Read Online Within the Flames by Marjorie M. Liu - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marjorie M. Liu
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there’s nothing anyone can do to help me.
Not while I’m being hunted.
Lyssa saw a bank of pay phones near the intersection at Forty-first, and started digging through her pockets for change. She needed to call Estefan and find out exactly who he had contacted, and why. He had to have a good reason, after all>
Her skin crawled when she thought of what that reason might be.
She slipped some quarters into the pay phone, careful to use her left hand—claws not being great for picking up small objects—and dialed his home number, which Estefan had made her memorize before she’d left Florida.
When the call went through, however, all she heard was a busy signal.
Lyssa tried three more times, but the call never connected. She tried the café, but the phone rang and rang—and no one picked up.
Unease crept. Lyssa hung up but didn’t move. The heat throbbing through her blood only grew stronger. Pins and needles pricked her thighs and shoulders, between her breasts.
Something’s wrong.
But no, that was stupid. Paranoia. Lyssa always thought something was wrong. A busy signal and an unanswered call was not a big deal. Besides, she never called Estefan. Ever. She didn’t know the first thing about his phone habits.
Don’t leave the city tonight, she told herself, massaging her right arm. Take a couple days to plan. Talk to Estefan first. You don’t want to run blind.
But even as that thought passed through her, the prickling in her skin intensified, accompanied by a crawling sensation on the back of her neck. Like spider legs.
Someone was watching her.
Lyssa turned, and found herself face-to-face with the man.
The man from her dreams.
Chapter Five
E verything stopped. Heart, lungs, the world. Sounds died. Lyssa went numb.
Those eyes.
In all her dreams—a month of nights, lost in fire—those eyes had been her constant companions. Eyes that bel)" onged to a face she could never see, or remember. Eyes that stared at her with an intensity that burned and made her feel lost, dizzy, as though she were falling.
She was falling now.
Lyssa blinked, and the spell broke. No longer just eyes, but the man from Columbus Circle. She hadn’t looked closely at him, before.
He was young, which surprised her. When she looked at only his eyes, she thought of him as old.
Instead, he seemed close to her age. He was tall, but not much taller than she. Lean, lanky, but broad in all the right places. He looked strong, fast. Dressed in black, with scruffy dark hair that framed a pale, chiseled face that would never be called boyish or weak.
I know you, she thought. I dreamed you.
But that was no comfort. Terrible heat burned beneath her skin, flowing into her right arm in a wild, uncontrolled rush that made her clawed hand close into a fist. Pain tingled, simmering in that heat, and the muscles running from her neck into her shoulder twitched so violently she sucked in her breath and gripped her shoulder hard with her left hand.
The dragon stirred beneath her skin.
The dragon opened an eye within her heart and looked at the man in front of her.
Lyssa felt it, as though she carried a second life within herself. Terror fluttered. The dragon could not be allowed to wake. Not here. Not ever. It had been years since she had felt its presence.
She backed away. The man followed, holding up his hands. “Miss. Don’t run. Please.”
His voice was soft but filled with a quiet, gentle strength that tugged at her heart. It was the same voice she had heard in her mind, flowing through her with the most intimate of touches.
I would take care of you. I wish I could.
Lyssa didn’t trust her voice to speak. Every instinct told her to run. Running was what she knew. Running was safe and empty, and kept the fire at bay, and all those dark memories that haunted, and tempted her.
This was dangerous. This man was dangerous, even if he meant her no harm. The harm would come, somehow.
Lyssa gave him a long, searching look. He let
Not while I’m being hunted.
Lyssa saw a bank of pay phones near the intersection at Forty-first, and started digging through her pockets for change. She needed to call Estefan and find out exactly who he had contacted, and why. He had to have a good reason, after all>
Her skin crawled when she thought of what that reason might be.
She slipped some quarters into the pay phone, careful to use her left hand—claws not being great for picking up small objects—and dialed his home number, which Estefan had made her memorize before she’d left Florida.
When the call went through, however, all she heard was a busy signal.
Lyssa tried three more times, but the call never connected. She tried the café, but the phone rang and rang—and no one picked up.
Unease crept. Lyssa hung up but didn’t move. The heat throbbing through her blood only grew stronger. Pins and needles pricked her thighs and shoulders, between her breasts.
Something’s wrong.
But no, that was stupid. Paranoia. Lyssa always thought something was wrong. A busy signal and an unanswered call was not a big deal. Besides, she never called Estefan. Ever. She didn’t know the first thing about his phone habits.
Don’t leave the city tonight, she told herself, massaging her right arm. Take a couple days to plan. Talk to Estefan first. You don’t want to run blind.
But even as that thought passed through her, the prickling in her skin intensified, accompanied by a crawling sensation on the back of her neck. Like spider legs.
Someone was watching her.
Lyssa turned, and found herself face-to-face with the man.
The man from her dreams.
Chapter Five
E verything stopped. Heart, lungs, the world. Sounds died. Lyssa went numb.
Those eyes.
In all her dreams—a month of nights, lost in fire—those eyes had been her constant companions. Eyes that bel)" onged to a face she could never see, or remember. Eyes that stared at her with an intensity that burned and made her feel lost, dizzy, as though she were falling.
She was falling now.
Lyssa blinked, and the spell broke. No longer just eyes, but the man from Columbus Circle. She hadn’t looked closely at him, before.
He was young, which surprised her. When she looked at only his eyes, she thought of him as old.
Instead, he seemed close to her age. He was tall, but not much taller than she. Lean, lanky, but broad in all the right places. He looked strong, fast. Dressed in black, with scruffy dark hair that framed a pale, chiseled face that would never be called boyish or weak.
I know you, she thought. I dreamed you.
But that was no comfort. Terrible heat burned beneath her skin, flowing into her right arm in a wild, uncontrolled rush that made her clawed hand close into a fist. Pain tingled, simmering in that heat, and the muscles running from her neck into her shoulder twitched so violently she sucked in her breath and gripped her shoulder hard with her left hand.
The dragon stirred beneath her skin.
The dragon opened an eye within her heart and looked at the man in front of her.
Lyssa felt it, as though she carried a second life within herself. Terror fluttered. The dragon could not be allowed to wake. Not here. Not ever. It had been years since she had felt its presence.
She backed away. The man followed, holding up his hands. “Miss. Don’t run. Please.”
His voice was soft but filled with a quiet, gentle strength that tugged at her heart. It was the same voice she had heard in her mind, flowing through her with the most intimate of touches.
I would take care of you. I wish I could.
Lyssa didn’t trust her voice to speak. Every instinct told her to run. Running was what she knew. Running was safe and empty, and kept the fire at bay, and all those dark memories that haunted, and tempted her.
This was dangerous. This man was dangerous, even if he meant her no harm. The harm would come, somehow.
Lyssa gave him a long, searching look. He let
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