She gave me a solemn look. “We’re in one of Riley’s safe houses, an old bomb shelter he renovated from the Cold War era. We are literally underground right now. Hang on.” She turned, sliding off the mattress, and reached toward a small end table beside the bed. A bowl and a wet cloth sat on one corner, a glass and a pitcher on the other. She poured the last of the pitcher’s contents into the cup and turned back, cocking her head. “Can you sit up?”

Carefully, I struggled to a sitting position, feeling weak and unstable as I leaned forward, and Ember adjusted the pillows at my back. When we were done, she handed me the cup, and I forced myself to drink slowly, though the burning in my throat and deep in my chest made me want to down it in two gulps.

Putting the empty glass on the bedside table, I looked at Ember again. She ran her fingers over my forehead, brushing back my hair. Her fingers were cool and soft and left a soothing trail over my heated skin. “What do you remember?”

“I... I don’t know.” Everything was still fuzzy, and now the heat in my veins had become even more pronounced. I pressed a palm to my face, trying to clear my thoughts and to ease the pressure behind my eyes. “I was...fighting the Patriarch, I think,” I said. “He challenged me to a duel, and I agreed to fight him. That’s all I can remember.”

Ember nodded. “You won,” she said quietly. “You beat the Patriarch, but when the fight was over, he shot you. In the back.” A feral gleam entered her eyes, and I wondered if the Patriarch was still alive. If he had survived the vengeance of an enraged red dragon. “You nearly died,” Ember went on, the murderous look fading to one of anguish. “You were bleeding out, and the only way to save your life was to perform a blood transfusion right there. There was no time to take you to a hospital. And no one else had the right blood type. So... Riley became the donor.” She paused. “Riley saved your life, Garret.”

For a few seconds, I didn’t understand the significance, why she looked so distraught. Was she afraid that I would resent the fact that a former enemy had saved my life? Given our past, I was shocked that the rogue dragon had offered his own blood to save a soldier of St. George. Did Riley himself wish that he’d let me die? I didn’t think he was that vindictive, but I was a rival. No longer an enemy, but a challenger in the worst way—competition for the girl beside me. If I was out of the picture, Riley would have Ember all to himself.