Page 7 of Dragon Fires Everywhere (Witchlore #4)

Frost actually smiles at that, a cold curve of his admittedly beautiful face. “I might not remember everything, but I know

better than to break bread with a fire-breathing worm.”

“I’ll work with Frost to create the spell,” I jump in then, before the serpent in question decides to demonstrate his fire.

I’m not sure why I think Frost trusts me.

But he does. Or he always acts as if he might , which with Frost is as good as the real thing.

“I’ll make sure it’s correct. We’ll cast it together. And if it works, then

we can say you’re some... long-lost Wilde cousin, or something.”

“The Joywood have access to all the family trees by way of your foolish witchlore archives.” Azrael studies me even more intently.

“As will you once the Cold Moon rises and you get access to the archives. They’ll know I’m no Wilde.” I’m not certain why

it seems like he’s leaving off a bit of information there, but what am I certain about when it comes to him?

“Georgie can say that she brought a human home from England.” I look at Ellowyn when she says that. She is decidedly not looking at me. “She can tell everyone he followed her back to St. Cyprian,” she continues merrily. “That it was love at first

sight in the British archives or whatever and such a strong connection that they couldn’t be parted.”

She waves a hand and smiles, guilelessly. When she is never guileless .

“You want me to pretend to be in love with a dragon,” I say flatly. I do not look at the dragon in question. I tamp down the

mess in me even more ruthlessly. “And vice versa. Is this a pregnancy brain lapse or something more serious?”

“What about Sage?” Emerson asks before I can laugh uproariously.

And she asks it gently .

I want to scowl. Instead, I plaster on my best dreamy smile, because if they try to console me, I will lose it. “Funny you

should mention that,” I murmur. “Sage and I have mutually decided to part ways.”

Maybe I can keep the cheating a secret. Especially the part involving the dreadful Cailee.

Emerson frowns at me. “When did this happen?”

“Gradually,” I say, happy that I do not share Ellowyn’s inability to lie.

“But coming home finalized the feeling of having grown apart.” Emerson reaches out for me, but I just keep smiling.

And don’t let her touch me. “It’s fine. For the best, obviously.

A good experience, but one I’ll move on from now. Ellowyn’s plan is great.”

It’s not. It’s horrible. Pretending I’m in love with a dragon ? While also pretending he’s not a dragon ? It sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Particularly when it’s this dragon.

When it’s him .

Yet somehow, it’s better than everyone being careful around me over a man I thought I should date, who didn’t break my heart, but betrayed me all the same.

“Tomorrow I’ll go to Frost’s library, and we’ll try to come up with a spell,” I say. “But for tonight? You guys, I’m exhausted.

And it’s Thanksgiving.”

Everyone murmurs assent at that, more or less. But before I can magic myself away from this mess and up into my bedroom, Emerson

takes me by the arm and steers me deeper into the room, so it’s just the two of us having a conversation while everyone else...

flees.

Okay, maybe they just pair off and leave, but it looks a lot like fleeing when I can’t do it myself.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I know you really... liked him,” Emerson offers.

Because she’s a good friend. My best friend.

I smile at her. Not too brightly. Just enough to make it look like I’m sadly brave but not fully heartbroken. “I’m okay. It really was the best thing.”

“I’m glad you figured that out. You deserve so much better.” She hugs me tight, and I know she means so well .

But I’m lying to her, so her meaning well just makes me feel awful.

“I really am exhausted, Em. It’s been a long day.”

“Get some rest. And... I can come up with a different idea. You don’t have to pretend to be in love with a man-dragon.”

I wish I believed that was in the cards, but I’m not going to argue with Emerson. “We’ll see. Good night.”

I don’t magic myself to my room after she leaves. I look around, half expecting—

The house is quiet. Everyone’s gone.

I sigh, and decide to walk up the stairs because it’s such a habit. I like to put my hand over Azrael as I go. Maybe talk

to him a little bit.

But there’s just a broken newel post now, and I stare at it.

He’s real. He’s a whole dragon. It’s all real .

And I need some serious sleep before I can even begin to figure out how to deal with that. I take the steps with a certain

resoluteness, as if the act of climbing them is how I’ll shake off this day. I make it to the third-floor turret and walk

down the hall, running my hand over the half-cracked door to my library as I pass it. Once I finally make it to my room at

the far end, cozy and light and home , I’m ready to just collapse into bed and sleep for twelve hours straight.

But my room isn’t empty.

Azrael is standing in the middle of it with his arms crossed over his impressive chest.

And he smiles at me, but it doesn’t feel like happiness or joy or even kindness.

It feels like passion. It feels like danger. It feels like the wildest daydreams I’ve ever had.

All over me.