Page 139 of Ashborne: Defiance

Her brow puckered and I guessed she didn’t know what that word meant, but I also vowed not to be the one who sullied her innocent mind.

“I’m not asking for special treatment,” she insisted. “When I ask questions, it’s because I want to learn. Not force others to work for me.”

I nodded. “You proved that today. You are rash, and reckless, and very courageous. You were amazing. I have no doubt that you will attain the pin. It’s only a matter of time.”

Her face brightened. “You truly believe that?”

“I do.”

But to my surprise her expression darkened. “You’ve said that before. And then you get angry again. Are you just trying to—”

I put my hands up in surrender. “This isn’t how I usually deal with a Flameborne, Grace. You can ask Bren. Koa’s heat really shook me. But I should have recovered with more aplomb. It shouldn’t have cost you. I accept responsibility for that.”

She took a deep breath as I stepped closer, watching me warily. Did her mind trip back to that first night in the forest, as mine did? That kiss? The mating of the dragons, and that torturous heat?

She licked her lips, and my chest panged. I stopped moving closer to her and fisted my hands so tightly my nails threatened to cut my palms.

“Why?” she breathed.

“Why what?”

“Why do you warm to me, then pull away? Why do you show kindness one moment, then act as if I’ve tricked you or…”

Raking a hand through my hair, I deeply wished I could turn away, but her expression was so pleading, her eyes so large and yearning, it stopped my breath.

There were only a few feet between us now. I could take a step, reach for her, tip up her chin, lay my lips on hers, pull her close…

My mind wasted no time filling in the gaps for me of what would happen the moment I did. How swiftly I could have those leathers off her, revealing her alabaster skin to the sun. How sweet the softest of her skin would taste as I teased her nipple between teeth and tongue—

Grace swayed closer, exhaling heavily, and I only barely caught myself from doing the same.

Dear fucking God, what is wrong with me!?

“I’m sorry, Grace,” I said, stumbling back a step. “Truly sorry. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll do better. I vow it.”

Why did she look as if she might cry?

“You’ve said before that—”

“Sometimes I don’t realize when I’m hurting others. I know that about myself. I have learned and grown—I’m sorry you haven’t benefited from that. It’s something I’ve managed to stop in the past, but you’re… I’ll… I’ll do better.” I swallowed hard as she gazed at me, confused and hurt and obviously sad. She swallowed, and my chest ached. “Look, I’ll give you a signal. If I lash out in future, if I’m hurting you, you use that to tell me, and I’ll listen. I’ll stop.”

“A signal?”

I nodded, scrambling, praying she wouldn’t ask me why I’d had reasons to use safe words in the past. “Yes, a word or phrase that is benign. But one we won’t use by accident. Something you can say to remind me. To tell me when I’m being harsh. And when you say it, I’ll remember to cool off.”

She swallowed, her eyes trailing off to the woods around her. “I… I’m not sure… it seems—”

The burn behind my navel surged, and I prayed for cool, clear mountain water to douse it. “Tell me the fire needs tending,” I blurted. “Remind me to douse the flame.”

Her brows pinched down over her nose. “The fire needs tending?”

“Yes, if I am being hot-headed. If I’m burning you, or others around me, remind me. Please. I’ll listen. You have my word.”

She looked down, still frowning, but shrugged. “Douse the fire? I suppose I can do that,” she said doubtfully. Then she lifted her head and locked eyes with me. “But, can I ask why?”

I frowned, confused. “Why what?”

“Why I make you angry? It’s something about me—it isn’t just you. It is men. This has always been the way—”