Mari Mancusi - Scorched

Trinity nodded slowly, knowing all too well what he meant. That helpless feeling of being left behind. Of having someone you love ripped away and the sudden realization that you’re all alone—and will be forever. After all, hadn’t she herself once stared down the barrel of a certain shotgun, hopelessly broken inside, wondering if Mom had seen fit to leave her dear old daughter a spare bullet? If her grandpa hadn’t walked in at that very moment, things could have turned out very differently.

“Fred was the only one I could trust,” Caleb continued. “The only one who gave a fleck about me in this stupid world. And Connor murdered her in cold blood. Left me all alone.” He looked up. “And now he’s after your dragon too.”

Trinity flinched. She glanced over at Emmy, sleeping peacefully by her side, her emotions spilling over. She knew, in her head, why Connor would want Emmy dead. But at the same time, her heart told her it wasn’t fair. To punish Emmy for something she didn’t do.

She turned back to Caleb. “You must miss her,” she said softly, not sure what else to say. Words seemed so inadequate in the face of such exquisite loss.

“I do,” he admitted. “It’s one reason I travel to the Nether so often. It’s tearing my body apart in the real world and I know I should stop before I suffer some kind of permanent damage. But,” he whispered, looking sorrowfully at his dragon, “how can I leave her here, all alone?”

Trinity’s heart tore at the wretchedness in his voice, the pain she saw in his eyes. Even if he won this fight, she realized, he’d already lost—lost the one thing he cared about more than anything in the world. All of a sudden, she understood why it was so important for him to help the Dracken succeed. While nothing could bring Fred back, with Emmy, he still had the chance to usher new Freds into the world. Giving other lonely, orphan Potentials a chance to feel valued and whole.

On impulse, she rose to her feet, walking over to his side of the fire and sitting down beside him. Without a word, she reached out, pulling him into her arms. At first he didn’t move, as if startled by her offer of comfort. Then, slowly, he wrapped his hands around her waist, burying his face in the hollow of her throat. She could feel his erratic heartbeat against her chest as he struggled silently with his demons.

For a moment, they just sat there, completely still, locked in their embrace. Then, without warning, Caleb pulled away, pinning her with a dark, hungry gaze. She shivered as she recognized the naked need on his face—the worship in his storm-tossed eyes. As she drew in a shaky breath, he reached out, tracing her cheek with a trembling finger, his touch speaking words she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear.

And then he kissed her. Not the whispering kiss Connor had given her back at her mother’s house. Not tentative, not shy, not the wisp of a butterfly’s wing brushing against her skin, but hard, angry, almost brutal in its intensity—as if trying to punish her for what they’d done to him. Hot blood pounded in her ears as his mouth moved over hers, his hands clamping the sides of her face.

She knew she should break away, to get as far away as possible as her emotions whirled and skittered. But her traitorous body seemed to have other ideas, pressing closer against him, wrapping her legs around his, digging her hands into his hair. As if she could simply melt into his embrace and be done with it all. In that moment, there truly seemed to be nothing else in the world. No dragons, no apocalypse, no loved ones in danger. Just a boy and a girl tangled in one another’s arms.

“You have to admit,” Caleb murmured against her mouth. “You’re suddenly feeling a lot, lot better.”

Oh God. She froze, his words breaking the spell. What the hell was she doing?

Ripping herself from his grasp, she somehow managed to scramble to her feet, staring down at Caleb with wild, unfocused eyes. How could she have let this happen? It was wrong. So wrong. On so many levels.

Caleb looked up to her, his lips swollen and his face torn with confusion. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice hoarse and horrified, and sounding so very scared. He started to rise to his feet. She held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “But this isn’t right. There’s too much going on. Too much at stake. I can’t afford to be distracted. I can’t lose…” She trailed off helplessly, unable to finish. But from the look on Caleb’s face, she knew she’d said enough. Maybe too much.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. But he was no longer listening.

Trinity’s stomach roiled. She leaned over, spewing her guts out onto the hand-scraped hardwood floor, sickly yellow bile pooling at her feet. She groaned, her head aching, as she looked around the room, trying to gain her bearings. No longer was she sitting by the fire on the side of a cliff, two dragons curled up nearby. She was back in the real world—and with the promised Nether hangover to boot, ten times worse than she’d imagined it would be.

She looked down, her breath catching in her throat as she found Caleb’s hands still wrapped in her own. The ones that just minutes before had been touching her so desperately. It was all she could do not to grab him all over again. Surrender to the hot blood still coursing through her veins.

But it was wrong. She had to stay strong. She had to focus on the task at hand and not let anything else distract her. This kiss was nothing more than another trap—like the fancy rooms or the delicious food—seeking to wrest her under Dracken control. To make her forget her real life outside these prison walls.

But she would not surrender. She would not lay down and die. She would not kiss him again.

Caleb opened his eyes. For a moment he sat still, looking dazed and confused. Then a shadow crossed his face and he ripped his hands from hers, ruby red dust flying as he stood up and stalked to the other side of the room. She looked down at her empty hands, a sudden aching emptiness throbbing in her fingers. She frowned and shoved them under her thighs.

“Look, Caleb,” she tried. “I’m—”

Her words were interrupted as the bedroom door flew open. Rashida burst into the room, her eyes wide and frightened. “Mara sent me,” she told her in a voice that betrayed her fear. “She said you have to come now.”

“What is it?” Trinity asked, rising to her feet, sudden fear pounding in her chest. She knew somehow, before the Potential even opened her mouth, that it must have something to do with her dragon. “Is Emmy okay?”

“She’s hatching,” Rashida told her in a tight voice. “They tried to stop it—it’s far too early—but they couldn’t.” Her mouth quivered. “The dragon’s coming, Trinity. And the Dracken need your help.”

Trinity raced after Rashida, through the mall corridors, past curious Potentials, trying not to puke again as the aftereffects of her Nether trip still thrashed at her insides. Her head pounded, her legs felt like lead, but still she pressed on, only one thing on her mind. One name on her tongue.

Trust me. I’ll never let you fall.

Yet now it was Emmy who was falling, who was failing. Fighting for her life. And Trin was the only one who could help her.

Hang on, Emmy, she sent. I’m on my way.

The birthing chamber had been constructed out of a two-floor Neiman Marcus, repainted entirely in white save for intricate, silver runes etched into the cathedral ceiling. Men and women—presumably other Dracken she hadn’t met yet—bustled about the room, occupied with equipment Trinity couldn’t identify. In the center of the room sat the egg itself, swaddled in a bathtub-sized pool of crystal. From high above, water cascaded down onto the egg, splashing over its shell.