Page 52 of Red Dragon’s Flame

Tyr said, “Then we have to figure out a way for you to survive without the phoenix. We’re on it.”

“Thanks, Tyr,” Mikah said, and they signed off.

Mikah traced his fingers down the side of Devon’s face, and kissed her softly. “Tyr’s a healer, as well as a historian. If anyone can figure out how to help you, he can.”

She nodded, but he could tell she didn’t have much faith. He just wished like hell he had more than empty promises to give her.

Chapter 24

Despite everything Devon had hanging over her, the next two weeks were the happiest of her life since her father had died.

Being with Mikah was even more than she’d expected. He was still protective—some would say overprotective—but she understood better now where that came from.

“They’re all like that,” Maddie had told her. “Dragons are hoarders by nature, obsessively protecting the things they care about so nothing happens to them. That includes the people they care about.”

The people they care about. And Mikah cared about her.

She still had her own room but she spent most of her time in his—especially in his big dragon-sized bed. She’d read all about sex and seen it in movies, and thought she understood the effect it had on people.

But the reality was overwhelming. The way it felt to touch Mikah, to feel his lips on her skin, to feel him inside her.

It gave her a craving to be near him that she’d never expected. She loved the little smile he got when she said one of her blurting-out, inappropriate things. The way his face softened when he looked at her, and how that made her heart feel like melted chocolate.

The way she was learning to understand his sometimes broody moods, when he didn’t want to tell her what he was thinking.

He was so used to pretending everything was fine, to being the one who kept all the other volatile creatures in the castle from imploding.

He only let out his wild side when he played Realms—or in his virtual reality room. Or in bed.

He was deeply passionate and felt like he always had to be perfect—because if he wasn’t, who would hold things together? But it was hard on him—everyone else had the luxury to rant and explode and cause trouble, and he didn’t.

He was the one who always had to clean it up.

Just like he was cleaning up the mess of her life. He deserved better. He deserved someone he could really talk to—his doubts and fears, the things that made him angry and frustrated.

She hoped that in time, he would trust her with those things.

If they lasted that long.

The other bright spot in her new life was Michelangela. Even though she was much younger, Devon felt more comfortable with her than with anyone else in the castle except Mikah.

They played Realms together every few days. Devon had even played once with Neon and Donut—the ‘famous’ teen skateboarding sensations—giving them bragging rights among their friends.

One day they were lounging around Mikah’s room while he was at work, Michelangela having talked Devon into trying a new color nail polish. As she tried to put it on without making wavy lines, she noticed Michelangela, sitting cross-legged, absently rubbing her ankle.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Mikey said. “It’s just this tattoo. It’s new, and it itches.”

“Can I see?”

“If you promise not to tell anyone I did it.”

Devon shrugged. She wasn’t the tattoo police, and anyway—

She got a glimpse of the tattoo and gasped. It was gorgeous—an intricate design of a creature with a wolf’s head and a dragon’s tail. Somehow it seemed to ripple, as if it were actually moving.

“It’s amazing!” she said. “I didn’t know you could do anything like that.”