Rogue (Talon 2) - Page 30/95

Garret winced and had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and the anger vanished as quickly as it had come. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I owe you my life, and I’m glad you came for me. I just…” He paused, uncertainty creeping into his voice and stance. “I’m not entirely sure why.”

“Why?” I cocked my head, peering down at him. “What do you mean, you don’t know why? The answer should be obvious.”

Hope rippled across his features, so fast I might’ve imagined it. Though his voice remained neutral. “I’m a soldier of St. George,” he insisted. “All my life, I believed what the Order believed. I followed the tenets, and I killed when they told me to, what they told me to, without question. Every single time.” He looked away for a brief moment, eyes darkening. “You know what I’ve done,” he murmured, staring at the wall. “You know what I am. Why would you risk your life to save a dragonslayer?”

A lump rose to my throat. “You weren’t a soldier of St. George to me.” The words came out a near whisper, and I swallowed hard. “Not in Crescent Beach. I never hated you, Garret. Even after…that night.” The night he’d pointed a gun at my face, and I’d seen what he really was for the very first time. The night we’d inevitably turned on each other, because what else could we be except lifelong enemies? A soldier of St. George and a dragon. “And after what happened with Lilith, I couldn’t leave you to die. Even if it was the Order, I wasn’t going to let them kill you.”

Garret still wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the far wall as if he couldn’t bear to see a huge reptile standing beside him instead of a girl, and my heart sank. “So, what now?” I asked softly. “Are we enemies, Garret? Do you hate me for being a dragon?”

“No!” He looked over quickly, his face earnest. “I could never hate you, Ember. If anything, I should be asking you that question. If you really knew what I’ve done…” He sighed, bowing his head. “But no. I’m not your enemy. You risked your life when you went into St. George, you and Riley both. I’m in your debt.”

I sat down, curling my tail around my legs as I gave the former dragonslayer an exasperated snort. “Yes, well, for future reference,” I said, thumping the spade-tip of my tail against the ground, “when someone decides to save your life, for whatever reason, the proper response is thank you. Guilt and groveling optional but highly encouraged.”

A tiny chuckle escaped him then, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Point taken,” he murmured, the hint of a smile finally crossing his face. “Would you like the groveling done now or later?”

“Oh, later. Definitely later. When I can get comfortable and enjoy it for a few hours.”

“Hours, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.” He shook his head, meeting my gaze. “Thank you for coming after me,” he said, quite serious now. “You didn’t have to, but I’m grateful you did. I wasn’t…quite as ready to die as I thought.”

I nodded. The haunted look had not quite left him, but it was a start. At least he was talking to me like a normal person again and not walking on eggshells around “the dragon.” For now, it was enough. “So, where is everyone?” I asked, gazing around. Garret nodded out the door.

“Riley was sleeping in his room, last I saw” was the answer. “Wes left a few minutes ago for supplies. The three of us have been taking watch in turns since we got here. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up before we decide where to go next.”

“Where are we, anyway?”

“Vegas,” replied a new voice from the door.

I craned my neck around to look back. Riley stood in the frame, his gold eyes intense as they met mine. He wore ripped jeans and a black T-shirt, and looked strange without his ever-present jacket. His dark hair was mussed and shaggy, his clothes rumpled. Half circles crouched beneath his lids, as if he hadn’t slept in a while.

I forced a weak grin, even as my senses flared to life, sending heat through my veins. “Hey, you. I’m up.”

“Dammit, Ember.” Riley entered into the room and, without hesitation, strode to my side. Garret drew back, melting into the corner as the other drew close. Riley’s hand came to rest on my neck, a searing spot of warmth even through my scales. “Are you all right?” he asked, his gaze flicking to my ribs, where the bullet had pierced through. “Why didn’t you tell me you were awake?”

“It was on my to-do list.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, skin to scales. “Don’t scare me like that, Firebrand,” he whispered, as my stomach danced and my wings fluttered restlessly. “If you had died, I don’t know what I’d have done, but it would probably involve eating that St. George bastard over there.”

“That’s not very reasonable,” I whispered back, knowing that Garret could hear us, and Riley probably didn’t care if he did. “Then all our scheming against St. George would’ve been for nothing.”

He snorted and drew back, rolling his eyes. “Have you eaten yet?” he muttered, an exasperated smile crossing his face. “You were out for three days. I imagine you’re probably starving right now.”

Food. I was suddenly ravenous, like a bear coming out of winter hibernation: skinny, starving and cranky. Food sounded wonderful. In fact, nothing else mattered right now except food. Riley chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. There’s pizza in the fridge and— Whoa, hold on, Firebrand.” He put his hands out, stopping me as I pressed forward. Impatient, I glared at him, and he smirked. “No dragons in the kitchen. The neighbors would have a fit.” I blinked, remembering that I was still in the form that wasn’t supposed to exist in normal society. The one that would cause a panic if seen. I repressed a sigh. It felt so natural to be in my real body again; I was reluctant to Shift back.

“Your clothes are in the dresser behind you,” Riley said. “Get changed, and meet us when you’re human again.” His smile faded, a darker note creeping into his voice. “There are things we have to discuss.”

Riley

Ember exhaled, sending tendrils of smoke curling around me, and turned away, padding toward the dresser in the corner. I watched her a moment, the sweep of her neck and wings, the way the narrow bars of sunlight glinted off her crimson scales. The urge to Shift was almost painful, burning my lungs and making the air taste like ash. I turned away before it got too tempting and jerked my head at the soldier, motioning him out of the room.