Page 49 of Into Ember

Everything snaps. I come apart against his hand — clenching around his fingers, wave after wave, sparks flooding out from my ribs, from deeper, from that place I didn’t know existed until twenty minutes ago — his name in my mouth, his lips at my throat, his arm the only reason I’m still standing. It rolls through me and keeps rolling, aftershock after aftershock, and somewhere far away I can hear myself, and I sound wrecked, and I don’t care about that either.

He works me through it. Slower. Softer. He doesn’t let me fall.

When his hand finally slips free, I whimper. Whimper. Me. He gathers me in against his chest like that was always the next step, one hand smoothing down my spine while my heartbeat relocates to every point in my body at once. My legs are decorative. My brain is static.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear.

We’re both breathing like we ran here from Chicago.

Someone clears their throat.

Rayner.

Standing at the edge of the clearing. Grinning.

I die. Right here, standing up, mostly clothed. I die.

“They’re looking for you both,” he says.

Gunnar’s hand steadies me one more second, then leaves with absolutely zero hurry, which I will be killing him for later.

“Oh! What’s this?” Rayner drops into a squat, and Gerald trundles over, looks him up and down, conducts a brief inspection, and then climbs — claws and scales and total confidence — right up Rayner’s arm, and perches on his shoulder like a small scaly bird.

Rayner grins like a little kid.

He stands, careful, one hand hovering near his shoulder like he’s been handed something precious. Which, apparently, he has.

Meanwhile I am desperately putting myself back together — shirt down, pants right, hair a lost cause — while Gunnar leans against the tree and watches me do it, enjoying every second.

“Don’t.” I point at him.

His eyebrows shoot up, all innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

Rayner groans. “Come on, you two lovebirds.”

“We are not—” Gunnar starts.

“Yeah.” Rayner’s grin goes wider. “Uh-huh. You think we all didn’t just hear what you did to her?”

All.

Dragon hearing. The kitchen. The whole kitchen. Erik and Leif and Brock and—

Vick.

I am never going back inside. The lavender squirrel had the right idea. I’m going to find it, and we’re going to live in a nice tree, and nobody is ever going to hear from either of us again.

Chapter 19

Elara

The walk back is short. Not nearly short enough to come up with anything better than seven prepared deflections and a plan to die of embarrassment quietly, at a reasonable hour, in private. Gerald rides Rayner’s shoulder the whole way like a tiny scaled general reviewing his troops.

Nobody’s even looking at me.

Which should be a relief. It is not a relief. Now I’m embarrassed and ignored.

The kitchen is a whirlwind. Bags on the table, cabinets closing, Erik wrapping something in cloth, Leif giving quiet orders — every one of them moving like the morning has a deadline I wasn’t told about.