Page 68 of Poison Sun

It’s different from the fire we wield or the raging inferno of the poison. It’s a gentle, soothing heat that seeps deep into my flesh, targeting the venom and cooling its burn.

With a relieved breath, I open my eyes and dare a glance at my arm.

The word on my skin glows with yellow light, pulsing like the beat of a heart.

In seconds, the pain recedes. Slowly at first, then faster, as if being drawn out by an invisible force.

The dark veins that were spreading from the wound fade, the deadly black giving way to pink, healthy flesh.

All that remains is a single, blood-red word inked onto my forearm. Sanare.

I know instinctively that it will stay there forever, and pride surges through me that this mark of triumph will always be mine to bear.

“It worked,” I say, staring at my healed arm in amazement.

Blaze doesn’t speak.

He just drops the penknife to the ground, pulls me toward him, and crushes his lips to mine with so much pressure that I can barely breathe.

Butterflies go wild in my stomach, and my heart leaps. For a moment, I’m lost in his kiss—in the warmth that contrasts so starkly with the cool night air of the Alpine wilderness.

I wanted this from the moment I saw him.

But I can’t. It’s too complicated. It’s a tangle of secrets and lies—mainly, the secrets I’m keeping from him because of the truth I can’t bring myself to share.

So, I pull away, breaking the kiss with a gasp, as if surfacing from deep underwater.

“Morgan,” he says, as if I’m the most precious thing to him in the world. His forehead is pressed against mine, and I realize he thinks I broke the kiss momentarily—not that I was stopping it entirely.

“Blaze.” I move away from him, and hurt spreads across his face when he realizes what’s going on.

He masks it quickly, but I know it was there. “Sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have?—“

“No, it’s not that,” I rush to explain. “It’s just?—“

It’s just what? That I’m afraid of what I feel? That I don’t fully trust him, even though he saved my life twice today?

“We’ve been through a lot today,” I say. “And it’s dark out. We need to find a place to set up for the night.”

He nods, looking away, and I can tell he’s pulling back, building walls where seconds ago there were none. “You’re right,” he says, and there’s a resignation in his voice that twists something deep inside me. “How are you feeling? Can you walk?”

“All good.” I stand up and smile at him to prove my point. “It worked. You were amazing.”

Understatement of the century.

“I couldn’t let you die.” A shadow crosses over his eyes, and he marches over to our packs, which are still on the ground where we threw them at the start of the fight with the Tatzelwurm.

He picks his up, and I hurry after him to grab mine.

“You still have the compass?” he asks, and just like that, it’s as if the kiss never happened.

It’s like none of it ever happened. Like I didn’t almost die and like he didn’t save my life with magic he swore he wouldn’t use on anyone ever again.

“Yes.” I reach into my jacket pocket, relieved to find that the compass survived the fight with the wurm.

From there, it doesn’t take long to orient myself to face southeast, and I lead the way, trying to ignore the awkward tension lingering in the air between us as we walk—and the weight of the secret that’s now weighing on me heavier than ever.

Morgan

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