Mercy Burns by Keri Arthur

need them to know that the stranger was awake.
    “What are you?” His voice was deep and smoky, thick with disuse and rich with a menace that sent a shiver down my spine.
    “A prisoner, like you.” I tried to pull my wrist from his grip, but it was stuck fast.
    “Then why do you glow?”
    “Because I was using my heat to warm you.” I pulled at my wrist again. “Damn it, let me go.”
    He did so with a suddenness that had me sprawling backward. I picked myself up and scrambled to myside of the box, letting my fire die until it was little more than a muted glow that barely heated my skin, let alone the darkness.
    But it was enough to see his eyes. They were as black as the shadows and as cold as hell.
    I shivered. Not a man to be taken lightly.
    “Dragons can’t use their fire at night.”
    “Then it’s just as well it’s not night, isn’t it?” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, because the slivers of energy still riding the air suggested the last vestiges of daylight hadn’t fully given way to darkness.
    I pushed up onto the metal bench, but felt no better for being at eye level with the man. He could freeze an ocean with that stare of his.
    I raised a hand and half covered the angry-looking scar on my forehead, then realized I was being stupid and let it drop. What I looked like or what he actually thought of me didn’t matter. All that did was his willingness to help me.
    “You were slipping into hibernation,” I added, somewhat snippily. “Maybe I should have let you.”
    Since I
did
want his help, they probably weren’t the wisest of words, but I just couldn’t help it.
    He raised a dark eyebrow. It lent him an arrogance that seemed appropriate given his strong nose and steely gaze. “So why didn’t you?”
    “Because there are three guards upstairs and that’s one too many for me to handle.” Hell,
two
was probably too many for me to handle, especially if they were all armed. I might have flames, but they couldn’t beat back a bullet.
    He smiled. Like his eyes, it was a cold, hard thing,and yet it sent my pulse tripping. It was very easy to imagine those lips touched by the warmth of a real smile. Very easy to imagine the beauty of it.
    “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a rather secure cell. It has no windows, it’s lined with some sort of metal sheeting that is impervious to flames, and it has a rather thick metal door.”
    “I can see that. I’m not blind.”
    “Then how do you plan to escape?”
    His tone was that of a parent humoring a well-meaning but errant child, and that irritated me even more than his stare. “I haven’t been here very long. Give me a chance to think.”
    Again a smile teased the corners of his mouth, but this time, it hinted at amusement. My breath caught briefly in my throat. Lord help me if he actually flung a full smile my way. I had a feeling it would be devastating.
    “Don’t you think if there was a way out, I would have found it by now?”
    “Well, considering you were unconscious and slipping into hibernation when they dropped me in here, I’d have to say no. I mean, it’s hard to be proactive about escaping when you’re out of it, isn’t it?”
    He studied me for a moment, then swung around on the bench and sat up. His long fingers gripped the base tightly for several seconds, hinting at either pain or dizziness—neither of which showed in his stony expression.
    “Who are you?” he asked, after a moment.
    “What are you?” I countered. I might want this man’s help escaping, but I wasn’t about to trust himwith anything more vital than that. “The men upstairs were calling you a muerte. What the hell is that?”
    “Literally,
muerte
means ‘death.’ ”
    And death had
never
looked so good. I mentally slapped the thought away, and said, “I realize that. I meant, why would they call
you
that?”
    Amusement flirted with the night-dark depths of his eyes, a spark that did little to warm the chill of his countenance. “Because