Page 53 of Burned

Lucian’s head snaps toward me.

The room goes silent.

I must be feeling courageous as well as generous with all those post-kissing goodies running through my blood.

“What?” I shrug, trying to look casual and not at all like a woman whose heart is being slowly dismantled by a dead ex-girlfriend with flowing golden mermaid hair, looking like she’s modeling her luxury outerwear. “It’s really, really cold out there.”

“She would know,” Blaze offers. “She spends enough time skulking behind the buildings.”

“That old story again,” I say. “We needed,” I clearly state, “kindling. Very badly.

I’m the reason you’re warm right now.”

Blaze laughs, and he’s generous enough not to mention the gas heat.

I can’t believe we’re joking. I should be crying. Lucian should be—I don’t know what he should be doing.

But all of us standing here in the foyer, staring at the girl on the screen is not it.

“I’ve worn enough fall-clearance-rack coats in a New York winter to know what cold looks like.”

I think of the inadequate coat I wore on that first night.

And how our relationship began.

Two desperate strangers.

Using one another to fill a need.

I wonder how he met Isobel, what their first conversation was about, where they went on their first date, where they had their first kiss.

I’m going to be sick.

I swallow down the nervous bile rising in my throat. She’s not getting any deader out there. I say, “She’s alive. She’s here. And she’s in the snow.”

“Erin.” Lucian snaps my name in half a syllable instead of one.

“What?” I say. “She is.”

Something flickers over Lucian’s face. I know that flicker. He’s angry that I’m still talking. And I’ve surprised him.

In the good way.

“She may be wired,” Bayne says.

“If she’s working for Carlos, she certainly is,” I answer. “Use it to your advantage.”

Bayne looks at me with new interest.

Maybe he’ll call me brave, too.

“Let her in,” I say, surprising even myself.

Lucian steps closer. “Do not advocate for a stranger who could be sent here to hurt you.”

“I’m advocating for a really skinny girl who, though she rocks the coat, is not dressed for the weather. Don’t leave her out there before we even know if she’s a victim or villain.”

“Erin.” Another growl, this one paired with a heated look I feel in my core. “Stop talking. Now.”