In Flames - Elise Faber Page 0,18

some self-loathing bullshit. Suz knew she was smart and capable and reasonably pretty, even though she didn’t consider her attractiveness as something that added to her worth. Graham had avoided her—and her in particular—for some unknown reason over the years, and now he was saddled with her, if they both wanted to keep their magic.

Which, of course, they did.

Or at least, she assumed he did.

Because she certainly couldn’t imagine being without her ability to heal. Something inside her would curl up and die.

It—

Fingers on her cheek.

She didn’t jump this time, even though she hadn’t sensed him move. Or maybe she had, but because he was in her mind, it just seemed normal?

It was all so confusing and overwhelming, and she was a woman who didn’t get overwhelmed or confused—or panicked or uncertain—but hell if she didn’t feel all of that in this scenario.

What was she going to do?

“Come on,” Graham said.

“What?” she murmured.

“Your mind is too scattered for you to have any hope of getting more work done tonight,” he said gently then smiled. “But I can keep standing here silently until you decide you’ve had enough.”

“I’ve had enough,” she muttered.

He lifted a brow.

“Of you.”

He grinned, tugged a strand of her hair. “I can be rather annoying.”

She laughed. Despite herself, she laughed. Also, dammit. Because she was trying to be miserable and panicked and she shouldn’t be laughing, not when her life had changed so dramatically in the last couple of hours.

“Come with me,” he asked again, straightening and leaning his hip against her desk, and she couldn’t ignore that she felt the words in her mind as well as heard them aloud.

“I should finish this.”

“You should get some sleep, and then you’ll be able to get through this all that much quicker.”

Suz made a face. “I’m not tired.”

Which wasn’t exactly true. Frankly, she was exhausted, bodily anyway. Her mind was racing, and she knew it wouldn’t stop, even if she was prone on her mattress. Instead, she would spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of all the outstanding charting she had left to do sitting on her chest and making it impossible to get some meaningful rest.

“Fine,” he said. “But come with me anyway.” He shifted closer, the damp earth scent of him reminding her of the forest and how long it had been since she’d hiked.

She missed that.

Being outside. The cool breath of wind on her cheeks. The sun shining down from above. Watching that giant ball of gas set in the distance, the sky trading bright blue for reds and oranges and yellows, and then eventually for navy, for black as the stars overhead made an appearance.

Lately, it had been a combination of too dangerous and too much work for a Rengalla to venture outside the Colony—or outside the shield, anyway.

That shield was made of Bond Magic, a tangle of rainbow-colored threads that their enemy was hard-pressed to penetrate.

But now, their enemy was vanquished.

Or mostly, it seemed.

The last insurgence had been just under three months before. The Dalshie making a take-or-break, no-holds-barred assault on the Rengalla. They’d gotten through the shield, hurt several of their people critically, and then . . . Daughtry. She was just a girl, reed-thin and so damned young. But she had power. And that power had bested their enemy, reduced them to ash, to nothing.

And their people were finally safe.

Or at least, that was what everyone hoped. They’d all been too terrorized for too long to truly let their guard down.

“Suz?”

“It’s not safe.”

Steady gold eyes on hers. “I’ll keep you safe.” A beat. “And we’ll stay inside the shield.”

“It’s late and cold,” she hedged.

A wolfish smile. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“This might be our last chance to avoid the gossip train for a good long while,” he pointed out.

Quite rightfully.

So . . . she caved. It was probably stupid, but he was being so nice, and she’d liked him for so long, and he’d been so good and patient with her work—not to mention he hadn’t freaked out about being part of her baby delivery team.

Well, he had freaked out.

But not about the new life entering the world. Instead, he’d gotten furious about her taking the pain, but she couldn’t exactly call that freaking out.

About the baby anyway.

It was also—and she wouldn’t admit this out loud—nice to have someone focus on her for a change, to want to spend time with her alone. Sometimes she felt like a piece of furniture. A steady hall table, perhaps, a solid