It was like being swallowed up in acid. Not drugs, but real acid. Her entire body burned away — the first flash of pain so intense her voice broke before she could scream. All she managed was a rattling sound that made her feel as though she were choking on her own breath.
The tremors began — first in her shoulders, wracking the rest of her so violently her teeth clacked. A golden haze fell over her vision, and she squeezed shut her eyes — burying her head against her fists, rocking, rocking.
This isn’t even the real reason I hate magic, she thought, as the air warmed, and a wave of heat pulsed off her body. A whimper escaped her, long and pained, pulled from her with such force it scared her.
But with the pain, tremors, and the heat — came power.
It trickled into her veins, as though she was hooked to an IV of pure sunlight — dripping into her system with a slow burn that went deep as her soul. It felt like being alive on the best day of her life, only more, more alive, shining and brilliant with the world at her feet.
You could have the world, whispered the dragon. The world is in your blood.
No, thought Lyssa. . but for a moment, she couldn’t remember why she was doing this. Only that it felt so good, so wonderful, she couldn’t imagine living without it.
Suddenly, she could hear her own heartbeat, thundering, and the hard beat steadied her focus.
Where are you? Where the hell are you hiding, Georgene?
It was no good focusing on the Cruor Venator, so Lyssa concentrated on Mandy instead. She had touched the woman earlier — connected to her mind — and she focused on those memories, letting herself sink into flashes of Flo and obsidian, and screams.
Where? Lyssa asked again. Where were you?
As if in response, she glimpsed sunlight, blue sky. . a river and the glitter of glass. .
. . flowing into a room made of stone, where women slumped in chains, faces sunken and slack.
Horrific. Stunning. Part of Lyssa felt removed, as though she were watching some movie. . but another part of her was there, viscerally, feeling every moment as if it were her flesh, her wrists heavy with bands of iron.
The women had been drugged. Lyssa saw Flo amongst them, then Mandy — who was tied to a stone slab. A beautiful black-haired woman stood beside her, dressed in stylish jeans and nothing else. The obsidian blade in her hand sliced through Mandy’s chest.
A woman with a muscular, slithering voice said, “Little lives, little pleasures. You must learn not to be choosy, Betty. When the world as we know it ends, you will then be forced to take what is at hand.”
Lyssa knew that voice — and it cut her cold, straight into the heart. She choked, trying to claw free of that suffocating presence, feeling as though she were trapped in a garbage bag that was being sucked down her throat.
Until, suddenly, she burst free — able to breathe — and found herself elsewhere, in another world. In a different time.
She sat in snow, and it was night. The moon hung bright in the sky. A thick forest surrounded her.
A girl who wore her face ran between the trees.
Lyssa saw her, and a split second later was running at her side, behind her, all around her — flying over the snow like a ghost, her heart pounding in her chest. She could see the girl’s tears, glittering on her cheeks like diamonds.
Behind her there was no forest, only darkness.
She smelled blood.
You run, whispered a sibilant voice. But you do not run from those who would harm you.
You run from yourself.
The forest disappeared, and so did the girl. Lyssa floated, struck with terror as she scrabbled at the darkness. .
. . clawing at the floor, in a cold apartment where broken glass glittered on the floor like small stars.
She panted, blinking hard and shielding her eyes from the dim light flooding the room from the window. A low voice said her name, but it barely registered until she heard it again, louder, and felt a tug.
“Eddie,” Lyssa croaked, and found him holding both her hands tight within his own. She felt very far away as she looked at his skin against her scales, his fingers wrapped around her fingers, claws gleaming near his nails. Human, alien. . but for a moment, their hands together looked natural, right. And it felt like that, too.
“Lyssa,” he said, and just like that, everything crashed. Her body ached, and her muscles were almost too weak to hold her upright.
But that was nothing compared to the hole in her heart, and the emptiness. It was not just the vision she’d had that made her feel so drained and gray. That was bad enough, on its own.
This other sensation of barrenness was the product of magic itself. A placeholder for that sunlit rush of power that had pumped through her for a glorious few seconds. It was like being a bird and having her wings chopped off in the middle of flight, or losing her legs when the only way to survive was to keep running. She had experienced something essential and wonderful, and freeing—and now it was gone, in the most absolute way possible.
This was the reason she hated magic. This was the reason she never touched it.
Because it would be too easy to never stop. Too easy to do terrible things in order to keep the power burning — and never suffer this crushing loss.
Lyssa choked down a sob. Eddie slid his hands — awkward and careful — over her back. Humiliation wracked her, but she didn’t pull away. Just leaned in even closer, her face buried against his chest.
“Shhh,” he murmured, and rested his hand against her neck — warming her cold muscles and skin. “I’ve got you.”
She could barely look at him. “Thank you.”
“What happened?”
“Power is a drug,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “That’s what happened.”
“You’re not crying because of power.”
A tense, bitter smile touched her mouth. “No.”
Eddie wiped away her tears and kissed her cheek. A small, lingering gesture that was sweet and gentle.
“What do you need?” he whispered, and there was such compassion in that one question.
I need a home, she wanted to tell him. I need to know that I don’t have to run anymore.
I need you. Whoever you are, I need you.
You’re in my blood.
“Just be here,” she told him.
“I am,” he said. “I’m here.”
Lyssa shivered, hunching deep inside the charred leather jacket. “I had a. . vision. I didn’t see much that would help us find anyone, but there was a room. Women there, drugged and bound. What I was seeing was in the past. It was awful.”
Eddie was quiet a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“It had to be done.”
“You look so pale,” he said, then, after a moment’s hesitation: “This may not be the best timing, given what you just saw. . but when was the last time you ate?”
“I. .” Lyssa hesitated. “I don’t know.”
He grimaced and gently untangled himself from her. “Wait here.”
She sat back on the floor, watching him walk to the kitchen. The apartment felt too quiet and lonely without him near, and even the sounds of his rummaging through the refrigerator sounded muted.
Time helped, though. She was able push away the bad memories, focusing instead on thoughts of her paintings, sunlight, Jimmy.
Eddie.
He returned less than a minute later with a jug of milk, an aluminum tray of chocolate cupcakes, and some paper cups.
“I hope you like sugar,” Eddie said. “This is all I found that’s easy.”
“Rawr,” she replied, and he laughed softly.
They poured the milk and sat on the floor, side by side, making a mess of the cupcakes and licking frosting off their fingers. She hadn’t done anything in years that could remotely be called companionable, but this. . felt good. The silence between them as they ate was comfortable and safe — exactly what she needed.
Lyssa let herself imagine doing this over other meals, or — hel
l — a weekend on the couch, in front of a television. Like normal people lived.
And she could totally see it. It didn’t make her want to run. Just the opposite.
“This reminds me of when I was little,” she found herself telling him; and then, with that much already said, she added, “My dad was the cook in the family, but my mom could handle box mixes. So we always kept a lot around, just in case.”
“Sounds like my mom.” Eddie smiled, but his gaze was distant. “We had this thing. Every Friday and Saturday, we’d choose a movie. My sister would get one day, I would have the other. And my mom would bake us something from a box.” He glanced at her, and his smile deepened. “It was a big deal.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I loved it. . but in hindsight, I wish I had loved it a little more often.”
He looked down. “I know what you mean.”
His sudden vulnerability called to her as strongly as the need to breathe. Lyssa reached for him with her left hand, unable to help herself.
Eddie closed his eyes as her fingers touched his throat, sliding up against the strong lines of his jaw. Hot skin. Hot as fire. Her right remained curled in a fist against her stomach.
She brushed some frosting from the corner of his mouth.
“Got it,” she whispered.
“Maybe you missed a spot,” he replied, softly.
Lyssa scooted closer, rising to her knees, and studied the hard lines of his face, the slight curl of his dark hair over his forehead. His eyes opened as she stared at him — and as always, she found herself caught in the intensity of his gaze, which was becoming as familiar as her own.
“I dreamed you,” she told him, unable to stop herself. “For a month, I’ve dreamed of fire. And inside the fire there was always a man. I could never see any part of him clearly, except his eyes. Your eyes.”
Eddie made a soft sound. “That was why you seemed to recognize me.”
“It shocked me,” she told him. “And it was frightening.”
“Are you frightened now?”
Lyssa shook her head. “No.”
He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him in one smooth, hard movement. Instead of feeling as though she was going to topple over, his strength filled her, warm and light, and the emptiness inside her chest no longer felt so vast and hollow.
Eddie bent his head, only a breath from kissing her.
“Good,” he murmured, and closed the distance, drawing her lips between his. She sighed against his mouth, and his hands tightened with a crushing strength that felt as good and safe as his kiss.
“Closer,” she breathed, and he laughed softly, curling his broad, hard frame around her body, tangling his fingers in her hair while his other arm squeezed them together in a devastating embrace that still was not near enough for what she needed.
In your skin. In you, thought Lyssa, reaching beneath his shirt to slide her hand up the lean, straining muscles of his back. Eddie grunted and kissed her harder. Fire licked the tips of her fingers — real flames, skimming his skin and hers. She didn’t need to see the fire to know they were burning. It felt as though she held her hand against the surface of a swift-moving river of lava, molten and throbbing.
Eddie broke off their kiss, both of them breathing so hard it sounded as though they were in pain.
I am, she decided, burying her face against his throat. I’m in agony.
His hand tightened in her hair, and he murmured in a deep, rumbling voice, “I have to tell you something.”
Lyssa started laughing. “That is the worst thing you could say to a girl at a time like this.”
Eddie laughed, too, swaying them as if a slow song was playing. “No, it’s nothing. . nothing like that. I’m not married. If I had a girlfriend, we wouldn’t be. .”
She smiled, nipping his throat. “I get it.”
He shivered, breath hitching when she scraped her teeth over his skin a second time. “I just. . when you asked me before about whether I ever lose control of my fire, I told you yes. Just now. . it was going to happen again. When you. . touched my back.”
She was still touching his back. “Are you okay?”
Something pained entered his eyes. “I don’t want to be.”
Lyssa understood what he meant.
“But that’s. . not me,” he went on. “I never let myself feel anything. . that might make me lose control. I just don’t. I can’t.”
Some of that cold emptiness returned. “Oh.”
Eddie leaned back, forcing her to look at him. Lyssa was shocked to find his eyes, those dark and dangerous eyes, filled with a sorrow and hunger that wrenched her soul.
“No,” he said quietly. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t know how to be. . normal with someone. I’ve tried. I managed to pull it off a time or two, but I always had to hold back.”
“Because of the fire,” she murmured, aching for him.
“Not just that,” he said, and held up his hand, showing her his scars. Something old and weary entered his gaze, making Lyssa dig her fingers into his shirt to hold herself — and him — steady.
“This is a longer story than just a couple cigarettes,” he whispered.
Lyssa reached for his scarred hand and kissed it. Eddie’s chest rose and fell.
“You and me both,” she said, hoping he would understand what she was trying to tell him.
His other hand touched her cheek. His fingers trembled.
“Lyssa Andreanos,” he whispered, saying her name with such tenderness. “You’re going to break my heart.”
“Funny,” she whispered. “I’ve thought the exact same thing about you.”
He leaned in with excruciating gentleness to kiss her cheek. His scent washed over her, as did a slow-burning heat that poured through her muscles, into her heart.
Just a little kiss, but it felt amazing.
Lyssa grabbed the front of his shirt when he began to pull away. Eddie stilled, watching her with those dark, knowing eyes. She wanted to speak but had no words. Or maybe too many words. Too much fear, and uncertainty.
But loneliness was the most powerful of all.
She swayed closer, and he met her halfway, sliding his other hand into her hair as she pressed her mouth against his, soft at first — then harder — falling into his embrace as though she were drowning for his arms, his heat, that kiss.
Before Eddie, Lyssa hadn’t been kissed much in her life. She’d met boys while living on the streets, formed strong attachments and crushes when she’d banded temporarily with other children. But there’d always been a law of diminishing returns when it came to kisses. She’d feel nothing. Nothing but empty on the inside.
The opposite was true with Eddie. Every glance, each touch, was electrifying. His kisses, the same — times a thousand — growing more intense with each caress. Caught in fire. Burning in light. His mouth hot on hers as he buried his hands in her hair, dragging her tight against him. She felt like a fool to be so easily swept away. . but not being here, the idea of not knowing this man, or being held by him. . set a stranglehold on her heart that refused to ease.
He is yours, whispered the dragon. You are his. Stop fighting what must be. You were born for each other.
That doesn’t happen, she replied. Does it?
Someone knocked on the apartment door.
They flinched apart.
Lyssa glanced at Eddie and found him transformed. He gave her a cold, hard look that reminded her again of how he had reacted to Aaron Roacher — with pure ruthlessness and no hesitation.
Again, more knocking.
Eddie helped Lyssa stand, but her knees almost buckled, muscles aching as though she’d climbed a hundred flights of stairs. He caught her easily, both of them silent. He moved with the same effortless grace as a shape-shifter, coiled with power.
She fumbled for her glove. Her hands shook too violently to put it on. Eddie took it from her and slid the soft knit over her fingers. When he was done, he laid his hand on to
p of hers and squeezed.
“Yo, messenger service!” came a muffled male voice from the other side of the door. “Anyone home?”
He put his finger over his lips. Lyssa didn’t move. A minute later, that same voice muttered, “Fuck,” and she heard a thump. Then, receding footsteps.
Eddie waited another minute before going to the door. After listening carefully, he undid the locks. A brown paper parcel was in the hall on the floor.
He picked it up, very carefully. “It has your name on it. And this address.”
“What?”
Eddie gave her a disgruntled look. “We were tracked here. But how did they know this exact apartment? I was sure that no one followed us to this floor.”
Lyssa felt chilled. “I suppose. . a spell? But nothing they’ve used before, or else they probably would have caught up with me long before this.”
He hefted the parcel. “Another trap?”
It’s like cats playing with mice. “I don’t know. But whatever’s inside won’t be good.”
“Right,” he muttered, and began tearing the paper, carefully. Lyssa edged closer, trying to see.
Suddenly, Eddie stopped. “I don’t. . know if you want to see this.”
Fear clutched her heart. Lyssa steeled herself, and held out her hand.
Regret passed through his eyes, but he gave her the torn parcel. It was heavy, the contents soft, uneven. She took a deep breath, wobbly and sick, and finished opening it.
When she saw what was inside, though. . she didn’t understand. Not at first.
There were four strips of what looked like leopard hide, skinned from the legs. She knew it was the legs, because the knobby portions of the paws were attached, as well.
There was a handwritten note. It read:
Say hello to Estefan.
Lyssa stared in horror, a scream rising in her throat.
The Cruor Venator had skinned her friend.
And sent her his legs.
Chapter Twelve
All Eddie saw, before Lyssa took the package, was the edge of a sleek, spotted hide. That was enough. He knew, in his gut, what it meant. But when he saw the horror and devastation that spread over her face, he was unprepared for his own reaction.
Within the Flames d&s-11 Page 16