“I should have walked.” He continues. “I didn’t. Because I wanted it. I wantedyou. Even knowing exactly what it could cost me.” The air between us suddenly feels too thin as he takes another step forward “My feelings for you are real. Yours are real. Everything I told you in Ravenscross is true, that I haven’tused my magic to control your emotions without you knowing since before Ashvale. Since that kiss.”
As the last word leaves his mouth, a single truth string slips from his lips, fine and bright in the dark. It drifts across the short space between us and sinks into my skin with a sharp pull. My lungs stutter.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Lyra. But I did. I took your trust and twisted it. And for that I’m so sorry.”
His hands fall to his sides as he angles away, his head dropping with the movement.
The admission should feed my fury, instead it drains it, and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek and force myself to stay still, shoving down the urge to reach for him.
Iwantto hate him, cleanly, completely. I need control—of this, of him. Over the way my chest locks up every time his beautiful, dark eyes lock on mine. Yet the harder I reach for it, the thinner it feels in my grip.
I need space. Distance. Air. Before I do something reckless, like hit him again.
Or worse.
“Take me to Ezzy,” I demand, folding my arms to hide how hard my pulse is ticking.
His mouth opens as though he wants to object. Then he exhales slowly, and nods, before turning to pick up our wet clothes from the ground.
“Dragons prefer the cold,” he states as he straightens, water still dripping from the fabric. “They usually sleep outside. But if this bond is going to take, she needs proximity. She needs the chance to see who you really are.” He gestures toward Ahria, who is now focused on us. “So I think it’s best if she stays in your tent.”
“She what?!” I stare at him, any trace of want or longing obliterated by complete and utter shock. “Have you completelylost your mind? There is no goddamn way she’s coming inside a tent with me! Have you seen the size of her?”
The corner of his mouth pulls into that crooked, infuriating half-smile as he lifts his free hand and flicks his fingers toward Ahria.
Across the clearing, Ahria lets out a frustrated, almost pissed-off huff, smoke seeping from her nostrils as her head jerks toward us like she can’t believe she’s being summoned.
Talen raises a brow at her, a silentdon’t push me.
The warning obviously lands as she unfurls her wings and launches into the air with a violent downbeat that rattles the ground beneath my boots.
I tense automatically. Desperate for her to be closer, yet completely petrified at the same time.
But as she closes the distance, something feels… off.
She should be blotting out the sky by now.
She isn’t.
She’s getting closer, yet she’s not getting bigger.
My stomach drops as my brain finally catches up, as her wings tuck back, a tiny puff of smoke drifting from her nostrils and she lands lightly in Talen’s palm.
I stare.
She’s no larger than a well-fed mouse.
What the?—
CHAPTER FIVE
“You should see the look on your face.” Talen chuckles, creases forming around the bruise on his nose that I just gave him. But I can’t even look at him properly. My gaze keeps snapping back to the bite-sized dragon in his hand, like if I stare hard enough it will make sense. It doesn’t.
“She… she shrank!” I manage, my eyes so wide it actually hurts.
“No.” Talen’s grin widens as he hooks a finger under Ahria’s chin, earning a low, pleased rumble from her. “She grew.”
“That’s not—” Shaking my head, I point at her tiny green-scaled body nestled in his palm. “That’s not how dragons work.”
