Page 10 of Hexual Healing
“So, you brought a vengeful dragon to my door.”
“I didn't mean to.”
“Intent doesn't matter.Outcomes do.”He pushed off the counter.“You have two choices.Leave now and fight her when she inevitably finds you.Or stay and prepare for when she arrives.”
“Why would you help me?”
He looked at me for a long moment.Something passed through his expression.Recognition, maybe.Or resignation.
“Because I know what it's like to be hunted,” he said quietly.“And because your familiar’s right.That curse will kill you if you keep running.It's likely designed to escalate until you either face her or burn yourself out.”
“How do you know so much about dragon curses?”
“Same way I know you're about five minutes from another magical surge.”He nodded at my hands, which were starting to glow.“You need grounding.Food.Rest.In that order.”
“I need to leave before I get you killed.”
“Too late for that.”He pulled a cast-iron pan from a hook.“She already knows you're here.Your magical explosion made sure of that.Leaving now just means facing her alone and exhausted.”
The curse pushed against my ribs like it wanted to argue.Or maybe agree.Hard to tell when your emotions were being translated through dragon spite.
“I still don’t get you,” I said.“Why would you risk your life for a complete stranger?”
He cracked eggs into the pan with practiced efficiency.“Because someone helped me once.When I didn't deserve it.When I'd brought nothing but trouble to their door.”The eggs sizzled.“And because that snail of yours is surprisingly persuasive.”
“Too bad you weren’t awake for the full conversation he had with your unconscious body,” Gary said smugly.“Explaining why he had to put the money back in your bra, apologizing for the impropriety, promising he's 'not that kind of man.'Very chivalrous.Very unnecessary.Very awkward.”
Baz's ears turned red, but he didn't deny it.
And that's when I knew I was in trouble.Not from the dragon hunting me.Not from the curse trying to burn me alive from the inside.But from the way my traitorous heart skipped when this grumpy mountain man blushed about getting busted being a softie.
The curse practically cackled with delight.
Shit.
* * *
Baz set a plate in front of me like it might explode.Smart man.
Scrambled eggs.Toast that looked like it was made from homemade bread.Even a dollop of jam that smelled like summer in a jar.My stomach cramped with want, but my hands wouldn't move.Every time I so much as thought about reaching for the fork, sparks danced between the tines.
“It's not poisoned,” Baz said, leaning against the counter at what he probably thought was a safe distance.
“I know that.”
“Then eat.”
“I'm trying.”The fork glowed when I finally forced myself to pick it up.I set it down before it could melt.“I don’t think the curse likes it when I…settle.”
“When you what?”he said with what sounded like an offended huff.
“Feel safe or comfortable.Like, maybe things might be okay for five seconds.”The admission came out bitter somehow.“I dunno, but it seems to interpret any positive emotion related to you in any capacity as a threat to its purpose.”
Gary made a disgusted sound from his perch.“A jealous lover's curse.Designed to keep you miserable and alone until you crawl back, begging for release.”
“Or die trying,” I added cheerfully.
Baz studied me with those unreadable brown eyes.Then he did something unexpected.He pulled out the chair across from me, sat down, and picked up my fork.