by R. A. Gates
A loud crash of wood startled
her. Garren dumped an armload of dry
branches by the log she sat on. He glared
at her before turning around and
marching back into the woods.
She rolled her eyes. What a
baby.
Why did he have to be so
stubborn? It’s just a little dragon. A
dragon. A pang of guilt smacked her
square in her chest. He did save her
from being torched, twice. Maybe he
wasn't all bad deep down— deep, deep
down. She needed to thank him.
Damn it. Why did she have to be
the bigger person? Leaving Thane
working on the fire, she followed Garren
into the forest. The smell of pine
triggered a sudden craving for roasted
marshmallows and ghost stories.
At first, she didn't see him until a
grunt in the shadows tipped her off. He
tore apart a rotten log, piece by piece,
and threw them in a pile. A large branch
he tossed nearly hit her foot when she
stopped by the growing pile of wood.
He did a double take when he
saw her standing there. He straightened
up and wiped the sweat from his brow
with the back of his hand. His gaze
washed over her from head to toe and
back again. “You need something?” He
sounded as if he was still annoyed with
her.
She squirmed at his scrutiny.
Clearing her throat, she said “Hey, I just
wanted to... um...” This was more
difficult than she thought it would be. If
he wouldn't stare at her like she had two
heads, she might get through this with a
little grace. She fiddled with her leather
bracelet as she gathered the courage to
continue. “Thanks for helping me up
there. You know, when the dragon tried
to roast me.”
His eyebrows shot up, nearly
disappearing into his hairline. Then, his
lips spread into a smirk as he stalked
towards her. She automatically backed
up. For every step he advanced, she
retreated, until rough bark scraped at her
back. Her heart thudded in her chest as
he braced his hands against the tree on
either side of her head, trapping her.
“So, one might say you're
indebted to me, like an indentured
servant.” He took another step closer,
his eyes never leaving hers.
His proximity seemed to suck all
the moisture from the air and she had to
swallow in order to talk. “I think you’re
reading too much into a simple ‘thank
you’.” She held his gaze, wondering
what he was up to .
“Well, if being my slave is off
the table, I have a better idea of how you
can show me your gratitude.” He leaned
in closer, so close she could see each
eyelash framing his crystal blue eyes.
Those eyes darted down to her mouth
and lingered.
Holy crap, he's going to kiss
me!
Suddenly, she became very
aware of exactly how close he was.
Heat radiated off his body in waves,
crashing into her. Breathing normally
became
impossible
as
her
lungs
struggled to take in air. Did she want to
him to kiss her? She wasn't sure. He did
save her life. Maybe there was a nice
side to him after all.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
He really did have nice lips. And with
all those skanks he dated, he had to be a
good kisser.
Leaning in further, he rested his
elbows on the tree, just above her
shoulders. His warm, minty breath
washed over her face, causing both her
eyelids and belly to flutter.
This is Garren , the boy who
gave me purple polka dotted skin that
lasted for a week. Push. Him. Away.
Her traitorous arms refused to listen to
her brain and remained perfectly still at
her sides. In fact, her whole body was
paralyzed with… fear, maybe? But not
attraction. Definitely not attraction.
Their lips were only centimeters
apart. Her heart hammered against her
chest. At that moment, her tough-chick
persona slid away leaving only girl. She
wanted this. Without realizing it, her
eyes slid shut and she waited for him to
close the distance.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Nothing.
Nothing but the crunch of leaves
as he stepped away. Reality slugged her
in the gut, turning her split-second
moment of disappointment into utter
mortification.
Why?
Heat crept up her neck as she
prayed for a hole to open up beneath her
and swallow her up. When that didn’t
happen, she threw up a wall around her
heart and opened her eyes.
The back of his head greeted her
as he did an about face and marched
back toward his woodpile. “You're
welcome,” he called over his shoulder.
Fury burned through her as she
stared at his back, imaging how nicely
her dagger would look embedded
between his shoulder blades. After
envisioning his death in a few more
brutally painful ways, she turned around
and stomped out of the woods.
Pull yourself together, Ivy.
Garren is not worth a second thought.
And definitely not worth your kisses. So
why couldn’t she get the image of his
lips out of her mind? So much for
believing there was anything even
remotely
decent
about
him.
She
should've known better than to trust a
wizard. At least she'd have the upper
hand when she kissed Prince Sebastian.
Bile climbed up her throat. He
couldn't back away from her kiss, being
a stiff and all.
He's only sleeping, Ivy. Just
sleeping. The drawing in Thane’s book
flashed
in
her
brain—
Prince
Sebastian’s black eyes, intense and
beautiful, peering into her soul. She held
on to the image and relaxed. Hopefully,
his eyes wouldn't look at her in mockery,
like Garren’s did.
Gathering up the pieces of her
broken pride, she vowed to never let
another wizard sneak past her defenses
again. She stepped out of the trees and
stopped. Thane was crouched on the
ground, slowly stalking across the
beach. In each hand, he held a branch,
dead leaves still clinging to the twigs.
She waited to see if he was going to start
chanting like a voodoo witch doctor.
“What are you doing?” she
asked.
&n
bsp; He jumped at the sound of her
voice. “Oh, hey. I’m trying to get fire.
Rubbing the sticks together wasn’t
working.”
What a surprise. “So you’re
doing a fire dance?”
He furrowed his brows before
glancing ahead of him. Using one of the
branches, he pointed to something on the
beach. She followed his gaze and saw
the baby dragon staring at Thane, its tail
twitching.
“So you’re using yourself as
kindling? That sounds reasonable .”
He’d have better luck with the dance.
“No. I figure if I agitate it
enough, it’ll try to scare me off by
breathing fire. Want to help?”
Her mouth gaped. “That sounds
horrible.”
“You have a better idea?” He
held out one of the dry sticks. She racked
her brain for any other solution.
Reluctantly, she snatched the branch
from his hand and started shaking it in
front of her as she crept toward the
dragon.
“Here, Sparky,” she called in a
soft, high voice. “Come light the stick on
fire. No, wait. Where’re you going?”
For the next hour, they stalked the baby
dragon around the beach. A couple times
they got a spark out of it, but nothing
ignited.
The sun hung low, right above
the horizon. Garren sat next to an
impressive pile of wood, laughing at the
other two.
“Who’s Lucy and who’s Ethel?”
he shouted out.
She did her best to ignore him as
she cornered the little creature against a
boulder. She shoved her branch in its
face. It yelped, spitting out a tiny spark.
The spark landed on a dry leaf and
smoldered. She backed away from the
agitated dragon. The ember glowed
brighter as she gently blew on it. She
pushed another leaf closer and blew a
little more. Soon, she had a flame.
“Thank you, Sparky.” She tore
her eyes away from the burning leaves to
find Thane. “I got fire,” she yelled
louder.
Thane waved his arms toward
the waiting fire pit he created earlier.
“Quick, bring it over here.”
She walked sideways toward
Thane, using her body to block the wind
coming off the water. She stopped a
couple times when the flames almost
died.
“Hurry up,” he yelled.
“I’m coming,” she muttered. She
started on her way again when the
flames suddenly burst, igniting the rest of
her branch.
Oh, gawd. At the rate it was
burning, she might not make it to the fire
pit. She held the burning stick out like
the Olympic torch and ran, screaming
across the beach. Tiny sparks flew past
her on the wind. The heat burned her
hand and she dropped it on the pile of
dry grass and twigs in the center of the
rock circle.
Thane
got
right
to
work,
pampering the flames and building it to a
respectable campfire.
Garren had to intervene at one
point. “Unless you want to burn the
forest down, that's big enough.”
Thane sat on the nearby log and
beamed at her. The setting sun at his
back made his dark blonde hair glow.
She found something familiar in his face,
something that confirmed to her that they
were family. They both had the same
shade of hazel eyes, gold in the center
and blue at the edges. It was the first
time she truly believed they were
connected, the first time she didn't feel
totally alone in this world since her mom
died a year ago. A year of running and
hiding and never letting anybody close.
Maybe he could look beyond her past
and really accept her. Her heart ached
with longing, hoping that her loneliness
would soon be over.
She glanced over his shoulder to
the vast expanse of water. The day’s
events replayed in her mind. When she
remembered Captain Burgandy, sadness
tightened in her chest.
“Did you know the captain very
well?” she asked Thane.
His head snapped up from
staring in the fire. “Not really. He kept
to himself most of the time.”
Awkward silence hung in the air.
“He seemed nice,” she added,
not knowing what else to say. He
deserved a few nice words, no matter
how crazy he was. “At least he died
doing what he loved.”
Garren slowly raised his head,
that condescending eyebrow raised.
“What?” she asked. “Do you
have something you’d like to say about
the man?”
His gaze shifted to Thane and a
smile spread across his face. “From
what I heard, flying wasn’t his first love.
At least not with the Daisy Mae that
crashed in the ocean.”
Both guys chuckled at what she
assumed was an inside joke. Either that
or they had a lot of maturing to do.
Deciding that the conversation was
headed in a direction she didn’t want to
go, she concentrated on digging a hole in
the ground with the point of a stick.
The three of them spent what
seemed like the longest hour in tense
silence, sitting on a rotten log, Ivy in the
middle. No one could relax. Every time
a twig would snap, they’d each jump to
their feet, ready to fight. It was either the
dragon sniffing around for food or some
other forest creature. Could someone die
of adrenaline overload?
Garren spent his time shaving a
spear out of a long stick with his Swiss
Army knife. He seemed to make a point
out of deliberately not looking at her, as
if she was the one who humiliated him
earlier. After a while, the deliberate
silence and tension around the campfire
crawled under her skin. She needed to
do something before she went crazy.
I should be nominated for
sainthood after this. Clearing her throat,
she broke the ice. “What do you call a
witch that lives on the beach?”
Thane looked up, waiting for the
punch line, while Garren kept staring at
the blaze as if he didn't hear her, or
didn't care. She elbowed him in the ribs
and repeated the joke.
He threw a glare her way, which
she returned, and then he gave up.
“What?”
“A sand-witch.”
Thane chuckled, more likely out
of pity, and smiled. Garren rolled his
eyes, but the corner of his mouth
twitched. She was breaking through his
wall.
“What is a vampire's favorite
fruit?” She asked with a little laugh as
she nudged Garren.
He allowed himself to smile,
although small, and played along. “I
don't know. What is it?”
“A neck-tarine.”
“That has to be the stupidest joke
I've ever heard.” Garren tried to keep a
straight face but failed miserably.
Soon, they sat around the
campfire, telling the worst jokes they
could think of as stars dotted the night
sky like glitter spilled over a black
tabletop. They still jumped at every
noise, not wanting to be caught off guard,
but they were having fun. Her sides were
aching from laughing so hard. After a
while, a yawn escaped her lips and
visited the others in turn.
Thane
rose,
retrieved
his
backpack, and tossed it on the ground to
use as a pillow. Garren shifted to do the
same, but she stopped him with her hand
on his. He looked down at the contact
and then met her eyes with a smirk on his
face. She immediately yanked her hand
back.
Not going there again. “You get
first watch,” she said.
His brow furrowed as the
firelight danced across his face. “Why
me?”
“Because your hair is darker.”
She stood up and put her jacket on to
keep warm through the night.
“That doesn't make any sense.”
The weight of his stare bore
down on her as she lay down on the sand
next to the fire. “Of course it does. Just
think about it.” She rolled up one of her
sweatshirts and tucked it under her head.
She shifted around, trying in vain to get
comfortable. The ground was hard and
small rocks dug into her hip. It was
going to be a long night.
“Fine. Get some sleep while you
can because I'm waking you up next.” He
got up and grabbed the stick he’d been
whittling to a sharp point all evening.
Setting it next to him on the log, he began
the first shift.
She made sure her dagger was
safely tucked away next to her before
falling asleep.
*****
Unfamiliar female voices woke
her up hours later. She kept her eyes
closed as she tried to calculate how far
away they were and what they were
talking about. They were just far enough
away that she couldn't make out any
specific words.
Where the hell is Garren? The
low timbre of his laugh coming from the
same direction as the voices answered
that question.
She was about to open her eyes
and take a look around when footsteps to
