Page 132 of The Last Dragon
“Nothing,” I say softly, looking at her.
She smiles. “You’re staring.”
“I know.” I blink.
She furrows her brow as she dabs the paste onto my skin, every motion precise. I watch her as she concentrates, then lower my eyes to her parted lips. She presses them together now and then, unconsciously, like focus has taken hold of every inch of her. I want to pull her close. Desperately. At this point—painfully.
I can’t.
“You would’ve made a great Medic,” I say at last.
She pauses, hand still against my head, and our eyes lock. For a moment, neither of us moves. We’re close—too close—and I can feel the heat rolling off her skin. I draw in a breath. My eyes trace further down her neck, her red, fiery hair hugging it like a warm shawl. I want nothing more than to reach for her.
But I can’t. Not with the venom. Not when I know what it will do to her when I’m gone. I try to shut the feelings off, to prevent them from taking control once again. But the more I do, the more it stings.Agonizing.
Why?
Why is this so hard?
“All done,” she says. I roll down my sleeve, my cold fingers brushing against the harsh skin—nothing compared to the warmth of hers. Perhaps when this is over, when all of it is said and done, I can start chasing what I want. I can start fighting and living for joy. With the little time that I have.
“Thank you,” is all I can say. She offers a soft smile, and my eyes trace back to her lips. And it’s like the world narrows down to the feeling of her lips on mine.
I catch myself staring again. I can feel her breath mingling with mine. I can hear her heart pound. I can feel the air leave my lungs. I can nearly taste her lips.
But I pull away. A disappointed sound escapes her, and I dare to meet her gaze. She blinks. Once. Twice.
“I can’t,” I say, and those words burn in my throat. Burn my lungs as they leave me. Words I never wanted to say. But words I have to say. Words that are true.
“I can’t,” I repeat. Her lip trembles. I cannot believe I’m breaking her heart. My heart is breaking too.
“Do you fear… love?” She asks, pain lacing her voice.
I look at her before my head drops. Even if I could have love. Even if it’s what I truly want. The dark veins are a reminder that being human is not possible for someone like me.
“It’s not love that I fear,” I say, swallowing hard. “It’s being loved when I’m no longerhere…”
She shakes her head, trying to puzzle out my words.
“The pain,” I continue. “Why would I ever make anyone go through that?”
“That’s not—”
“I cannot do that to you,” I say. Her eyes never leave mine.
“You already are.”
The words hit harder than I expected. “Nida,” I whisper, my hands reaching for her face. My eyes stray to her lips, and I gasp for air that feels so light. How can I make her understand? Why can’t I just make her understand? I take a breath, stopping at the moment as my stomach twists.
But who should I really be trying to convince?Should I try to convince her—that she shouldn’t love me? Or myself—that maybe I’m worth loving after all. Maybe I’m the only one who never believed she could. Maybe she could. Maybe I can. I draw nearer, closer, consumed by the swirling feeling in my gut, the longing. It’s like something is breaking inside of me—breakingoutof me. I feel her warm breath on mine.
Inches.
Inches away.
A thunderous bang rattles the walls, throwing me off—followed by loud clashes of soldiers’ shouts and citizens’ screams outside of our room. A familiar grunt cuts through—then a sickening thud. Valous.
“Where is he?” Berim’s voice booms. “Where’s Aaran?”
