Fuse by E.L. Todd

Twelve

Cora scarfeddown the roast chicken and potatoes without using any manners. Her elbows were on the table, and she ignored her dinner companions, focused solely on eating everything placed before her.

She’d been living off berries and nuts for weeks. They weren’t allowed to build a fire in the evenings because the smoke would attract unwanted guests, so she always went to bed hungry.

Her water canteen had been empty most of the time, so she’d had to share with Flare, and that small bottle wasn’t enough for a grown woman and man. She finished the chicken leg then wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin. It was once white, but now, it was covered with juice and crumbs.

Bridge stared at her openly, fascinated by the way she devoured everything in seconds. His arms were across his chest, and he was leaning back in his chair, relaxed and poised at the same time. Unlike Flare’s, his chin lacked any hair, and he had a distinct vigor of youth in his features. “Hungry?”

She was too satisfied to be ashamed. “I haven’t had a real meal in a long time.”

Flare ate his food quietly, having superior manners. It didn’t seem like he was starving the way she was. After all, he was eating entire bears and deer along their journey. “She stuck to nuts and berries.”

“No meat?” Bridge asked.

“No fire,” Flare answered.

Bridge refilled his wine and took a deep drink. “So, what brings you two here?”

“We’re both hunted by the Shamans.” Flare left half of his plate untouched like he couldn’t eat another bite, but he downed the wine like it was water.

“How did that happen?” Bridge started to pour another glass of wine, but the bottle was empty. He shook it like that would make more come out.

“Cora was living in her village when she picked a fight with one of them.” Flare had a distinct aristocracy to him. He always held himself with a certain stature, and his calm and collected air was strikingly different from everyone else’s. His confidence was clear in the way he moved.

“I didn’t pick a fight.” Cora tried not to rise to Flare’s taunts. He purposely teased her to provoke a reaction. She needed to learn to seize control and prevent that from happening. “The Shaman cornered a boy in the alley and was doing something…strange to him. He was sucking the life out of him, for lack of a better word.”

“The Soul Suck.” Flare was looking at Bridge as he said it. “Probably low on magic.”

Cora eyed the two men. “They suck souls to refuel their magic?”

“Yep.” Bridge left his chair then opened a cabinet behind him. He pulled out a glass of amber-red scotch. “And I think we need something stronger if we’re going to discuss this.” He plopped down into the chair and poured two glasses, one for himself and one for Flare.

“That’s…” Cora couldn’t think of an accurate reaction to that disturbing news. “What happens to the person whose soul has been sucked?”

“What do you think?” Flare pushed his plate away, officially full. “They die.”

“But…what about the afterlife?” Death was bad enough, but losing your entire soul was worse.

“They probably don’t go there.” Flare took a long drink of the scotch then sucked his inner lip when he felt the burn. “But then again, a lot of people don’t go there anyway.”

“What does that mean?” Every time Cora learned something new, she realized there was a mountain of information she was ignorant to.

“It means what it means.” Flare shook the glass gently and made the liquid dance. “A lot of people don’t go there because they’re evil as hell.”

Bridge stared at the table. “I know I won’t be going there…”

“What did you do?” Cora probably shouldn’t pry, but she couldn’t help it.

Bridge sighed before he spoke. “I was committed to this girl once, but I met this other woman…and I couldn’t help myself. She found out in a brutal way, and I felt pretty terrible afterward. But the worst part is…I really don’t regret it.”

Flare took a drink and chuckled into his glass. “Pig.”

Bridge gave him a playful shove. “You’re one to talk.”

“I don’t remember ever committing to someone.” Flare set the glass down. “Do you?”

“Well…no.” Bridge shrugged.

“My dragon is too picky for something like that.” Flare snatched the bottle from the table and poured more scotch.

“You can drink that much?” Even in Vax, she’d never seen the men drink hard liquor so effortlessly. They’d be passed out by now.

“This is a light day.” His eyes lit up playfully before he took another drink.

Bridge tapped his glass against Flare’s. “We’ve had much worse nights, my friend.”

“You said it.” Flare returned the glass to the table, half of its contents still available.

“What do you mean your dragon is too picky for that?” How did that work? Did they have to make a decision together on everything? Did one being have more control than the other?

“When it comes to romance, both the human and the dragon have to agree.” Flare leaned back in the seat and stared out the window, watching the torches burn across the street. A man guided his horse past the window. “If I commit to someone for a lifetime, my dragon has to approve. If not…that would give me a headache.”

She’d never considered the thought. “That’s interesting.”

“It’s a relationship between three people, not just two.” Flare’s eyes drooped slightly, showing the effect of the alcohol. “It’s a weird ménage à trois.”

Bridge laughed into his glass. “For lack of a better phrase…”

Since the wine was gone, she poured herself a glass of scotch and took a drink.

Both men stared at her in surprise. They were frozen in their positions, neither one of them moving.

“What?” Was she being rude for not asking first?

“I’ve never seen a woman drink scotch.” Flare gave her a quizzical expression.

“Well, we do. Our anatomy is almost identical to yours.” She rolled her eyes before she poured herself another glass.

“You’re going to have more?” Bridge set his glass on the table and watched her with a hanging jaw. “Now you have to marry me.”

Cora laughed before she took another drink. “Flare will be the first one to advise you against that.”

“This woman is a handful.” He leaned toward Bridge. “You don’t want to get involved with that.”

“Maybe I like a handful.” Bridge waggled his eyebrows at her.

Flare nudged him hard in the side, making Bridge gasp aloud. “And a stomachful.”

* * *

Cora was shown to a private guest room with a bed and a washtub. The second she saw the large bed with clean sheets, she almost fell to her knees in joy. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Bridge chuckled. “Honestly, this place is a dump. But thanks for the compliment. Do you need anything else?”

“No.” She approached the bed and felt its softness with her fingertips. “It’s perfect.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” Bridge gave her a playful wink before he walked out and shut the door behind him.

Cora didn’t bother undressing. She pulled back the covers and jumped into the bed, all her muscles screaming in pure joy. Now she didn’t have to lie on the hard ground with nasty bugs crawling all over her. She closed her eyes and released a sigh of happiness.

The door flew open, and Flare walked inside. “Up.”

“No!”

He shut the door behind him then approached the bed. “Come on. I need to look at your cut.”

“It’s fine.” She gripped the pillow tighter, as if that would make Flare go away.

“And I need you to help me with mine. Come on.” He gripped her shoulder and shook her.

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“Don’t lie.” He gave her a smug smile. “You hate me all the time.”

She growled before she sat up. “What do you want me to do?”

“Change my bandages. I can’t reach the ones on my back.”

She didn’t have a choice in the matter. The reason he had wounds at all was because of her. “Okay.”

Flare walked to the table and placed gauze and ointment on the surface. Then he took a seat in the wooden chair and removed his black t-shirt.

“Whoa…” She held up her hand and quickly looked away.

“I know I’m one fine piece of man, but you need to get used to it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Sometimes they had a sense of camaraderie, but then he said something rude and destroyed it.

“Then what do you mean?”

She kept her eyes elsewhere as she walked to the table and grabbed the towel. A pail of warm water was beside it, so she dunked the cloth inside. “Just give me some warning before you get naked in front of me.”

“Get naked?” His eyes contained the laugh that didn’t escape his lips. “Shirtless isn’t the same thing as being naked.”

“Well, I’m not used to it.”

“How is that possible? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a man without a shirt.”

She was embarrassed to admit it out loud, so she concentrated on her work. She pulled the cloth out of the pail and squeezed the excess water from the fabric. Once it was only damp, she set it aside.

“Wow…you’ve never seen a man without a shirt.” He chuckled to himself. “That’s unbelievable.”

“People in my village are more conservative.”

“And boring.” His taunts were getting under her skin. And the smug smile on his lips wasn’t helping.

“Do you want me to help you or not?”

“Yes, please.” He removed the gauze then pivoted his body so she could see the wound along his shoulder blade.

She saw the deep and grotesque cut and actually felt sorry for him. As a dragon, the wound didn’t seem so serious. But as a man, it was much different. The wound hadn’t healed, and fresh blood still leaked out. It was better than it was before but still excruciating. “The pain must be unbearable…” She grabbed the washcloth and began to wipe away the residue.

“I’ve had worse.” He stared at the opposite wall and didn’t tense when she applied pressure to his skin. He didn’t seem affected at all.

She wiped away the dried blood and examined the wound for infection. There wasn’t any pus in the area, so that was a good sign. By the time she was finished, the cloth was ruby red. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine.” If he were in pain, he probably wouldn’t admit it anyway.

She stared at the definition of his back and noted the way his shoulder blades curved toward the center of his spine. Different grooves of muscle protruded out, reminding her of chiseled rock in the mountainside. There was so much detail in his skin. It was a work of art.

“What?” It was one of the rare times when he didn’t sound so confident.

She cleared her throat then grabbed the gauze. “Nothing.” She wrapped the material around his body, crossing it over his ribs on one side and his opposite shoulder. When she touched his dry skin, she noticed how warm it was. She tightened the gauze around his body but inserted two fingers inside the material to make sure it wasn’t cutting off his circulation. “It’s taking a long time to heal.”

“That’s a side effect of dark magic.”

She rinsed the towel in the warm water then drained it. “How are your other cuts doing?”

“They feel better.” He turned in his chair and faced her, the remaining gauze covering the area where his scales had been removed. His prominent chest was directly in her line of sight, along with the tight muscles of his stomach.

Every time she looked at him, she felt uncomfortable. There was something about him that made her feel on edge. Maybe she just needed to accept the fact that different cultures had different ways of doing things. Being shirtless in front of her obviously didn’t bother him the way it bothered her.

Cora removed the bandage and cleaned the reddened area. There were small punctures in his side where the scales had been removed. The protrusions were fairly deep but small in comparison to the dragon. She kneeled down and cleaned the wound.

Flare watched her every move, his eyes boring into her. “How does it look?”

“Honestly, terrible.”

A snort escaped his lips that sounded like a laugh. It was similar to the chuckle he made as a dragon. “Thanks.”

She cleaned the area as best she could before she wrapped the new gauze around this wound. “I’m surprised you haven’t died from losing so much blood.”

“That’s one of the perks of being fused with a dragon. It’s pretty damn hard to kill me.” He touched the gauze with his palm before he pulled his shirt over his head.

Once he was clothed again, her heart slowed down. “What do we do now?”

“What do you mean?” He rose from the chair and towered over her with his height.

“In general. Now that we’re here, what’s our next move?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the pail of bloody water. “Damn, that’s gross.”

“Don’t change the subject.” If he planned to continue this journey with her, he needed to be less secretive. “What do I have to do to gain your trust?”

His eyes didn’t leave the pail. He examined the dirty cloth beside it, his eyes glossing over with deep thoughts. Flare rubbed his bicep absentmindedly. “Nothing.”

“So, you do trust me?”

“No. There’s nothing you can do to gain my trust.” He turned to her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal.”

“Why do you trust Bridge and not me?”

“I’ve known him for much longer.”

“Time isn’t an appropriate measurement. Just because Bridge has been trustworthy in the past doesn’t mean he’ll always be. And just because you haven’t known me for years doesn’t mean I’m deceitful. You really need to reconsider your philosophy. I trust you because I know I can. I trust my instincts.”

“And you shouldn’t.” His voice came out dark, almost threatening. “I’m not a good man, despite what you may think. All you see is what’s on the surface. Underneath flesh and bone, I’m as evil as they come. Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Even with the threat in his voice, she wasn’t scared. “I don’t believe that.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve told you from the beginning what I think of your intellect.”

She wasn’t offended by the words because she knew he didn’t mean them. “Why are you trying to free the dragons if you’re so evil? Why would a man do such a thing?”

“Because.” He met her gaze with a hard look.

“Because why?” she pressed.

He took a step forward, his face practically touching hers. The power of his body spread through the room. He had strength she couldn’t defeat no matter how hard she fought. “All your questions are going to get you killed someday.” His brilliant blue eyes were terrifying, despite their obvious beauty. “I suggest you stop prying and keep your head down. That’s what survivors do.”