Marjorie Liu - Within the Flames

“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.

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.

So when Eddie put his hands on her for a second time, it was weird and wonderful, and frightening. Even through the oversized jacket, she felt his hard strength. . and for one moment, she let herself imagine resting in that strength, unafraid.

Lyssa tried pushing him away. “This isn’t safe. The last time we touched. .”

The last time, when I tried to kill you. .

Her hand, at his throat. . squeezing. .

I can’t be trusted.

Suddenly, the only thing holding her up was Eddie’s arm around her.

“Don’t think about that,” he said, as if he could read her mind. His voice moved through her, into her blood. “It doesn’t matter. Let whatever you’re feeling, right now, wash over you. Feel it, put it away. Box it up where it can’t touch you.”

What she felt was despair. “Boxing up your emotions only delays the inevitable.”

“It’s control,” he countered.

“If you can’t control yourself when you’re at your worst, then you don’t have control.” Lyssa pulled at his arm, and this time he let go. Her left leg barely held. All her limbs felt like Jell-O. So did her heart.

Eddie stood back from her, his eyes so dark.

She leaned against the wall, exhausted. “I’m sorry. About what I did to you today.”

“You were afraid.”

“That’s no excuse.” Lyssa heard movement below them, near the stairs at the end of the hall. The sound of someone large, approaching slowly. She tried to catch a scent, but all she could smell was the jacket wrapped around her, with its warm dark notes that were masculine and Eddie.

She pushed away from the wall. “I need to go.”

“No. You’re safe here.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “With the Cruor Venator in this city, no one should be near me. If they’ve been following me. .”

Her voice choked off with dismay. She couldn’t imagine how they had been following her, but if they had. . then she might have led them straight to the home of a gargoyle.

“Wait,” he said, but she had already turned and was hurrying as best she could down the hall. Each step unsteady, the lights in her eyes dancing brighter, hotter. Her blood, which had been cool upon waking, warmed even more. Fire, filling her. Fire, rising beneath her skin.

Because of Eddie. All that fire, reaching for him.

Don’t turn around, she told herself, feeling him right behind her. Don’t turn around to look at him.

Even though she wanted to, more than anything. The compulsion unnerved her. So did her dragon’s words, still rattling around her head. Crazy words. No way she was right. Like hell. That big lizard was insane.

Lyssa, however, had to stop at the top of the stairs. . and she let go of the jacket just long enough to brace herself against the rail.

A gargoyle stood on the stairs in front of her. No illusion to see through, this time.

Her mouth went dry. He was huge. Almost seven feet tall, with silver skin and broad, thick muscles that rippled over his long, powerful limbs. Horns protruded from his hair, and leathery wings draped over his shoulders. He wore cutoff jeans and held a giant mug of some steaming hot liquid.

They stared at each other. Lyssa didn’t miss the flicker of unease in his eyes.

“Wow,” he rumbled. “Okay, you’re up.”

“Lannes,” Eddie said, behind her. “Meet Lyssa.”

“I. .” she began, and for some reason tears sprang to her eyes. “I need to get out of here.”

Behind her, Eddie made a frustrated sound, and she finally let herself look at him. He stood there, skin shadowed with soot, raking one hand through his hair until it stood up — and the only thing keeping him from looking like some dark Sidhe was the curve of his ears.

“Don’t say it,” Lyssa said hoarsely, as a deep ache burned through her entire right arm. “Let me go. Before you make yourselves targets.” She turned to face the gargoyle, who watched her with a frown. “Both of you, get out of this city.”