Chapter 2 #2
“This has a name,” Baz said mildly, pouring water into a kettle like we weren't having a whole moment.
“Yes, well, 'Baz' wasn't particularly forthcoming about his intentions until I made it clear that any harm to you would result in consequences he couldn't imagine.” Gary pulled himself up to his full, unimpressive height. “I may be small, but I have friends in low places.”
Baz made a sound that might have been amusement. “The snail threatened me with elaborate revenge scenarios for twenty minutes.”
“Twenty-three minutes and thirteen seconds,” Gary corrected. “And they were promises, not threats.”
Despite everything, I smiled. Then immediately regretted it when the curse interpreted any positive emotion as encouragement and sent another wave of heat through my system. The wooden spoon on the counter started smoking.
Baz moved faster than someone his size should be able to, grabbed the spoon, and dunked it in the sink. The sizzle was embarrassingly loud.
“Control,” he said, not looking at me. “Or I put you outside.”
“She can't control it,” Gary said, surprising me by coming to my defense. “The curse is parasitic. It feeds on her emotions and converts them to magical discharge. Rather clever. The caster wanted her to be more of a walking disaster than she actually is.” He snorted.
Baz turned to study me with those bark-brown eyes. “Who cursed you?”
“My ex.”
“Be more specific. I need to know what kind of magic we're dealing with.”
We. Like he was planning to deal with anything. Like this was his problem now too.
“Dragon,” I admitted reluctantly. “My half-dragon ex-girlfriend who really didn't appreciate me giving a hex to use against her to her current boyfriend.”
His eyebrows went up slightly. “You gave someone a hex to use on a dragon?”
“I didn't know he was her current anything! He hired me to cast a simple separation spell on his 'unstable ex.' Paid triple rate. I needed the money.”
“Let me get this straight. You cast a spell on a dragon without researching the target?”
“I was desperate.”
“You were careless.”
The curse flared hot enough that my hair literally sparked. Complete with tiny flames dancing at the ends.
“Thanks for the hindsight. Super helpful. Muchly appreciated.”
He filled a mug with water and set it in front of me. “Drink.”
I reached for the mug but stopped myself right before coming into direct contact with the handle.
“It's just water. With a minor cooling charm. Unless you want to actually combust, drink.”
I drank. It tasted like wintergreen and was bitter. I felt like my old self almost immediately.
“How long ago?” he asked.
“You said it’s Tuesday? One day.”
“And you've been running since then?”
“Driving. Running. Teleporting very badly. Being passed out for a day. Yeah, sounds about right.”
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. The position did things to his forearms that the curse found very interesting. I focused on Gary instead.
“She'll find you,” Baz said finally. “Dragon curses are homing beacons. The longer you stay in one place, the stronger the signal gets.”
“I know.”
“So, you brought a vengeful dragon to my door.”
“I didn't mean to.”
“Intent doesn't matter. Outcomes do.” He pushed off the counter. “You have two choices. Leave now and fight her when she inevitably finds you. Or stay and prepare for when she arrives.”
“Why would you help me?”
He looked at me for a long moment. Something passed through his expression. Recognition, maybe. Or resignation.
“Because I know what it's like to be hunted,” he said quietly. “And because your familiar’s right. That curse will kill you if you keep running. It's likely designed to escalate until you either face her or burn yourself out.”
“How do you know so much about dragon curses?”
“Same way I know you're about five minutes from another magical surge.” He nodded at my hands, which were starting to glow. “You need grounding. Food. Rest. In that order.”
“I need to leave before I get you killed.”
“Too late for that.” He pulled a cast-iron pan from a hook. “She already knows you're here. Your magical explosion made sure of that. Leaving now just means facing her alone and exhausted.”
The curse pushed against my ribs like it wanted to argue. Or maybe agree. Hard to tell when your emotions were being translated through dragon spite.
“I still don’t get you,” I said. “Why would you risk your life for a complete stranger?”
He cracked eggs into the pan with practiced efficiency. “Because someone helped me once. When I didn't deserve it. When I'd brought nothing but trouble to their door.” The eggs sizzled. “And because that snail of yours is surprisingly persuasive.”
“Too bad you weren’t awake for the full conversation he had with your unconscious body,” Gary said smugly. “Explaining why he had to put the money back in your bra, apologizing for the impropriety, promising he's 'not that kind of man.' Very chivalrous. Very unnecessary. Very awkward.”
Baz's ears turned red, but he didn't deny it.
And that's when I knew I was in trouble. Not from the dragon hunting me. Not from the curse trying to burn me alive from the inside. But from the way my traitorous heart skipped when this grumpy mountain man blushed about getting busted being a softie.
The curse practically cackled with delight.
Shit.
* * *
Baz set a plate in front of me like it might explode. Smart man.
Scrambled eggs. Toast that looked like it was made from homemade bread. Even a dollop of jam that smelled like summer in a jar. My stomach cramped with want, but my hands wouldn't move. Every time I so much as thought about reaching for the fork, sparks danced between the tines.
“It's not poisoned,” Baz said, leaning against the counter at what he probably thought was a safe distance.
“I know that.”
“Then eat.”
“I'm trying.” The fork glowed when I finally forced myself to pick it up. I set it down before it could melt. “I don’t think the curse likes it when I…settle.”
“When you what?” he said with what sounded like an offended huff.
“Feel safe or comfortable. Like, maybe things might be okay for five seconds.” The admission came out bitter somehow. “I dunno, but it seems to interpret any positive emotion related to you in any capacity as a threat to its purpose.”
Gary made a disgusted sound from his perch. “A jealous lover's curse. Designed to keep you miserable and alone until you crawl back, begging for release.”
“Or die trying,” I added cheerfully.
Baz studied me with those unreadable brown eyes. Then he did something unexpected. He pulled out the chair across from me, sat down, and picked up my fork.
“What are you doing?”
He speared some eggs and held the fork out to me. Not to my mouth like I was a child. Just…held it. Offering.
“Take it from me,” he said. “The curse can't punish you for accepting what's freely given by someone else.”
“That's not how curses work.”
“Dragon curses work on possession and intent. You're not taking comfort. I'm giving it.” I eyed him suspiciously, “It’s a technicality. Just try.”
I stared at him, at the fork, and then back again, noticing the patient way he held it steady. As if he had all the time in the world.
“This is ridiculous.”
“This is breakfast.”
Gary laughed. “Oh, I like him. He's got that particular brand of stubborn that might actually survive you for more than ten minutes.”
I grumpily opened my mouth and took a bite.
There were no magical consequences, and my cheeks were on fire, so I took the fork in hand, too embarrassed to keep having him feed me like a defenseless baby. I was more than willing to accept the consequences of the curse rather than face that particular humiliation.
Our fingers brushed for half a second, and I got my wish. The curse went feral. Every light bulb in the kitchen exploded. The windows cracked. The table burst into flames.
What the hell’s up with all these fires? Sheesh.
Baz didn't even flinch. He grabbed a dish towel, smothered the flames with two efficient swipes, and drew a rune in the air that made the broken glass reverse itself, flowing back into the bulbs like water running uphill.
How is he always this prepared?
“Eat your eggs,” he said calmly. “They're getting cold.”
I ate the eggs. They were perfect. I hated them for that.
“So,” Baz said once I'd managed three bites without setting anything else on fire. “Tell me about this ex-girlfriend of yours.”
“Why?”
“Because knowing your enemy is the first rule of survival. And she became my enemy the moment you bled magic all over my land.”
The casual way he said my enemy made something weird happen in my chest. The curse noticed and immediately punished me by making my hair flash through several unfortunate colors before settling on an aggressive magenta mohawk.
“She's my ex, Illanya,” I said, focusing on the plate. “We were together for ten years.”
“Ten years.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “That's a long time to be with a dragon.”
“Half-dragon. Her mother was human. Powerful witch, actually. The dragon side only comes out when she's…” I paused, searching for the right word.
“Possessive?” Gary supplied helpfully. “Territorial? Completely psychotic?”
“Emotional,” I finished. “The dragon side comes out when she's emotional.”
Baz's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted. “And you left her?”
“She left me. Multiple times. But the final breakup was more of a sneak-out-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-go-into-witchy-WITSEC. It was…complicated.”
“It always is with dragons.”
The certainty in his voice made me look up. “You've definitely dealt with dragons before.”
He shrugged, then stood abruptly and walked over to the sink. “It didn't end well.”
“Did they curse you too?”
“No.” He turned on the water, watched it run. “She killed me.”
The words hung in the air like a bad joke waiting for a punchline. But Baz didn't laugh. Didn't elaborate. Just washed the pan with mechanical precision while I tried to process what he'd just said.