Damn it. Damn all of it to hell.

Her eyes were round, her mouth open, her breath steaming as it hit the almost cold air.

Once again, the world went on all around us, while the two of us were frozen in a solitary moment. Only this time, there was a serious feeling of dread in the air between us. Enough dread to choke me if I wasn’t careful.

We were at the edge of a cliff, with only a half-second between standing on firm ground and falling through empty air. Once we fell, there was no going back.

She was about to find out something about me she could never forget. She’d never be allowed to forget.

I couldn’t even lie. There wasn’t a lie in existence that could accurately cover what had just happened. I should’ve been gushing blood onto the sidewalk—that glass had lodged itself deep in the meaty part of my palm. I had known then and there that I needed to get away from her, immediately.

What I should’ve known was that she wouldn’t allow me to.

Her question was still unanswered. Who the hell was I? If she were half as smart as I thought she was, she would’ve run.

I opened my mouth with every intention of telling her to do just that. Run away and forget everything you saw tonight. Forget we ever met. Forget I exist. Go on with your life. Be happy.

It just wasn’t an option.

“Ciera, let me explain.”

“You’d better explain,” she whispered through clenched teeth, suddenly fierce and demanding.

All she did was stoke the fire that had been burning in me all night.

“I will. Just not here, in the middle of the street.”

“Why not? What are you afraid of?”

“Give it some thought, Ciera.”

It was the first time I allowed myself to be sharp with her, and she visibly recoiled. I spied a free taxi and flagged it down, taking her by the arm. She was probably too surprised to attempt to fight me off—not that she would’ve been successful, at any rate.

“Give him your address,” I ordered after we were both seated.

“What?”

“Your address.”

She glared at me, and I glared right back. Challenging each other in a staring contest in the back seat of a taxi. She blinked first, muttering the address of her apartment. We were off in a flash.

I leaned back, pretending to relax, and held a finger over my lips. She took the hint. How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

I was stuck in a corner, and there was only one way out. I took advantage of the silence during our ride to get my thoughts together—or something close to together, at any rate.

In the back of my mind, I registered the fact that she was shaking from head to foot. I wished I could reach out and take her in my arms, assure her everything would be all right. She wouldn’t regret meeting me. She wouldn’t regret knowing me. I would never hurt her.

Except I knew she’d recoil in horror and maybe scream a little. I couldn’t have our driver witnessing something like that. He was already eyeing us both up in the mirror, distrustful. Would he remember us? For his sake, I hoped he didn’t.

I had already made too many mistakes.

We came to a stop in front of a nondescript building not far from the university, the sort of place a student could afford, especially when they were living on a grant. I paid the driver and made short work of helping Ciera out of the car.

She wouldn’t take another step.

I turned to face her. I’d never seen a face so stricken.

“I don’t even know why I let you talk me into bringing you here.”

When I closed the distance between us, she didn’t back away.

“Because you know I would never harm you,” I whispered, reaching out to touch her hair. Her eyes closed for the briefest of seconds as my hand trailed down the side of her face. Her cheek was warm, flushed. I wanted nothing more than to cup her chin and pull her to me.

“Why do I wish I could say you’re wrong?” she asked, staring up at me. “That’s insane. I shouldn’t want you to want to hurt me, but it would make this easier. I could kick you out of my life and be done with you.”

“But you can’t.”

“No. I can’t.” She had no idea how much she couldn’t. But she would find out.

“Come on. Let’s go in. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

She led the way to the front door while I kept a lookout—what I was watching for, I had no idea, especially on such a quiet street where everybody looked to be minding their business. Even so, it was a relief to get inside and close the door.

The flat was pleasant, though just as small as she’d described. There was hardly room to turn around without bumping into something. How she managed not to wreck the place, as inclined to clumsiness as she was, baffled me.

She was smaller than I was, though, which gave her a little more leeway as she navigated the space between the sofa and coffee table, the kitchen table and stove.

She leaned against that table, arms crossed, while I stood in the center of the small amount of empty space in the living room. There was a photo of an elderly woman sitting on the end table, a woman with long, white hair and sparkling blue eyes and a lovely smile. The woman with all the stories.

“All right. We’re here, alone. You’d better make this good, or else I’m calling the police.”

I held up my hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’ve already told you that.”

“You’re not going to harm me. That’s what you said. Hurt and harm are two different things. You haven’t harmed me, but you’ve already hurt me.” Her chin trembled.

“That was never my intent. Please, believe me.”

“Why the hell should I? Who are you, damn it? No more answering questions with questions. Tell me, flat-out. Who are you, Fence?”

There was so much hope there, still. She wanted an easy explanation, cut-and-dried, though there was no chance of one. There was nothing simple about a man who could heal as quickly as I did.

“Promise me you won’t lose it when I tell you.”

“Jesus Christ.” She looked away, out the window, disgusted.

“Promise.”

“Yeah, I promise. Out with it.”

I hoped I wasn’t about to make a serious mistake. There was no way around it, regardless. I’d already proven there was something off about me. Something “other.”

I had only to explain exactly how different I was. “You’re right about there being a connection between that ancient clan and me. It’s there. It’s strong.”

“All right.” She tapped her foot, impatient—I wondered if she knew she was doing it.

That tapping sound filled the small space while I searched for the right way to drop a bomb on an innocent girl.

“What would you say if I told you I was part of that clan? That original clan?” My eyes never left her face, and the range of emotions which crossed it was a sight to see.

She didn’t believe me. She was afraid to. She thought I was crazy. She hated me. She was afraid of me. She wished it were all over and I would leave. She wished she had never asked who I was.

She knew I wouldn’t lie.

Even so, she snorted. “I would say you look pretty damn good for a guy who’s over a thousand years old.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes widened. She gulped.

I didn’t look away.

She needed to know how serious I was.

“Don’t joke about this. Not right now.”

“Do I look like I’m joking? Do I sound like it?” I held up my fully-healed hand. “What about this? Does this look like a joke to you?”

She pointed. “That’s impossible.”

“You’re looking at it. You saw it with your own eyes. You wanted me to get stitches not fifty minutes ago. And yet, here we are. I’m fully healed. What does that tell you?”

“It tells me I’m hallucinating.”

“No.” As sharp as a whip.

She flinched.

“You don’t get to play cute now. You know what you know. You wanted to find out more about me, right? This is it. This is what I’ve been trying to avoid telling you—one of the things I’ve been avoiding, at any rate.”

“There’s more?” she whispered. So full of dread.

“Yes. There is. The first thing you have to know is this: I’m part of the clan you’ve been researching. One of its original members. I was born over one thousand years ago.”

She blinked hard, fast, like she might faint. I took a step toward her without thinking, my protective instincts working of their own volition, which made her seize up in terror.

“No! Don’t touch me!”

I stayed where I was, hands by my sides. “You know it’s true.”

“And that’s supposed to help or something?” she laughed wildly.

My heart went out to her. I could only imagine what she was going through.

“There’s more.” Might as well get it all over with at once.

“Are you Santa Claus, too?” she asked, still laughing. “Oh, God, what’s happening right now?”

“Take a deep breath,” I advised.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snarled, laughter dying in her throat. “Let me guess. There’s a reason you’ve been alive all this time, but you look like you’re only a few years older than me. Right? There’s a reason why you heal so quickly. What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“What a surprise.”

“Fair enough. I only wanted to warn you.” I watched closely, ready to catch her if she fainted this time. “The reason the clan has been a secret for so long is because we aren’t human. We’re dragon shifters.”

Her face went blank. No emotion whatsoever. I waited, holding my breath.

She whispered only one word. “Sgiathail.”

“Winged,” I replied, nodding slowly.

She looked at the floor, hands behind her on the tabletop. “I don’t understand any of it. How is it possible? I’ve never seen anything like this, ever, in any of the texts. People who shift into dragons. I mean, there have always been legends about dragons, but not dragon people.”

“I’m not a dragon person. I’m a dragon shifter.”

“Right, right. Dragon shifter.” Her voice sounded far away as she stared at some middle space between us.

Where was she? Anywhere but in the same flat as me. Maybe anywhere but in her body, where nothing made sense anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” She raised her head, eyes burning, sparkling with unshed tears. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Excuse me? I was only trying to—”

“I know what you were trying to do. You were trying to apologize for being who you are.” She stood up straight, chin raised in defiance. “Why don’t you try apologizing for lying to me? How about that? Or for using me, which I now know for sure you were doing? I got too close to the truth about you, didn’t I? And that cave!” She smacked her forehead with one palm. “The clan was still there, weren’t they? Your family. But they left in a hurry. And you didn’t want me going back there to find out anything else.”

“Ciera.”

“No, please. Don’t lie anymore. I’m right, aren’t I? All this, it was all a matter of finding out what I knew. Right?”

I wanted more than anything I had ever wanted in my long, long life to tell her how wrong she was. That I cared for her, nothing more. That there had never been anything but an interest in her. Because right now, I didn’t care nearly as much about what she knew as I did about how she felt. I didn’t care about the danger she posed the clan nearly as much as I did about holding her, begging her forgiveness, promising her anything under the sun as long as she was happy and safe.

“At first,” I admitted.

“At first?” She burst out laughing again. “Oh, come on, Fence. At first is, like, less than thirty-six hours ago. When we met. We haven’t known each other long enough for there to be an at first.”

“That’s your perception.”

“Don’t gaslight me,” she warned. “Don’t tell me I’m wrong when facts are facts.”

“Our facts are different. We know things you don’t know. For instance, it’s a fact that I’ve lived as long as I have, whereas to you, that’s an impossibility. It’s a fact that a human would’ve needed stitches in their hand if they had a wound like the one I suffered earlier. I’ve already healed.”

She tilted her head to the side. “So, time moves more slowly for you, but more quickly at the same time? Is a day-and-a-half, like, three months on dragon time?”

I bristled at her dismissive tone. “When I know something, I know it. And I know you’re much more than just an obstacle to be pushed aside or placated with a night on the town.”

“Now you know that? Now that I’m around thirty seconds away from kicking you out of my apartment?”

“Don’t do that. Please.” I went to her before taking the time to think twice. “Don’t send me away now.”

“Don’t touch me. I told you not to come near.” I took her by the wrists when she lifted her hands in attack, slapping at my chest. She was roughly as effectual as a kitten trying to beat up a mountain lion. I let her take out her aggression, however, knowing she needed to—and when she had exhausted herself, I let her collapse against me.

“I hate you,” she sobbed, shaking in my arms.

“I know.” Just then, for the first time ever, I hated myself right along with her.