The Protector (Fire's Edge #4) - Abigail Owen Page 0,83

against gravity itself.

The emotional toll was finally breaking her down. No doubt about it.

She was even too tired to maintain her fury beneath all the worry and work burying it down deep. Tineen was at the heart of all of this—them running, the mating. She was sure of that. How the fuck had he convinced the Alliance to give her to him?

He’d been enraged at the way the Alliance had handled the incident with Drake and Cami, and the loss of his Alaz enforcer as a result. They’d all seen his face when that decision was made.

This was all his doing, somehow. Which made him a man to fear. Would he find them here?

Cracking her neck, Lyndi buried her sorrow and worry and everything else. “Come on,” she said to Marin.

Together they left the room and walked toward the large chamber where their new troll friend stayed, drawn by the flickering of fire that reached down the narrow tunnels like welcoming hands greeting her.

She paused at the entrance to the chamber, her brows shooting up. Everyone except those on duty had gathered around a fire lit in the center of the chamber. The smoke, instead of filling the room, drifted lazily upward, as though drawn out through an open chimney flue.

Vilsinn had awoken, taking up one entire side of the fire all by himself. Levi was there, too, watching her across the flames, a light in his eyes not coming from the fire, but from within him. For her. A tenderness that reached out and wrapped around her—soft, beautiful, and fucking terrifying—like making a promise you knew you’d never be able to keep. Only a large part of her wanted to see if she could keep him, and that was what scared her the most.

This man was going to burn her heart into ash.

He grinned suddenly, one side lifting higher than the other, which only made everything worse, and patted the floor beside him. As though she were in a dream, drawn to him despite herself, Lyndi found herself at his side before consciously deciding to move. Instead of letting her sit next to him, he wrapped a hand around her wrist and tugged her around to sit between his bent legs, leaning her back against his chest.

Though they ducked their heads or looked away, each of her boys grinned. Not suggestive grins, like the Huracáns would’ve hit them with, or the embarrassed grins of children watching their parents. The boys were…happy…about her and Levi.

Getting attached not only to him, but to the idea of him and her together.

Oh gods. Why hadn’t she realized until this moment that hers wasn’t the only heart in danger here?

Worry had her moving restlessly against Levi. As though attuned to her thoughts, he lowered his lips to her ear. “Easy min eneste.”

For some stupid reason, she settled. As though her dragon responded to him, curling up in a contented ball, as well as her soul.

Lyndi blew out a frustrated puff of breath. Then closed her eyes and let herself sink into him. Selfish of her. So selfish she was already mentally berating herself. But if she only had a little while longer with him—until tomorrow when he had to leave—then she’d absorb him into herself, so that she could keep the memories of them.

Small consolation, but she’d known all her life this was how it would be if she ever allowed herself to fall for a dragon shifter.

She’d fight harder next time. Leave instead of staying nearby. Though even contemplating a next time set a darkness inside her that tried to swallow her whole. Gods, she was a terrible person. What kind of love was she showing right now, taking advantage of Levi’s goodness when she knew this would end?

Lyndi tried to sit up away from Levi, only to be caught back against him, his arm tightening.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured into her hair.

She shook her head, muscles trembling with the effort to hold herself apart, fighting both him and herself. “I shouldn’t—”

The troll beside them jerked upright, as though shocked with a cattle prod.

“You red eyes,” he said.

Was he looking at her? Hard to read the emotion in the words, few and still unfamiliar in that voice, like she had to listen harder to make out sounds she recognized.

“Um—” She tried to shift her mind from the guilt that had her running to escape the years of empty, aching loneliness she was about to subject herself to because she wasn’t being fair