Charlie was reminded that dragons weren’t raised to indulge in the emotional constipation of seventeen-year-old boys. “You matter.”

“Great.” His attempt at looking lecherous was funnier than it was sexy. She managed not to laugh. “Let’s . . .”

“Talk.”

“But . . .”

“No.”

Eyes flaring gold, Jack rocked back on his heels. “It’s a stupid rule and it shouldn’t matter.”

“No, it shouldn’t. Do you know why?” she added, cutting him off before he could get all excited about her agreeing with him. “Because I am thirteen years older than you and nothing is going to happen. Rule or no rule.”

“But we’re Wild.” He climbed up and sat beside her.

“You’re seventeen, Jack.” Staring down at their dangling feet, she bumped the toe of her boot against the toe of his sneakers.

“I’ve been an adult for two years!”

“I’ve been an adult for fifteen. The numbers aren’t really helping your case.”

“But in ritual . . .”

“Ritual’s different.” Slate-gray clouds had started to pack into the arc of the sky and the temperature had dropped. She wished she could lean into the warmth Jack radiated even in skin. “I’m probably the only third circle who could handle you—maybe Katie, maybe not—but I don’t go into the circle where age doesn’t count because I don’t want to drive myself crazy with what I can’t have outside the circle.”

“What about what I want?”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t want to drive you crazy with what you can’t have outside the circle either.”

“Think highly of yourself.”

“No complaints so far.”

Jack snorted. Charlie had to lean back out of the cloud of smoke. They sat in silence for a few minutes until it dissipated, then he said, “You said I’m unique.”

“I did.”

“So the situation is unique.”

“Not arguing.”

“So the age thing . . .”

“Matters.”

“If you were a dragon . . .”

Charlie waited, but Jack didn’t finish. The only female dragon he’d ever known was his mother and that probably made it a little hard to extrapolate relationship cues.

“If I was thirty and you were forty-three?” he asked at last.

“Then the seven-year rule would apply.”

She could hear the heels of his sneakers impacting against the rock as he kicked his feet. Thud thud. Thud thud. Thud thud. After a moment, she realized he’d matched her heartbeat. Sitting up, she cocked her head and listened, shifting through the ambient noise.

His head swiveled around until he was staring back over his right shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing.” Their hearts were beating in time—a cardiopulmonary twist on happily never after. Had they been synced since she’d matched his rhythm in the Wood? Had she moved them one double step closer to the point of no return?

Nothing she could hear offered an answer. Thanks, world.

“So what do we do?” he asked after a long, quiet moment.