Dragon's Kiss (The DragonFate Novels Book 2)

by Deborah Cooke

  She stood, unsteady on her feet, and noticed the veins on the backs of her hands. The skin wasn’t smooth and youthful anymore, much to her horror. She knew she’d surrendered magick to fulfill her will, but hadn’t guessed the cost would be so high.

  She went to the mirror on the far wall and braced herself to look. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of herself as a harridan, skin lined, eyes sunken, hair turned to silver. Her breasts sagged and her skin hung slack; her smile was a ghastly parody of what it had been.

  “No!” She retreated to her writing desk, staring in horror at what she had become. Then she saw the crystal orb, the one that many believed to be just a paperweight. It should have been filled with the red glow of magick. Instead, it was cracked in half, only the barest glimmer of red clinging to the edges.

  This was the violation. Someone had cracked the orb and stolen her magick.

  Maeve swore then she hurled one half at the mirror. The mirror shattered and the sound gave her some satisfaction.

  But not enough.

  “It’s because of the Pyr,” she muttered and reached for the other half. “Dragons change everything. Dragons take command.”

  Maybe dragons had taken her magick.

  It had come from them in the first place. Who else would have had the nerve to steal it from her?

  More importantly, how could she get it back?

  Kris flew Bree to the closest small town, and Bree hoped that the storm would keep anyone from seeing him. It was pretty quiet on the coast and the rain was coming down with cold force. He shifted outside the town, when the few lights were a good distance ahead, and they walked there together. He was still bleeding but she wanted to tend his injury in better light, and make sure it was clean. She ended up supporting him a bit as they walked the last distance. At least they looked sufficiently wet and bedraggled to make their story of a car accident seem plausible.

  There was a small inn perched on the lip of the ocean and Bree thought it probably had a beautiful view when the weather was clear. On this night, it was the haven they needed. She spoke in Norwegian to the older couple who ran the place, noticing that when Kris spoke, his words seemed to be more persuasive.

  She didn’t care if he was beguiling their hosts or not. He used their phone and called Alasdair at Rafferty’s place, who sent some money electronically to the proprietors. That made things go much more smoothly. She had to do some fast talking to get them to overlook the blood on his shirt, but Kris told a story about hitting his nose and having a nosebleed. His wounds were visible, but thanks to the beguiling, they believed him.

  They asked, of course, about the sparks of the firestorm and Bree smiled that Kris’s beguiling skills were getting such a workout.

  She was relieved beyond belief when they were alone in their room, with the door locked behind them. The firestorm brightened to a radiant glow, filling the room with golden light and Bree with need.

  Kris leaned back against the door with his eyes closed for a moment. Then he smiled, raising his hands toward her. Sparks of brilliant orange danced between them and Bree lifted her own hands, Each spark snapped against her skin, driving the thoughts of anything other than sexual satisfaction from her mind. She caught her breath, overwhelmed by the heat of the firestorm’s urgency, and realized Kris was watching her.

  “Nothing like the real thing?” he murmured with a smile. His eyes were vividly blue and his attention was fixed upon her. Her dragon was back.

  And there was only one thing to do about it.

  “I don’t know how anyone withstands it,” she said, hearing how she sounded breathless. “It’s so much stronger and hotter than the fake one was.”

  “It’s supposed to get stronger the longer it burns.”

  “I don’t think I can bear it.”

  He grinned crookedly and took a step closer. The heat seemed to double and the sparks lit to a brighter hue. Bree caught her breath as desire throbbed within her. Kris’s eyes glittered as he watched her. “I told you the firestorm never lied,” he murmured in a low rumble. “I told you that we were destined to be together.”

  Bree laughed. “So, even a fake firestorm should be trusted?”

  “We make a great team. You can’t argue with that.”

  Bree shook her head. “I won’t.” She reached out and tugged at the hem of his shirt. A flurry of white and yellow sparks erupted from the point of contact, blinding in their intensity. The surge of raw need that shot through Bree’s body was enough to weaken her knees. “Come on,” she said. “Let me look at that wound.”

  “You just want to get me naked and have your way with me,” Kris teased. His expression revealed that he had no issues with that.

  Bree laughed. “You’re right.” She backed him into the wall and kissed him again, loving that she could show her feelings with her touch, loving how he caught her close and kissed her back. Kissing was proving to be addictive. She didn’t think she’d ever get enough of it.

  She ran her hands beneath his shirt and around his back, feeling the power of his body and the heat of him. The sparks of the firestorm flew around them, burning whiter and brighter with every passing moment, and she ached with desire right to her toes. Kris speared his fingers into her hair and held her captive to his kiss, feasting upon her mouth with a hunger Bree shared. Kissing him back drove them both wild in a very satisfactory way.

  They parted with reluctance and she stripped off his shirt. He was healing already, a scab forming over the wound. Bree tugged him into the bathroom and cleaned the wound even as she murmured the old rune charm for healing. She rubbed the salve of the Pyr into the injury, repeating the rune, and looked up to find him watching her, his eyes glimmering with intent.

  She took a step back and stripped off her own clothes, liking that he apparently couldn’t look away from her. She might have felt vulnerable after her sacrifice, but Kris’s hot gaze made her feel powerful in a different way. He kicked off his jeans and she saw that she wasn’t the only one with expectations. He then beckoned to her as the firestorm crackled and burned around them. She caught his face in her hands and kissed him again. His hands locked around her waist and she stretched to her toes, leaning against his hard strength as they kissed. Sparks swirled around them, playfully dancing even as the firestorm fed their rising passion.

  “That’s new,” Kris said finally, tracing a circle on the base of her spine with a warm fingertip. He was looking over her shoulder at the reflection in the mirror, and Bree glanced back. There was a new tattoo on her back, where the Norns had poured the water from the well at the roots of the great tree. It was the great tree, Yggdrasil, itself, emblazoned on her skin as a mark of their gift. It looked a bit like the cedar that had stood on the mound in the Circle of Lebanon.

  “Yggdrasil,” she said and he chuckled.

  “Of course.” Then his eyes flashed and he lifted her to sit on the lip of the counter. He braced her knees on his shoulders, spread her thighs wide with his hands, and bent to close his mouth over her. Bree tipped her head back and gasped with pleasure.

  If anything, it felt better than it had the first time. He was learning what she liked and how best to provoke her response, and she couldn’t wait to get even.

  She gripped his shoulders and moaned as he used his teeth and his tongue to torment her. He lifted her, cupping her buttocks in his hands, and devoured her deliberately. He drove her to the point of madness, then retreated, letting her catch her breath, then started again.

  Bree was incoherent with need, lost in the dazzling whirlwind of the firestorm, her fingers digging into his shoulders. When he finally flicked his tongue against her, she felt like she spewed sparks like a firecracker as she came and came and came.

  She saw the flash of Kris’s triumphant smile, then pushed him back against the wall. She caught his nape in her hand and pulled him close for a scorching kiss. Then she dropped to her knees and pleasured him, loving how he groaned. His fingers were in her hair and h
is body taut, the firestorm white-hot and brilliant, when she finally released him.

  “Here and now,” she whispered and Kris didn’t need a second invitation. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around him, welcoming him inside her with a single move. She watched him tip his head back and grit his teeth in a bid for control, then resolved to make him lose it.

  She kissed him again and he leaned back against the wall as she rode him, moving so that every stroke took him closer to his release. He moaned and she swallowed the sound. He purred and she demanded more. She moved more quickly, deepening her kiss, wanting him to feel as lost in the passion they shared as she was. Her own blood seemed to be filled with fire. The air throbbed with white heat around them and she felt Kris grow taut with power and need. They moved together with greater and greater speed, in pursuit of a common goal, and she felt her own passion rise to a fever pitch.

  The release was like a bolt of lightning, searing Bree from head to toe, making her shout with her release. Kris roared with satisfaction, clenching her tightly and shaking with the power of his own release. They clung together, each struggling to catch their breath, slick with perspiration and filled with satisfaction.

  “Brianna Sigrdrifa,” he whispered, his voice raw, and brushed his lips across her temple. Bree closed her eyes and leaned against him, smiling as she realized that the sparks were extinguished.

  The firestorm had been satisfied. She would have Kris’s son. A sense of wonder filled her, as well as a realization of her responsibilities. It was both terrifying and thrilling that they would build a future together, and she felt daunted by the changes in her life.

  But Kris was her Drakkir, and she was his mate. They were partners: they would conquer every obstacle together, and celebrate every victory together.

  That was more than enough to light all their days and nights with the promise of the firestorm.

  Kristofer awakened to sunshine and a tremendous sense of well-being. He stretched, feeling how much his injuries had healed, and was grateful both to Bree’s use of the firestorm’s heat and Sloane’s salves. He was thankful for Rafferty bringing the healing salve to him and for the gift of his firestorm. He reached for Bree and discovered that he was alone in the bed.

  He opened his eyes and sat up, only to find her sitting by the window with her hands wrapped around a big mug of coffee. She was wearing one of the fluffy robes provided by the inn, and her bare feet were tucked beneath her. He could tell by her posture that she’d been looking out the window at the sea, and though she smiled at him, there were shadows in her eyes.

  He immediately feared the worst. “Regrets?” he asked, needing to know.

  Bree immediately shook her head, to his relief. “Just questions,” she said, then frowned. “It’s a lot more complicated being mortal. I never appreciated that.”

  “How so?” Kristofer asked. He was more than ready to help her make any adjustments. He shouldn’t have had even a moment’s doubt, because Bree’s actions spoke louder than words. He could wait for the confession he wanted to hear.

  He got up and lifted the mug from her hands to take a sip. At her startled expression, he grinned. “I’m not going to stop breaking the rules,” he teased and her smile flashed.

  “Or living dangerously. That’s only my first one so don’t you dare drink it all.” She reclaimed the mug and drank from it herself.

  There was only one chair, which suited Kristofer just fine. He picked up Bree, then sat in the chair, nestling her in his lap. She smiled and curled against him. “Go ahead,” he invited. “Ask me anything. I’ve got this mortal thing covered.”

  “You’ve been doing it for a while.”

  “And I’m going to keep doing it,” he vowed, stealing a kiss.

  When they finally parted, Bree was flushed and her eyes were sparkling. “Who needs a firestorm?” she whispered and Kristofer laughed.

  “Go on. Tell me.”

  “It’s more about finishing the past before starting the future,” she admitted thoughtfully, then flicked a glance at him. “I’m worried about the old man.”

  Kristofer nodded, knowing this was another sign of her loyalty. “What about him?”

  “What you’re wrong about Ragnorak? What if the horns blow and I’m not there to lead my warriors to the fight?” She winced. “What if that means the Aesir lose?”

  “Aren’t they suppose to lose anyway?”

  “But they’re also supposed to put up a good fight, the best one they can. I exist to do my part in that, and I can’t forget that obligation.”

  Kristofer considered how best to reassure her. “Okay, let’s review the story first.”

  “I love that you know all the stories, you know.”

  “I know.” He counted events on his fingers. “First, there will be a winter three years long. Fimbulwinter will come, thanks to the Norns.”

  “There will be war between men, as a result of their lack of food,” Bree said.

  “The sun, moon and stars will disappear, and the great tree, Yggdrasil, will tremble.”

  “I just saw it,” Bree noted. “It was fine.”

  Maybe that was why she had doubts.

  “Fenrir, the great wolf, will break his fetters, run through the world, devouring everything and everyone in his path,” Kristofer said. “And Jormungand, the world serpent, will thrash, spilling the seas over the earth, causing floods.”

  “Then he’ll spew his venom over land and sea, poisoning the survivors.”

  “The dome of the sky will crack, releasing the fire-giants who will march across the rainbow bridge of Bifrost to attack Asgard, the home of the gods.”

  “And the bridge will shatter behind them, destroying the bond between men and gods.” Bree looked troubled by that.

  Kristofer raised a finger. “And then, the Gjallarhorn will be blown by Heimdall, summoning the gods to the final battle.”

  Bree looked into her mug. “Odin will lead his warriors, the einherjar, from Valhalla in the company of my sisters, to fight on the field of Vigrid. Gods and foes will each be the end of the other, until Vigrid is soaked with blood. Finally, the world will sink into the sea, as if it had never been.” Bree shuddered. “I never liked that story.”

  There was a moment of silence between them before Kristofer continued. “You’re forgetting that a new green world will rise out of the sea, and that a man and woman who hid from the fighting will emerge to repopulate the world.”

  “Lif and Lifthrasir,” Bree said with a smile. “That’s not in every version.”

  “It’s in the one I learned. My father used to say that, from destruction, there would be a new beginning, just as surely as spring follows winter.”

  She finished her coffee before meeting his gaze. “But why do you think Ragnorak might have already happened? It seems like it would be hard to miss.”

  “There’s a story about the Pyr that you don’t know,” Kristofer said. “During the Dragon’s Tail Wars, one of the Pyr had a firestorm with a goddess. His name is Thorolf.”

  Bree blinked. “Is he Drakkir?”

  “He is. Thorolf, son of Thorvald, son of Thorkel. Apparently, Erik always said he had to lift his game because he had a big legacy to fill.”

  “His name means Thor’s wolf.”

  “Right. When his firestorm came, he ended up fighting Jormungand and he killed him.”

  “The story gives Thor that job.”

  Kristofer shrugged. “It’s a prophecy. The details might shake out a bit differently in real life.”

  Bree straightened. “Did Thorolf die from the great serpent’s venom?”

  Kristofer shook his head. “He probably should have, but his mate and the firestorm saved him.”

  “So, the serpent is dead, but the horn was never sounded.” She looked up at him. “Do you think the Pyr saved us all from the end of the world?”

  “It would fit our mandate, whether we did it on purpose or not.”

  Bree smiled. “Defending th
e treasures of the earth?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But where does that leave the old man?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe we should ask him.”

  “Yes,” Bree said with resolve. “Yes. That’s exactly right.” She reached up and kissed Kristofer sweetly, then stared into his eyes. “I don’t regret my choice,” she said with quiet heat. “I just need to be sure that the past is resolved before we start our future.”

  “I like that you take your responsibilities seriously,” Kristofer said and kissed her back. “Maybe Kara should come along.”

  “Good idea. Where’s that burner phone?” she asked as she swung to her feet. She moved with purpose and Kristofer watched her with pride, liking that they were going to resolve her concerns together.

  What a team they were.

  It was more proof that their partnership was destined to be.

  Rafferty was sorting through his keys as he approached his antique shop in London, when a man stepped into his path. The stranger was tall, elegantly dressed, and handsome, although he would have been more attractive if his manner hadn’t been haughty.

  He also smelled faintly Pyr.

  He had to be the dragon prince.

  Rafferty studied him, wanting to remember his human appearance.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “But I’d like to make an appointment.” He gestured to the sign in the window of the shop which said Open by Appointment.

  He’d known who Rafferty was. That told Rafferty everything he needed to know.

  Rafferty smiled. “I’m sorry, but we’re not taking appointments right now. In November, we do our annual inventory. The store is too chaotic for customers.”

  The stranger’s nostrils flared and his eyes flashed with a sign of temper that he quickly hid. “I’m looking for something specific,” he said with forced calm. “Since you’re doing an inventory, you might know whether you have it.”

  “I might,” Rafferty agreed easily. “What are you seeking?”

  “A piece of amber.” The man cupped his hand. “About this big. There is a spider preserved in it, in the act of killing a wasp.”