Chapter Eleven

Emma

R hyse hadn't mentioned the second scale. The one on the back of my shoulder. I touched it, again surprised by the pliable nature of something that felt as if it should be extremely rigid. It made sense there would be two. The harpoon had gone through me, leaving entry and exit wounds. I just hadn't thought about it that way.

Until I saw it and the twin on the front of my shoulder.

I showered, taking my time, exploring the scale, trying to find a seam between it and my skin, and failing. It was perfectly adhered. A part of me now as if it had always been that way.

When the water finally ran clear instead of red, I got out and toweled off. At the door, as he'd promised, were some oversized sweats and a t-shirt that wasn't as thick as I'd hoped, making it very clear I wasn't wearing a bra when I put it on. Like the rest of my clothes, my bra, too, was unsalvageable. I would have to go without for now.

"How do you feel?" Rhyse asked as I stepped back into the rear of the house, admiring the view once more.

I covered a yawn and stretched, showing off my range of motion. "Pretty good," I said, lifting both hands above my head.

A surge of something hot came shooting through my mind as Rhyse clenched his jaw, giving me a simple nod in response. Then he looked away.

"Really?" I said, lowering my arms as I was finally able to identify what it was he was feeling.

"Sorry. I just …" He shook his head. "Never mind."

For a moment, I pondered what it was he'd been about to say. The obvious desire as my nipples showed through the shirt was easy to decipher now that I'd felt it, but there had been something else, something more , that he'd been about to say. But what?

I didn't give him much trouble for staring at my boobs. He was hardly the first guy to do so. Being short with large breasts for your frame meant it came with the territory.

And it wasn't as if I hadn't caught myself staring at his arms on more than one occasion. Or admiring the firmness of his stomach when he was carrying me …

Now, I had to cut my thoughts off. I glanced at Rhyse quickly. I thought I saw him erase a smile from his face, but it happened so quickly it was impossible to be sure.

"By the way," he said, gesturing out to the table beyond, "are you hungry?"

"Yes," I said, giving a credible impression of a football linebacker as I shouldered him out of the way in my mad rush to serve myself.

Rhyse had set out an array of fresh sliced meats, cheeses, and all the toppings necessary to fix myself a glorious submarine sandwich.

Or rather, two of them, I decided, piling my plate high and moving to sit down.

"No, we'll go outside," he said, gesturing. "I set up a table so we can eat and enjoy the view before the storm gets here."

"Storm?" I followed his outstretched arm—the one with the wondrously corded muscles—as he pointed.

The clouds I'd noticed earlier had grown thicker and darker on the horizon. They were still a way off, but he was right. It was coming.

We sat down and dug in. Both of us were hungry, clearly. Rhyse had three sandwiches on his plate, each piled higher than mine. I arched an eyebrow, but he just shrugged and ate faster.

"So, you really did save me," I said after finishing my first. "I was going to die back there."

"You nearly did."

"And if it weren't for you, I would have," I said, touching the scale through the t-shirt. "You healed me. Just like that."

"You're doing well with it all," he said, sitting back, with two sandwiches having already disappeared into the maw that was his mouth.

I laughed. Just doing that nearly broke me.

Rhyse frowned as a hint of what was bubbling just beneath the surface managed to escape with the giggle.

"No, I'm not. I'm just trying to keep it together, Rhyse. And minute by minute, I'm failing."

His attention was much more focused now. He leaned over, the last sandwich forgotten as he stared at me with those impossibly green eyes, the ones I never wanted to look away from. For several long seconds, they stared deep into my soul, breaking down barriers I didn't even know I'd erected.

Then, to my shock, he laughed. His head fell back, the shaggy mane of hair bouncing with the hearty belly laugh.

"Excuse me?" I snapped, angry at my feelings being dismissed so easily. "I think it's perfectly reasonable to—"

I stopped. Rhyse was still laughing, but he had raised both hands and was waving them at me to stop.

"What?" I bit the single word off as sharply as I could.

"S-sorry," he said, gathering himself with a mighty shake of his entire upper body. "I'm not laughing at the way you feel about your current ‘put-together-ness,' Emma."

"Then what's so funny?"

"That you think you're doing a bad job." He smiled. "Most people would have absolutely lost it. The things you've been exposed to today would have driven them to the brink and over. You've managed to stop well short of that edge, and yet you're berating yourself for not doing even better."

I frowned.

"I'm serious. We're linked now. Connected." He tapped the side of his head. "Yet not once have you even come close to screaming about ‘the voices in your head.' You've learned what it is and why and begun to accept it. To use it, even, by reading me. Now, that's not to say you're loving it, but you're doing well."

Staying quiet, I took in all he was saying, thinking about it from his angle. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I was being a bit harsh on myself.

"I didn't have much choice," I said. "It was either this or die. So, until I can safely take it off, I'll choose life, thank you."

Something unsettling crossed his face, and I caught a whiff of it through our connection, but a distant rumble of thunder twisted both of our attentions away.

"Can I ask you something?"

He grunted an acknowledgment.

"Why?"

"Why what? There are many things it could be."

"Why did you do this?"

He was quiet. I let him think.

"You were dying. There was no other way to save you."

"And that's it?" I pushed.

"Yes."

He wasn't telling me everything. Again, he was holding something back.

Frustrated, I got up and walked to the edge of the bluffs, staying no more than two feet from the very lip. Far below, waves crashed against the rock, spraying their misty saltwater high into the air before falling back down to do it all over again. An endless dance.

What did I do now?

That was the question I couldn't move past. Rhyse seemed nice. He seemed caring.

So, why was I getting the biggest feeling of déjà vu every time I considered staying with him for the time being? An unconscious warning of sorts.

Damn you, brain. Give me back my memories! What is it you aren't telling me?

Did Rhyse and I have a past? Was this not the first time we'd met, and I just couldn't recall? There had been no clues to indicate that, but there was obviously something unsettling about the current situation.

But he saved my life, and that wasn't an insignificant factor.

Then there was the other question of Where would I go if I didn't stay?

I hadn't come up with a single option when the sea below me suddenly changed. It darkened abruptly and stilled.

"Rhyse? What's goi—"

A coppery blue dragon burst from below the water, wings spread wide as it soared high into the air. Water streamed down its flanks in a glittering display as the terrifying creature rose into the air less than thirty feet away, its belly exposed to me for a horrible eternity. Claws half as long as I was tall were attached to paws tucked tight against the scaled lizard body, a powerful message of the damage such a beast could wreak.

Then it was gone, gliding past high into the air.

I stared after it, trembling.

Fear at the most basic level had coiled itself around my brain stem, digging in deep, rendering me frozen as panic tickled my nerves and turned my stomach upside down.

At some point, I started screaming.

Rhyse was there in a moment. Holding me. Trying to protect me. But doing so pulled my shirt, his shirt, aside, revealing once more the scale. His scale.

Because he was a dragon.

Images of dragons soaring over human cities, unleashing bouts of flame poured into my brain. Buildings exploding as fireballs shattered them. Lines of melted vehicles as streams of flame were vomited forth by the mythical beasts. Screams and cries.

And silence. Eerie, eerie silence. Nothing but the stench of burning.

"Emma! Emma!"

The insistent calling was paired with an impossibly strong sense of concern.

"I can't do this," I whispered, the present abruptly snapping back into focus.

The edge of the bluffs. The sea beyond.

Rhyse's arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me to his chest. Again. It was a position I was winding up in far too often for my own liking.

"Do what?" he asked, still rocking me back and forth.

I caught a glimpse of the scale, his scale , adhered to me.

Squirming out of his grasp, I took several steps away. Looking at him, all I could see was the wave of destruction in my mind. Dragons destroying everything.

"I can't stay here," I said. "With … with dragons. I can't do it. I have to go. I need to leave."

Rhyse frowned. "What happened?"

"I can't remember!" I shouted, fingernails digging into my temples as if the pain might jog more memories. "I just … I just see destruction. Fire. You people destroying everything of mine."

"I didn't have anything to do with that," Rhyse said tightly.

"It doesn't matter!" I shouted. "You're one of them."

The concern trickling through our link was washed away by the red-hot touch of anger.

"You have two options," he said, stiffly moving to the table to gather up the plates. "One, you can either come inside, finish eating, and we'll talk again tomorrow after you've had a chance to sleep."

"And the second?"

Rhyse jerked his head past me. "Have fun heading somewhere else."

I looked behind me to see the storm clouds moving in swiftly. Lightning was flickering in their depths now. It wouldn't be long before the island was awash with rain and wind.

"Damn," I cursed, realizing I had no other option but to stay.

Again, that sense of déjà vu accompanied me as I went inside, choosing the better of two bad options.

I just hoped that whatever my subconscious was trying to tell me, it wasn't too bad.

The déjà vu worsened.