“Will you… just—” My voice falters, stripped bare. “Will you hold me until I fall asleep?”
He turns slowly, searching my face like the answer might wound us both.
After a beat, he nods.
He lies beside me, fully clothed, careful as he gathers me against his chest. One arm wraps around my shoulders, the other resting where I place it—no more, no less. His heartbeat issteady beneath my ear, grounding in a way nothing else has been since the attack.
“I can’t stay,” he murmurs. “But I’ll stay long enough.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
I close my eyes. His warmth seeps into the cracks fear left behind. Sleep comes quietly, like a tide pulling me under.
Chapter 39
Homecoming
Two weeks later, I creep into the orchard where Drako waits, his scales gleaming silver in the torchlight. I clutch a battered grimoire of fae lore, its pages promising answers I can barely focus on.
He rumbles a greeting that vibrates through my bones. I sink down beside him, book in hand, and press my back against his warm scales. I try to read, but every word blurs into Cassy’s face, her laughter, her scream. My focus splinters again and again, a living nightmare replaying itself over and over behind my eyes.
Drako lowers his massive head until his nose brushes my arm, then nudges me gently. His molten gaze softens. “Put the book to rest for the night, little flame. Anxiety is clouding your sight.”
My heart sinks, and the book slips from my limp fingers, its pages whispering shut in the cool breeze. I press my face into my hands.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, his tail curling around me like a shield. An unnatural warmth fills me from the inside out—spreading from my lungs to my limbs until my shaking stills.
Finally, I drop my hands, chest easing. “What did you just do?” I whisper, staring up at him.
“Helped you breathe.” His voice is matter-of-fact but gentle.
“Yes, but how?”
“Dragons’ breath,” he explains. “A dragon can choose to share breath with another if they wish. It opens the lungs, restores calm. It can save those near death, drowning, or broken by fear. We can also influence emotion—to bring peace or provoke fury.”
“So… mind control?” I ask, suddenly aware of just how much he might have manipulated me already.
He chuffs, amused. “No. Influence, not control. I cannot create anything that isn’t already inside you, just amplify what’s already there.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “So, dragons aren’t all bad, after all.”
“Indeed not,” he says, nudging me to my feet. His massive wings unfurl—an immense, beating shadow against the stars. He lowers his neck and forearm like a ramp, inviting me to clamber onto his back.
I climb up and settle at the base of his neck where the spines part, forming a natural seat.
“Hold on tight, little flame.”
I grip the ridges at his throat as we launch into the night sky. The wind roars through my hair as mist-shrouded waves gleam far below. Hills roll on seemingly forever into the moonlit dark, and freedom floods my veins.
“Where are we going?” I shout over the wind.
“You don’t need to yell,” he rumbles in amusement. “The wind makes no difference to me.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Then will you please tell me where you’re taking me?”
“To see your sister.”
My breath catches. Memories rush in—my mother’s laughter among roses, Kat’s golden hair flashing in the sun, the two of us chasing butterflies through the garden when we were little. My chest aches with the distance between then and now.
