Within the Flames

Chapter Eleven

The doctor never did give his name, but he was a stout Chinese man in his forties who wore a dark gray jogging outfit and a baseball cap that he tugged backward while working on Tina’s face. He liked to whistle, but he hated Icky on sight and made the occasional stupid joke about falling down stairs. It was tolerable the first time, but by the third, Lyssa was ready to strangle him.

He did a good job cleaning Tina’s cuts, though. Jimmy pressed his cheek against her arm the entire time and squeezed her hand. Lyssa retreated to the hall, where she stood with her back pressed to the front door, hugging her stomach.

She heard Aaron Roacher whimpering in the kitchen but felt only disgust for him.

Eddie found her there. When she looked at him, all she could think about was the kindness of his voice as he’d talked with Jimmy, the sincerity and strength. Even she had felt better listening to him, as though the world would be okay, no matter what.

She didn’t look down at the scars on his hand. She could picture them perfectly, and now that she knew what they were, she couldn’t imagine not having realized before.

Someone had repeatedly put out a cigarette on his hand.

I killed a man when I was thirteen years old.

Words from his mind that had slid through hers, a million years ago on that sidewalk. It hadn’t frightened her then. . maybe because it didn’t fit her image of him, which was calm, in control, and gentle.

But now she had a clearer understanding of what might have happened. And it broke her heart for him.

He gave her a reassuring smile, and it made him so handsome she had to look away or risk staring.

“A car is coming,” he said. “The driver does some jobs for the agency every now and then. Tina and Jimmy will be safe with him. We’ve got a private jet waiting for them at LaGuardia. One of my friends will meet them in San Francisco. They’ve got a room at the St. Regis, and we’ll rent an apartment for them before the end of the week.”

“I hate to ask for anything else, but. .”

“She’ll have a job,” he told her. “Though she may have to go to school at the same time.”

“Tina will love that.” Lyssa’s voice barely worked. “But this apartment will need to be cleaned, too, before their roommate comes home from vacation. And then there’s Aaron. .”

“It’ll be taken care of.” Eddie leaned on the door beside her. Heat rolled off his body, surrounding and soothing her. “We need to worry about other things. If the Cruor Venator can only be killed by her own kind, then we need to find one who’s on our side.”

Lyssa said nothing, but Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Lannes told me a Cruor Venator was murdered a hundred years ago. She was supposed to be bad news, but the witch who stopped her. . never seemed to kill again. Not that anyone knew. If she’s still alive. .”

“No,” she said, more sharply than she intended. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

“There can’t be that many witches in the world. One of them must know something.”

“You’ll get yourself killed asking.”

“Not every witch is bad. I don’t believe that.”

“You’re right. But power does weird things to people. There’s no middle ground I’ve found. You’re either extremely good with it. . or you’re a supreme jackass.”

He made a frustrated sound. “We have to do something.”

Again, she kept silent.

Fear has its use, but cowardice has none, her mother had once said. Quoting Gandhi, no less.

But Lyssa’s father, who was Irish, had replied, It’s better to be a coward for a minute than dead for the rest of your life.

Which was Lyssa’s philosophy, most of the time.

Eddie studied her. “You want to run.”

He didn’t say it like he was accusing her of cowardice, but hearing those words out loud, from him, made her ashamed.

“I’m afraid,” she said. “I told you I might buckle.”

“Okay,” he replied. “I also told you we could leave.”

“But you’ll be back, won’t you?”

“I have to. People are getting hurt.”

Mandy used as bait — with other women gone missing. And even if those women weren’t the typical prey of the Cruor Venator, she was certain it was related. Jimmy and his mother were still at risk.

And Eddie.

“You should go,” he said. “Anywhere in the world. You choose.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Maybe.” His voice broke on the word. “I’ll find you again.”

She grabbed his wrist. “You can’t find me if you’re dead.”

He gave her a sad, crooked smile that broke her heart. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t just walk away. They’ll come after you eventually, right? I’d rather try to stop it now than later.”

He freed himself from her grip, but instead of letting go, his fingers wrapped around her left hand, sliding under her glove to stroke her skin in a touch so light and gentle it could have been a kiss. It felt like one: sweet, on her soul. He didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze down, on her hand.

A connection formed between them. Sudden, bright, hot. Flooding her with emotions not her own but that suddenly mirrored her heart, in so many unspeakable ways. His voice filled her mind.

Please, God, keep her safe.

He was praying for her.

Praying. For her.

It stunned Lyssa, who listened to his voice rumble through her like thunder, accompanied by an overwhelming, heart-shattering torrent of concern and affection, and fear.

Fear, for her.

Please, she heard him whisper, and that fear faded into longing, and heartache, and loneliness. Please watch over her.

Please watch over him, she thought, holding tight to his hand. I don’t want to lose him.

The realization staggered her. She did not want to lose him. Not yet. Never seeing this man again — the very real chance — made her heart break in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

Let go, she told herself. It’s better this way.

But when his hand slid from hers, and he turned away — it was not better. It was horrible. Lyssa watched him walk back down the hall to the kitchen, every nerve in her body electrified.

What would you sacrifice to keep him safe? asked the dragon. What price is worth paying?

I don’t know, she thought.

You lie, it whispered.

“Wait,” she croaked, and he stopped just at the doorway of the kitchen, watching in silence as she walked to him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and the tension leaked from his shoulders and eyes.

“I’d miss you,” he said, and looked down. “But I want you to be safe.”

“I won’t be safe anywhere I go. I’d rather be with you.”

He still did not look at her. “You can depend on me.”

“I know,” she said. “I hope one day you feel the same about me.”

Eddie finally met her gaze, and the intensity of it made her breath catch. “Lyssa.”

“I’m a coward,” she went on, needing to say the words. “If killing one person in cold blood could stop the Cruor Venator. . it would be worth it, right?”

“What’s this about?”

“Just answer me.”

He touched her shoulder, sparks dancing from his fingertips. “I don’t know.”

Her throat knotted up with self-disgust. “But if it could?”

“I don’t know,” he said again, more firmly. “That’s murder.”

“That’s what it takes.”

Eddie leaned back, studying her. “Why?”

Good question. “There’s a spell.”

“That wouldn’t require another Cruor Venator to kill the witch who’s hunting you?”

She closed her eyes and gave him a barely imperceptible nod of her head. A little lie. Maybe not saying it out loud didn’t count.

Eddie sighed. “You’re thinking of Aaron Roacher, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I can’t do it. Can you?”

Tears burned her eyes again. “I told you. . I’m a coward.”

“God.” He enfolded her in his arms, holding her close and tight. “No, you’re not. How could you think that? You’re a good person, Lyssa.”

“Good won’t win this.”

Eddie’s low laughter sparked fire in her blood.

“Okay,” he said, with a smile in his voice. “But good can try, right?”

Lyssa was quite comfortable being held against his broad, hard chest — but she pulled away to stare at him. “This is not funny.”

His eyes were so warm. “Of course not. But it is ridiculous.”

“You’re saying there’s no such thing as magic?”

“I’m saying,” he said in a soft voice, brushing his thumb against her mouth, “that there’s no such thing as absolutes.”

He dipped his head and kissed her. No warning, no long looks. Just a light, gentle, stroke of his lips against hers — with such softness she should have felt nothing. Instead, an ache jolted through her, wild and cresting over her heart in a wave of sweet heat and pleasure.

They swayed apart, staring at each other. Eddie looked just as stunned as she felt, but there was also hunger in his eyes — and that affected her almost as much as his kiss.

In your blood, whispered the dragon. He is your mate. Your father knew this when he met your mother, and that is why he never let her go.

Never let him go.

Lyssa reached for him, but Eddie was already leaning in, and this time the kiss was harder, deeper, stealing her breath away in a dizzying rush of desire. He hoisted her higher against him, and a gasp escaped her, laughter. He started laughing, too, against her mouth. It was better than any music, better than anything she had ever imagined.

His kiss, his voice, whispering in her ear, “I do believe in magic.”

His phone began ringing. Eddie sighed, but instead of letting her slide away, he kept one arm around her waist and held her close as he took the call. Lyssa allowed herself the moment, pressing her forehead against his chin, soaking in his heat, savoring the rise and fall of his chest.

What was she doing? This was nuts.

But she couldn’t let go. She didn’t want to.

She heard a smooth male voice on the other end of the line, but his words were muffled.

“Okay,” Eddie said, and his voice sounded different, hearing it like this, with her body against his: deeper, rougher. “They’ll be down in ten minutes. We’ll need the chloroform, too, and the wheelchair.”

He hung up. Lyssa raised her brow. “Chloroform and a wheelchair?”

“Well,” he said, “there’s only so many ways to kidnap a grown man.”

The last time Lyssa had seen Jimmy with his suitcase was underground, in the tunnels. Seeing it again seemed like a return to the old days, and that hurt.

The driver was a white man in his thirties, short but thick in the shoulders, with strong arms, strong legs, and a jutting jaw. His fists swung when he walked. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and when his jacket came open for a moment, she saw a shoulder rig holding a gun.

He helped Tina into the back. The doctor had Aaron in the wheelchair, unconscious and drooling. No shirt, but a bandage had been slapped on top of the brand in his chest. He and the driver rolled him into the front seat. No one walking past seemed to pay attention. It was early evening, the time of day when shadows rolled in and lights turned on, and all anyone wanted was to get home from work.

The driver stomped into the building, where Eddie and Lyssa waited, watching. Maybe they hadn’t been followed here, maybe it didn’t matter if they had, but it seemed to Lyssa that being seen out in the open with Jimmy and his mother might classify as bad luck for them. Just in case it mattered.

“Where do I dump the trash?” asked the driver.

“Someplace frightening,” replied Eddie.

The man thought for a moment. “Yeah. He’ll be terrified.”

And then he grinned, and Lyssa saw that all his teeth were capped in gold.

Lyssa hugged Jimmy and kissed Icky on the head.

“You be good,” she said. “Take care of your mom.”

“I will,” he replied. Eddie crouched and shook his hand, giving the boy a steady, warm look.

“Remember,” he said.

Jimmy swallowed hard and nodded.

Five minutes later, the boy and his mother were gone, along with the doctor. Eddie and Lyssa watched the street, the slow flow of traffic, women chatting on phones. It was all so normal. She didn’t know how the world could be so normal when everything she understood was just the opposite.

“Now what?” asked Eddie. “What are we doing?”

I’m falling in love with you. I’m getting my heart broken.

“I need to do some magic,” she told him.

“Magic?”

“Don’t get too excited,” she told him dryly, though on the inside the butterflies were already forming. “I made a mistake when I was with Mandy. I could have done something then that might have let me track back to where she had been taken. It’s been so long since I even thought of using. . magic. . that it didn’t cross my mind until it was too late.”

“Is there a risk to you?”

“Why?”

“Something in your eyes when you talk about it.” He reached for her left hand, stripping off her glove and tucking it into his back pocket. His skin was smooth and warm against hers, the heat between them instantaneous. “If there is, don’t do it.”

“I have to,” she said, and then, softly: “You’ll stay?”

Eddie leaned in and kissed her, with a sweet hunger that made her sag against him with a sigh. How many times had she been kissed in her life? So few, and she had never enjoyed the experiences. Felt so little, in fact, that she had decided that it was lies, lies, and more lies that a kiss could rock a person to the soul.

But she was rocked — and now she understood.

“Come on,” he said, against her mouth. “I still have the key to the apartment.”

They went back upstairs without seeing another person. The apartment felt hollow, ugly, without anyone else there. Furniture overturned, glass still on the floor. Eddie closed the curtains and turned on the lights, while Lyssa knelt, away from the wreckage.

She began stripping off her right-hand glove, but stopped before her deformity was completely exposed.

“I’ve never. . done this,” she said, not quite looking at him. “Shown this part of me. . on purpose.”

Eddie was silent a moment. “How long have you been. . caught in a bad shift?”

“Ten years.”

“It must have been difficult on you.”

“Summer is a pain.”

“I can look away.”

Lyssa wondered how long it would take her to finally put on her big-girl panties and not care about this sort of thing.

“You know,” she said, “I once read a magazine article about loving your true self. But I don’t think looking like something out of a freak show was what they had in mind.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I’m on a twelve-step program to self-discovery. This is not easy.”

“Just rip off the glove, Lyssa.”

“I suppose it would be silly to pretend you hadn’t seen. .”

“You,” he said, gently. “I’ve seen you.”

She sighed and stripped off her glove.

Lyssa expected him to stare, and he did. It was okay. He didn’t act weird about it, just curious. Maybe, after all these years, she didn’t find her own hand entirely freakish. . but it was so far away from human, it created a disconnect even inside her mind.

Golden claws curved over the tips of her slender, scaled fingers: red scales, crimson as rubies, catching light as though burning from within.

“Boo,” said Lyssa.

Eddie tore his gaze from her hand. “Sorry.”

“At least you don’t need smelling salts.”

He smiled. “What next?”

Next I do something crazy.

Lyssa let out her breath — and before she could change her mind, raked a claw over her left palm, cutting it open.

Blood welled. Eddie muttered a curse and reached for her hand. She pulled back, but he still managed to grab her wrist.

Heat flared between them, wild and throbbing. He let go, but that warmth remained, sliding down her spine into her stomach: liquid sunlight or lava. A slow fire, burning.

Lyssa shuddered. “Why does that happen when we touch?”

“You can’t really control fire,” Eddie murmured. “All you can do is focus it. Give it a direction.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been around anyone who does this to me.” He cleared his throat. “Your hand.”

“It’s part of what I need to do.” She tore her gaze from him and, with a great deal of trepidation dragged a claw through the blood dripping down her palm. It had been more than ten years since she’d done anything like this, but she remembered exactly what to do as though it was only yesterday. That frightened her almost as much as casting a spell.

Her mother had always called her a natural.

Her skin tingled, like pins and needles. Lyssa hesitated for one last moment, asking herself what the hell she was doing. . but again, before she could change her mind, she opened her mouth and placed a drop on her tongue.

It was like being swallowed up in acid. Not drugs, but real acid. Her entire body burned away — the first flash of pain so intense her voice broke before she could scream. All she managed was a rattling sound that made her feel as though she were choking on her own breath.

The tremors began — first in her shoulders, wracking the rest of her so violently her teeth clacked. A golden haze fell over her vision, and she squeezed shut her eyes — burying her head against her fists, rocking, rocking.

This isn’t even the real reason I hate magic, she thought, as the air warmed, and a wave of heat pulsed off her body. A whimper escaped her, long and pained, pulled from her with such force it scared her.

But with the pain, tremors, and the heat — came power.

It trickled into her veins, as though she was hooked to an IV of pure sunlight — dripping into her system with a slow burn that went deep as her soul. It felt like being alive on the best day of her life, only more, more alive, shining and brilliant with the world at her feet.

You could have the world, whispered the dragon. The world is in your blood.

No, thought Lyssa. . but for a moment, she couldn’t remember why she was doing this. Only that it felt so good, so wonderful, she couldn’t imagine living without it.

Suddenly, she could hear her own heartbeat, thundering, and the hard beat steadied her focus.

Where are you? Where the hell are you hiding, Georgene?

It was no good focusing on the Cruor Venator, so Lyssa concentrated on Mandy instead. She had touched the woman earlier — connected to her mind — and she focused on those memories, letting herself sink into flashes of Flo and obsidian, and screams.

Where? Lyssa asked again. Where were you?

As if in response, she glimpsed sunlight, blue sky. . a river and the glitter of glass. .

. . flowing into a room made of stone, where women slumped in chains, faces sunken and slack.

Horrific. Stunning. Part of Lyssa felt removed, as though she were watching some movie. . but another part of her was there, viscerally, feeling every moment as if it were her flesh, her wrists heavy with bands of iron.

The women had been drugged. Lyssa saw Flo amongst them, then Mandy — who was tied to a stone slab. A beautiful black-haired woman stood beside her, dressed in stylish jeans and nothing else. The obsidian blade in her hand sliced through Mandy’s chest.

A woman with a muscular, slithering voice said, “Little lives, little pleasures. You must learn not to be choosy, Betty. When the world as we know it ends, you will then be forced to take what is at hand.”

Lyssa knew that voice — and it cut her cold, straight into the heart. She choked, trying to claw free of that suffocating presence, feeling as though she were trapped in a garbage bag that was being sucked down her throat.

Until, suddenly, she burst free — able to breathe — and found herself elsewhere, in another world. In a different time.

She sat in snow, and it was night. The moon hung bright in the sky. A thick forest surrounded her.

A girl who wore her face ran between the trees.

Lyssa saw her, and a split second later was running at her side, behind her, all around her — flying over the snow like a ghost, her heart pounding in her chest. She could see the girl’s tears, glittering on her cheeks like diamonds.

Behind her there was no forest, only darkness.

She smelled blood.

You run, whispered a sibilant voice. But you do not run from those who would harm you.

You run from yourself.

The forest disappeared, and so did the girl. Lyssa floated, struck with terror as she scrabbled at the darkness. .

. . clawing at the floor, in a cold apartment where broken glass glittered on the floor like small stars.

She panted, blinking hard and shielding her eyes from the dim light flooding the room from the window. A low voice said her name, but it barely registered until she heard it again, louder, and felt a tug.

“Eddie,” Lyssa croaked, and found him holding both her hands tight within his own. She felt very far away as she looked at his skin against her scales, his fingers wrapped around her fingers, claws gleaming near his nails. Human, alien. . but for a moment, their hands together looked natural, right. And it felt like that, too.

“Lyssa,” he said, and just like that, everything crashed. Her body ached, and her muscles were almost too weak to hold her upright.

But that was nothing compared to the hole in her heart, and the emptiness. It was not just the vision she’d had that made her feel so drained and gray. That was bad enough, on its own.

This other sensation of barrenness was the product of magic itself. A placeholder for that sunlit rush of power that had pumped through her for a glorious few seconds. It was like being a bird and having her wings chopped off in the middle of flight, or losing her legs when the only way to survive was to keep running. She had experienced something essential and wonderful, and freeing—and now it was gone, in the most absolute way possible.

This was the reason she hated magic. This was the reason she never touched it.

Because it would be too easy to never stop. Too easy to do terrible things in order to keep the power burning — and never suffer this crushing loss.

Lyssa choked down a sob. Eddie slid his hands — awkward and careful — over her back. Humiliation wracked her, but she didn’t pull away. Just leaned in even closer, her face buried against his chest.

“Shhh,” he murmured, and rested his hand against her neck — warming her cold muscles and skin. “I’ve got you.”

She could barely look at him. “Thank you.”

“What happened?”

“Power is a drug,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “That’s what happened.”

“You’re not crying because of power.”

A tense, bitter smile touched her mouth. “No.”

Eddie wiped away her tears and kissed her cheek. A small, lingering gesture that was sweet and gentle.

“What do you need?” he whispered, and there was such compassion in that one question.

I need a home, she wanted to tell him. I need to know that I don’t have to run anymore.

I need you. Whoever you are, I need you.

You’re in my blood.

“Just be here,” she told him.

“I am,” he said. “I’m here.”

Lyssa shivered, hunching deep inside the charred leather jacket. “I had a. . vision. I didn’t see much that would help us find anyone, but there was a room. Women there, drugged and bound. What I was seeing was in the past. It was awful.”

Eddie was quiet a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“It had to be done.”

“You look so pale,” he said, then, after a moment’s hesitation: “This may not be the best timing, given what you just saw. . but when was the last time you ate?”

“I. .” Lyssa hesitated. “I don’t know.”

He grimaced and gently untangled himself from her. “Wait here.”

She sat back on the floor, watching him walk to the kitchen. The apartment felt too quiet and lonely without him near, and even the sounds of his rummaging through the refrigerator sounded muted.

Time helped, though. She was able push away the bad memories, focusing instead on thoughts of her paintings, sunlight, Jimmy.

Eddie.

He returned less than a minute later with a jug of milk, an aluminum tray of chocolate cupcakes, and some paper cups.

“I hope you like sugar,” Eddie said. “This is all I found that’s easy.”

“Rawr,” she replied, and he laughed softly.

They poured the milk and sat on the floor, side by side, making a mess of the cupcakes and licking frosting off their fingers. She hadn’t done anything in years that could remotely be called companionable, but this. . felt good. The silence between them as they ate was comfortable and safe — exactly what she needed.

Lyssa let herself imagine doing this over other meals, or — hell — a weekend on the couch, in front of a television. Like normal people lived.

And she could totally see it. It didn’t make her want to run. Just the opposite.

“This reminds me of when I was little,” she found herself telling him; and then, with that much already said, she added, “My dad was the cook in the family, but my mom could handle box mixes. So we always kept a lot around, just in case.”

“Sounds like my mom.” Eddie smiled, but his gaze was distant. “We had this thing. Every Friday and Saturday, we’d choose a movie. My sister would get one day, I would have the other. And my mom would bake us something from a box.” He glanced at her, and his smile deepened. “It was a big deal.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I loved it. . but in hindsight, I wish I had loved it a little more often.”

He looked down. “I know what you mean.”

His sudden vulnerability called to her as strongly as the need to breathe. Lyssa reached for him with her left hand, unable to help herself.

Eddie closed his eyes as her fingers touched his throat, sliding up against the strong lines of his jaw. Hot skin. Hot as fire. Her right remained curled in a fist against her stomach.

She brushed some frosting from the corner of his mouth.

“Got it,” she whispered.

“Maybe you missed a spot,” he replied, softly.

Lyssa scooted closer, rising to her knees, and studied the hard lines of his face, the slight curl of his dark hair over his forehead. His eyes opened as she stared at him — and as always, she found herself caught in the intensity of his gaze, which was becoming as familiar as her own.

“I dreamed you,” she told him, unable to stop herself. “For a month, I’ve dreamed of fire. And inside the fire there was always a man. I could never see any part of him clearly, except his eyes. Your eyes.”

Eddie made a soft sound. “That was why you seemed to recognize me.”

“It shocked me,” she told him. “And it was frightening.”

“Are you frightened now?”

Lyssa shook her head. “No.”

He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him in one smooth, hard movement. Instead of feeling as though she was going to topple over, his strength filled her, warm and light, and the emptiness inside her chest no longer felt so vast and hollow.

Eddie bent his head, only a breath from kissing her.

“Good,” he murmured, and closed the distance, drawing her lips between his. She sighed against his mouth, and his hands tightened with a crushing strength that felt as good and safe as his kiss.

“Closer,” she breathed, and he laughed softly, curling his broad, hard frame around her body, tangling his fingers in her hair while his other arm squeezed them together in a devastating embrace that still was not near enough for what she needed.

In your skin. In you, thought Lyssa, reaching beneath his shirt to slide her hand up the lean, straining muscles of his back. Eddie grunted and kissed her harder. Fire licked the tips of her fingers — real flames, skimming his skin and hers. She didn’t need to see the fire to know they were burning. It felt as though she held her hand against the surface of a swift-moving river of lava, molten and throbbing.

Eddie broke off their kiss, both of them breathing so hard it sounded as though they were in pain.

I am, she decided, burying her face against his throat. I’m in agony.

His hand tightened in her hair, and he murmured in a deep, rumbling voice, “I have to tell you something.”

Lyssa started laughing. “That is the worst thing you could say to a girl at a time like this.”

Eddie laughed, too, swaying them as if a slow song was playing. “No, it’s nothing. . nothing like that. I’m not married. If I had a girlfriend, we wouldn’t be. .”

She smiled, nipping his throat. “I get it.”

He shivered, breath hitching when she scraped her teeth over his skin a second time. “I just. . when you asked me before about whether I ever lose control of my fire, I told you yes. Just now. . it was going to happen again. When you. . touched my back.”

She was still touching his back. “Are you okay?”

Something pained entered his eyes. “I don’t want to be.”

Lyssa understood what he meant.

“But that’s. . not me,” he went on. “I never let myself feel anything. . that might make me lose control. I just don’t. I can’t.”

Some of that cold emptiness returned. “Oh.”

Eddie leaned back, forcing her to look at him. Lyssa was shocked to find his eyes, those dark and dangerous eyes, filled with a sorrow and hunger that wrenched her soul.

“No,” he said quietly. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t know how to be. . normal with someone. I’ve tried. I managed to pull it off a time or two, but I always had to hold back.”

“Because of the fire,” she murmured, aching for him.

“Not just that,” he said, and held up his hand, showing her his scars. Something old and weary entered his gaze, making Lyssa dig her fingers into his shirt to hold herself — and him — steady.

“This is a longer story than just a couple cigarettes,” he whispered.

Lyssa reached for his scarred hand and kissed it. Eddie’s chest rose and fell.

“You and me both,” she said, hoping he would understand what she was trying to tell him.

His other hand touched her cheek. His fingers trembled.

“Lyssa Andreanos,” he whispered, saying her name with such tenderness. “You’re going to break my heart.”

“Funny,” she whispered. “I’ve thought the exact same thing about you.”

He leaned in with excruciating gentleness to kiss her cheek. His scent washed over her, as did a slow-burning heat that poured through her muscles, into her heart.

Just a little kiss, but it felt amazing.

Lyssa grabbed the front of his shirt when he began to pull away. Eddie stilled, watching her with those dark, knowing eyes. She wanted to speak but had no words. Or maybe too many words. Too much fear, and uncertainty.

But loneliness was the most powerful of all.

She swayed closer, and he met her halfway, sliding his other hand into her hair as she pressed her mouth against his, soft at first — then harder — falling into his embrace as though she were drowning for his arms, his heat, that kiss.

Before Eddie, Lyssa hadn’t been kissed much in her life. She’d met boys while living on the streets, formed strong attachments and crushes when she’d banded temporarily with other children. But there’d always been a law of diminishing returns when it came to kisses. She’d feel nothing. Nothing but empty on the inside.

The opposite was true with Eddie. Every glance, each touch, was electrifying. His kisses, the same — times a thousand — growing more intense with each caress. Caught in fire. Burning in light. His mouth hot on hers as he buried his hands in her hair, dragging her tight against him. She felt like a fool to be so easily swept away. . but not being here, the idea of not knowing this man, or being held by him. . set a stranglehold on her heart that refused to ease.

He is yours, whispered the dragon. You are his. Stop fighting what must be. You were born for each other.

That doesn’t happen, she replied. Does it?

Someone knocked on the apartment door.

They flinched apart.

Lyssa glanced at Eddie and found him transformed. He gave her a cold, hard look that reminded her again of how he had reacted to Aaron Roacher — with pure ruthlessness and no hesitation.

Again, more knocking.

Eddie helped Lyssa stand, but her knees almost buckled, muscles aching as though she’d climbed a hundred flights of stairs. He caught her easily, both of them silent. He moved with the same effortless grace as a shape-shifter, coiled with power.

She fumbled for her glove. Her hands shook too violently to put it on. Eddie took it from her and slid the soft knit over her fingers. When he was done, he laid his hand on top of hers and squeezed.

“Yo, messenger service!” came a muffled male voice from the other side of the door. “Anyone home?”

He put his finger over his lips. Lyssa didn’t move. A minute later, that same voice muttered, “Fuck,” and she heard a thump. Then, receding footsteps.

Eddie waited another minute before going to the door. After listening carefully, he undid the locks. A brown paper parcel was in the hall on the floor.

He picked it up, very carefully. “It has your name on it. And this address.”

“What?”

Eddie gave her a disgruntled look. “We were tracked here. But how did they know this exact apartment? I was sure that no one followed us to this floor.”

Lyssa felt chilled. “I suppose. . a spell? But nothing they’ve used before, or else they probably would have caught up with me long before this.”

He hefted the parcel. “Another trap?”

It’s like cats playing with mice. “I don’t know. But whatever’s inside won’t be good.”

“Right,” he muttered, and began tearing the paper, carefully. Lyssa edged closer, trying to see.

Suddenly, Eddie stopped. “I don’t. . know if you want to see this.”

Fear clutched her heart. Lyssa steeled herself, and held out her hand.

Regret passed through his eyes, but he gave her the torn parcel. It was heavy, the contents soft, uneven. She took a deep breath, wobbly and sick, and finished opening it.

When she saw what was inside, though. . she didn’t understand. Not at first.

There were four strips of what looked like leopard hide, skinned from the legs. She knew it was the legs, because the knobby portions of the paws were attached, as well.

There was a handwritten note. It read:

Say hello to Estefan.

Lyssa stared in horror, a scream rising in her throat.

The Cruor Venator had skinned her friend.

And sent her his legs.