“Pyr is what we call ourselves.” He recalled that she had powers of her own. “What do you call your kind?”
“Selkies.”
He hadn’t imagined it, then. She had turned to a seal. “I didn’t think selkies were real.”
“We nearly aren’t,” she replied, a little sharply, then eyed him. “I was pretty sure dragons weren’t real,” she continued with that same wry humor. He could have listened to her, with that accent, all day—or all night. “But you look pretty solid.”
“I am.” They were flying over the water, but Rhys heard waves on that beach ahead of them. He changed his course, wanting a kiss.
“But turn out the light,” she urged. “We don’t want to be seen by her.”
“I can’t. There’s only one thing that extinguishes the light of the firestorm.”
She started to ask, then their gazes met and he saw that she understood. “You’re kidding me. Not while you’re a dragon.”
“Not while I’m a dragon.” Rhys soared toward the beach, landing with a flourish. He felt filled with new power and grace, and he knew his shift to human form was perfect. He landed on his feet in the shallows with his mate cradled in his arms.
“Wow,” she said, running a hand over his shoulder as if she couldn’t stop herself. A sizzle of fire trailed after her touch, leaving Rhys sizzling. “Very impressive.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes danced as she met his gaze. “Although the red and silver scales were very striking.”
Rhys grinned. “I’m glad you approve.”
There was a distant boom of thunder and her panic returned. She spared a glance upward. “She is watching! I have to go.” She wriggled against him again. If she wanted him to release her, the movement had exactly the opposite effect. Rhys’ embrace tightened and his desire rose.
“It’s just a storm,” he said, trying to soothe her.
“She certainly is,” she said, her eyes flashing. It was clear that she meant to flee, but Rhys wanted that kiss first.
“Just one kiss before you go,” he entreated. “For the firestorm.”
She caught her breath, looked at his mouth, then glanced up again. “Or you’ll hold me captive until I do?” There was a warning in her tone and Rhys understood that she liked her freedom.
He loosened his grip deliberately. “Of course not. The decision is yours.”
She inhaled, her eyes sparkling, and ran her hands over him again, as if she couldn’t resist temptation. “You are a surprise. I thought dragons just grabbed the damsels they wanted.”
“I like women who choose to be with me.”
She smiled at him, her approval clear. “Maybe just one kiss,” she agreed, a little breathless. “I’ve never kissed a dragon shifter before.”
Rhys smiled. “Then we’ll have to make it count,” he whispered, then bent his head and captured her lips beneath his own.
“Oh,” she murmured and he swallowed the sound, slanting his mouth over hers to deepen his kiss. She made a little growl in her throat, as if she couldn’t decide whether to fight him or to surrender. Then she sighed and melted against him, parting her lips to welcome him. Her fingers slid into his hair and tangled in it, drawing him closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, taking control of the kiss in a thrilling way.
The firestorm blazed through him, setting his very blood on fire, hot and hungry and demanding, just the way they’d always said it would be. Desire obliterated every other thought from his mind. Rhys was aware of nothing but his mate and her perfection.
Her kiss—and her hunger for his touch.
He felt her arch her back to rub her breasts against his chest, and felt the tip of her teasing tongue. She wasn’t shy, and he liked that, too. This time, it was Rhys who growled in frustration. He pivoted without lifting his head and strode toward the beach.
“No!” she said, breaking their kiss. “There can’t be more.”
“There must be more,” Rhys replied. “The firestorm can’t be stopped.”
“This one has to wait,” she said as lightning flashed across the sky again. She kicked hard, suddenly. Her move surprised Rhys enough that he loosened his grip. She didn’t wait for a second chance. She jumped from his embrace and splashed into the water, diving for the depths again.
“No!” Rhys roared and dove after her. He saw a blue shimmer in the water ahead of him and knew what it meant. He snatched and caught the tip of her tail in one hand, and she paused to look back at him. She had half-changed, her lower body the tail of a seal, but her upper body still human. Her skin was gathered around her waist, like a cloak. She was like a mermaid but not. Her hair swirled around her and her gaze softened, the light of the firestorm glowing all around them. She reached back and touched his hand, so lithe and lovely that his heart squeezed.
“She’s coming,” she whispered, and he was amazed that she could communicate with him beneath the water. He heard her words, like old-speak but gentler. There was an entreaty in her gaze. “Hide yourself while you can.”
“Who?” Rhys used old-speak and she must have understood.
She shook her head. “I can’t say her name. I won’t say it.” She was fierce. Then she smiled at him. “One day, maybe you can tell me about your firestorm, dragon man.” She swam closer and Rhys released her tail, unable to bear the idea of her being injured because of him. She touched her lips to his cheek.
“Thank you for the kiss. It was one to remember.” Then with a flick of her tail, she was gone. Rhys saw her pale skin disappear and knew she’d completed the shift to her other form, then he had to take a breath of air. He surged for the surface, his chest tight, wishing he had the ability to swim after her and argue his case.
There was a brilliant flash of light above the water just as Rhys broke the surface again. It cracked like lightning, illuminating the surface of the sea and the beach as if it was midday. It was silver light, though, and the sight made him shiver. He spotted a pair of high-heeled sandals at the high tide mark on the beach, but there was no one else in sight. He turned in place, wondering who had abandoned the shoes, as the light faded away. Could it have been his mate? Would they lead her to him somehow? He began to move toward the beach, wanting any clue to her identity.
Then the lightning flashed again, cracking loudly as it struck Rhys between his shoulders. He cried out at the searing pain that shot through him and closed his eyes as the world spun. He summoned the change but his body betrayed him and he remained in human form.
He couldn’t shift.
Rhys was the one to panic then. Nothing interfered with his ability to change forms, and his hidden dragon gave him the confidence to face any foe.
But he couldn’t shift. It was terrifying.
There was a red string knotted around his wrist, one that burned. It hadn’t been there before the lightning struck. Even though it was thin, he couldn’t snap it. Rhys struggled to break it, then suddenly found himself in a court of glittering Fae, Hadrian sprawled beside him with a similar string on his wrist. He was soaking wet and his clothes smelled of salt water, but there was no spark of the firestorm.
Where was the ocean cove?
Where was Kristofer?
He hoped his mate had escaped.
Then the music started, infectious merry music, and his feet began to twitch of their own accord. Rhys found himself dancing a jig without having made any decision to do so. Hadrian awakened and lunged to his feet, seizing Rhys’ hands as he joined the dance. The two of them circled, their feet pounding against the ground, compelled to dance against their will. The court around them blurred into streaks of silver and red, the music melded with raucous laughter, and his feet began to hurt. Rhys was breathless, his heart thundering, but he couldn’t stop dancing. The red cord burned and the music went on and on and on.
All the while, he wondered about the selkie and her kiss. She had warned him, but he hadn’t taken her advice. He could only hope that didn’t mean he’d never see her again.
As his feet began to bleed, Rhys could only hope she was never snared like this.
One
November 9, 2019
Rhys wasn’t in a good mood.
It wasn’t just that his plans had been disrupted. He didn’t like surprises, but he’d do anything for his fellow Pyr, even drive to Vermont for Kristofer’s scale repair with very little warning. He was only slightly irked that he’d had to leave his beloved restaurant in the hands of his capable staff.
Okay, he was more than a little concerned about that.
The issue wasn’t that there was snow in the forecast and he hated winter with a passion.
It was his firestorm.
If that’s what it had been.
Rhys hadn’t told his fellow dragon shifters one key detail about his sojourn in Fae. He hadn’t mentioned the selkie and her kiss, much less the glorious burn of his firestorm. He would have, but learning that Kristofer’s firestorm in Fae had been fake ended the confession before it started. What if his firestorm had been a spell, as well? It had sparked after he’d entered the portal to Fae, which fed his suspicions.
Kristofer’s so-called destined mate had tried to kill him, too, which left Rhys wondering about the selkie’s goals. Why had she gone so deep into the ocean? Had she been luring him to his death?
She had warned him about Maeve, but the firestorm still could have been a spell. She could have warned him then summoned the Dark Queen to harvest him, just to make herself look trustworthy. Rhys didn’t like it. No matter how he looked at it, he’d followed Kristofer into Fae, been distracted by the spark of an apparent firestorm, indicating the proximity of his apparent mate, and had ended up dancing until his feet bled at the command of the Fae Queen.
That glorious selkie maiden might have been involved in the deception. She could be in league with Maeve, or she could have been snared into doing Maeve’s will, like Bree had been. Even though the Pyr had managed to save Rhys, his survival certainly hadn’t been part of anyone’s plans in Fae, and he liked being alive.
It was preferable to the alternative.
Trick me once, shame on you; trick me twice, shame on me.
Rhys had been taught that by his father, and it was a mantra that guided his life. He wasn’t going to tell the Pyr about the selkie, because they’d encourage him to pursue her, given that they were all protective romantics. Rhys had been spared that inclination. He was practical and he wasn’t going to take the chance that she was part of Maeve’s scheme.
Even if he had dreamed about her every single night since his escape from Fae.
But that was proof that there was something magickal afoot: Rhys never dreamed. Ever.
He could still feel the prickle of the firestorm, sparking in his veins, but she must be far away. He could ignore the summons when it came from such a distance, and he only hoped that his fellow Pyr didn’t notice its subtle glow.
He certainly wasn’t going after the selkie, wherever she was.
Rhys turned into Kristofer’s farm just as the first flakes of snow began to fall and saw that he was one of the last to arrive. He knew there must have already been a lot of discussion about the Others and the path forward, but he’d decided on his own course. Arriving later was strategic—it gave his fellow Pyr less time to notice the firestorm and try to change his mind. Rhys parked his black pick-up beside Quinn’s and Kristofer strode to meet him.
“Did you find that maple syrup place?” Kristofer asked, surveying the coolers in the back of the truck.
“Yes, thanks. I bought all they had.” Rhys laughed at Kristofer’s shocked expression. “I’ll take most of it back to the restaurant, but some is for tonight. You were right: it’s really good. Pure.”
“So you tasted it?”
“When they found out that I was interested in a large quantity, they opened a bottle for me.” Rhys smiled. “I think they were as shocked as you that I bought it all, though.” He opened a large cooler to display the fresh salmon he’d bought in Manhattan that morning. “Look at these beauties. You won’t believe how the maple syrup glaze transforms the flavor when the salmon is grilled.”
“We’re going to feast tonight,” Hadrian said, clapping Rhys on the back as he joined them. He glanced at his hand with a frown and inhaled, then studied Rhys. So much for none of the Pyr noticing the firestorm’s faint spark.
“Look at you!” Rhys said, pretending the glow of heat was from Hadrian. “Picking up tips from the Smith already?” Hadrian was an artisan blacksmith like Quinn, although his studio was in Northumberland. He did a lot of historical restoration work.
Hadrian grinned. “Trying. Do you ever worry that we invite you just to ensure we eat well?”
Rhys shook his head. “No, because I make you work for it.”
“True enough. Mr. Perfection with his prep.”
“Everyone’s ready to be sous to your chef,” Kristofer said, lifting out the cooler of fish with a grunt. “Just tell us what to do.”
“You’re on,” Rhys said. “But it looks like Quinn is ready to get down to business first.
“He says the forge is ready,” Kristofer admitted.
Rhys cleared his throat, knowing he needed to ask one question. “What happened with the gem of the hoard?” He kept his tone light, as if the answer was less important to him than it was. He knew that Kristofer’s mate, Bree, had held the piece of amber for centuries without realizing its importance to the ancient dragon prince, Embron, who had recently been awakened. He also knew that it was the responsibility of the mate to give a gift to ensure the repair of her dragon’s missing scale.
If Bree had offered the gem of the hoard, that would make Kristofer a target for the dragon prince forever—and it would feed all of Rhys’ suspicions about Bree’s true intentions.
“Rafferty brought it back,” Kristofer said easily. “He said we should have all the tools we might need to succeed against Embron.”
“But where is it?” Rhys insisted, aware that Hadrian was watching closely.
“Safe in my hoard. We’ll decide tonight who’s going to take charge of it until this is over.” Kristofer’s expression lit as Bree came out of the house. Rhys watched the way the new couple smiled at each other and wondered if his friend really did know enough about his new mate.
It had been only ten days since they’d met, after all.
And she had been a Valkyrie. It had been her task for centuries to harvest souls.
There was no spark of the firestorm when Bree stood beside Kristofer, which meant the genuine one that had sparked between them had been satisfied, and that she’d already conceived. They were in it together now, Rhys thought, for better or for worse, and he silently wished them well.
He still had his doubts, though.
“At least there’s that,” Hadrian muttered to Rhys as they carried groceries into the house.
“What do you mean?”
“The firestorm is satisfied,” Hadrian said quietly. “She surrendered her immortality to be with him. Both good signs, even if I’m not quite convinced.”
Rhys met his gaze and nodded, knowing that his suspicions were shared by at least one other Pyr. Then Hadrian surveyed him again, his expression becoming puzzled, and Rhys strode ahead, keeping his secret to himself.
“I never thought I’d see the day that you came into a city for anything,” Nyssa said. “Never mind leaving North Rona in the fall. Don’t you have seal pups to count?”
Lila felt her fellow-selkie studying her and didn’t meet her gaze. She was too busy trying to hide the faint golden glow that had brightened around her fingertips since landing at JFK. The heat of the firestorm had definitely increased since she had reached the U.S., which made it harder to concentrate on her mission.
She was burning up and only one thing would satisfy her.
She hoped the brighter light meant her dragon shifter was close, because she’d found it impossible to think about anything other than sex since they’d met. She’d been skept
ical of his claims about the firestorm, but this constant glow fed her desire and kept her awake at night. She wasn’t exactly chaste, but she’d never thought so obsessively about sex before. She’d relived that kiss a thousand times, if not more, and literally burned for his touch. The firestorm clearly didn’t take no for an answer.
Why hadn’t he come to her? He could have followed the spark as easily as Lila had. It was the mark of his kind in finding their destined mate, after all. Wasn’t the feeling mutual? Didn’t he find her attractive? He was mortal, after all, and mortals usually felt an urgency to ensure that their lineage survived.
But she hadn’t seen him since she’d fled into the depths, hoping to escape Maeve. Had the Dark Queen captured him after all? As soon as Lila thought of that, she’d decided to seek him out immediately.
She’d ensure that he was okay, seduce him, then go back to her work.
Nyssa had told her ages ago that she’d moved to Manhattan because there were many Others in the city. It had seemed like a good place to start to hunt her dragon, and Lila was relieved that the glow of the firestorm had brightened in the airport.
She must have made a good guess.
Lila could see him in her memory, his dark hair and dark eyes, his muscled build. His aura had been brilliant, all fiery red and yellow, an indication of his vitality and his confidence. There had been a shadow upon it, not the kind that indicated a physical wound but one that hinted he grieved a loss. Even though she could seldom heal that kind of injury, Lila found those shadows appealing. They meant that he had a heart.
He was beautiful in his dragon form—majestic, even—and obviously powerful, with scales as red as garnets, seemingly bordered in silver. He’d glittered and shone, like a jeweled treasure as he flew through the sky. Yet he was powerful, too, and clearly a warrior. When his bright gaze met hers, Lila had felt warm right to her toes.
And that kiss had been the stuff of fantasies. She was looking forward to another one, and a whole lot more. One night should be enough—a very active night—then she could get back to work.
Dragon's Heart (The DragonFate Novels Book 3) Page 2
