Page 36 of Wild Flame

“Who makes you?” he asked quietly.

The Dark God. The High Priest.Who knew anymore? “What does it matter?” I said aloud as I took another step and the floor seemed to suddenly disappear completely under my foot. I wobbled, but then quickly righted myself.

“Be careful!” he admonished sharply. “You’ll fall.”

I snorted. “What does it matter?” I said again. “No one would care if I did.” A wave of familiar sadness overcame me as I stared down at the lights of the city and the ground far below. “That’s not entirely true,” I said to the ground. “My sister would . . .” Mysight began to waver, and my balance felt more precarious the longer I stood there. I listed forward—just as firm hands clasped me at the waist, halting me. Then I was picked up and lowered slowly until my feet touched the warm stone of the rooftop.

“Thank you,” I said, as solemnly as possible as I glanced up, but it was hard to do when the man’s face blurred before mine. “Nine Realms, you’re big!” I told him.

Instead of responding, he simply kept ahold of me, moving his hands to my arms to steady me. His handsome face came into focus and his expression was stern. “Leida, what do you mean the first time you killed someone? Who makes you?”

“Shh,” I reached up and put my fingers to his lips, “no one is supposed to know.” I poked at the furrow between his brows. He was too pretty to look so angry. “And don’t call me Leida,” I added. Then I grinned. “I like siren better . . . orisholet. . . though Malik only called me that once, and I can’t bring myself to ask him what it means.” My head was spinning. I frowned and glanced back up at the man holding me. “Do you know what it means?”

“Siren—” he began.

“Who are you again?”

That was when I lost all feeling in my legs, and I collapsed. Or at least, I would have if the man hadn’t caught me and swung me up into his big arms. I heard a clunk that sounded like my precious bottle hitting the floor.

“My drink!” I protested. I lurched in his hold, trying to grab for it, but his strong arms held me firmly against his solid chest, refusing to let me pick it up.

He sighed. “All right, off to bed with you.”

“Wait,” I muttered, about to protest some more, but suddenly I could no longer keep my head up. It felt too heavy. So I rested it against the smooth skin of his neck and inhaled deeply. I hummed. “You smell lovely,” I mumbled against his skin. I wasvaguely aware of the sensation of movement and that we might be going down some stairs, but I didn’t want to lift my face from his glorious scent to check. “Like Malik,” I whispered.

I felt as well as heard a deep, pleasing chuckle come from the man’s chest. Then he spoke low, “And what does this Malik smell like, my little siren?”

I tried to blink, but found my eyes were already closed. “Like sandalwood and amber,” I breathed dreamily. “He smells good. All. The. Time. It’s supremely aggravating . . . and wonderful.”

The man chuckled again. “I hope for your sake, you don’t remember this in the morning.” He paused. “Actually, I hope you do.”

“Hmm . . .” was my verbose reply as my head lolled to the side and my eyes opened. I took in the plant fronds and flowers overhead, barely obscuring the night sky as he carried me through a familiar courtyard and down an open corridor of the silent palace.

“I love it here,” I confessed. “I don’t want to go back home.” My voice sounded small and forlorn in the quiet around us.

There was a pause. “Why not?”

“It’s beautiful there and there are some things I miss, but . . . I-I hate who I am there . . . who they make me be. It’s . . . suffocating.” I exhaled wistfully. “I just want to stay here and drink fruit juice until I make myself sick.”

Another deep chuckle. “Fruit juice? That is why you want to stay in my country?”

I nodded, though I doubted he could see it in the shadows that engulfed us. “Yes. Well, not just fruit juice. I love the gardens and the music, and the people are nice . . . mostly. Zara is lovely.”

Another pause. “Yes, she is.”

“Though the heat is awful.” I made a face with this last statement and there was another rumble from the man holding me.

“Anything else?” he asked.

I thought for a moment and, unbidden, a wicked grin and flashing amber eyes came to mind. Eyes that seemed to smolder with flames whenever he looked at me. That keen predatory light that was also somehow intensely protective reminded me so much of the creatures that dominated my world.

“Leida?” the masculine voice prompted.

Closing my eyes and snuggling closer to the warmth surrounding me, I answered, “My dragon. I will miss my dragon.”

“Your . . .dragon?” the voice asked.

But I must have dozed off, because I never had the chance to respond. The next thing I was aware of was being placed carefully on a bed. I snuggled into the pillows, sinking into their cool softness. A weight sat next to me and a hand stroked lightly down my cheek. “Sleep well,” he murmured.

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