“Because you’re putting meaning into the gesture that just isn’t there,” I said. “I already feel so caged in this place. Don’t cage me more because you’re jealous.”
“I can’t change how I feel.”
I briefly closed my eyes, struggling to control my temper.
“You can change it by trusting that what I feel for you I have never, and will never, feel for anyone else. You’re choosing not to trust.” I lifted my gaze to glare at him. The sight of his angry, red face pushed me too far.
When I opened my mouth, it wasn’t my voice that echoed around us; it was my fury.
“Leave now, Oanen Allister Quill, before I pluck the wings from your back.”
His wings erupted and wrapped around me at the same time as his arms.
“Take them,” he said fiercely against my ear. “They’re yours, like my heart.”
His words penetrated the rage boiling in my mind.
“I’m sorry I doubted you, Megan. I won’t make that mistake again.”
I slowly exhaled in relief and hugged him in return. He winced slightly, and I immediately pulled back. It wasn’t until that moment that I noticed the acrid smell of burnt feathers and scorched grass.
All the things I’d blocked out in my fit of temper hit me hard. I took a stumbling step back when I caught sight of his singed wings and the blisters on his chest and arms. His face wasn’t angry red, just burnt red. Each retreating step crunched as I backed out of the blackened circle of grass around us. I’d done that. All of it.
“It’s okay, Megan,” he said, not trying to follow me. “I’m fine. Breathe. Just breathe.”
I realized I was panting for air and stopped walking to brace my hands on my knees. I forced myself to take several slow, deep breaths. I started to shake. What the fuck was wrong with me? Who got that mad over a jealous boyfriend?
“I should have let you think that hug was something it wasn’t,” I said. “You would have been safe then.”
A hand settled on my head.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
I continued to just breathe as he ran his fingers over my hair. After a few minutes, the shaking stopped.
“I can’t keep going like this,” I said. “I need answers.”
“Let me go inside and grab some pants, then we can go to my parents.”
I nodded, not looking up.
A moment later, the porch door banged shut. I stood and stared at the damage I’d caused. Burned patches in the shape of footprints started near the back door and disappeared into the circle of blackened grass. The edges still smoldered, and wisps of smoke continued to rise up in the air. Inside the circle, twin patches of fall, brown-green grass in the shape of Oanen’s feet remained untouched.
Turning away from the ravaged yard, I walked into the house. Water ran in the bathroom. While I waited for Oanen to reappear, I finished cleaning up the kitchen. By the time the bathroom door opened, I sat at the table.
When Oanen entered the kitchen, he wasn’t wearing jeans but a pair of loose shorts I hadn’t even known he’d left here. I understood the choice, though. All his exposed skin looked far too red. Some of it had blistered. Some of it had blackened and peeled.
I swallowed hard and averted my gaze, struggling with my guilt.
“All the burns in the world wouldn’t come close to causing the pain I felt when I thought I’d lost you,” he said.
I shook my head, unable to speak. He crossed the room and stood in front of me. Without a word, he held out his hand. I knew it was more than an offer to stand. He was asking for trust, just like I’d asked of him. I did trust him. But, could I trust myself? Both Oanen and Fenris thought I should. Yet, the blistered palm held out to me begged otherwise.
I looked up at him.
“Why me?”
He studied me for a long moment, then his lips twitched slightly.
“Because you got my attention when no other girl could.”
“I hit you in the face.”
“You did. And after that, I couldn’t look away. It’s you, Megan. Always.”
He crooked his fingers to draw my attention to the hand he still held out. Heart aching, I clasped his hand gently and stood. I stared up into his beautiful blue eyes and felt myself start to cry. Our fascination with each other was going to get him killed.
“Don’t,” he said, stepping into my space. He released my hand and cupped my face, his thumb brushing away the tear that spilled over.
His lips gently settled over mine, a light caress of shared anguish.
“We’ll get through this. I promise,” he whispered against my lips.
I nodded and stepped back, too afraid that I’d accidentally hurt him more.
“I’ll drive you home,” I said.
He followed me out of the house. Instead of letting him open my car door for me, I opened his and watched him closely as he eased himself inside. He masked his pain well, but I knew it was there in the way he didn’t fully relax into the seat and the way his expression didn’t change at all.
I tried to emulate him as I got in behind the wheel and kept all my worry from my face. When he reached over and put his hand on my leg, I knew I wasn’t doing as good of a job at hiding what I felt as he was.
“What are your parents going to think?” I asked once we were on the road.
“Hopefully, that it’s time to tell us whatever they know about furies.”
Unwilling to steal his hope with my doubt, I said nothing; and the rest of the car ride progressed in silence.
Mr. and Mrs. Quill both waited by the door when I pulled up before their home. I parked the car and got out quickly, meaning to help Oanen, but he opened his door and stood before I could reach him. His mother’s face paled at the sight of him, and her gaze immediately flicked to me. I could feel myself growing warm with my climbing anger. None of this would have happened if Adira would have just explained what I was.
Oanen reached out and threaded his fingers through mine. With a gentle tug, he led me to his parents.
“You have blood on your cheek. Are you all right, Megan?” Mrs. Quill asked.
I frowned and wiped at my cheek while wondering why she was asking about me and not Oanen.
“She’s okay, Mom. She was crying,” Oanen said.
“Blood tears? Already?” she said, sounding worried.
My gaze pinned hers.
“You knew I’d cry blood? What else do you know?”
She was already slowly shaking her head.
“Please,” I begged. “Look at Oanen. I don’t want to hurt him like that again.”
Her compassionate gaze held mine for a moment before she waved us in.
“Let’s talk inside,” Mr. Quill said.
Oanen waited for me to go first then hung back to walk with his father, who I heard ask, “How bad are the wings?” Oanen didn’t answer.
“Let’s go to the study while Oanen cleans himself up,” Mrs. Quill said.
No steps echoed ours on the stairs, and when I glanced back, there was no sign of Oanen or his father.
“Oanen will be just fine,” Mrs. Quill said softly.
“This time, maybe,” I said, continuing up the stairs. “But what about next time?”
“Are you so sure there will be a next time?” she asked.
“Since I have no clue what’s happening, that means I have no control. No hope of stopping it. And, Oanen refuses to stay away. So, yeah, I’m pretty sure there will be a next time.”
I walked into the study first but stopped short at the sight of Adira.
“You are only partially correct,” she said. “You do know what’s happening. You’re coming into your fury powers. You cry blood, and you can generate enough heat to burn things or people. And you’re unable to control it. Yet. However, your lack of control has nothing to do with your lack of knowledge about what you will become. You lack control because you aren’t spending the time to learn who you are now.”
I stared at her for two heartbeats. Annoyance crawled under my skin, but no rage. Not yet.
“You know, for a guidance counselor, you do very little guiding. I don’t need your bullshit answers right now. I need your help. And if you’re not willing to give it, fine. Let me leave so I can find my mom. She owes me an explanation.”