Page 21 of Ember's Claim
“Are you going to let me feed you your bacon by hand?” he asks, flashing a dangerously hot smirk.
When did I turn to a melty pile of goo for the dragon?
My wolf picks this moment to send a blurry collection of images. It’s dark, and although her eyesight is better than myown, everything is hazy except for Veryn’s face. I can make out the collection of tattoos on his chest and forearm as he squats down, nuzzling his face to hers.
Oh my god.
I think they hung out together while I was asleep or something. When he mentioned the full shift, I thought he was joking or exaggerating.
I’m going to have an exorcism and have you plucked out of my brain if you keep this crap up,I threaten, even though we both know it’s useless.
We’re as trapped together as we’ve always been.
Claim him, or I will, my wolf replies.
Veryn’s head tilts.
I must have missed something while arguing with…myself.
That’s what it boils down to.
“Did you happen to make coffee?” My nose twitches with the scent, so it’s around here somewhere.
I just need to find it and drink about three gallons.
Veryn knows how to cook a delicious breakfast, but something about him feeding me each bite makes everything more intimate.
He carries the dishes over to the sink as my phone rings.
I shove myself out of my chair, unplug it, and answer, since it’s Rogue.
“Hold it just there,” Rogue says.
I snort, because I already know she means the phone. Sometimes her allergy to electricity is humorous, but if that was me, it would drive me insane.
“You’re so high maintenance. Have I told you that lately?” Gemma chuckles. “I could siphon us over there, and we could check if you’re that concerned.” For being sisters and part of a group of quadruplets, the two couldn’t be more different if they tried.
Gemma is easygoing and finds humor in almost anything.
Rogue is high-strung and serious, but she’s a great friend. They both are, actually.
“I mean, we know him,” Rogue says. “But do we reallyknow him? He could have snapped, and she’s tied up in his basement right now. Dragons are notoriously unpredictable.”
“Veryn doesn’t have a basement,” Gemma adds helpfully.
“I do not,” Veryn calls out from the sink.
My face burns as I snort. “I’m fine.”
“Sorry, Veryn. My sister is neurotic and watches too much true crime TV in her downtime,” Gemma says.
“I’m not going to apologize,” Rogue says. “If you’re fine, why didn’t you answer one of the three texts I sent you between last night and now?”
“Yeah, Ember. Why didn’t you answer your friend’s texts?” Veryn laughs, turning back to the sink as I glare daggers at his head.
“Well, I can probably fill you in on what they were doing…” Gemma says with an obnoxious tone to her voice.
“Is this just a welfare check?” I ask, desperately trying to get this phone call back on track.