Page 61 of The Artist and the Dragon

She shivered. “Not even if it ruins your plans?”

“Hm … I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach leading on some poor woman and having her at my side when I know it could be you. Like I said, I’m not that good of an actor.”

She huffed. “You’re better than you think.”

“Maybe you’re not a good judge of men,” he countered.

“Hey—” She swatted at his chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t fall for a woman who knelt by my side when I was bleeding out while facing down a monster?” He quirked a brow. “Most would have run.”

“Not me,” she whispered.

“Not you.” He held her gaze. Steady and so full of unsaid words.

“I … I thought then that you…” She shook her head. “But then you became so distant, and I wasn’t sure. And I couldn’t…” She pinched her eyes shut, then opened them again. “I couldn’t risk it.”

Malik could taste the panic rising in her like a tang on the breeze. That urge to run, to flee. So, he cupped her cheek, savoring the sharp intake of her breath and the subtle way she leaned into his touch. “Is falling for me so terrible?”

“To care for anyone, to let them in, it’s foolish. Dangerous.” She turned her face away from him, breaking his touch.

“Dangerous.” He reared back as if she’d shoved him. Of all responses, he had not expected that one.

“Yes.” She crossed her arms again and scooted away from him. “Letting someone in, giving them space in your heart, it weakens you.”

If anyone was weak, it wasn’t her. “How so?”

She stared out the window for so long he feared she might not answer, but finally, she turned to him. “When my mother died, it nearly destroyed us.” She sighed, her arms loosening a bit. “Father couldn’t make wise decisions anymore and near ruined us. Adair put all of his focus on one thing. Well, two—war and women. Ceridwen lost herself to music and almost lost that, too. And I…”

He knew. Goddess above, he knew better than most. “You built a wall around yourself.”

She swallowed but nodded. “Look at my sister. She nearly died chasing after the man she loves.” Then, so low he barely heard her, she added, “She might still.”

“Did you go with her?” Malik asked. “When she chased after him?”

Months may have passed, but that morning was still fresh and sharp in his mind. Drystan had left, fled to the capital to try and destroy Rhion all on his own, leaving Ceridwen asleep in his bed. Safe, in his mind. He’d sent for the person he knew she would need upon waking and learning he was gone. Her sister. Malik still couldn’t quite imagine what Bronwyn—what the whole family—must have thought when she was called on early that morning, but the sight of her stalking into the main hall, bundled against the cold but burning with inner fire hot enough to set the manor ablaze, had been awe-inspiring.

How she’d raged at him, snowflakes still caught in her dark hair. It shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it had.

And then she’d learned who he truly was. All the color had drained from her face. But she had not swooned. Never that.

Yet, beyond her fury and disgust, there had been something else, something he tried to convince himself he’d made up—until he saw it again, and again, and again. A sharp desire so elusive most would have missed it.

“You know I did.” She crossed her arms again and looked away. “I couldn’t let her run off to the capital alone. She might have died, and I couldn’t lose her.” Her fists tightened. “Not then, I couldn’t—” She choked up.

Everything about her body language saidstay away, but Malik had a habit of ignoring such warnings. He covered her hand with his, curling his fingers over hers. When she squeezed him in return, it was the sweetest victory.

“Love made my sister do foolish, reckless things. It nearly got us all killed. And if she’d lost Drystan, she never would have recovered, just as he won’t if he loses her. So, you see,” she said, “love breaks people. It can destroy them utterly.” Her fingers gripped his for dear life. “Losing Ceridwen would destroy me, too. I can’t—I can’t lose anyone else.”

“Ah.” He closed the distance between them until her body was pressed against his. “You worry about losing me.”

She sniffed, snapping her head to stare at him. “Of course I do. These accidents … chasing after dragons…”

Something glimmered in her eyes as beams of light from a nearby lamppost poured in—there and gone a moment later. Malik slid his thumb under one of her eyes, but he found no wetness. Then the most unexpected thing had his heart leaping and stalling. Bronwyn laid her head on his shoulder.

He stiffened, then relaxed into her touch, leaning his head in until her hair barely grazed his cheek. Her scent filled his nose.

Despite all that had happened that night, he couldn’t recall ever being quite so content.

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