Free Phoenix by Dawn Rae Miller Page A

of my dress.
    "You're still not fully under control, are you?" he asks.
    "Are you?"  
    "Yes." He avoids my gaze, a sure sign he's lying.  
    Air rushes out of my nostrils. "Didn't feel that way in the meeting," I say, recalling the way his anger simmered inside me. "I, at least, can tell the difference between our emotions. I know what's mine and what's yours. Can you say the same?"
    "Are you worried I'm going to set someone on fire? Or maybe blow up the meeting room instead of leaving a little memento? Or maybe you're worried you'll do it to me?" he taunts. A slow smile plays across his lips. "I'd like to see you try to pull something like that. Don't forget, my magic rivals yours."
    "Does it?" I challenge. From inside my pocket, I flick my fingers and a tiny bolt of energy zooms toward Beck. Nothing that would cause more than a tiny shock.  
    He deftly catches it and tosses it back to me. "Child's play, Birdie. Don't forget, I've been at this a lot longer than you."
    His words are a stab to the gut.  
    I scowl and fold my arms across my chest. What I want is to stomp away, but that's childish behavior – something I'm trying to give up.  
    "Are you okay?" Beck asks as our eyes meet. The anger from moments ago has evaporated, leaving behind concern.
    "No," I say. My throat constricts, and I force out the next words. "I hate when you treat me like I'm not your equal. I hate how you've known about being a witch for years – years – longer than me. And mostly, I hate when you flaunt it in front of me. I'm a powerful witch, don't ever forget it."
    He takes two large steps and closes the distance between us. "How could I ever forget?" he asks.
    I bristle when he tries to fold me into his strong arms, but Beck doesn't stop trying. He wraps himself around me, hugging me close until our breathing becomes one. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.  
    "Sometimes," I say. "It's just too much. Do you understand?"
    He kisses the top of my head and pulls me into the nearest empty room. "I may be the only person in the world who does."
    "It's not only all this outside stuff, but the problems between you and me too. How are you supposed to fully trust me again after all the things I've done to you? How am I to trust you when you keep supporting Ryker? And your emotions – Beck I've never felt you so irate before."
    "And I've never felt you so...so unprepared." Beck's breath is heavy in my ear. "I won't lie, trying to kill me and sentencing me to death doesn't exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy toward you."
    I gently punch his arm. "That's not what I mean. I turned on you. How can you forgive me?"
    His hands cup my face and tilts my head back. "I forgive you because I know you better than myself. But above all else, I love you. And I will love you until the day I die."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    "Wake up, Lark. You have to get ready." Annalise flings open my heavy bedroom curtains, and dim light filters through the window. "The camera will be here in two hours."
    I stretch my arms over my head before burying myself back into Beck's shoulder. The warmth of the bed is greater than my fear of whatever Annalise can do to me. "What are you talking about?"
    "Today's your official first day back on the job. Have you forgotten? You announced it to the world yesterday."
    I groan and pull the covers over my head. "Surely, that doesn't mean waking up at..." I glance at my wristlet and groan again. "Five-thirty."
    "Surely, it does," my sister-in-law replies. " You have to give the daily Student Report. Just like Malin did."
    This has to be a bad dream. "More newscasts? Can't we just abolish this piece of the job?"
    "No," she says, yanking away the duvet. With her free arm, she tugs me away from Beck. "The Society needs to see you actually working." She sits me upright on the bed. "Plus, this is the easiest part of your day. Don't forget, you have Council briefings to attend and meetings with dignitaries."
    An exasperated sigh escapes my mouth. "Can't I set