A full minute passed. Seeing him struggle to gain control hurt her as much as it did him. This wasn’t Dylan. Hearing his labored breathing and feeling the heat of his anger sweep the room finally convinced her. Navar’s dark nature had infected them, and it was only a matter of time before she lost control, too.
She felt a touch to her arm. Looking up, she saw Dylan, now calm. Shame clouded his eyes and softened his lips. “I promised you I wouldn’t lose control, but I almost did. I don’t know what’s happening,” he admitted. “I could’ve burned the house down.”
“Never.” She wrapped her arms around him, fitting her body to his. Dylan, her Dylan, was back. She hugged him close, pressing her cheek to his chest. “Please believe me. All I want is for us to be happy.”
He sighed, the last of his tension melting away, and kissed the top of her head. “I could’ve sworn you were in trouble.” Confusion seeped into his words. “The feeling woke me from a sound sleep.”
She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Don’t—”
Something long and scaly whipped past the window. Dylan stiffened. “What was that?”
The movement was fast. Still, Kera knew a dragon tail when she saw one. Rising on her tiptoes, she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. When she felt him yield, felt his arms tighten, she placed soft kisses across his cheek to his ear. “I’m sorry I frightened you. It was only a bad dream.”
“Do you want me to stay?” The hope in his voice tempted her to say yes, but having a dragon running amok was a problem she had to fix, and fast.
She bit back her desires and sighed with a heart full of regret. “Your grandmother would not be pleased.”
“I know, but—”
Her lips seized his again, and she let herself fall into the feelings only he could stir. It was hard to pull away, but she did. “I’ll be fine.”
She placed her hand on his chest and gently pushed him into the hall. His eyes were glazed with passion and edged with disappointment.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she begged. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She closed the door and placed her forehead on the cool wood. She hated lying to him. If only she could trust him not to take Blaze back to Teag—but she couldn’t. Once in Teag, Dylan would stay and try to fix everyone’s problems. They’d let him, even if it killed him. She wasn’t about to let their selfish nature destroy him. She had managed to convince Dylan that her father would take care of everything. She could only pray she was right.
The scurry of feet rattled the roof slates, and she overheard Dylan’s grandpa loudly grumble about raccoons on the roof again and his wife telling him the problem could wait until morning.
Kera pushed away from the door. Not this problem.
It took her only a few seconds to re-dress, and as she climbed out the window and saw the destruction Blaze had already accomplished, she remembered her father’s warning. Everything would change now that Navar was dead.
The only change she could see was the reappearance of a dragon to the human realm. She worried her bottom lip and gazed toward the barrier. Why hadn’t anyone tried to stop him from coming through?
A more disturbing thought fired her imagination in ways she didn’t like. First the monster and now Blaze. What else had crept unseeing into the human realm?
Accident of Fate
“Good morning, Dylan,” Grandma’s cheerful greeting slams into my ears.
What is it with old people and getting up early?
I dig my head deeper into the pillows. “Not now, Grandma.”
“Yes, now, Dylan.” She pulls the covers off, exposing my bare back to the cool air. Goose bumps rise. I’m still not used to Oregon’s cool mornings. It’s summer—where’s the ninety-degree weather, or is it always this shy of downright cold?
I throw my arm behind me and rake my hand over the covers, trying to pull them back.
“Oh, no you don’t. Up. Grandpa has plans for you, and don’t ask me what. I have no idea, which usually means I won’t approve.” She paused. “Should I be worried?”
I push myself to my elbows before I look at her. “I’m a problem, Grandma. We’re down to that whole drastic measures thing.”
She ruffles my bedhead, but her eyes crinkle with concern she can’t hide. “Everyone goes through trials. If your grandfather says he knows how to help you, then—” She bites her bottom lip, worrying a tooth mark into the pink skin. “We should trust him.”
Yeah, confidence oozes out of her.
“Then again,” she mutters, “your grandfather is a very creative man. Maybe I’ll have a talk with him before you go.”
She gives me a weak smile and leaves. I can just imagine what she’ll say to Grandpa. “Don’t break our new grandson, George. He’s still recovering.” There’ll be a long pause and lots of facial movements stressing the word
In her eyes I’m fragile—still broken.
I push to a sitting position, dig my elbows into my knees, and curl my fingers through my hair. I’m like a rope that’s been tugged too hard and the fibers are beginning to snap. I don’t want to admit it, but Grandma’s right, though not in the way I think she thinks.
I’m not sure I’ll ever recover. I can actually feel the rot of death eating at me. How many people can you kill in the name of war before you’ve crossed the line into murderer? All the screams and the horrified faces as they realized they were dying won’t go away. Crushed, burned, stabbed, and beaten—the images are a part of me now.
“I did what I had to do.” My voice is weak. Shaky. I’m not sure I’m convinced.
I can’t stop wondering if Leo blames me for his grandfather’s death. I do. He said the funeral was nice. Everyone showed up, even Carl Delgato, Jason’s bully of a dad. He went straight for the liquor afterward. No one blamed him at the time. Jason had just been declared a runaway, but all Carl could see was his son’s opportunity to get a college wrestling scholarship going down the drain.
Time has a way of working for or against you. In a surprisingly short time, Leo has proudly accepted his grandfather’s heroism and Carl’s disgust with his son has turned to bitterness, while my frustration at knowing something is wrong with me, but not knowing what, climbs. We’re all living in a mess I created with varying degrees of success…or not at all. Somehow, I’ve got to clean it up. But how? That’s the mind-bender I’m dealing with.
An image of Jason, his lips blue, his skin waxy, flashes in my head. I killed him. I killed Pop, Leo’s grandfather. Not by my own hand, but by dragging them into my problems, my obsession to be with Kera. If I had known they’d die, I would never have followed her. I would’ve let her go and insisted she stay away.
My gut twists, calling me out for the liar I am, and the
And that’s the problem.
I’m ashamed. How can I ever allow myself to be happy, to finally take pleasure in who I really am, when I’ve caused so much pain?
Somehow I’ve got to make it all right. Whatever Grandpa’s got planned, I’m all in. No matter what.
I shove to my feet and quickly dress. I’m down the hall to the kitchen in no time, feeling leery and depressed, and angry that I’m feeling leery and depressed.
Grandpa’s gruff voice floats in from the back porch. “I won’t hurt him. Not much.”
“I mean it, George. I forbid you doing anything that’ll harm him.”
“Woman, I’m not taking him in front of a firing squad, but I can’t promise you he won’t come away with a few bumps and bruises. Hell, if you saw what he did in that forest before that thing showed up, you’d ban him
