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I pull down my skirt and wipe my hand on the fabric before relaxing against the side of the nest. Seconds later, though, a terrifying, deafening earthquake of thunder makes the whole mountain tremble. I don’t even know how I get to Kyreagan—suddenly I’m just there, crushed against him, clawing him closer in a sheer mad panic.
“Sshhh.” He strokes my hair. “I won’t let it hurt you.”
I know he might not be able to keep that promise, but I also know he’s utterly sincere about it. And for now, that’s enough.
I’m not sure how long we lie there, with his arms around me and my face against his warm chest. The storm roars so loudly we don’t bother trying to talk. The wind drives the rain at a nearly horizontal angle, soaking the floor, but thankfully the nest is deep enough in the cave that the pelting drops don’t reach us.
After a while, the thunder abates somewhat, which eases my fear, even though I know it will likely get much worse before it gets better.
I fetch Kyreagan a pair of black pants, and after he puts them on I have him move the glowing stones closer together, out of reach of the rain but far enough from the nest so I don’t have to worry about setting it alight. I move some of the food supplies from one dish to another so I can free up a stone bowl, which Kyreagan helps me position atop the hot, cube-shaped rocks.
“There. A stove.” I smile, pleased with myself.
“You plan to cook?” Kyreagan sits down awkwardly nearby, rearranging his legs several times before he gets comfortable.
“I’m going to make you a stew.” I collect the tin of salt and a couple handfuls of starchy roots and wild onions. Then I retrieve the knife-like claw Jessiva gave me and slice a chunk of venison from one of the carcasses at the back of the cave.
“Don’t vomit,” Kyreagan says dryly.
“I only vomited because I was starving and then you stuck a bloody hunk of meat in my face and told me to eat it raw,” I retort. “I’m fine with raw meat if it’s in the context of cooking. Fetch me that flat sliver of stone, dragon.”
After untangling himself from his cross-legged position, he brings it to me. “Why do you need this?”
“Hush, and watch.” I plop the hunk of meat onto one end of the flat stone. It serves well as a cutting surface while I slice the meat into smaller pieces and drop them into the stone bowl, along with some juicy bits of fat.
Kyreagan eyes the knife-claw, his shoulders tense. “Where did you get that? It smells like Tenebrix.”
“Tenebrix?”
“One of the dragons who died during the plague, right around the same time as my father’s death.”
“Jessiva gave it to me,” I say calmly, continuing to chop the venison.
“She shouldn’t have taken it. Bone-relics are precious to our people. That includes claws and teeth. She gave this to you for food preparation?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Instead of replying immediately, I scoop up the rest of the meat and tumble it into the hot stone bowl where it starts to sizzle. In the rivulet of clear water, I wash both my hands and the claw-knife with the orange-scented soap before walking over to Kyreagan. His eyes widen as I swing astride his lap, facing him, chest to chest. Holding his gaze, I set the sharp tip of the claw against the side of his neck, where the blood pumps close to the skin.
“Why do you think she gave it to me?” I ask quietly.
“To protect yourself from me,” he replies.
“Not only that. She asked me to kill you if I could. She wants you dead. She thinks the rest of us can go home if you’re out of the way.”
Firelight glimmers in his dark eyes. “And what do you think?”
I purse my lips, dragging the point of the claw along his strong tanned throat, then tracing the sharp corner of his jaw with it. “I’m not sure yet.”
His hand curls around my wrist. “If you’re going to kill me, I have one condition.”
“And what’s that?”
“Kiss me first.”
I laugh a little and lean in, pressing my mouth softly to his. He gives a deep sigh of satisfaction, as if he could die happy.
