with surprising gentleness. He avoided my bandages, holding me as if I might shatter. Maybe I already had. My cheek found its place against his chest, where his heartbeat thudded like a war drum. I splayed my hand over his abs, feeling the raw power coiled beneath it.
“Mmm. You’re so warm,” I told him.
