Page 40 of A Kiss of Flame

The mage nestled closer to him on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her to turn and face his side. “Happy to be home?” she asked.

Barith opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling. He felt exhausted to the bone after being trapped underground for so long, let alone dealing with the madness that had unfolded over their evening in Kamár, but he was relieved to be back at Ember Hall—with her. “I am,” he replied, tilting his head to look at her. “And I got to keep all my limbs,” he said, wiggling his feet on the table.

Levian rolled her eyes. “I told you I would handle it,” she reminded him.

The dragon huffed a snarked laugh before he took another swig and lay his head back against the cushion, closing his eyes. “Yer lucky I stepped in before ye shot a hole through Deckland,” he grumbled back.

The mage went silent, and when he peeked over, her lips were pursed. “He would have deserved it,” she clipped sourly.

Barith smirked. “The vamp deserved worse,” he agreed.

Take her to bed before your kitten gets herself into real trouble.

The moment the vampire had said it, Barith had sprung into action, knowing Levian would be incensed, and he’d been right. Deckland had said it to provoke her, and it’d made Barith want nothing more than to break the vamp’s nose all over again—and maybe knock out a few of his teeth for good measure. But given the tricky circumstances of their agreement with the Eldreth, he felt it might be best to leave the vampire intact long enough for them to get the Hells out of Kamár.

The vamp’s words still gnawed at him. Barith knew Levian had only been playing with Deckland to get information, but he wondered what they’d discussed and what she might have done to spurn the creature to say such a thing. At first, Barith had been furious with Levian because he’d felt like she was being reckless, which she had been, but to his discomfort, he recognized he’d also been extremely jealous. Which stirred emotions he was far too exhausted to mull presently.

“Do you remember that time you got hexed by that witch stealing baby goats from those villagers?” she said out of nowhere, drawing him out of his hazy thoughts.

Barith chuckled. “Oh, aye. I couldn’t speak a word that didn’t come out as a bloody bleat for weeks. And all because ye used me as a shield.”

Levian scoffed. Barith challenged her by opening one eye and cocking a brow. She pressed her lips together. “I didn’t know she was going to hex you,” she retorted.

He huffed and closed his eye again. “You probably thought she was going to do worse.”

“You also stepped in front of me,” she reminded him.

“You think so?” he replied, though they both knew he had.

Silence stretched, and Barith felt Levian nestle nearer to him, her body heat warming his side. He relaxed deeper into thecushion, the remaining tension he’d held slowly drifting with each passing moment.

“Do you miss Sirus?” she asked him softly, her voice laced with tiredness.

He turned his head to the side and found she was doing the same, one hand tucked under her cheek. “Doyou?” he countered, a bit surprised.

She gave a little shrug. “Normally, he’d be sitting over in that chair watching us get drunk, recounting how we’d nearly gotten ourselves killed,” she said with somber affection.

There were so many close calls. So many adventures. His heart swelled with memories. Soon enough, that’s all he would have. Cherished memories. He did miss Sirus and the three of them working together, but his relationship with the vampire was nowhere near the same as what he had with Levian. Barith didn’t fear losing Sirus. His heart lurched as he let that reality seep into him.

He’d known he would miss Levian. He’d been desperate for this one last adventure with her for old time’s sake and to have a reprieve from the pressures of his family.

Barith realized starkly what he’d really been doing was clinging onto the last tendrils of something slipping away from him. In only a few more days, he would return to the horde, and he would lose her. Would lose this—forever.

As his heart ached, Barith fought the urge to reach up and tuck one of Levian’s loose curls back behind her ear. The mage’s gaze drifted in deep thought, and he was curious about what was on her mind when he had so much on his. “What is it?” he asked.

Levian was drawn out of her thoughts and looked to him. She seemed unsure but asked anyway, “Do you think youcouldlove her? The dragon you’re to mate with?”

Barith’s breath held in his chest at the question, and guilt sloshed in his gut. He wasn’t sure what had prompted her to ask,but it was funny, he realized, that no one else had asked him yet. He let out the breath he held slowly and leaned his head back. “Maybe,” he admitted. Saying it aloud filled him with guilt. Saying it to Levain made it burn that much more. “She is a fine woman, but we aren’t entirely compatible.”

“She’s no nymph, you mean,” the mage teased.

Barith felt a sting at that, too, even though he knew Levian was only trying to be playful. He grunted and looked over at her. She smiled at him and settled her head further into the couch. “Do you not think some of the issue is simply the pressure? The arrangement? I’m sure she’s beautiful if your mother chose her for you.”

He looked up at the ceiling, fiddling with his mug of scotch. “She’s as lovely as bird song, and maybe time will help me get my shite together, but—” he grumbled and downed the rest of his scotch. “I at least want to desire her before we’re to be mated,” he admitted to his shame.

“You don’t desire her?” she asked with seemingly genuine surprise, sipping her scotch. “Not at all?”

He scowled. “No. I’ve had more chemistry with a bloody pillow.”