Soldier. Julie Kagawa
his eyes, Riley gave me a look that was both hungry and pleading at the same time. “Not here, Firebrand,” he choked out. “Get ahold of yourself. We’re in the middle of a city. We can’t be seen like this.” He took a deep breath, as if strengthening his resolve. “Ember, I... You know I want to. But, this is not the time. You have to Shift back.” I curled a lip, and another shiver went through him as his voice became strangled. “Now.”
Anger flared. Baring my teeth, I snarled in his face, whirled and willed myself back into human form. The black Viper suit became visible, covering me from neck to ankles as I shrank down, but the remains of my jeans and shirt lay shredded at the foot of the bed. For a second, I was sorry I was wearing the suit; if I hadn’t been, being naked would’ve been a good excuse not to Shift back.
I rubbed my eyes, not looking at Riley, as hurt and anger still simmered in my chest. I didn’t know if it was the dragon’s frustration or my own tangle of feelings, but I suddenly felt very alone.
I heard him shift off the mattress and take a hesitant step toward me, his voice low. “Ember...”
I stiffened. “Sorry about that,” I said in a flat voice, and headed toward the bathroom. Where I could close the door on rogue dragons and not have to face him for a few minutes. Where he wouldn’t see me fall apart. “I’m tired,” I muttered, swiping a hand across my eyes. “It won’t happen again.”
“Wait.” Riley hurried forward, coming around to face me. “Hold on a second, will you?” I stopped as he barred the way to the bathroom, the look on his face frustrated, as well. “Look, I know things have been crazy. I know with all the running around, we’ve barely had a chance to breathe. But I haven’t forgotten about...us, all right?”
Hope flickered inside, though the dragon snarled, unappeased. “You’ve been busy,” I said, shrugging. “I get it.”
“That’s not it, Firebrand. Dammit, how do I say this?” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t see you, it’s just... I’m not good at...human stuff, Ember. I’ve been on my own a long time, dealing with dragons and hatchlings and Vipers—and Wes isn’t what you’d call warm and cuddly. I don’t mean to ignore you, but whenever we’re close all I can think of is Shifting into my real form, and we can’t do that in a car, or a hotel room, or anywhere people could see us. And all those human things—hugging, touching, kissing, whatever...it doesn’t come natural to me. I’m not the soldier, Firebrand. I’m a dragon.” He gave a short, frustrated laugh and made a hopeless gesture. “It’s just not in my makeup.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, looking down. “I know.” It didn’t make me feel much better, knowing we would have to be completely alone and isolated for Cobalt to appear. Being around humans had spoiled me, I supposed. Dragons weren’t supposed to love. I couldn’t expect Riley to act like Garret.
“But...” A soft brush against my cheek made me glance up. Cobalt was staring down at me, golden eyes solemn and intense as he lowered his head. “That doesn’t mean I can’t learn,” he whispered, making my insides swirl. “I’ve been around awhile—I’ve picked up a few things over the years.” I blinked at him, and one corner of his mouth twitched in a wry smirk. “I can be more human, Ember,” he murmured. “I can’t say I’ll remember all the time, but if that’s what you want... I’ll try.”
I licked dry lips. “No,” I said, making his brows arch. “I don’t want you to change for me. It wouldn’t be you—”
“No?” Riley’s eyes gleamed, and he grabbed my wrist. “You don’t think so?”
Pulling me close, he slipped one arm around my waist, pressed the other to the back of my neck and kissed me.
I froze, stunned. My hands went to his chest, flattening over his shirt, not knowing whether to push him off or yank him closer. His lips were warm, firm and confident. I could smell his leather jacket, feel the heat thrumming through us both as he held me against him, his arms like steel bands pressing me close. Through the elation and shock, one thought filtered through my astonished brain.
Riley was...a really good kisser.
Pulling back, Riley gazed down at me, smiling at my stunned expression. “There,” he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Is that enough to convince you that I’m still thinking about us? That you are constantly on my mind, even when I’m distracted?”
I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “For a dragon, I’d say you’ve got this human thing down pretty well,” I whispered, and he smirked.
“I haven’t lived this long by not being observant.” Releasing me, he stepped back, shoving his fingers through his hair and looking faintly embarrassed. “Wes should be done in a few minutes,” he said, glancing at the door. “Will you be ready to leave by then?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling a lightness in my chest that drove away the fear and anger and frustration, at least for now. “I’ll be right out. I just wish I knew where we were going.”
As if on cue, Riley’s phone chimed. Pulling it out of his jacket, he stared at the screen a moment, then shook his head.
“Well, it looks like you’ll get your wish, Firebrand. Wes found the coordinates.” He scanned the message, brow furrowing slightly. “Makes sense, I guess. Away from people, out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Where?”
He sighed and stuck his phone in his pocket again. “According to Wes, we’re going to West Virginia.”
“How many vessels have you awakened so far, Dr. Olsen?”
The thin, bearded man in a stained lab coat gave Mr. Roth a proud, weary smile as we left the elevator and followed the scientist down the twisting corridors that led deeper underground. “Twenty-two,” he announced.
“And how many have survived?”
“Thirteen vessels have lived through the initial adjustment phase and are expected to continue without support.”
He said it with satisfaction, but I felt my stomach twist painfully at the number. The project was progressing at an astonishing rate. More than half the replicas had survived, better than predicted, but that was still nine dragons that hadn’t made it. Dragons who had died because they hadn’t developed properly, or whose minds had been damaged from the programming process. Or, worst of all, had simply never developed that mysterious spark of life that couldn’t be replicated by science. Their lungs and hearts functioned, everything seemed to be working fine, but they were empty shells; living pieces of meat that slowly starved to death when the feeding tubes were removed.
It made me sick to think about. In fact, though I would never admit it out loud, the whole thing was making me rather ill. Was this truly the only way we could survive? Making clones of ourselves? Dragons who were grown in a vat, whose memories and personality traits were artificially implanted to make them more compliant? It didn’t sit well with me, but at the same time, I trusted that the organization knew what it was doing. This was a war, and we were vastly outnumbered. Every year, we lost more of our kind to St. George, and their numbers weren’t getting any smaller. Something had to be done to even out the score, or we would find ourselves close to extinction again.
“And how is their training progressing?” Mr. Roth inquired as we continued down the corridor, passing armed guards and other scientists, who bowed their heads or averted their gazes as we went by. Mr. Roth paid them no attention whatsoever. “Have they shown any signs of being able to Shift?”
Dr. Olsen paused at a heavy metal door, punched a code into the keypad beside it and pressed his thumb to the lit screen. It beeped, flashed green and the door unlocked with a soft hiss. The scientist looked back at us and smiled. “Come see for yourself,” he replied, and opened the door.
I stepped