“I do not have a house,” Ash murmured. “And please refrain from burning down my fire station. It would be immensely embarrassing if you succeeded.”
Ash rubbed his forehead, suddenly looking old and tired. He usually projected such an aura of calm that he seemed as eternal as a mountain, but for the first time Ivy noticed the silver streaked through his brown hair and the weathered lines around his eyes. She wondered just how old the Phoenix actually was.
“You are a very determined young woman,” he said, dropping his hand again. “As strong-willed as Hugh, in fact. If I do not assist you, then I have no doubt you will devise some even worse solution.”
Ivy’s heart thumped against your ribs. “So you’ll do it?”
“I will not burn your wyvern. I cannot do that to either Hugh or yourself. But there is another way I could free you both from this trap. I swore I would never do it again, but…I can see no other way out.” His jaw clenched for a moment. “Though I will only do it if Hugh agrees to it as well. If I do this, it must be completely, not just to one of you. That mistake, I will not repeat.”
“I’ll persuade him,” Ivy said, though she had no idea how. “If it’s the only way for us to be together, I’ll have to persuade him.”
“It is not a way for you to be together.” Ash’s fathomless eyes were strangely human for once, the fiery power in them overshadowed by some old, deep pain. “It is a way for you to be able to be apart. Ivy, if you both wish it…I can burn the connection between you, your love, your very memories of each other. You would no longer be each other's true mate.”
Chapter 26
Betty shook her head, her jaw set in the stubborn expression that Hope found both exasperating and ridiculously adorable. “I still don’t like it. He’s not right.”
“Hugh’s been through a lot,” Hope argued. “You can’t expect him to be all sunshine and smiles straight away. He’s still a good guy.”
They were sitting at Hugh’s kitchen table, ostensibly catching up on the homework that they’d both missed over the past few days. In reality, Hope hadn’t actually read so much as a word of the biology textbook spread open between them. She kept getting distracted by the sweep of Betty’s long eyelashes, the taut line of her neck, the full curves of her—
“What?” Betty said.
Hope jerked her eyes back to the textbook. “Nothing. Just—nothing.”
Mitochondria. Cell wall. Hope tried to concentrate on the words, instead of the thought of Betty’s soft, full lips. So kissable. No, bad brain! Mustn’t think of that sort of thing!
If Betty had had those sort of feelings for her, surely the ideal moment to have confessed them would have been just after the hellhound had so dramatically—not to mention romantically—saved Hope’s life. But she hadn’t. So Hope couldn’t say anything either.
After all, Betty was a shifter. Surely she could sense how Hope’s pulse raced whenever they were together, how her fingers shook whenever they accidentally bumped hands reaching for the same pen. And if they were meant for each other, Betty would have known. The fact that she hadn’t said anything…meant that they weren’t.
Sometimes, Hope really wished that she was a shifter. It must be nice, never falling for the wrong person.
“Anyway, I still don’t like you staying here, in his house,” Betty said, continuing the argument. “Especially with your sister. It’s not safe. What if there was an accident?”
“I’ve lived with Ivy my whole life, and her venom hasn’t killed me yet,” Hope said, both annoyed and touched by Betty’s concern. “There’s nothing different there.”
Betty pursed her lips in a way that made Hope earnestly stare at her cell diagram again. “Yeah, but…there is. She’s not all there either. I mean, I don’t blame her from being preoccupied. If my m-mate—” she stumbled a little on the word, “was hurt like Hugh, I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else either. But I worry that means Ivy might get careless when it comes to keeping you safe.”
“Ivy will never hurt me,” Hope said, with complete certainty. “She’s never careless. So stop worrying.”
Betty blew out her breath, looking frustrated. “I can’t. I can’t help it. I think about what could happen, and—if there was an accident, it’s not like Hugh could heal you any more.”
Hope couldn’t help flinching a little at the brutal statement, even though it was only the truth. She’d been very carefully trying not to think about Hugh’s healing powers…or, more specifically, his half-complete cure.
She had no way of knowing how much of the venom in her body he’d managed to neutralize before he lost his powers. She still felt better than she had in years, but was this just a temporary reprieve? Would she wake up tomorrow or next week or next year with the familiar pain biting at her, paralysis slowly creeping further up her body?
It had almost been better when she’d known that she wouldn’t live to see her thirtieth birthday.
Betty must have caught her reaction, because she flinched as well, looking stricken. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of—you know.”
Hope pasted a smile onto her face, the familiar one that she usually deployed to reassure Ivy. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. If nothing else, I’m still pain-free. I’m grateful just for that.”
Betty eyed her sidelong without speaking for a moment. There was something unusually hesitant about her manner. She was usually so bold and direct, it unnerved Hope to see the shifter clearly searching for words.
“You know,” the hellhound said tentatively, “it’s okay to be upset, or mad, or whatever you feel. You lost your chance of a cure for your illness. That’s a big thing too.”
Hope could feel the corners of her mouth wanting to wobble. She smiled harder, forcing brightness into her tone. “Oh, I never expected to live a normal lifespan anyway. I haven’t lost anything really. Not compared to poor Hugh.”