Something he understood all too well.
If you get used to having the rug pulled out from under you — or not having any rug at all — you stop trusting anything that sounds like good news.
But that doesn’t mean you stop wanting to trust.
Once again, Eddie tried to imagine her life. She had dropped off the radar after the deaths of her parents. No other family. No apparent friends — except one dead shape-shifter — and maybe a little boy. Had she been alone all this time? Homeless?
If she had lived on the streets, she seemed to be doing better now. Her clothes had been worn, but clean — and even now he saw the edge of a blackened laptop poking through a charred hole in her backpack.
Everything about her was a mystery.
Eddie let go of her hand as she stirred. Not yet awake but settling deeper into the backseat. The ragged remains of her sweater slipped, revealing the curve of her pale breast. More breast than she would probably be comfortable with him seeing — though he gave himself a few moments to appreciate the sight.
His jacket was charred but mostly intact. He stripped it off, then squeezed between the seats to lay it over her, tucking in the sides as best he could. Eddie wanted, very badly, to wipe the soot from her cheek. He began to. Just one little touch.
Her eyes opened. Golden, hot, staring. And glowing.
His breath caught in his throat, his hand frozen near her cheek. Unable to look away as her eyes shifted from human to. . something else. Pupils narrowed into slits, and tiny hints of crimson appeared around the rims of her iris — as well as her lower eyelids.
Dragon eyes.
Lyssa did not move, but her golden gaze searched his face with a thoroughness that was alien and cold — and utterly unlike the woman he had faced before the explosion.
“You,” she whispered. “You, with fire in your blood.”
Her voice was dry and sibilant. Eddie stared. “Lyssa?”
“Lyssa,” she murmured, faintly mocking. “Lyssa sleeps. I am her dragon.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that. He wondered if she was playing games, but he looked closer into those eyes and felt power crawl over his skin. Whoever was staring back at him now was not the same woman. There was no fear in that gaze, no uncertainty.
Nothing remotely human.
He wet his lips. “I don’t understand. What does that even mean, you’re her dragon?”
She drew in a rasping breath that sounded like the rub of scales. “If she trusted herself, it would mean nothing. But she forgets that human and dragon can be passengers of the same heart. She does not believe that we are one, and that accepting me will not diminish her. So I wait, and protect her when I can.”
It sounded like a split personality disorder. He hadn’t realized that shape-shifters could be caught between the different spiritual and mental aspects of their existence — independent of one another. It was sort of creepy.
Eddie wanted to choose his next words very carefully. “Were you protecting her today? Were you aware of those women who came for her?”
“I was aware. But you protected her. Simply by saying no to them.”
“Who are they?”
The corner of her mouth curled. “Prey.”
Eddie wondered if she was cocky or just that dangerous. “Does Lyssa feel like that?”
Her smile faded. “She is afraid to.”
Based on what he’d seen, Lyssa’s anger stood out more than her fear. She had a lot of anger inside her. But he didn’t want to bring that up. In fact, he suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable discussing her. “Will she remember this?”
“No.”
“Then this conversation is done.” Eddie stared into those golden eyes, refusing to flinch when her clawed right hand slipped out from beneath his jacket and slid down his arm. “I mean it, ma’am.”
She stilled. “Yes. I can tell you do.”
Eddie pulled away, slowly. “You do this often?”
“Never.”
Curiosity got the better of him. “Why now?”
She closed her eyes. “Because I wanted to see the man who makes her blood sing.”
Eddie exhaled sharply. “Ma’am.”
But she said nothing else. After a quiet, breathless moment, her face relaxed and softened. Until then, he hadn’t even realized her expression had hardened, but the difference was startling. The weary vulnerability was back.
I wanted to see the man who makes her blood sing.
Eddie fingered the scars on his hands and watched her sleep.
It took Lannes more than thirty minutes to reach them, but it felt longer. He heard sirens wailing — far away, then, once, very close. He watched police and an ambulance speed through the intersection half a block away.
Every time people walked past the car, his throat closed. If vehicles drove by too slowly, he had to force himself to breathe. A litany of excuses flooded his head—she’s drunk, carsick, just sick, we’re waiting for a restaurant to open, we’re homeless so give us a break—anything, everything.
He hated being a sitting target. Worse, this reminded him too much of the old days. Always waiting to be caught — if not by police, then by someone worse.
Finally, finally, his phone rang. Lannes was on the other end.
“I’m here,” he said. “I can see the Camry. Get ready.”
Eddie got out of the car and opened up the back door. A black SUV rolled close. No cars behind it. Some foot traffic, but far enough away that very little, if anything, would be seen. He hoped.
He had Lyssa halfway out of the car when Lannes stopped beside them. She made a small sound. Eddie looked down into her eyes.
Human, golden, eyes. No dragon in them. Staring half-lidded and so exhausted he wasn’t even certain she was seeing him.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, smoothing her hair back from her face. “You’re safe.”
“No,” she breathed, eyes drifting shut again. “No, I have to. .”
Eddie held her as close as he could, pulling his jacket tight around her. She didn’t fight him when he piled her into the backseat of the SUV, slumping down into a boneless heap when he let her go.
It took him less than twenty seconds to rub down the Camry’s interior and exterior for the second time. He grabbed her backpack, kicked the door closed, and climbed into the idling car.
Lannes accelerated away before the door was closed. “You look terrible.”
“Been better.”
“And her?”
Eddie touched Lyssa’s shoulder and shook her as gently as he could — which was little more than a tightening of his fingers. “Hey.”
“No,” she murmured, as though dreaming.
“Lyssa.”
At the sound of her name, her entire face tightened with so much pain, his heart broke. “No. . don’t hurt me. . please. .”
He sagged against the seat, staring. Buzzing filled his ears, along with his thudding heartbeat. Fire burned in his blood.
“Hey,” Lannes said in a low voice, sounding very far away. “Eddie.”
He wet his lips. “Yes?”
“Take a break. Join me up front.”
Eddie flashed him a surprised look, but after a moment’s hesitation, crawled into the front. Lannes drove with his seat pushed all the way back, hunched over, his massive hands tight around the steering wheel. Lines of concern were etched in his brow.
“So,” he said. “That’s her.”
Eddie swallowed hard. “Yes. I think she’s had a difficult life.”
“Mmm.” Lannes glanced at his rearview mirror. “I feel like I’m committing a crime.”
“Any more news?”
“Still no deaths reported. Everyone’s screaming terrorist, though. You need to get out of the city.”