I try to let her know that I’m okay, but she’s spiraling, not listening to anything I’m saying.
With a huff, I do the only thing I can think of, and in a single motion I pull my shirt off completely. The moment I’m bare, Haven’s gaze drops to my chest and she finally stops babbling.
“I’m fine. See?” I rub a hand over the spot she hit, showing the smooth, unburnt skin. “Your fire doesn’t hurt me.”
She blinks twice as if in a trance, and then slowly looks up at my face. “But . . . how?”
“I’m a dragon shifter. I’m fireproof.”
Her mouth drops open as understanding dawns.
“It took me by surprise, and yeah, knocked me on my butt. Nothing hurt but my pride. Promise.”
Haven’s gaze drops to my chest another time, as if double checking that what I’m saying is true. Color appears high on her cheeks as she spins in the other direction, clearly embarrassed. I don’t know what to do except change the subject.
“I got us a room,” I say. “You had a traumatic night. You need rest. You can get some sleep and then we can tackle tomorrow when it comes.”
“Okay, good idea,” Haven says, refusing to face me. She’s flustered and she shouldn’t be. It wasn’t a big deal.
“Which room?” she asks.
“Twelve.”
“Perfect,” she says with false cheerfulness, and starts heading in the wrong direction.
“Um, Haven,” I call to her.
“Yeah?” she asks, still walking the wrong way.
“Twelve is over there.”
She stops and glances over her shoulder to see me pointing in the opposite direction.
“Oh, shoot. Right.”
Fishing in my pocket, I pull out the key. This place is so old it’s a metal key instead of a keycard, with a large plastic tag attached with the room number written on it in marker. I toss it to her. I have to work to keep the smile off my face when she almost fumbles it, her cheeks reddening further.
“I’ll grab our stuff,” I say, and head toward the tailgate to get her duffel and my backpack of clothes and essentials.
I hear her scurry off. Only then do I let myself chuckle.
By the time I have both bags hefted over my shoulders and get to the room, the door is ajar. I give a slight warning knock and then enter, freezing the moment my foot crosses the threshold.
“What. The. Hell?”
Haven is standing in the middle of the room with a shocked and slightly horrified expression no doubt similar to my own.
The room is like something from a slasher film.
I think it’s supposed to be someone’s interpretation of the honeymoon suite, but gone very, very wrong.
Everything is red. Red like we’re standing inside of a human heart.
From the walls to the carpet, to the giant heart-shaped bed in the middle of the room. Off in the corner is what I think is an elevated tub, also red.
Haven turns to me with wide eyes. “I don’t know that I can sleep in here.”
I don’t have words. When I asked the clerk for a room, my only stipulation was that it have two beds. There’s a red couch off to the side that I assume must be a pull-out.
