Page 35 of Heartflame

“Yeah, well, that’s not how this works,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “You can’t just blow me and then act like nothing happened.”

He flinched at my words, and I immediately regretted them. That wasn’t how I wanted this to go. But the frustration was building inside me, a pressure that needed release. For three days I’d been holding this in, pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t fine at all.

“Look,” Quill said, finally meeting my eyes, and I could see the conflict written all over his face. “That was... it was a crazy situation. We were scared. We weren’t thinking clearly.”

“I was thinking clearly,” I said quietly. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching. “Well, I wasn’t. And I’d appreciate it if we could just move past it. Focus on the assignment. Keep things professional.”

Professional? He wanted professional? What the fuck? Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew he was trying to protect himself. Trying to maintain some kind of distance that would make it easier when the time came to walk away.

But I couldn’t let him do that.

“That’s not going to work for me,” I said, leaning forward. “You can’t just pretend I don’t exist, Red. You can’t pretend that what happened between us didn’t mean anything.”

“It didn’t,” he said flatly, but his hands were shaking as he gripped his textbook. “It was a mistake. A moment of weakness.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” I said, and it was true. His heart was racing, his scent had shifted to something full of anxiety and desire mixed together. He wanted me. He just didn’t want to want me.

“I’m not lying,” he insisted, but his voice wavered. “I just... I can’t do this, Aeron. I can’t be whatever it is you want me to be.”

“What do I want you to be?” I asked, genuinely curious about how he saw this situation.

“Yours,” he said bitterly. “I can’t be yours. I have too much going on. My family, my studies, my future. I don’t have room in my life for a possessive dragon who can’t take no for an answer.”

The words stung more than they should have. But underneath the sting was a deeper truth. He was scared. Not of me, but of what being with me would mean. Of losing control. Of becoming dependent on someone.

“What if I don’t want you to be mine?” I said slowly, testing the words even as I said them. “What if I just want you to be with me? There’s a difference, you know. I don’t have to own you.”

He looked at me then, and I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. “Is there though? Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve been pretty clear about what you want.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I have. But I’m willing to slow down if that’s what you need.”

It was a lie, or at least a half-truth. The mate bond was already pulling at me, demanding that I claim him in every way possible. But I could control that. I could be patient. I could give him time to catch up to what I already knew with absolute certainty.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, and the vulnerability in those three words made my chest ache. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Then don’t,” I said, surprising myself. “Don’t do anything. Just... let me in. Let me spend time with you. No expectations, no claims, no possessiveness. Just us, figuring this out.” I paused for a long moment before adding, “Please.”

He studied my face, looking for a lie. But there was nothing to be found because I was telling the truth. As much as my dragon nature was screaming at me to throw him over my shoulder and take him back to my dorm, I meant every word. If it meant having him in my life at all, I could compromise.

“One week,” he said finally. “We try this your way for one week. If it doesn’t work, we go our separate ways, and you don’t bother me anymore. Got it?”

It wasn’t everything I wanted, but it was something. A foothold. A chance.

“Deal,” I said, extending my hand across the table.

He looked at my hand like it might bite him, then slowly reached out and shook it. The moment our skin touched, I felt that electric spark again, that recognition that ran bone-deep. His eyes widened slightly, like he’d felt it too.

“What was that?” he whispered.

“Chemistry,” I said, not entirely lying. “The really good kind.”

He pulled his hand back like I’d burned him, but he was smiling despite himself. It was small and uncertain, but it was there.

“We should work on the assignment,” he said, redirecting his attention to his textbook.

“Yeah,” I agreed, settling into my seat. “We probably should.”