Page 6 of The Phoenix Inheritance

The stubborn man won’t stand, and I can’t possibly lift someone twice as heavy as me. I try to ignore the fact that the sensation of his warm skin on mine gives me butterflies.

“Come on,” I insist. “I promise I’m not an evil witch leading some poor unsuspecting passersby to her lair.”

One of those dark copper brows jots up cockily. “You live here?”

“Yes.”

That makes him pause. “Why?”

I shrug, casting a look around me. It’s true that I never would’ve chosen such a place, had circumstances not led me here. Yet five years after, I couldn’t dream of a better home.

“The strangeness of the landscape grew on me,” is my vague response. “Now, I even find the Solenz beautiful.”

He shoots me a smug look, as if my words couldn’t be more absurd. “It’s not. There’s a reason why everyone calls it the Barrens.”

The smirk that grows on my face is equally as wide as his. “And what about you? Does everyone call you Mr. Sourpuss?”

He rolls his eyes. Though he’s irritated – and no less irritating – I’m relieved to see the flash of fire in his slate gaze. Anything but the chilling emptiness with which he seemed to throw away everything good in life.

“It doesn’t rhyme with ‘Dane’ at all.” Suddenly he looks sheepish, and glances away. “That’s my name by the way.”

I appraise him under the light of this tidbit of information. Dane. I like it. It sounds like a warrior’s name, befitting the hardy, valiant man he could become – provided he stays in this world long enough.

“Well come on, Dane,” I huff with a second tug at his hand, which I never let go. It’s funny how his touch already feels familiar. “Let’s get you healed, so all this can become nothing but a bad memory.”

“And what good can you do? You’ve got about as much muscle as a shrimp.” His words are proven true by how unperturbed he stays despite my insistence on getting him up.

I let an exasperated sigh escape my lips. “Physical strength isn’t all there is, Dane.”

“Yes it is.”

His response comes so fast I eye him curiously. As far as bulk goes, Dane is certainly more remarkable than anyone I’ve seen to date. Yet his voice is laced with a strange nervousness.

“I don’t think so. Brawn is about as useless as a blowfish next to a needle if you’ve never been hurt.” I nod towards his sprained wrist. “You’ve been injured, but it’s the healing that will make you strong. Real strength is about how much hurt you can endure, and how you can turn it to your advantage.”

I don’t mention that it’s because I’ve been hurt so thoroughly that I know how to heal him. As he studies me in silence, I hope that I’ve said enough to convince him – to come into my house, but more importantly, to not throw himself from a cliff the next time life deals him a hard blow.

To my great relief, Dane finally rises. He’s over a full head taller than me, and somehow seems even more impossibly handsome when standing at his full height. I suddenly feel oddly jittery inside, so I let go of his hand.

As we head towards my house, the contrast becomes all the more apparent. He stoops down to walk through the door, and then promptly bangs his head on the ceiling the second he straightens.

“Did a bunch of elves build this hut?”

I attempt to send him a glare, but I can’t stop my lips from twitching as he grumpily massages his scalp.

“It’s a cottage. And no, I built it.”

Though it had been but a rudimentary shack when I first laid camp on Solenz grounds at fourteen, little by little I learned to turn those ramshackle walls into a sturdy, comfortable abode. Of course, friends from the Hunters helped me, but I still feel like my home is mostly my own making. It makes me quite proud.

Even prouder as for the first time since Dane fell from the heavens, he looks duly impressed.

“Why don’t you take a little stew? I make it myself, and it never fails to put some strength back into my arms.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t look like it’s working”, he grouses, but he accepts the bowl.

I watch him bring the spoon to his mouth, eager to hear his appreciation. Focusing on his lips kindles that ticklish feeling within me.

He spits the concoction out before even swallowing a sip.

---