Chapter Eight

Rhyse

"W hat did you do?" Emma said, her voice little more than a whisper.

Her face had somehow gone even paler as she stared at the scale I'd attached to her to cover the gaping wound. A tentative, shaky hand crossed her body, index finger poised a fraction of an inch over the scale.

I watched as she gathered her courage and tapped the scale. Once. Twice. Three times.

"It's real," she mumbled, head shaking back and forth in tiny movements. But there was no denying the truth of it. Her head whipped back around, eyes flaring with energy. "What have you done to me?"

The pulse of anger in my mind that accompanied her words drew an answering wave as I drew back, frustrated with her attitude.

"What did I do?" I growled. "I did what you asked of me. You were lying there, blood everywhere, your life fading away, and you begged me to save you. You said no matter the consequence. So, I did it. I saved your life."

"I thought you meant an amputation or taking me to a hospital that doesn't accept my insurance. Not … not this!" she exclaimed, fingers sliding over the sapphire blue scale, its surface already growing flexible as it bonded with her.

"You're welcome," I said to nobody in particular since Emma didn't seem keen on thanking me.

"For what?" she glanced back up at me.

"Oh, nothing serious. Just little things. Helping you back on board the boat. Pulling the harpoon out of your shoulder. And saving your life ."

Emma glared at me. I gave it right back.

"Without me doing what I did, you wouldn't be here to get angry at me. So, don't forget that."

Emma rolled her eyes. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have fallen in the first place."

I worked my jaw, trying to batten down my anger even as her temper rose to match.

"This isn't doing us any good," I said. "We're just making each other madder."

"So, stop."

"It's kind of hard when you're entirely ungrateful for having your life saved. And for the record, you're down here because of your own actions. You could have trusted me and come to my house. We would be sitting down, eating food, having some water, whatever . Instead, you're lying in my lap, we're both covered in your blood, and you nearly died!"

"All because of you."

"Then let me just peel that back off. You can go back to dying. Sound good?" I reached for the scale.

She pulled away.

"That's what I thought," I growled, getting to my feet, blood dripping from me in places, clotting into my clothing in others. I was a mess.

Emma was worse.

"You should feel fine soon enough," I told her. "You'll heal fast from it, but you'll need to eat. So, we better find some food."

I turned to go, furious at her attitude, and wondering why the hell I'd bothered to save her? Did she even understand what I'd just done? It seemed unlikely. I should probably have left her to die.

The boat and the docks blurred as I stumbled, grabbing on to the side of the boat for balance as my dragon went absolutely berserk. Thrashing and roaring, it unleashed wave after wave of mental fire into my brain, venting its fury at even suggesting the idea of letting her die.

Emma let out a low groan and grabbed at her head with bloodied hands. "Arghh, what the hell is going on in my head? Make it stop!"

I pointed out to my dragon that its antics were hurting her. Almost immediately, it settled.

Now, what the hell was that all about ? I tried to figure it out, but I was interrupted by Emma before I could make heads or tails of it.

"You weren't kidding," Emma said in awed undertones as she slowly got to her feet.

I watched, ready to jump in as her legs wobbled slightly, but she caught herself and was able to balance.

"How am I on my feet after that?" she touched her blood-soaked clothing. "I'm a mess."

"You had a harpoon go through your shoulder," I pointed out. "That tends to come with the territory."

Emma laughed, surprising us both.

"I'm not even lightheaded anymore." She moved her arm around and winced.

"I wouldn't do too much of that just yet," I advised. "Give it a few more hours to fully heal."

"Hours?" she gaped at me. "This should be months ."

I shrugged, gesturing at her standing on her feet. Another thing she shouldn't have been able to do, given all the blood on the deck around us.

"This is impossible. I feel rested. Energized. Not in this arm, but my legs, my right arm, it all feels stronger , almost."

"Yep," I said. "Now, come on. Let's go. We need to get out of here."

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"Well, for one," I told her, pointing down the docks where a dragon was hurrying toward us, "I don't own this boat, and I think the owner might be a little mad at the mess you made of it."

" I made?" Emma asked dangerously.

"It's not my blood."

She grimaced unhappily. "Fine. Let's go."

I bent my legs and leaped easily to the dock, where I turned around and crouched, extending an arm to Emma.

She started to reach for it, but her left arm stopped shy of parallel with the deck. "I don't think I can grab it," she said.

"Hey, you! Get off my boat!"

I looked over my shoulder at the approaching dragon. "That's what we're doing," I said, then focused my attention back on Emma. "Just give me your right hand. I can lift you up. Come on."

Emma hesitated, glancing around, likely looking for a ladder or another way up.

"I've got you," I said. "Trust me."

Her head snapped back around to focus on me. The same words I'd said before, which she'd ignored. I tried to push the trust through the bond our scales had forged between us—and wouldn't that be fun to navigate—in the hopes she would hurry up.

"Okay. I'm going to trust you."

She stepped up onto the gunwale and gave me her right hand at the same time. I snagged it before she could continue forward into the water and casually hauled her up out of the boat.

Too casually.

Her tiny frame came rocketing up, and I stumbled backward, thrown off-balance. Grunting, I wrapped my other hand around her waist, hauling her in to keep her from falling to the docks.

The instant her body pressed against mine, my dragon once again lost its shit. Heat burned across my skin, warming the both of us in nanoseconds, leaving nothing but warm tingles everywhere.

Apparently, my dragon didn't care that we were both covered in blood. It wanted more, and that was that.

I, on the other hand, was in charge.

"Sorry," I said, setting Emma down, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

"I-it's okay," she said.

I flinched at the husky sound of her words. Had she felt it, too? That connection, that charge, when we touched? Or was it—

"What the fuck you doing to my boat?" A hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

"Remove your hand," I snarled, leaning forward into the owner's face. "Before I remove it for you."

"Oh, a tough guy, are you?"

"Just pissed off." I bared my teeth.

"You broke my harpoon! And your woman bled all over my boat, you clumsy oaf!"

"She is not an oaf!"

"I am not ‘his woman'!"

The combined vehemence of our denials rocked the owner back a step.

"You will repay me for the harpoon," he spat.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Whatever."

"And you will scrub my boat clean, or I'll—"

I started to push past him. Cleaning the boat was easy for a dragon and not something I intended—

The owner put his hand on my shoulder again, stopping me.

I glanced down at my side, meeting Emma's eyes. "One moment, please," I said with a smile.

Then I whirled, slamming my forehead into the bridge of the boat owner's nose. "I told you not to touch me again," I growled.

With a casual push, I sent the reeling fisher dragon tumbling into the drink. Then I leaned over his boat and vomited blue fire from my mouth.

The flame washed over his boat, burning the blood free in seconds.

"There. It's clean."

I started walking away.