Chapter Thirty-Four

Emma

I was waiting at the door, arms crossed when Rhyse came through it less than thirty minutes later.

"This is not what I had in mind when I said I needed some time."

Rhyse, who had been looking around the rest of the open rear of the house and not at me, now dropped his gaze onto me.

"I'm aware," he said just a little too sharply for my liking. "Whatever you may think of me, Emma, I am not an idiot."

I tried to roll with the rebuke and not let it get to me. He was right, after all. I just didn't like his tone.

"Then why are you here?"

"For starters, it's my house."

I wondered about the agitation in him. He was doing a good job of not letting it show, but it lurked under the surface, tickling my mind. Something had happened out there.

After he'd gone over the side of the bluffs, our bond had swiftly faded as he'd put distance between us. It was obvious he'd wanted to be far away. Now, it seemed he was recanting his words and unwilling to give me some time to adjust to—

"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked as he grabbed a duffel bag from a nearby closet and started to put things in it.

My things. I didn't have much, but thanks to Killian's efforts, everything was scattered everywhere. Now, Rhyse was searching through it all for the few pieces of clothing I owned, along with a seashell I'd picked up during one of the walks along the beach. He added some nonperishable food as well before stuffing in some towels and a book I'd been reading from his little library.

"Are you seriously kicking me out?" I snapped. "After all you and your people have done to me, that's it? ‘Get out and thanks for all the fish'?"

Rhyse blinked. "Fish?"

"Never mind. Listen, can we just talk about this for a moment?" I asked, trying to get in his way, to slow him down. "I don't think I deserve to be kicked to the streets."

"You're not," he said, kicking aside the broken pieces of his coffee table. "But we don't have time to talk about it."

I glanced at the door. "Why? Are we in danger?"

"I don't think so." He shrugged. "Although, I suppose anything is possible."

"You're lying to me," I said.

He paused his search, looking at me then his house. Then me. Then his house. His ransacked house. "There's always the potential for danger, Emma."

"I feel like that potential goes up if I'm living on the streets of a dragon town where I don't know a damn soul!"

"You really don't like listening to me, do you?" he grumped, finally happy with everything in the bag. He zipped it up and thrust it at me. "Come on. It's time to go."

"I don't want to leave." Why did he so suddenly want me out? I hadn't even begun to think about what I would do with my life now that I knew everything and had all my memories.

Going home didn't seem like much of an option. The country was still under dragon occupation. How would that be any different than life here? At least here I had Rhyse. Whatever we were, there was a link between us that couldn't be broken. It was complicated, hence my request for time to think.

Now he was trying to get rid of me? It was a rejection I hadn't seen coming. As far as I'd thought, Rhyse wanted me to stay.

Apparently, I didn't know him as well as I'd thought. He'd kept this from me without a hint. Any hint. Now, he was agitated. Unsure.

So, why, underneath the turmoil boiling in his mind, was I able to detect a current of protectiveness. It made no sense.

"Rhyse." I stood my ground, ceasing to follow him around the house. "Tell me what's going on."

He sized me up, arching an eyebrow at my stance but nothing more. "You're going home. That's what's going on. But we have to go now. Time is running out."

Home?

I drew in a breath, taking my time, using those seconds to try to organize my thoughts.

"No time for hesitation, Emma. The ship leaves in forty minutes, and you need to be on it."

Rhyse put a hand on my back and propelled me toward the door. I sort of stumbled along. Home? What did that mean. Where would I go? Back to Maine wasn't an option. The entire state, as far as I was aware, was under dragon control. My house might still stand, given the remote nature and tiny size of Caledon, but living there was out of the question.

So, where would I go? Mom and Dad were dead. I was an only child. There was nothing left for me there.

Unless Rhyse meant the refugee camp. And Bob.

"Rhyse," I said as he hurried me outside and toward the path that led down to the village and docks. "Rhyse, wait."

"It takes twenty minutes to get to town," he said. "Rikell doesn't have any sort of set schedule. He comes and goes when he feels like it. That's cutting it entirely too close."

"So, send me off tomorrow," I suggested, trying to prod at him, see why he was suddenly so insistent.

"Rikell doesn't run a ferry service. He's a trader. He generally goes once every week at most. Now, let's go. I need to get down there in time to make arrangements and apologize."

He strode off, leaving me to hurry along after him. "Apologize? What do you need to apologize to him for?"

I felt the wince even if I could only see the back of his head. "You know the boat I set on fire the first day we met? It may be that it belongs to his brother."

"Peachy," I muttered, shaking my head. "Great. And you're going to trust him to get me safely to … where?"

"The Florida Keys."

"Florida? Rhyse, I don't know anyone in Florida! What the hell am I supposed to do there?"

He shrugged—but the indifference on the outside was wildly different from the inner turmoil he was trying so desperately to hide. "I'm not sure. There's $20,000 in cash in there and a few bits of gold and gems Killian missed. That should be enough for you to figure it out."

"What about this?" I asked, tapping my scale as I finally caught up to him. My scale? His scale on my body. "This link isn't going away."

"I know," he said. "But you are."

"What the hell happened in the last thirty minutes?" I asked him. "What changed?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying to me."

"I'm just trying to do the right thing, okay? Help me out here," he growled, not meeting my eyes.

To my shock, that rang true with an emphatic clarity. Rhyse genuinely believed that by sending me back, he was doing right by me.

So, what did that mean? Did I want to go home but didn't know it? Would I be happy to never see him again?

I ran a finger over the scale, touching the firm but flexible surface, so unlike skin yet moving in the same manner. Everything had changed the second Rhyse put it on me though I hadn't known it. Even now, I doubted I truly understood the fullness of the impact it would have over time.

"Come on," Rhyse said. "It's time for you to go."

I followed but not without a hint of reluctance. It would be a lie to say I had any idea of what I wanted to do. There were too many unanswered questions, things I just didn't know.

Rhyse, however, was apparently making up my mind for me.