Chapter 39
KENNA
S he let Tarian drive, as their path wove up into the Santa Cruz mountains.
He’d wanted to fly, but she didn’t think his dragon would be wieldy through the redwoods—and besides, the mountains had burned more than once before, she would feel awful if he used his fire and five different small towns went up like a tinderbox.
Whether or not she could live with the alternative—Sarah suffering because of knowing her—was something she wasn’t ready to face. Rocky was sitting on her lap, and she was petting him with her free hand, trying to stay calm.
“The road curves to the right,” she said, and Tarian followed her directions, as they kept going higher.
They were past the places where she’d gone hiking now, up into the deep woods, and of course it’d occurred to her that whomever they were dueling could be playing them, too, toying with Sarah’s phone just like Tarian had their tracker.
But she didn’t feel like they had a choice—and neither did Tarian, or they wouldn’t be here.
“Thank you,” she said, looping one of his hands with her own.
He glanced over at her briefly, before returning his eyes to the road. “Of course.”
She hadn’t broached any of the things she’d said last night again—about them being one-and-done—mostly she needed him now, and also it felt impossible.
Somewhere along the way of him claiming her—because that’s what it had been, his mouth ravenous against her skin, the way he needed to sink into her, as if to save his life—she’d gone past overwhelmed and literally become entwined.
Not just with his limbs, and his lust, but something inside her soul had reached out and met his, and while she still wasn’t his Seris, she wanted to be with him, just as badly as he wanted to be with her.
He looked over at her again. “I love you,” he said simply, before turning his face back to the road.
She gawked at him, feeling a strange combination of mortified and weightless.
“You were thinking it,” he said. “So—I love you. Too. I always have.”
And he reached over and placed a hand on her thigh, giving her a tender squeeze, before returning it to the steering wheel because it was a matter of safety, and she knew to him hers was paramount.
“Just because I know it, though, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to hear it back,” he went on, glancing sideways again, catching her staring.
And as crazy as it felt to say it aloud, she couldn’t help herself. “Fine. I love you,” she said, first with playful spite, and then again for real, with a single caveat. “I love you—even though I hate it when you’re right.”
That made him laugh. He looked over at her again, his joy shimmering in his eyes, and she felt like somehow loving him had made her brand new, inside and out, in a good way—then her phone buzzed in her hand.
“Turn left?” she asked—and he pulled their vehicle off road.