by Starla Night
It shouldn’t hurt this much. “No response, huh?”
“There’s clearly a lot…” She shook her head and faced him. “Look, I have to go.”
She had more she wanted to say? He was desperate. He wanted one of those things to be, Yes, I wanted more than a screw. I wanted you.
How desperate. He made himself sick.
Still, he said, “I’ll come by later.”
“No!” She held up both hands. “Tonight’s bad.”
“Then—”
“This week is bad. It’s all bad. Seeing you is the last thing I want to do.”
That cold shard in his chest was clearly the knife she’d just thrust between the partitions of his heart. He couldn’t get his breath. A dull ringing sounded in his ears.
“I don’t have time,” she was saying. “Not with—”
“Fine.” He stepped back from her and let the fury wash over him. His scales burst out of his skin like a firestorm. Clothes shredding, his limbs elongated and stretched, and he shoved off the ground, streaking for the sky. Flying straight for that strange yellow sun on the horizon.
When he smashed into it and disappeared in a flare, it couldn’t possibly hurt as much as the agony right now in his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Overhead, Pyro streaked across the sky, the shreds of his leather jacket and jeans falling to the sidewalk like tearing off the mask.
He looked unapologetically free, fiery red wings pumping and claws straining for the sun. Must be nice to be a dragon shifter and fly away from his problems. This must be how he’d avoided the consequences that befell land-bound people. In thirty-five countries.
She hadn’t even gotten to ask about his first wife.
Doubt twisted in her belly.
Maybe she’d been too harsh.
He hadn’t really come all this way just to hurt her. There had been a moment of surprise on his face when he’d first arrived. But why? Why had he come — and dressed like that?
If she’d taken a moment to work it out with him right there on the doorstep, unafraid of her parents’ judgment, wouldn’t he have been reasonable? And explained himself?
Sometimes, he seemed invincible, and other times, he could be hurt so easily. Her parents had clearly hurt him just as much as he’d caused them anger and pain.
Well, she’d deal with his hurt later.
Amy turned back toward the house. Had her parents seen his transformation or flight? She climbed the steps around the carport. They both watched anxiously from the window. Her dad turned away as if trying to control his anger. Her mom crossed her arms.
Nah. They’d seen nothing or else they’d have different reactions. The hedge had blocked his escape.
She took a long, deep breath and squared her shoulders. Then, she turned the knob and entered their house. Brushing pine needles and bark dust off her socks, she got two steps down the hallway before her mom turned on her.
“Were you drunk?”
Amy stopped.
Her mother’s tone sounded just like the one time she’d had so much fun with the art club that she’d accidentally missed her curfew.
But she wasn’t a teen anymore.
Amy turned to face her mother. Behind her, deeper in the living room, stood her father. His expression was shadowed and she could only imagine the same accusation scarred his face. Like she’d personally hurt them by making bad choices and not lived up to their expectations.
Thinking that made her angry. Like Pyro sometimes got angry, just by looking at the expression on someone’s face.
She put her hands on her hips. “And if I was?”
“Amy, we forbid you from going to that city. People gamble. They get drunk in the streets. We knew something like this would happen.”
“One bad decision,” her dad said softly.
“Exactly. One bad decision and you’ll ruin your life.”
“My life isn’t ruined.”
“Is this ‘Pyro’ threatening you?”
“What? No! I know what it looks like. He just … he comes off the wrong way when you first meet him. But he’s not a hooligan.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Does he treat you differently now? It won’t last.”
Her father stepped forward, into the light. “We’ve known people like him. They don’t change.”
Her heart beat hard in her chest. “When have you ever known ‘people like him’?”
Her parents looked at each other with resignation. Like, she was young and naïve, and they were going to have to break her with the truth.
Her hands started shaking. She sucked in a quick breath and let it out again fast. “What does that even mean? ‘People like him.’ You don’t know anything about him.”
“We know his type.”
“You don’t even know what he really is.”
“He’s involved in crimes.” Her mother shook her head. “Is that smuggling?”
“No!”
“Is he a drug addict? Or just an alcoholic?”
“It won’t last,” her dad added, referring again to the way he treated her differently from his other assumedly criminal activities.
“He’s not any of those things,” she insisted, feeling like she was standing in a hallway of sand and it was sliding out under her feet. “You don’t know.”
“He drank over half the bottle of wine in minutes,” her mom pointed out.
“That’s because alcohol doesn’t affect him like it does the rest of us.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“You need to break up with him right away,” her father said. “I know a good lawyer.”
“Look! Can we just forget tonight ever happened? I know he gave a bad impression, but he’s not a bad person.”
“Amy, this isn’t like you,” her father said. “We’re struggling to understand where we went wrong.”
“You didn’t go wrong. This isn’t about you.”
“The longer you prolong this relationship the more dangerous it is.”
Again she felt like the hallway was sliding. “I’m an adult.”
“Then act like one,” her mother said acidly. “We didn’t raise you to be stupid.”
“No, you raised me to be ‘perfect,’ and the moment I step outside, you’re ready to disown me or worse, force me back into your safe, perfect, suffocating nest!”
They stared at her. She was shouting, she knew she was shouting, and that was unlike her too, but Pyro made her do these crazy things and she also felt weirdly free. Like she was getting two decades of crushed, swallowed, bottled up feelings loose and letting her parents know honestly how she really felt.
“I’m never going to have this perfect house.” She gestured at their pristine, calming living room. “And waiting for the perfect husband means I’ll be single and miserable for the rest of my life. I’m always trying to diet so I break down and end up fat. What happens after I get this job? I’ll probably have a nervous breakdown.”
“Are you done?” her mom asked with deadly calm.
Her anger shrank like when she was small.
“There are things you don’t know about us also,” her mother said. “All we ever wanted was for you to be happy. We didn’t put you on a diet or force you down a career path.”
“No, you didn’t force me to do anything. You made it clear that if I were fifty pounds lighter, I’d be pretty like when I was little, and if I got this teaching job, I’d be respectable and set for life.”
“It’s a very good job—”
“I know it is. And I think I even want it for my own reasons. But I can’t be completely certain so long as you’re standing over me ‘correcting’ my every move. Forbidding me from traveling to the wrong cities, hanging out at the wrong places, meeting the wrong people. Like I’m not already twenty-frickin’-six.”
“Don’t you swear at your mother,” her dad said.
Okay. Right. Because she was still a child and always would be.
A
my sighed. “Sorry. You’re right. I have to go.”
“No, you have to sit down.”
“No.” She put one palm up, vaguely searching the hallway for her shoes. “I’m sorry. But I have to still finish the teaching demonstration to get my perfect job.”
“You’re being mean,” her mother said, and another note of hurt entered her voice. “And that’s not like you.”
“Sorry.” Amy slid on her shoes. “We’ll talk another time. I have to go.”
The trip across the city to her apartment took an hour on the bus and she used the time to swing between irritation and shame.
They had no right to judge Pyro. Sure, she’d judged him when she first met him, but it was wrong of her to do it then and it was double-wrong of them to do it now. Especially since she was telling them he was different.
But she also had no right to blame her problems on her parents. They didn’t hold a gun to her head and force her to apply for a permanent teaching position at a prestigious school. Blaming them because she had procrastinated on her lesson plan was just laziness.
She needed to take responsibility for her choices, good and bad. Stop living her life in fear and start living. No matter the consequences.
She needed to have faith. Not only in Pyro. In herself.
As she got off the bus, a serious dragon in dark shades landed in front of her.
Hopes rose. She could apologize—
No. His build was completely different from Pyro, and she recognized the impassive dragon in an instant. “Syenite?”
“You did not call for an appointment. Will you accept Sard’s job offer?”
Right now, the idea of blowing off the lesson, her parents, and even Pyro held quite a bit of illicit appeal. She’d been under a pressure cooker for so long. It was like when she suddenly burst and ate a plate of brownies, or turned off the NPR for mind-numbing trash TV. She could drop everything and become an artist. Go to a studio, drink herbal tea, stare at the skyline, and draw…
Nah. She’d get bored after a day.
“I can’t quit my job to work for Sard,” she said. “That’s my final response. But if he’s interested in my teaching a workshop or private lessons, he knows where to find me.”
“Please reconsider. We have many gifts of clothing, money, or—”
“There is literally nothing you could offer me that’s going to make me change my mind.”
She left him on the steps and headed into her apartment building. On her floor, the front door was ajar. Again. She pushed it open.
Josh and an older man she didn’t know were sitting on living room chairs.
“Hey.” She greeted Josh and hung her thin spring jacket on the crowded coat hooks.
“Hey,” he returned. Even seated he was tall, with springy black hair and an infectious grin. But right now he seemed nervous. “Is this mess yours?”
The floor was still mounded with piles of clothes.
Ugh. “Don’t even ask.”
He laughed and lifted his palms. “Forget I said anything.”
“Thanks. I will.”
The older man stood and approached too close. He was completely gray. His dusty jeans and flannel jacket and undershirt were varying shades, and even his skin seemed tinged with pale gray. His gray-blue eyes hid behind thick glasses and he had dandruff on a mostly bald, but also graying, head.
Josh scrambled to his feet. “This is my dad.”
“Nice to meet you.” She put her hand between them to force the guy back, pretending to offer it to shake.
After a brief hesitation, he did so. “You’re Amy?”
“Yes.”
“You know any lizard people?”
“Dad! You can’t just talk about that.” Josh grabbed his hand and let go. “See you, Amy.”
“See you.”
She watched them leave. So, that was what an alcoholic looked like. Gray. Amy shut the door firmly.
“Josh? Dinner’s ready.” Melody hobbled into the living room. “Oh, Amy. Welcome back. I thought you were eating at your parents’ tonight.”
“It didn’t work out. Um, Josh and his dad just left.”
“You met his dad?” Melody suddenly looked tense. “Did he say anything weird?”
“He asked me about lizard people. Josh hustled him out pretty fast.” These days lots of people had questions about dragons so she didn’t think it was too unusual.
Melody’s smile slowly returned. “Okay. Well, did you want chicken parmesan?”
She was suddenly starving. Probably because she hadn’t eaten dinner and fighting used up calories. “Yes.”
Their little kitchen table was set for three, so she removed one of the settings while Melody dished up. It was nice to have a meal together just the two of them. A little pocket of normalcy.
She let Melody cover dinner conversation with the latest games she was playing with Josh. It was just nice.
“Oh, yeah.” Melody swallowed her last bite of yummy chicken and jerked her head at the living room. “What’s with the jeans and camisoles?”
“A long story.”
She raised her brows.
“I’ll clean up after the demo class on Thursday. I promise.”
Melody grinned. “So what exactly happened this weekend? All I got was your mysterious voice message that you’d be out of town.”
Amy studied her licked-clean fork. “Also a long story.”
“Aw, you don’t really want to work on your class stuff, do you? I just churned homemade ice cream…”
After the fight with her parents, she needed to tell a nonjudgmental person about Pyro. Melody dished up still-soft caramel mudslide and Amy spilled.
“…and then in Vegas I married Pyro.”
Melody dropped her spoon.
“Those are wedding presents from his family. One hundred camisoles and pairs of jeans. I just told my parents. You can imagine how that went.”
“No.”
“Seriously? They freaked.”
“You didn’t marry him.”
Oh, god. Not Melody, too. Amy sighed. “I know it’s hard to imagine, but it almost made sense at the time.”
“You did? Really?”
“I don’t know if he likes me. There’s the whole Empress thing. Sometimes it seems like it’s going to work out … but it can’t possibly. He’s sweet, fearless, and completely likable, while my best qualities are being dull and responsible. Every time we fight and I want to kill him, he tries to hug me.”
Melody seemed to be processing. She picked up her spoon again. “That’s normal. Hardly any guy can use words like Josh. Most prefer to apologize with their body.”
Apologize with his body?
Melody had had a slew of boyfriends long before Josh and scattered pearls of relationship wisdom. Amy reconsidered her impression of her and Pyro’s last fight.
When he’d reached for her, Pyro had been trying to apologize?
Instead of letting him, she’d made him so angry he burst into dragon and flown away. Possibly forever.
How depressing.
Pyro had a quick temper, but it also seemed like he lost his anger halfway through a conversation and was already trying to put the argument behind him when Amy was right in the middle of ramping up. Their fights would be better if she kept calm. After all, the person who stayed calm remained in control.
He’d been judged a lot. She’d judged him, too. Of course they had a lot to learn about each other. He’d said so, and she’d tried to believe him, but she’d actually just judged him again.
So…what to do now?
She could give up. Chalk this up to a crazy, impulsive, what-happens-in-Vegas weekend. A bad decision that ended now. She could divorce him and return to her ordinary life. Forever.
But she wasn’t the same anymore. Because of him … and because of her.
One great thing about him was his fearlessness. If she was less fearful, wouldn’t she live a freer life? She’d watched no trashy TV since they’d
gotten together. She was too busy living on the edge — well, over it, really — of her comfort zone to numb herself with other people’s dramas.
Did she want to be stuck in this rut or did she want to be the wife of a dangerous, unpredictable, gorgeous dragon shifter?
Amy got out her phone and tried to call. No answer, as usual. Pyro never seemed to answer his phone. So, she texted him an apology.
“He’s not coming here,” Melody suddenly said flatly.
“Huh?”
Her roommate was totally against him coming over. Which wasn’t fair. Amy didn’t care if Josh came over.
“Oh. No. I mean, he did the other day, when the clothes were delivered, but I told him to leave me alone until after the class presentation.”
“On Thursday.” Melody seemed to be calculating. “Okay. That should be okay.”
“What should be okay?”
“Nothing. Just don’t have him over until after Thursday, alright?”
Okay, so Melody was okay with Pyro coming over. Just not right now. “Why?”
“You have a lot of work to do.”
Well … okay. “Sure. He’s probably not coming over.”
“Definitely. Promise.”
It was funny that suddenly Melody was worried about Amy’s school performance since she’d distracted her from her work for a few hours now.
But, whatever.
“I promise,” Amy said.
Melody’s serious face calmed. She stood, grabbed her arm braces, and hauled her dirty ice cream dish to the sink. “Good. Be careful.”
Amy’s phone buzzed. She grabbed for it, distracted. “Hm?”
“Your dragon shifter isn’t anonymous. There are some crazies in the world.” Melody dumped the dishes in the sink and sprayed them with water.
On her screen, Pyro’s name appeared. Amy covered it and stood, backing away.
Melody didn’t seem to notice as she muttered to herself. “It’s dangerous.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Amy eased into her bedroom and shut the door as she hit the answer button. “Pyro?”
“Yeah.” His rough sexy voice caressed her ear. “I got your text.”
Okay. He didn’t sound angry. And the background noise was quiet, making it easier for her to speak from the heart.
