Page 94 of Born in Fire
“Dorian.” Caleb’s voice. I’d know it anywhere. But I don’t look away from Juno. Can’t.
“Dorian,” he says again, closer now. Too close. My dragon bristles, not wanting him near her. “Is that—?”
“Yes.” One word. All I can manage.
I sense Elena beside him, her sharp intake of breath telling me she recognizes Juno, too. The plaza has grown quiet, curiousonlookers gathering at a respectful distance. Security hovering uncertainly.
I shift, positioning myself between Juno and the world, one arm still around her shoulders. She leans into me instinctively, though confusion still clouds her eyes.
“This isn’t possible,” Caleb says quietly, for dragon ears only. “We burned her body.”
“Tell that to her,” I growl. I regret my words when Juno makes a small, alarmed sound. I brush my lips over the top of her head, keeping her tucked against me. “It’s okay,” I murmur. “You’re okay.”
Elena steps forward, her gaze clinical but kind. “Juno? What happened?”
Juno studies her face. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
It’s rapidly sinking in that there’s something going on with her. She’s here with me, but not the way she used to be. Something has changed significantly. But I don’t give a fuck. However she’s changed, she’s still here. That’s all that matters.
“We need to get her out of here,” Caleb murmurs, eyeing the growing crowd. “This is too public.”
He’s right. But the thought of letting go of her, even for a second—
“I’m taking her home,” I say. Not a request.
Caleb nods. “We’ll follow later. I’ll handle the publicity angle. Say it was a stunt for the new tech launch.”
I don’t care what he tells them. I guide Juno toward the parking garage, my arm tight around her waist. She’s unsteady on her feet, exhaustion evident in every step.
“Gone,” she whispers suddenly. “He’s gone.”
I freeze. “What?”
“Back there.” Her voice shakes as she looks back over her shoulder. “There was fire, light, and then nothing.”
Is she still afraid of what happened during the attack? Her expression is stricken. I wonder how many of those horrifying moments are embedded in her mind. Does she remember her own death? The thought makes me shudder.
She can’t be dead. She’s here.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, resuming our walk to the car, needing to get her away from this place that already took her from me once. “It’s all over now. They’re gone. The fire is gone. You’re safe now.”
Her eyes widen. “Safe?”
“Yes, Juno.” I open the passenger door of my Jaguar. “No one will hurt you again. I promise.” It’s not an empty promise. I’ll die before I let anything happen to her again.
She slides in, looking small against the leather. I close the door and circle to the driver’s side, my hands shaking as I grip the wheel.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I pull out of the garage, driving with more caution than usual. I have precious cargo.
“Home,” I say. “My place.”
She nods like this makes perfect sense, though nothing else does. Her fingers trace patterns on the window as the city blurs past. Occasionally, she jerks, eyes widening at something only she can see.
“What do you remember?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle. “About before?”
She frowns. “Coffee. I made coffee.” A pause. “And you. Your face. Your voice.” Her hand reaches out, hesitant, then touches my arm. “This is right.”
Something fierce and protective surges through me. “Yes. It is right.” It doesn’t matter to me how many alarm bells should be going off. How I should be asking how any of this could be possible. Thisisright.
