He gives me a long look then smiles, showing fang. A little ripple of excitement goes through me, because he’s looking much more like the arrogant asshole I know and like than the scared, hurt Draegon I desperately want to protect. And will protect, god damn him.
“What are you trying to say, my Lily?” he says, too casually.
“I’m saying you’re mine to take care of, Zan, so do what you will with that information. Be a dick about it, I don’t care, but I’m not leaving here without you.” I cross my arms over my chest and hit him with my best lava-murder-pit-stare.
His little smirk turns into a full-fledged smile, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me tight before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“You’re still covered in sand.”
“Oh yeah, well at least I didn’t let a sandworm use me for a chew toy,” I tell him.
“At the sound of the gun” Ken looks to the silent crowd. “The race will begin. On your mark. Get ready.”
The gun fires, a crack of noise that stuns me, so close it’s nearly deafening.
Oh shit, it’s happening.
The last time I did an obstacle race was at some horrible corporate retreat maybe six or seven years ago, when I had to do a three-legged race with a guy from accounting who I personally wanted to stab in the eyeball every time he sent a “per my last request” e-mail to me.
Needless to say, I sabotaged us.
Now, though… now the last thing I want to do is sabotage anyone. Especially not Zan and not Poppy and her Draegon dude.
I want us to all get out of here alive, and the quicker the better, gift basket be damned.
I feel sick to my stomach, and I realize that seconds are ticking by as Poppy clings to the back of her partner, who’s already tearing through the course at record speed.
Before I can register the fact that I need to move, my feet are already moving.
My ears are ringing, and I have no idea how we’re supposed to navigate this course, nor do I really understand where the course is even going. It’s all buzzing too much.
Zan, meanwhile, is full steam ahead, tugging me along his good side, holding his poor wing at such an awkward angle that it hurts to look at.
“Lily, I need you to pull it together,” he says quietly, or as quietly as he can over the roar of the crowd and the hissing and popping of the lava around us.
I’m sweating profusely, and can’t imagine the kind of pain Zan must be in right now.
“Your wing,” I tell him, suddenly terrified of what will happen if he pushes himself through this course, or worse, what will happen if he doesn’t.
Dread fills me. My mouth goes completely dry. And then a flash of that out-of-control hormonal anger that has me seeing red brightens my eyes. Figuratively.
Well. We are surrounded by red magma, so, love that for me.
Zan’s pulling me along, my feet carrying me even when my mind seems to be twenty steps behind.
“Lily,” Zan says desperately. “I know this is a lot, but you have to focus.”
“I am fucking focused.”
He laughs, and it’s a raw sound that tugs at my heart. “There’s my female.”
The black rock in front of us abruptly falls away, leaving us staring at the sea of roiling magma beneath us.
I half expect a Hobbit to yeet itself off beside us.
“I think Ken needs to tone down the amount of Earth media he’s consuming,” I mutter.
“Focus, my sweet,” Zan tells me tightly.
