Read Online Within the Flames by Marjorie M. Liu - Free Book Online Page B

her look, though he didn’t make it easy. She was used to studying people from a distance, or while distracted . . . anytime, anywhere, so long as no one realized what she was doing.
    But she didn’t have that luxury with him. He stared back with unflinching eyes, as though taking her measure as much as she was taking his. There was no place to hide in that gaze. Lyssa had never felt more naked.
    “Who are you?” she asked.
    His jaw tensed. “My name is Eddie.”
    Eddie. A scruffy name, with an edge. Sort of like him.
    Lyssa backed away, wary. “How did you find me here?”
    He did not follow, but she sensed that if he wanted to, he could be at her side in a heartbeat. He was just like her dream. Intense, dangerous, and real.
    Completely real. Flesh and blood, staring at her as though he was ready for her to try and slip away. It unnerved her. Made her feel as though she couldn’t trust her own perceptions of dream and waking.
    “Estefan sent a list of places to search for you,” he said quietly, holding her gaze. “That Starbucks behind us was one of them. He said you like to use the Internet there.”
    Damn, she thought, giving him a sharp look. “How do you know Estefan?”
    Discomfort flickered in his eyes. “I don’t. Your friend sent a letter to my employer. He explained you needed help. So I’m here. To help.”
    It sounded too good to be true. Who was he, a Boy Scout? Like those existed anymore. Lyssa had seen too many good people who needed help, shut out and ignored, treated as though invisible—simply for being homeless, or a little different. Even she, at her lowest, had been an untouchable. Except from those who wanted to use her.
    “Estefan shouldn’t have gotten you involved,” she said, wondering why she was still standing here.
    “Miss—”
    “I am none of your concern.”
    “You need help.”
     
    “Starving kids in Africa need help. I don’t. Not even a little.”
    He studied her—as though actually listening to what she was saying and digesting each word. It set her off-balance. Again.
    Frustration warred with curiosity, and a bone-deep need to understand why the hell this man had been in her dreams. Had he dreamed of her ? The possibility was almost as unsettling as his presence.
    “You really came here because you were told I needed help?” she asked him, and what was intended to be a genuine question turned derisive when her voice came out too sharp. “Is that your job? Do-gooder?”
    His brow lifted. “What’s your job? Professional cynic?”
    Her mouth twitched. “Something like that.”
    “That’s too bad,” he said, then, more softly, “Lyssa.”
    She was not expecting the sincerity of that answer, or the regret in his voice. Nor could she have predicted what hearing him say her name would do to her nerves.
    Like, electrifying them.
    I had peace and quiet, she thought, weakly. I was alone, but that was safe.
    “Eddie,” she said, feeling like a coward for not being able to stare as unflinchingly into his eyes, as he could hers. “Go home.”
    Lyssa pushed through the crowd and walked away.
    She turned left at the intersection, walking with long, ground-eating strides. Not running, but almost. A cab passed her but didn’t stop when she held out her hand.
    Moments later, Eddie caught up.
    He remained opposite her on the sidewalk, lanky and graceful. Outwardly relaxed though she sensed a coiled power inside him—and a tense control over that power that gave him a dangerous edge.
    Light foot traffic passed between them. She heard an ambulance’s sirens. Maybe the police. None of it felt real. Not the people around them, not the wind on her face, not even the concrete beneath her feet.
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    Her world had narrowed down to him—and only him.
    “Lyssa Andreanos,” he said, quietly.
    She hadn’t heard her full name spoken out loud in ten years. Hearing him say it made her feel crazy. “Did Estefan tell you that, too?”
    “First, from him,”