Lyssa made a small sound of surprise and backed away. Eddie followed her. He was taller, but not by much, and liked being able to look her in the eyes.
He conjured another spark of fire, which shimmered like a star. Then once more, only this time it was an actual flame, rippling from his palm up his wrist, setting his sleeve on fire. He clapped it out with his other hand, smoke rising between them.
The surprise in her eyes turned haunted. Lyssa reached out — slowly, tentatively. Her left hand was pale and delicate, smudged with color.
Inks, he thought. Or paint. His hand seemed so rough in comparison. Ugly and scarred.
Her fingertips hovered close to his. Heat touched his palm, warm and delicious, spreading deep into bone — down his wrist, into his arm. Slow and easy, and strong. A good heat, without the tumult of emotion that usually accompanied the fire inside him. A calm warmth that felt more right than anything he had experienced in a long time.
Do you feel it, too? Eddie almost asked, wanting to touch her so badly. Instead, he held his breath, and remained still. Waiting for her. Waiting for her not to be afraid.
Waiting for himself not to be afraid, too.
Lyssa’s gaze flicked to his face, then down again. Her cheeks turned pink. She lowered her hand, and that good heat faded, leaving him cold. Cold, and so empty, so alone, he had to take a moment to steady himself.
She clutched the jacket closed. “You’re not human.”
“Not a dragon,” Eddie said heavily, watching her flinch ever so slightly. “But human enough.”
“You know too much,” she whispered.
“Let me help you. It’s what I do.”
“Who are you, really?”
“I told you. My name is Eddie.” He felt at a loss for what else to say. Giving her a bullet point of his interests and hobbies seemed stupid, and he didn’t have much of a life outside work. Nothing that mattered here. “I could tell you other things about me, but that probably wouldn’t mean anything to you. I wouldn’t expect it to.”
Lyssa was silent a moment. “Who would do a favor for Long Nu?”
She said the name with quiet bitterness and resentment. Eddie wanted to know what had happened to cause such anger. It made him uneasy.
“The organization I work for helps people. All of us there are. . not normal. Long Nu came into our lives almost seven years ago. We don’t see her often unless she needs something. But let me be clear. I’m not here for her. I’m here for you.”
“I don’t need anyone,” she muttered, and tried to walk around him. Eddie blocked her again, and she looked at him with a great deal of wariness. That stung, but he buried it, buried his heart, until he felt nothing when he met her distrustful gaze.
Almost nothing.
She was so pale, the shadows under her eyes very deep. But there was defiance there, too — and strength. Her spine was straight. She would go through him if he didn’t set her free.
“Leave me alone,” she said.
He didn’t bother arguing. Not directly.
“There were two women,” he told her. “On the street, after the explosion. I think they were witches. Maybe even the Cruor Venator. They knew you were a dragon.”
A profound stillness fell over her, and the fear returned to her eyes — along with terrible, haunting dread. He could feel her terror, and it was almost more than he could bear. Eddie burned to comfort her. All of him, burned. Being near her set the fire loose inside him in ways he did not understand. He had never felt this way about anyone.
“Describe them,” she said, in a low, hoarse voice.
“One was tall, African-American, wearing a red leather jacket. She called herself Nikola. The other was named Betty. A little shorter, with long black hair and very pale skin.”
“How much did they say to you?”
Eddie hesitated. “They wanted me to. . carry you for them.”
“And you didn’t?”
“You seem surprised.”
“I am. If they’re who I think they are, you should have been too frightened to resist. That’s what women like them can do. Scare you into submission.”
“I was terrified,” he told her. “I’ve never been so frightened. All they did was look at me, and I wanted to give up. But that’s not the same thing as losing my mind.”
Lyssa looked as though she wanted to disagree. “What’d you say to them?”
“I told them no. And then I got into a stolen car and drove us out of there.”
“That’s it?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“I. .” Lyssa stopped, staring at him as if he was new and strange. “Thank you.”
Eddie felt embarrassed. “They had been following you.”
She closed her eyes. . but when she looked again at Eddie, moments later, her gaze was clear and determined, and hard. “You resisted them. That will make you a target, too.”
Cold armor slipped over his heart. The quiet place welcomed him, and all his fear slipped away.
“I know,” he said.
She took a breath, blinking.
“Call me Lyssa,” she said, and moved around him to the door.
Eddie exhaled, briefly closed his eyes, and followed her.
Chapter Seven
Walking, breathing — and seeing straight — were all too difficult. Lyssa had to concentrate just to put one foot in front of the other, blinking hard as lights danced in her vision, and strange buzzing sounds filled her ears. Her lungs hurt. So did her throat, as though she had been screaming.
Her entire right arm felt as though it belonged to a different body. Her forearm was numb, but her fingers ached, and there was a spasm in her neck that made it difficult to turn her head.
All her symptoms were familiar. Losing control always weakened her.
She’d never experienced the aftermath with witnesses, though. Just huddled underground, in some alley, or beneath a bridge. Alone. Waiting out her body. Waiting for her life to change.
She would have lost her life if it hadn’t been for him.
Right now. . she’d be cut open, bleeding out. Bleeding, slowly. . because the Cruor Venator would want to make her death last.
Well. The bitch hadn’t won yet.
Eddie walked behind her: a slow-burning fire, warm against her back. Tall, lanky, with a quiet grace that seemed to flow around her each time he drew near.
He looked like hell, though. Covered in soot, his clothes charred and ragged. Her fault. Her weakness. His eyes were even darker than she remembered, intense and thoughtful, and worried.
Of course he is worried, whispered a familiar voice in her head, the voice of her instincts, the voice of her dragon, a voice that she had not heard so clearly in years. He is worried about you.
That’s ridiculous, Lyssa replied. He doesn’t know me. I’m a job to him.
No, you are not. The dragon sounded affronted. Do you not trust me to tell you the truth?
You’re delusional.
I am right. You are in his blood. Just as he is in yours. You have found your mate.
Lyssa’s left knee buckled. Eddie caught her arm before she went down.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, with an oddly disgruntled politeness. “I need to. .”
He stopped talking, then, and slid his arm around her waist. She froze. Maybe he did, too. He had touched her like this earlier, and it had felt like being anchored by a mountain: unyielding and powerful. It had stolen her breath away.
She rarely touched people. Habit, instinct, circumstances. So few people were familiar enough to her to even be touched, casually or not. The simple contact that most took for granted just didn’t exist for her.