He meets my gaze through twirls of smoke. “Why are you afraid of fire, Raeve?”
The question strikes me so unawares it’s like catching a blade between the ribs, rendering me breathless.
Guess he’s learned to swing while my fucking guard’s down.
I look away. Lean back. Straighten my posture.“Afraid.”I laugh, popping the cork. I lift the skein to my lips and draw a sip of water. Swallow.
Wish it was something stronger.
“Makes me sound so weak,” I mutter, using the heel of my palm to stamp the cork back into place.
If that’s how he sees me, that’s howotherssee me. And that’s a problem.
Weaknesses get exploited.
“I’d love for you to contradict the statement. Hold my gaze and tell me otherwise.”
Though the words are sturdy, composed, there’s violence brewing beneath them. Just like those fucking coals roasting the meat, making it sizzle and spit.
I click my tongue and get to work stuffing my fear away, voiding every emotion other than the savageness that’s always skulking beneath my skin,waiting for release. A process I’ve moved through more times than I have the numbers to count.
I look up. Watch a frown shadow Kaan’s face as he no doubt sees the hardness on my own. “I could step through those flames right now. Let them feast on me,” I say, monotone. A blade forged beneath a mountain that’s buried so much of me it’s a surprise I’m still breathing. “They’d melt me into a puddle, and I wouldn’t so much as flinch. Does that make you feel better?”
His eyes blacken. “No.”
Damn.
I pop the cork and take another sip, holding the mouthful behind my lips before I swallow. “Fire forged me into a monster, Kaan. I look at those flames and see all the worst parts of myself. And a shitload of unnecessary pain.”
“Who?”
The word is a dragon’s growl, like it ripped straight from Rygun’s maw. When I look at Kaan, he’s all stoic composure and quiet promise of violence.
“A name, Raeve. That’s all I need.”
A name …
If there’s anything I’m taking from the past number of daes, it’s that some things deserve to be dredged up, even if I have no intent to actually do it.They deserve it.
Others don’t even deserve a fucking tombstone.
I let my emotions seep back into place and push up, move around the campfire, then drop onto his lap, absorbing the shock in his widening eyes as he opens his body to accept my presence.
I take his face in my hands, running my fingers through his beard, marveling at the shape of his lips … nose … thick lashes. The scars that nip at him, cutting his beauty into something fiercely superior to anyone I’ve ever laid eyes on.
He makes it all worth it. Every bit. I’d go through it all again just to be here right now, on his lap, breathing the same air as him.
“The past twenty-three phases … it’s all just one big graveyard, Kaan. Dig it up and we’re left with nothing but holes to trip on and an armful of bones,” I whisper, lowering my head to plant the softest kiss against his lips. I pull back enough to catch his eye contact. “Leave it be. Please. For both our sakes.”
His mouth opens—
The sound of fluttering wings has us looking skyward at the parchment lark zipping in our direction. It nose-dives straight into Kaan’s open palm.
Frowning, he tucks me closer to his chest so he can reach around and get to work unfolding the pleats.
I rest my head into the crook of his neck, watching Líri slumber. Wondering how I got so lucky when I certainly don’t deserve this.
Any of it.
