Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(27)

Valmont whistled. “Very nice. I don’t think I could manage that.”

Bryn wiped sweat from her brow and struck a pose. “I’m a badass.”

He laughed. “Yes, you are. Want something to drink?”

“Sure.”

Back in the kitchen, he showed her the proper way to wipe down a sword. Then they sat at the kitchen table drinking iced tea. Valmont kept her amused with stories about his family.

“Your grandmother did not threaten your grandfather with a meat cleaver over a bottle of olive oil.” Bryn laughed.

“Yes, she did.” He grinned. “Never mess with an Italian woman’s pantry. Things will turn ugly.”

Time flew too quickly. Bryn frowned as she glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to nine. “I should go.”

“Let me drive you.” Valmont pulled the keys from his pocket.

“I can fly back,” she said.

“You could. But then I’d worry about you.” He stood. “Come on. It’ll take less time if you don’t argue.”

Why am I arguing? If she could hold on to the happy feeling she had around Valmont, life would be so much better. On the ride back to the institute, she willed her good mood to continue. The warm feeling drained away as soon as she stepped foot on campus. Valmont walked her to her dorm with his arm around her shoulders.

When they were within ten feet of her door, she spotted Zavien coming down the sidewalk returning from Stagecraft.

Zavien stalked forward; a deep, rumbling growl came from his throat.

Valmont chuckled. “If seeing her with someone else upsets you, maybe you should’ve treated her better.”

Bryn held her breath as she waited for him to respond. The scent of ozone filling the air meant Zavien was battling for control of his breath weapon—which for Black dragons was lightning. The fact that he was disturbed enough to become unstable meant he cared, right?

“Figure out your apology yet?” Bryn asked.

“What do you want me to say? You know how I feel about Valmont.”

Flames banked in Bryn’s chest. “I know you’re jealous of him.” Smoke drifted from her lips. “How do you feel about me?”





Chapter Twelve


“You know I—” Half a dozen students came around the corner of the building, and Zavien snapped his mouth shut.

Oh no he didn’t. “What? Now you won’t talk to me in public?”

Zavien met her gaze, turned away and entered the dorm.

He would not leave her hanging like this. Damn it. She lurched forward to grab his arm. Valmont’s hand anchored her to the sidewalk. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“He needs to be the one chasing after you, not the other way around.”

A low growl escaped her throat. Her knight made sense, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

…

Over the next several days, Bryn caught fleeting glances of Zavien. Whenever she came near, he stormed in the other direction. To take her mind off the cowardly jackass, she decided to start on one of her papers for history class. She could write the papers about anything she wanted, so why not research the time before the Directorate took over? There had to be other hybrids back then. If the folktales she heard were true, the whole point of the arranged marriages was to force dragons to marry within Clans to keep certain powers from coming to light.

If there was even one hybrid who had married and had kids and their kids had kids, then there must be some hybrids still walking around somewhere. Right? According to the folktales she’d heard, Wraith Nightshade had been the most powerful hybrid. He had wielded some sort of mind control or super-charisma. Countless kingdoms had fallen to his charm or his sword. Eventually, his wife had betrayed him and his reign had ended. Why did she do that? If Wraith had been like Ferrin, that would explain it.

After spending several hours in the library, all she had was a bunch of theories and no proof. If there were any records that Wraith had truly existed, they must be kept behind locked doors.

…

By Friday evening, Bryn’s anger toward Zavien had transformed into a slow, boiling fury.

Armed with a plate piled high with chicken fingers and fries, she joined Clint and Ivy at their usual table in the dining hall.

Ivy snagged a french fry from her plate. “You look like a volcano ready to blow.”

Fair description. “So far I’ve come up with six ways to kill Zavien and make it look like an accident.”

Clint reached across the table and confiscated her butter knife. “Rather than commit murder, why don’t you talk to him?”

He could keep the knife. At this point she could kill Zavien with her bare hands. “I’ve tried. The coward keeps running away.”

“We could help you corner him somewhere,” Ivy said.

“When you say corner him, it sounds like you’re saying kidnap him and tie him to a chair,” Clint said.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Ivy asked.

“No.” Clint shook his head. “Just making sure we’re all on the same page.”

Valmont’s advice echoed in her head. “Zavien should be the one chasing after me. What if he decides I’m too much trouble? What if he doesn’t care enough to make the effort?”