Free Within the Flames by Marjorie M. Liu Page A

not have upset her as much as it did.
    But it opened old wounds. It made her think of her father.
    Straightening, she lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eyes. “Did Estefan know about Long Nu?”
    He watched her, so carefully. “I don’t think so. My employer was the one who contacted her after receiving your friend’s letter.”
    “What did Long Nu tell you about me?”
    “Not enough.” Eddie reached, very slowly, inside his pocket—and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside was something charred. “This is yours.”
    Lyssa didn’t touch it. “What is it?”
    “A photo of you when you were twelve.”
    She blinked, startled. He held up the bag. Inside, she saw a fragment of her face. Young and smiling. Before it all went to hell.
    Her right hand clenched into a fist, claws biting through the tips of her gloves into her palm. “Did Long Nu give you that?”
    “Yes.”
    Sorrow burned away into anger. “How dare she.”
    “What happened?”
    “None of your business.” Lyssa backed away, that glimpse of her young face burning a hole through her heart. “We’re done here. Get away from me.”
    Eddie’s mouth hardened, and in one long stride he stood inside her personal space. Suddenly, he seemed so much larger than her—strong and big, and powerful—bristling with a heat that seemed to shimmer over his body. It took all of Lyssa’s strength not to retreat.
    “Back off,” she snapped.
    His eyes were so dark. “No.”
    No. It was impossible that one word should be laced with so much determination.
    “I will kick your ass to Sunday,” she told him.
    He leaned in even more. “You try. Beat me black-and-blue, if that makes you feel better. I’m not going anywhere. I was sent to find you. To protect you. And you better believe I will do that. You run, and I will find you. Again, and again, and again.”
    She believed him. And it enraged her.
    Ten years on her own, ten years alone, and while some of that time had been shit, she’d made it—and hammered out a life with her own two hands, a life that was quick and dirty, but hers.
    And now this man, a stranger, was telling her that he was in her life ?
    And Long Nu was involved?
    No, she thought. No way. Not in a million years was Lyssa going to let that stand. It would be like spitting on her father’s memory. All the humiliations, his isolation, his sacrifice.
    Be C="#eigcause Long Nu had thrown them to the wolves.
    “Get away from me,” she growled.
    “No,” he said again, and there was more quiet power in that one word than in any other she’d ever heard.
    She backed away. Eddie followed. She turned, and he stayed right on her heels, terrible heat flowing down her back.
    “Lyssa,” he said, reaching for her.
    She whirled, lashing out with her first: a solid right hook that snapped toward his face. Fast, driven by arm muscles deformed with power.
    Eddie blocked her. Barely. Her fist clipped his ear, but he twisted, and clamped his hand around her wrist. She grabbed his throat, but not before his hand slid forward, beneath her sleeve—and touched her bare, reptilian, skin.
    The contact burned. Burned to the bone.
    Lyssa flinched. So did he. A roaring sound filled her ears, and her vision brightened in a haze of golden light. She tried to let go, but her hand around his throat would not loosen, no matter how hard she tried. The world blurred away in the light until all she could see was Eddie’s eyes.
    He was looking at her . . . not with fear . . . but that quiet, deadly compassion.
    I understand, she heard him say inside her mind. I’m sorry.
    Smoke rose from beneath her hand.
    Everything exploded.
    Chapter Six
     
    E ddie knew it was a mistake the moment he touched Lyssa.
    Because he was irritated when he caught her wrist—and it didn’t matter that she had tried to punch him. He had laid a hand on her, with frustration, annoyance—and it was too close to anger for comfort.
    Too close to his worst nightmare.
    So Eddie did