Going to sleep is hazy, but waking up is bright as day. My preconceived notions about my fire element disillusioned me about the literal sun. My skin is not impressed, and its defiance leaves me curled up in a foreign bed, writhing in baked lobster-hued pain.

Derry winces as his slight touch causes my body to recoil reflexively. “I’ll get Ryan.”

Waiting with gritted teeth, I consider the irony of my insides being equipped to handle the unnatural fire fuel coursing through me while my outside is ill-equipped to handle natural light.

Ryan grimaces when he sees me. Not a good sign. “We should’ve been more careful with you.”

I groan. I’m not in the right frame of mind to argue his blame-taking due to the agonizing torture of my sunburn.

At first, his hands only elevate the pain. After a few minutes, the burning subsides. “Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely, my cracked lips protesting the call to action. “Can I have something to drink?”

Derry comes bearing the most glorious gift. Huh. Who would’ve thought a bottle of water could overturn my caffeine preference? I chug it down rather messily, swipe at the drip rivers streaming down my chin, and hand back the empty bottle.

I sense his immediate relief at the release of my pain and shun the pleasure it gives me. “Where are we?” I redirect, putting my garbage soup on the back burner where it belongs. It needs to simmer.

“Buenos Aires,” he replies in a rather alluring Portuguese accent.

“Should’ve just flown on home.”

He frowns.

I can’t find it in me to care whether the frown is disapproving or forlorn. If I examine it, I’ll be forced to analyze what he made me do. Instead of getting over it, I’ll get gradually more frustrated over his manipulation. It’s constant, really. Not just about this. About everything.

Okay, I can’t resist analyzing it the tiniest bit. Bottom line, his request to vaccinate was irresponsible. Had I not been so completely consumed by him at the time, as I always am in his presence, I would’ve waited. We would’ve had lengthy pro and con discussions before taking any action. The dissolution didn’t just revert his Sumair conversion. It removed my love struck blinders, so I see the poor judgment on both our parts with crystal clarity.

“It’s fine,” I manage, the throat fire dissipating. “This bed is a pleasant surprise.”

“Good.” He smiles, oblivious to my continued suffering. It’s all emotional. The sunburn is sorted. “Now get up. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I lift a brow. “Dreyna?”

“She’s an added bonus.” His expression is contemplative. “We came to see Matthew.”

“Matthew?” I’m still sleep-groggy while he’s bouncing around like a sugar-filled toddler. How long was I out?

“Get ready. I’ll explain it all to you.”

I cautiously skim my previously toastercaked face. The skin is smooth and pain-free. Point to Ryan.

“Take your time,” Ryan suggests. “I’m off to grab Mel. We should go as a group.”

“You’re certain that’s a smart idea?” Derry’s anxiety doesn’t help my budding apprehension. What have I missed?

Ryan smiles tightly, promising his next words will be a lie. “It’ll be fine.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Once he leaves the room, I take a few moments to fully survey my surroundings. The king-sized bed, fashioned with luxurious satin, nearly makes me forget I’m mad at Derry. Nearly. The solid red drapes are made of the same satin material as the bedding.

“We have some free time.” Derry grins from ear to ear. “How do you want to spend it?”

Free time is the last thing I want. I’m not ready to have a conversation about last night. I haven’t even figured out if my anger is justified or not.

He slinks into the bed. My clothes are sticking to me with the security of super glue from the heat. My need for a shower outweighs my desire to cuddle Derry. Pretty much anything would outweigh my desire to cuddle Derry right now.

“Temperature check?” He’s using his hand to hold up his head. Bright side: he doesn’t try to touch me. I’m not sure how I’d respond to that. Not well, I’m guessing.

“I need a shower.” My tone is arctic.

“We need to discuss this.”

Would feigning ignorance help? Let’s try it. “Discuss what?”

“You being mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” I lie.

He scoffs. “You are, and the perfect time to talk is now. Otherwise, it’ll make camp.”

“It won’t,” I lie some more.

He sighs. I really don’t care if he’s uncomfortable. It was easier for us to communicate before he chucked his mind-reading down the garbage chute. Having to vocalize my feelings is new. Can’t say I’m a fan. Getting used to the change isn’t something I want to do.

“Do you feel differently now?” He’s worried.

My concern was he’d feel differently. It hadn’t occurred to me that breaking the connection might impact my feelings. Him? He’s attentive as ever. Me? I want him to go away because everything about him is super annoying. That probably isn’t a golden sign. Do I want a permanent separation? No clue. I definitely want a temporary one. I need evaluation space. He pushed a substantial relationship shift on me, and it was sudden. No time to weigh consequences before I was coerced into acting on his request. Look, I’m not having a mystical moment where I magically stop giving myself grief and start blaming everyone for my actions. I was an idiot, too. I acted impulsively, which is kind of my default setting. I could’ve said no. I should’ve said no.

“I need to sort my feelings.” I stare at the ceiling, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Oh.” One simple word can be far from simple.

“I’m getting a shower.” I blow out a breath.

I need some private reflection to get past my irrational feelings. Are they irrational, though? I’m not convinced they are. Things will be fine, right? Sure, they will. But how? What’s the first step? Priority one is stowing my anger. I can’t do that with the repository in the vicinity.

“We need to talk,” he persists.

Seems he’s set on a confrontation. Using emotional manipulation to gain my temporary freedom is hypocritical, seeing as his persistent manipulation is what I’m most mad about, but the alternative is a blowout this beautiful hotel room can’t contain.

I send out calming currents like the balm Ryan applied when relieving my sunburn. My intention is to keep Derry steady and allow myself the space I need for a thorough self-evaluation. This effort leads to vaccination problem number one. My emotional negation doesn’t work on him. Not only did I humanize my boyfriend, but apparently, my magic has no effect on him whatsoever. I feel his feelings, but I can’t control them.

I need confirmation. “Did you feel that?”

His eyes widen, confused. “Feel what?”

“I was trying to pacify you so I could vacate the premises.”

“Well, if you want to go, just go!” He’s getting frustrated.

I try to cocoon myself in his emotions. While I feel them just the same as normal, I can’t cease them. They won’t budge. “You’re immune.”

“Immune to what?”

“My emotional projection.” I shake my head. “My abilities have no effect on you.”

His disapproving scowl says a lot. “You’re trying to control my emotions?”

I crinkle my nose, properly chastised. “Yes.”

“How often do you do that, typically?”

“Obviously not enough.” I don’t appreciate the accusation. “If I wanted to control you, I’d have done it last night! Then I wouldn’t be this hot mess of garbage regret!”

“You didn’t have to do it.”

“Of course I did!” I fling my feet over the side of the bed. It’s so high they don’t touch the floor. Fancy. “It’s what you wanted.”

What I want is for him to react as poorly as I am to justify the shrillness in my tone and the ever-increasing volume of my responses. He doesn’t. Lame.

“I’ll be in the hallway when you’re ready.”

“Maybe you should just go without me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sweetheart.” His smile makes me even madder. “Unless you ask me to.”

“No stipulations?”

“Only one.” He looks me straight in the eye, deadly serious. “You can’t be mad when you ask me.”

I shrug. “Sounds fair.”

“I’m not scared of a little fire.”

“You should be.” I hide my face in my hands. “I am.”

I recoil when he attempts to bridge our gap. Disappointed, he leaves the room, respecting my desire to be alone. While I’m still mad, my anger at myself is more prominent.

I head to the shower, hoping for a cool down. I can’t change the past. I can only move forward, but I need a knight. Can Derry be my knight without his shining armor?