Chapter 47 47- Do Not Say Yes Without Thinking First
LEXI
Inside the box is the most gorgeous jewellery I have ever seen. Not nice. Not pretty. Not even just beautiful. Gorgeous in a way that makes my chest tighten and my brain short-circuit for a second. And considering I’ve been walking around for days wearing a necklace and a bracelet straight out of Blake’s hoard, that is really saying something. This is a full set. A choker necklace, earrings, and a bracelet, each piece formed from a solid gold band about two centimetres wide, the metal polished so perfectly it reflects light like a mirror. The gold alone would be more than enough to make my head spin. But that’s not the part that breaks me. Set into the gold are gems. I want to call them diamonds, but that word feels wrong the moment it forms in my head. These gems aren’t just catching the light, they’re producing it. A warm, internal glow pulses beneath the surface of each one, like embers banked beneath glass. The light shifts subtly as I move, golden and molten, as if each gem holds a living flame trapped inside. My breath stutters. I realise I’ve stopped breathing entirely and suck in air far too fast.
“Oh my-” I gasp out. I don’t finish the sentence. My jaw has dropped. My hands feel suddenly clammy. My pulse is loud in my ears. Blake is watching me with an expression that is unmistakably proud. Not smug exactly, but satisfied. Like he chose these very deliberately and my reaction is confirming something important to him. That alone is terrifying. My brain finally reboots, and immediately goes into full panic mode.
“Absolutely not!” I blurt, snapping the lid shut like it might explode. I shove the box toward him. When he doesn’t take it, I surge to my feet, cross the room in three long strides, and place it back on his shelf with far more force than strictly necessary. There. Not in my hands. Not my responsibility. Blake frowns, his brows knitting together.
“I thought we already decided you’d end up taking it anyway.” He complains, and the faint, almost petulant edge to his tone throws me completely. I spin around, hands flying.
“That was before I saw those!” I exclaim, pointing helplessly at the shelf.
“You can’t just… Blake, those are terrifying.” I blurt out. His eyes narrow slightly.
“Why?” He asks, completely sincere.
“You like them.” He confirms. Then, as if he’s offering a helpful clarification he continues.
“They’re fire diamonds, by the way. You can probably see why they’re called that.” He adds. I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh that sounds a little hysterical even to my own ears.
“Of course I like them. They’re incredible. They’re unreal. They’re the kind of thing people write legends about. That’s the problem.” I say. He shrugs, utterly unbothered. It is infuriating. I drag both hands through my hair, pacing once before stopping in front of him again.
“Okay. Okay.” I say, forcing myself to slow down.
“Here are my reasons why I will not accept them.” I tell him as I start counting on my fingers.
“One, they are WAY too expensive. Like, ‘ruin my entire life if I lose them’ expensive. Two, they are obviously valuable, which means I am now a walking target if I wear them ANYWHERE in public. Three, I have nowhere even REMOTELY safe enough to store something like that. My room does not come with a dragon-proof vault.” I hesitate, my voice lowering.
“And four… Because it’s just not right for me to accept something that valuable from you.” I remind him. I look at him, genuinely bewildered. Because this makes no sense. One minute ago, he nearly growled at me for touching a rock. A perfectly normal, smooth, rock that he probably just picked up off the ground somewhere for free. And now he’s trying to hand me jewellery that could probably fund a small country. I honestly don’t know whether Blake is insane or if this is just what caring looks like when you’re a dragon. Either way, it’s not okay.
Blake is watching me, eyes narrowed, not angry, not frustrated. Focused. Like he’s studying a puzzle he’s determined to solve. I can practically feel him thinking. I know that look now. It means he’s already decided what he wants, and he’s working out how to make me agree without forcing the issue. Which is… Unsettling, given that what he wants me to accept could probably buy a small island. I straighten, squaring my shoulders.
“No.” I say firmly.
“Tell me why it’s so important to you that I take them.” I demand. He freezes. Actually freezes, like I’ve stepped somewhere unexpected, somewhere he didn’t intend to go yet.
“It’s…” He starts, then stops. His jaw tightens. He looks away for half a second, then back at me. I know he can’t lie to me. Not properly. And he knows that I know. I wait, hands settling on my hips, heartbeat steady but loud in my ears.
“Well?” I prompt quietly.
“There are lots of reasons. One of them is that it is… Proof. Of our relationship. Visible proof. That others can see.” He explains. I fight the urge to groan. I knew that part already. NOBODY has missed the fact that I have been wearing gifts from his hoard. The cruel comments all over the SCRI app are proof of that. Which… Actually, is a fairly good answer.
“I am really not sure why that is necessary. But even if I just accept that it is a ‘you’ thing and that it’s important to you. I’m already wearing TWO gifts that you gave me. Does that not count as proof?” I ask. Blake frowns.
“Yeah… But…” He struggles for words. I can see that he has another reason, but he isn’t willing to explain it. He stands there silently.
“Blake… I can’t accept a gift, especially one as INSANE as this one, if you can’t or won’t explain what the gift actually means.” I say firmly. Whatever he says, gifts like that come with strings. Those strings might be invisible commitments or debts, they might be just a feeling of being indebted somehow or a silent need to reciprocate somehow. Blake goes very still. Then, instead of answering, he steps closer. Not crowding me. Not trapping me. Just close enough that I can feel his warmth, close enough that my breath catches before I can stop it. He lifts a hand and gently catches a strand of my hair between his fingers, twisting it slowly around them. Deliberately. Intimately.
“What do you think it means?” He asks softly. His voice is low, almost careful. Like he’s testing the question as much as my reaction to it. For a moment, my mind is completely blank. Because… I kind of think it means the same thing as it means when he calls me precious and kisses my hair, the same thing that it means when he walks me to every single class and threatens teachers for me and tries so hard to help me figure out what I am. I think it means he’s courting me, trying to win me over in the only way he knows how. But I can’t just… SAY that. Because what if I’m wrong? But saying that out loud feels dangerous. So I don’t answer. I just look at him. Hold his gaze. Let him see that I understand more than I’m saying. Something shifts in his expression, frustration, restraint, something softer underneath. After a long moment, he exhales and steps back half a pace, letting my hair slip free from his fingers.
“I understand if you won’t take them.” He says quietly.
“But… Would you consider wearing them tonight? Just for the dance.” He asks. He meets my eyes again, earnest now, stripped of strategy.
“Just tonight. I’ll take them back afterward. And I’ll be with you the entire time. You won’t have to worry about anything.” He promises. About safety. About judgment. About him. I hesitate. Then nod.
“Okay. Just for tonight.” I say softly. Because… I DO want to wear them. And while neither of us is willing to define the strings that come with a gift like that, I’m not entirely sure that I DON’T want them. His shoulders relax, just a fraction. And I get the distinct feeling that I’ve agreed to something far more dangerous than jewellery.