Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(38)

“I don’t want to run his company,” Ryland said dejectedly.

“What?” I flipped around to look at him, but he took another bite of pie, keeping his gaze down. He had never made mention of this to me before; it was always how he looked forward to becoming like his father. I looked up at Wyn who had a strange look of shock and surprise plastered on her face.

“I don’t want to run his empire. I don’t want to go to Oxford. I don’t want to take his lessons. I don’t want to be anything like him.” He had turned to me, speaking only to me. I am sure Wyn heard him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Ryland?” I asked.

“But I don’t have a choice; I have to be everything he wants, and nothing that I wish.” He looked so sad, so dejected; my heart broke in half for him.

I lunged into him, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face into the sweet smell of his skin. He held me against him, his large hands spreading their warmth throughout my back where they pressed against me. I tangled my hands through his curls as he held me tighter.

Right at that moment, I was grateful to have Wyn there, her eyes boring into us. Because, right then, I would have been the one to kiss him first.





Eleven


I stood about fifteen feet away from the fire. Wyn had assured me it was enough space to give me a running start. That was part of the problem. After Wyn had displayed her running feat and heroic jump over the fire, she and Ryland had spent the next twenty minutes taking turns leaping over the flames with decreasing running distances. They now insisted it was my turn, but my stomach flipped and my hands were sweating. I was not interested in this weird jump-to-my-death.

“You’re making this out to be much more difficult than it is,” Wyn whined. I had been stalling for the last few minutes, and although most of it had been spent giggling about my lack of nerves, Wyn had run out of patience.

“I’ve never done this before,” I spouted back. “It’s kind of scary.”

Ryland gave me a small, sympathetic smile, but Wyn jumped off her rock and walked over to me, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Okay,” she started, about eight feet from me. “You climb trees like you were born in one and fall thirty feet to your death without even—”

“It was about five, Wyn. Stop exaggerating,” I interrupted her.

“Fine. But, you still could have died,” Wyn said.

Ryland sighed behind her, which seemed to only fuel her fire.

“Either way, you’re a tree-climbing genius! This should be a piece of cake.”

“A tree can’t burn me,” I countered.

“But it can cut you and scrape you, and rip your clothes and break your bones,” Wyn countered, motioning to the large rip in my jeans.

“But those heal.” She had backed me into a hole and I didn’t like it.

“Burns heal.”

She was right, but it didn’t mean that I wanted to jump over the fire anyway. I plunged my hands into the pockets of Ry’s hoodie and hunched my shoulders.

“Not without scars,” I add.

Wyn leaned in close and lowered her voice, “You don’t want Ryland to think you’re a chicken, do you?” she asked, her eyebrows wagging.

I just sighed at her. It almost wasn’t even worth it to try to convince her I didn’t care what Ry thought—because I did.

We both jumped when Ryland himself placed one of his large hands on Wyn’s shoulder to get her attention.

“I think I can take it from here,” Ryland said softly, dismissing Wyn with his sly smile.

Wyn seemed caught in headlights for a minute; I could tell when her brain clicked back into action and she slinked back to her rock without a word.

Ryland turned his gorgeous stare on me, and I felt my blood melt into my toes. It must have shown on my face because he smiled at my reaction, his straight white teeth glimmering in the firelight.

Just a friend, just a friend…

“Do you want to do this?” Ryland asked me, his voice soft.

“No,” I said, “but, Wyn will never let me live it down if I don’t.”

“You know we have done some crazy things, and you choose to get scared over jumping over a fire?”

“Yep.”

“Breaking into an abandoned hospital?”

“Not terrifying,” I said. We had done that last year; even got chased out of the building by a decrepit security officer.

“Cliff diving?”

“Not terrifying.” It didn’t miss my notice that he was moving closer with each question.

“Driving a car at ten?”

“Nope.”

“But jumping over a fire?” He reached out and grabbed both my hands, intertwining our fingers. Even with the size difference in our hands, holding onto him like this was still comfortable.

“I’m going to get burned.” That sounded way whinier than I intended.

“I’ll do it with you then.” Ryland dropped one of my hands and turned me toward the flames; they swirled and flickered only about three feet above the wood and sticks.

I was being a baby.

“Do you remember the first time we raced up the trees?” Ryland asked me, his thumb tracing comfortable circles onto the back of my hand.