Gosh!
He handled it so well, reminding me of the time he defended me against the bitter, dark-haired werewolf who always watches me as if he’s either scared of me or wants to rip my head from my neck.
And tonight, Damian defended me in front of all the council members, standing up for me as if I were the most important person in that meadow outside the meeting cabin.
Phew!
Maybe focusing on how hot he was is a way to distract myself, but I can’t help it. I’ll think about powers and fire and demons tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll keep my mind on Damian and how irresistible he is.
The moment my head hits the pillow, and I close my eyes with a long, drawn-out sigh, fire comes first, and it’s not the dream I was hoping to dream.
The fire is not the kind I can feel breathing beneath my skin when danger calls, not the kind that answers me. This firefeels wrong, too fast, too hungry, tearing through everything around me without waiting for permission.
I’m standing in the valley, but it isn’t the valley I know. The trees are nothing but blackened skeletons clawing at a copper sky, their leaves burning as they fall, ash drifting down around me like snow. The ground beneath my feet splits open, veins of molten light pulsing through the earth as if the land itself is bleeding.
My chest tightens.
“Sophie...”
I turn at the sound of my name to find Damian standing at the riverbank.
Relief hits me so hard that my knees nearly give out. I run toward him, fire flaring at my heels, chasing me, feeding on the panic that hammers in my chest. The closer I get, the farther he seems, the river stretching wider with every step I take.
“Damian!” I call out, reaching the water’s edge and throwing my hands forward with a panic that’s rooted deep in my chest, begging the river to rise, to meet my fire the way it did before. The water answers when Damian lifts his hands, but it’s too late. It evaporates the moment it touches the heat pouring from my body, hissing into nothing, leaving me alone at the edge of the river with flames roaring unchecked.
Damian’s expression changes, but it’s not with fear.
It’s acceptance.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I can stop it. I just need—”
The fire surges, blocking out my voice. Wolves emerge from the smoke around me, running toward me with familiar faces and trusting eyes. The Red Moon Pack. My chest tightensas I open my mouth to warn them, to pull the flames back, but the fire doesn’t listen. It lashes outward, wild and ravenous, consuming fur and flesh in flashes of blinding heat.
The wolves don’t burn.
They turn to ash, their howls tearing through me, ripping something open in my chest.
“Sophie!”
Damian’s voice reaches me at last, distorted, as if carried through water too deep to swim through. I spin, desperate, searching for him, and that’s when I see the demons rising instead, peeling themselves out of the smoke, their molten eyes fixed on me with delight.
“This is what you are…” they whisper in a collective, droning tone, their voices layered and cruel. “This is what happens when fire forgets its place…. You are destruction….”
“I’m not—” My breath stutters and catches in my throat. “I’m not doing this—”
The flames collapse inward suddenly, spiraling toward my chest, compressing tighter and hotter until the pressure is unbearable. My body locks, my lungs forget how to work, and I realize with dawning horror that I can’t release the fire.
I’m going to burn from the inside out.
Then Damian breaks through the smoke, charging toward me, the river finally answering him in full force. Water roars at his command, surging forward, reaching for my fire.
For one perfect, fragile heartbeat, fire and water stretch toward each other again, like arms stretching out toward one another.
Then the flames rise higher, and they wall him off.
I scream his name as fire slams down between us, and his silhouette blurs, vanishing behind the inferno, his outstretched hand dissolving into light and heat.
The ground gives way beneath my feet, and suddenly, I’m falling, pulled into the depths of heat and darkness in the all-consuming fire.
