Page 50 of Kenna's Dragon

“I keep thinking…” I say, an unexpected laugh bubbling up in my throat. “How all of this would be so much easier if I hated you. If I really was still angry about the whole kidnapping thing and wanted to make you pay for it.”

A flash of surprise on Blair’s face, but it’s quickly covered by another frown. “Why don’t you?”

What a question. I let out a long breath, thinking.

“Maybe because I know you weren’t actually trying to hurt me that night. And because of the Bureau, too. I had a front-row seat to everything that happened last fall through Nora, and I know another press scandal is the last thing any of us need.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be a martyr and—”

I can’t help it, I laugh. “A martyr? We’re talking about working in the basement for a week and having to deal with some mean tweets, not me being burned at the stake, Blair.”

His frown only deepens, but I press on.

“And because despite everything, I can’t stop myself from coming back again and again,” I murmur. “I think I know why I do, but I can’t quite figure out your reason.”

It’s not a question, exactly, but the words hang in the air between us.

Why?

Why does Blair want me? Why has it been like this since the first time he saw me? Why hasn’t he been able to leave me alone?

“For the same reason as you, ember.” He slides closer on the sofa and takes my drink from my hands to set it aside. “Because there’s something here. Something burning and bright I can’t look away from.”

I watch—frozen and spellbound—as he lifts his hand slowly and curls it around my jaw.

“Do you wish you could?” I ask in a whisper. “Turn away, I mean. Walk away from all of this.”

Just as slowly, he shakes his head.

Unable to keep still, I brush off his hand and stand to walk over to the wall of windows at the side of the room. The sun is setting, and the sky is lit with yellows and golds and pinks.

Though I don’t hear him approach, the back of my neck prickles and a wave of warmth washes over me just before Blair speaks.

“I’m drawn to you, Kenna,” he says as I turn to face him. “I don’t know why, but it’s been that way since the moment I saw you.”

I wish he wouldn’t say it like that. Like thismeanssomething, this wild, undeniable heat between us that’s been there since the beginning.

“That first day at the Bureau you made it pretty clear that there isn’t any kind of… bond between us.”

“Yes,” he says softly. “I did say that.”

“So, we’re not mates. Does that mean we can’t be anything?”

Blair hesitates, eyes flicking back and forth across my face before he answers. “I can’t promise you anything… more than this.”

He doesn’t spell it out, but I know perfectly well what he means.

There’s no real future for us.

Not only because of who he is—the Director of the Bureau, an important, powerful person who would bring a whole lot of trouble down on his head if our relationship was public—but because ofwhathe is.

Blair’s ancient. He’s over 500 years old, and will probably live a thousand more. What’s my own life compared to that? I’ll be cold in my grave while he’s still in the prime of his life.

So this, whateverthisis, it’s temporary. It can’t last. It’ll burn bright and burn out, and now it’s up to me to decide whether I want to run away or let it consume me completely.

God, I know where this ends, don’t I?

A small, whispered warning in the back of my brain reminds me just how much of a mistake this probably is. It’s cold sanity in the burning madness of this whole situation, a harsh reality check that reminds me exactly where it’s going to leave me—miserable and heartbroken and filled with regret.

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