Page 28 of House of Ashes
Gods damn it, but I was sick of him trying to stuff food into me. I snarled at him, the sound ripping out of my throat. “I know how to eat without instruction, Rhylan!”
“You need to eat more,” he snapped back, eyes blazing. “We only have so much time.”
“Is this because you feel guilty?” I asked, grabbing the sandwich and biting into it viciously. “Developing a control complex over my food habits is not going to make up for anything.”
It was delicious. Someone had spiced the chicken filling. I took another bite to be sure—yes. It was utterly delightful.
Rhylan rubbed his temple, glaring at me mutinously. Then he exhaled, settling back in his seat. “Our peace didn’t last long, did it?”
“I think we lasted ten minutes. That’s better than yesterday.”
He closed his eyes, still rubbing his forehead. I wondered if he had a headache from dealing with me; it seemed likely, as neither of us could keep our tempers with each other.
“Forget riding without the mind-speech,” I said with a bitter laugh, wrapping my arms around myself. “How are we going to pretend to like each other? Nobody will believe it.”
He opened his eyes, the dark pupils contracting in all that blue.
“Like this.”
I had no time to protest before he rose from his chair, crossing the two steps to me in a heartbeat. He gripped my wrist, breaking my crossed arms, and laced his rough fingers through mine.
He smelled rich and warm, the scent of mouthwatering spices and woodsmoke. I breathed in deeply before I could stop myself, frozen in place in the chair and terrified that the slightest movement would bring us closer.
Rhylan bent down, brushing a strand of hair back from my face. He tucked it behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek.
I gazed up into smoldering eyes, my heart threatening to hammer its way out of my chest. My lungs were locked up.
It was like all my silly adolescent dreams coming true. My fingers were shaking so hard I balled my fist in my lap.
“I have to make arrangements with the Eyrie-Master now,” he breathed, running his thumb along the too-sharp line of my jaw. “But I’ll count the minutes until we’re together again.”
His lips brushed my forehead in a butterfly’s kiss, so soft and light. The firelight caught the hollow of his throat, limning his golden skin like it was burnished.
I wanted to taste that smooth hollow, catch the flavor of his skin on my tongue and engrave it into my memory.
He sent you to Mistward, Sera. He did that to you.
Before I could recoil, Rhylan’s thumb slid over my lower lip. “Eat it all up, love,” he breathed with a wink, and straightened up.
He’d left me literally breathless, the bastard.
But then the playful gleam in his eyes died, the planes of his face hardening. The flames in his eyes withered, becoming icy stone. “That is how we pretend.”
I realized I was still frozen, my heart working overtime to compensate for the rest of me.
He was gone before I could gather myself. I balled my fists, hating him, hating myself, hating that I was draga and could not help but respond to a dragon.
Especially that particular dragon.
Nilsa silently handed me a bowl of peaches and cream, offering a spoon alongside the dish.
Erebos let out a loud, overly energetic yawn and shifted in place, his head rising from the coils of his body. Chains clinked as he affected a cat-like stretch.
“I would believe it,” he said slyly, and I watched as the massive dragon melted into the shadows, becoming part of the eyrie again.
“Nobody asked you,” I muttered when he was gone. Nobody would talk back to an Ascendant in their own home, but my nerves were frayed.
The only reply I got was a wicked laugh from the walls that shook the entire room.