“Nice family.”
Iris’ teasing comment took Char by surprise. He’d been glaring at the door after Rath’s parting jab, but he turned back to the kitchen, and Iris was smiling. Clearing the table and smiling. With a mischievous sparkle in her brown eyes.
His heart skipped a beat.
But he just gave her a casual shrug and joined her. “Most of the time.”
She headed toward the sink with a stack of dishes, and his eyes couldn’t help following her. The oversized nightgown and robe hid most of her shape, but not the motion of her hips. He found himself imagining dancing with her, resting his hands on those hips as she swayed, and he had to shake himself back to reality. She’d just regained consciousness.
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you. It’s just… tiring to use magic.” She looked over her shoulder at him as she started the water. “Is Srot okay?”
Char carried the rest of the dishes over to her. “Other than a hangover, yes. He had a bit too much to drink at the party last night.”
“What about you?”
The knowing smile on her lips scrambled his thoughts. Was she flirting with him?
So what if she was?
Beautiful women in tight-fitting dresses had been flirting with him the whole time he was at the party, and he’d never felt awkward or unsure with them for an instant. He needed to get it together.
“I didn’t drink that much.”
She turned her attention to the dishes and the soapy water, and suddenly, he could breathe again. He hadn't realized he'd been having any trouble until the air rushed out of him all at once.
“Would you mind drying? I don’t know where everything goes.”
He took a wet plate from her and grabbed a dish towel. It was surreal, working side-by-side with her at this simple domestic task when he’d just rescued her from a dungeon the night before.
A nice surreal.
Was this their first real, normal conversation?
“Was this done with magic?” she asked him, her eyes drifting across the stone cabinetry. “The way everything seems to be carved right out of the stone?”
“Yeah. Not all dragons are mages, but there are a few things we can all do. Transforming, telepathy when we’re in dragon form, carving stone, little things like that.”
Every time her eyes met his, he felt an odd fluttering in his stomach.
“Little things? Well, I guess they seem that way when you grow up with them.” She sighed. “It’s different when it just… happens all in one day.”
Char frowned. The lighthearted atmosphere was gone, as was her smile. He hesitated, considering whether to change the subject, but he had a lot of questions that needed answering, and now was as good a time as ever.
“How do you know how to use the amulet?”
She bit her lip. “It… tells me.” She sent him a nervous glance and dropped her gaze back to the sink. “I know it sounds silly. Or maybe it doesn’t. I still don’t really know how all this magic stuff works. But… I didn’t even know I was holding the amulet that day on the battlefield. It just… I saw the flames heading for Kayla, and then a shield was there. And that’s how it was until we flew here. I never knew I did anything, but then there were these voices, whispers, telling me I needed to wake up, and…” She shrugged. “They never really left. Sometimes they’re louder, sometimes I can barely hear them, but they’re always there, and they tell me what to do.”
There was silence for a few minutes, save for the sloshing of water and the occasional clinking of dishes. Char had more familiarity with magic than Iris did, and he’d never heard of anything like what she described.
“Are they telling you anything right now?”
She shook her head. “Nothing I can understand.”
That was a little disconcerting.
“Did they do anything to you? At the magic school?”
“Not that I know of, but I really don’t remember much. I don’t think I even opened my eyes until you came last night.” She smiled up at him. “Thanks for that, by the way. You always seem to show up when I need help.”
That smile. The back of his neck heated up, and he swallowed and shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “I’m the one who got you into this mess.”
“No, you didn’t. You said the mage was looking for me. If you hadn’t been there, I’d probably be with him right now.” She shuddered. “He said the amulet was his.”
“It seems to think differently.”
Char took the last fork from her, dried it, and put it away. When he turned around, she was bent over the table, reaching across to wipe it down, and he caught himself staring again.
Seeing her in clothes that actually fit would be a problem.
He looked away and cleared his throat. Why was he acting like a shy schoolboy around her? It was ridiculous.
She returned to the sink and rinsed the washcloth out. He'd seen her looking at the green and gold scales framing the window earlier, and she looked at them again, reaching out to touch one. “Whose are these?”
“My father’s.”
She jerked her hand back. “I’m sorry about your father. It all makes sense now—why everybody hated me so much.”
“They didn’t hate you. Just what they thought you were,” he reassured her, leaning his hip against the counter. “There’s a difference.”
He hadn’t noticed the flecks of gold in her dark brown eyes before. But then again, he hadn’t been this close to her in good lighting before. He reached out without a thought to brush her hair back so he could get a better look, and when his fingers touched her skin, pink dusted her cheeks, and he realized what he was doing. She wasn’t like the girls he knew, didn’t react to him the way they did. That disastrous kiss was proof of that.
But she wasn’t moving away.
He tucked the damp chestnut strands behind her ear, testing the waters, and she rested her hands on the edge of the sink.
“Once they got a glimpse of what you’re really like, they couldn’t hate you anymore,” he continued, sliding his finger along her jaw to her chin. His eyes dropped to her lips. He remembered how soft they’d felt against his when he’d tried to reassure her before their flight, and his eyes flicked back to hers, wondering how she would react if he kissed her again.
Brown eyes locked on his.
He looked at her lips again. They’d parted.
“You’re pretty likable, Iris.”
He leaned in and gave her a light kiss. When he pulled back, her shy smile and rosy cheeks told him everything he needed to know.
Now he was on steady footing. He knew exactly how to handle this.
“I don’t think you should keep doing that,” she said, peeking up at him from under her long brown lashes.
He grinned. “Why not?”
She dropped her shy gaze to her hands on the counter. “Well, I barely know you.”
He slid his arm across the counter and hooked his hand around her waist, maneuvering her to stand in front of him. “After a couple of days with my mother, you’ll know things I don’t want you to know.”
She peeked at him again. “But I’ve been nothing but trouble for you.”
He settled his hands on her hips and applied gentle pressure to bring her closer. Her hands came up to his chest, as if to push him away, but they didn’t. They just rested there.
“I’m always in trouble.” He leaned in closer to catch her bashful gaze. “Anything else?”
Everything about her was adorable. The way she couldn't meet his eyes, her smile, her blush. “I’m not sure I like you that way.”
He smirked. “I think I can convince you otherwise.”
He closed the distance between them for another kiss. After a moment’s hesitation, her lips molded against his, as soft as he remembered. Softer. No resistance at all.
He hoped this would be one of Elera’s longer shopping sessions.
“You’re very convincing,” Iris breathed.
“I’m not done yet.”
He kissed her again, sliding his hands around her waist to the small of her back and pressing her closer. She wasn't trembling in fear, wasn't pushing him away, although her hands remained on his chest, a barrier between them. He took a chance and parted her lips with his tongue, and when she gasped and stiffened, he thought he’d made another mistake, but then she relaxed again. Her teeth opened for him to slip his tongue into her mouth, and he took the invitation and deepened the kiss, drawing a surprised moan from her throat. Her hands wandered up to his neck, and the hard of the amulet and the soft of her curves came flush with his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing the kiss out as long as he could before he had to stop to take a breath.
“Oh, wow,” she gasped, resting her forehead on his chest.
He thought of what Kayla had said about the boy who liked Iris, and he had to make a smug remark. “Bet Darius never kissed you like that.”
“Darius never kissed me at all.”
She looked up at him, face flushed, brown eyes dazed, and he knew she wanted to say something else, but the temptation to kiss her again instead of letting her finish her thought was strong. Especially when her hands moved down his shoulders to his upper arms. Her uncertain, inexperienced touch did things to him.
Then she furrowed her brow.
“But you probably kiss girls like that all the time.”
He grinned. “No, I don’t.” He dropped a peck on the tip of her nose, resisting the urge to claim those waiting lips again. “Has anybody kissed you before, Iris?”
She shook her head. The flecks of gold in her eyes danced with the changing angle of reflected light. “Not… not like this.”
“Lucky me.” He allowed himself to place a light, chaste kiss on her lips. “You probably don’t know how to dance, either, right?”
She shook her head again. The way she was looking at him was testing his willpower, but he didn’t want to push her too hard, too fast. She wasn’t anywhere near ready for heavy kissing.
“I’ll have to teach you. When this is all over.”
He kissed her forehead, and she rested her cheek against his chest. The feel of her in his arms and the sound of her contented sigh were enough for now.
“I don’t know if Father John would approve of all this.”
The priest’s name was a bucket of ice dropped on Char’s head. Iris stiffened as soon as she said it, too. Her fingers tightened on Char’s arms.
“We don’t know for sure that he’s dead, Iris.” Although Char held out little hope for the priest’s survival.
“He’s dead,” she whispered. She was trembling, tears filling her eyes. “They’re all dead. He told me. He told me he’s isolating me, so I’ll be easier to manipulate.”
Char squeezed her tighter, anger flaring in his chest. “He could be lying, Iris.”
“Sorry.” She choked and pulled free from his embrace, turning her back on him and putting her face in her hands as her shoulders began to shake with her sobs.
Char followed her and enfolded her in his arms again, her back against his chest. “Don’t listen to him, Iris. Listen to me,” he murmured in her ear. “I told you I wouldn’t let anybody kill you. I’ve kept that promise, and I’m making you another one.”
“Don’t—”
“You can trust me, Iris. I won’t let him get his hands on you.”
“You can’t—say that.”
“I just did.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Shh. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Iris, stop apologizing.”
“I can’t stay. Your mother—your brother—you—I can’t stay.”
He turned her toward him again. “Iris—”
“Don’t you see?” She looked up at him, her brown eyes pleading in her tear-streaked face. “Anybody near me is in danger.”
He brushed the tears from her cheek. “So, we’ll go away. I’m not leaving you alone, Iris.”
She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as she cried, and he held her tight, his heart aching for her. This was too much for any one person, and it had all come crashing down on her overnight. She didn’t deserve any of this. She didn’t deserve everybody seeing her as a danger or a tool.
A surge of hot anger rushed through his veins at the thought of all she'd already endured. And to think the king’s mage had told her exactly what he was trying to do to her—isolate her, manipulate her—no. No. Not if Char had anything to do with it.
Wild ideas flew through his mind.
Something crazy. Something the mage wouldn’t expect.
Something...13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8gBHaKqu4y
