Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel

by Deborah Cooke

  “Not this time,” Marco said and eased his hand between them. Jac caught her breath and arched her back, her nipples taut as he teased her again. She rode him, her thighs locked around him, arching her back to display herself to him. She was beautiful, the sight of her as wild and powerful as that of the red rock in the distance. Marco felt that this moment was stolen out of time, that it was both endless and a mere instant of perfection.

  Then Jac dropped to his chest and kissed him with hunger. He tangled his fingers in her hair, cupping her nape, and they nearly devoured each other as the rhythm of their lovemaking became faster and faster. He could smell her pleasure, he could feel the perspiration on their skin and the softness of her pressed against him. Her nails dug into his shoulders and he felt her heart racing. She caught her breath suddenly and he felt the tumult ripple through her body, making her cry out as her heart skipped a beat. He heard himself cry out in his release and gathered her close, his body tightly around hers as his release seemed to stretch out to eternity.

  He gasped and shuddered, closing his eyes in the aftermath. His hand swept over the silk of her skin as they dozed together, and he caressed her slender curves. Their legs were entangled and the red glow of the rock from the setting sun was fading as night fell. Marco could have remained there forever, even though he knew they had things to discuss.

  Jac braced herself on one elbow and looked down at him. She brushed his hair out of his eyes, then kissed his forehead, the sweet press of her lips against his skin making his desire grow again.

  “Wow,” she whispered against his temple. “You are a force to be reckoned with.”

  Marco smiled and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. He felt filled with tenderness and the need to protect her from whatever would come in the night ahead. He wasn’t sure where to start in asking her about Jorge’s plans and didn’t want to end the sweet mood of this moment.

  But the eclipse would begin soon. A quick glance out the window revealed that it was only moments away. Jac framed his face in her hands, compelling him to look at her. “I won’t compete with a rock,” she teased. “Not matter how big it is.”

  Her kiss removed every thought from Marco’s mind except for his conviction that he had to have her again. They rolled across the bed, kissing and caressing each other with newfound familiarity. When he finally found himself on his back again with Jac looking down at him with undisguised satisfaction, he tried to find the words. He reached to run a fingertip down her cheek, liking how she turned to kiss his palm.

  And the first spark of the firestorm danced between his hand and her cheek, a brilliant orange flame that lit Jac’s features with golden light. The spark sent both desire and confusion through Marco. He looked past Jac’s shoulder to see the shadow of the earth just touching the circle of the full moon.

  She was looking at her hand splayed on his chest, her dismay clear. Marco felt the circle of heat emanating from her touch and inhaled sharply at the caress of the firestorm’s flames. The firestorm erupted at every point they touched, crackling with a heat that couldn’t be denied, its flames burning yellow and orange. Marco was overwhelmed by both emotion and desire. He was astonished to not only have a firestorm but to feel its fire burn right after he and Jac had made love with such explosive power. His mouth went dry, his heart began to pound anew.

  He felt his body match its rhythms to Jac’s, the sensation of their hearts beating in time making him dizzy. He’d never imagined that any feeling could be so intense—or that he could feel such a surge of protectiveness to one specific human.

  Jac pushed away and got to her feet, backing away from him. She tugged on her shirt and seized her jeans. The sparks leapt between them, the collision of each one against his skin making the heat in his veins grow even hotter.

  “This is a firestorm,” Jac whispered, her horror more than clear, and Marco wished a bit late that he’d never given her Sigmund’s book. “Are you one of them?”

  Marco wanted to reassure her. He wanted to explain. He wanted to dismiss her obvious dismay.

  But he had no chance. The shadow moved across the moon, his firestorm burned hot with demand and he was unable to fight his body’s need to change shape. He felt the shimmer of the shift rising deep within himself, he struggled against it and tried to control it, but Marco feared he would lose.

  He did. The change rolled over him with explosive speed, surging through his veins and tearing through his body. He shouted as he shifted shape, and it seemed the pale blue shimmer of his change lit up the night.

  Along with the golden light of the firestorm, he spied a spark of blue-green darkfire.

  His becoming a dragon in the middle of the cottage did just about nothing to reassure Jac. By the time, the change was complete, Marco was alone. He heard her footsteps on the metal stairs outside the cottage, he felt the darkfire ripple, and he knew that more than his firestorm had gone wrong. He could smell both Pyr and Slayer, which did just about nothing to reassure him. Filled with a new urgency to defend his mate at any price, Marco swung his tail hard. He took out the large glass wall with a single blow, then raged into the night in search of his mate.

  He had to find her before it was too late.

  * * *

  Jac couldn’t believe it.

  But she knew what she’d seen. It had been just as the book had said. Marco had shimmered pale blue when he was on the cusp of change, then he had become a dragon. He was large and nearly black in his dragon form, sleek and powerful, his eyes seemingly lit with the heat of an inner fire.

  He was one of them, one of the Pyr.

  The flames that had lit between them could only have been the firestorm, a firestorm ignited at the same time as an eclipse of the moon. Jac was hyperventilating as she considered the import of that. She’d read the book. She knew. She was Marco’s destined mate, the only human woman who could bear his son.

  As much as she wanted kids, Jac didn’t want to bear the son of a dragon.

  So she ran.

  She halfway feared she couldn’t get far enough, that a dragon so much larger and more powerful than her would inevitably catch up. Still she had to try.

  She was on the path to the main restaurant when she heard a cry that sent a shiver through her. She glanced back to see the dark dragon that was Marco fly high over the tents and hover in mid-air.

  He’d be able to smell her and follow her scent, thanks to his keen senses.

  Jac ran faster, her fear redoubling.

  An SUV pulled across the road ahead of her and she was afraid she’d have to make an explanation that no one would believe. Instead, Jorge threw open the passenger door. She jumped in, more relieved to see him than she could have believed possible.

  “I thought you wanted to kill dragons,” he said with a calm Jac didn’t share, then hit the gas. The truck shot forward, but it couldn’t go fast enough for Jac.

  “I didn’t know Marco was one,” she protested.

  “You had a perfect opportunity,” he chided. “You were alone together. No witnesses.”

  Jorge might have been right, but Jac couldn’t imagine hurting Marco, even knowing the truth about him. She thought again of her good dragon vs. bad dragon list and had to hope that he was in the first camp.

  “I should go back,” she said.

  “I don’t think so,” Jorge said with infuriating calm.

  “Why not?” she demanded. “Don’t you think I can do it?” Jac lurched to one side as Jorge drove off the road and headed straight toward Uluru. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  Jorge chuckled. “To the hatching eggs, of course.” He pointed through the windshield.

  Jac saw five dragons in silhouette, fighting against the blood red of the eclipsed moon. Five of them! Plus Marco. She peered back and could see his dark figure flying after the vehicle with determination. Was he intent on saving her or destroying her? Jac rubbed her temples, confused. If all dragons were bad as Maeve O’Neill insisted, he’d be trying to
kill her. If she was really his destined mate and all that stuff in the book was true, he’d protect her so she could bear his child.

  It would have been nice to have had more than four seconds to decide. But there were six dragons in close proximity. This was more than she’d planned for and a heck of a way to test her ability to kill one.

  “What are you going to do?” she demanded of Jorge, hoping that as a more experienced dragon hunter, he had a plan.

  She really hoped it was a good one.

  “Join the fight, naturally,” Jorge said. “Not every dragon is going to survive this night.”

  Jac was a little bit more interested in the odds against the humans involved. She was going to ask Jorge, but the words died on her lips. She saw that his right hand had become the golden claw of a dragon, though it was still locked around the steering wheel. She scrabbled for the handle of the door, but Jorge turned to face her. His eyes flashed with fury.

  They were dragon eyes.

  Jac cried out in dismay.

  There was a brilliant shimmer of blue and Jorge shifted shape, exploding through the roof of the vehicle as he did so. He flew overhead, breathing a plume of smoke that was brilliant orange against the night, just in case she’d failed to understand what he was. The truck jerked as it rolled over the rough ground, but was slowing without anyone pressing the accelerator.

  Jac had a heartbeat to be relieved that the ground was relatively flat before she realized a terrifying truth: Jorge had become a topaz and gold dragon.

  Exactly like the one that had spread the virus.

  Jac looked up in horror only to find him watching her, as if waiting for her to realize the truth. He was enormous and his scales gleamed in the light of the eclipsed moon, his wings beating against the sky. She was back in that fateful moment when he’d suddenly appeared in Seattle. She could hear Nathaniel crying out with wonder that there was a dragon, then she saw again the arm dripping blood over the crowd as the dragon shredded it. She saw again the sores inside Nathaniel’s mouth, where the infected blood had landed and burned.

  “It was you,” she whispered, and Jorge laughed aloud, his laugh much more menacing when it came from his dragon gullet.

  “And you never guessed,” he said with glee. “Go ahead,” he invited amiably. “Show me how you intend to kill a dragon.” He nodded at the approaching Marco. “The choice of which one is yours.”

  Jac looked between them. In running from Marco, she’d made a terrible mistake.

  She only hoped she had the opportunity to fix it.

  * * *

  Brandon was impatient to begin. He and Thorolf were hidden in the bush at the park surrounding Uluru, along with Chandra and Liz. They’d lingered in the park after closing, hiding from the rangers, in order to be sure they were close when the action began. Their sons were all with Brandon’s parents, far away from the Uluru, which they believed would be the location of the next phase of Jorge’s plan.

  Chandra had been trying to learn more from Myth, but she couldn’t control her visions and couldn’t journey there any longer. Still, she’d hoped that Snow might appear to her in a vision again to tell them more. Liz had felt the quickening in the dragon’s eggs on Easter Island, so they hoped she would feel a similar sensation during the eclipse here.

  The plan was for them to locate the hatchlings and capture one for Sloane.

  He wished it didn’t feel like such a long shot.

  Chandra and Sara’s vision of Snow had been discussed and dissected. Brandon couldn’t see any more reasonable conclusion than that it was warning that the missing replica of Boris Vassily, the one who was missing an arm, would be here, as well. They hadn’t been able to find him, but Brandon had to think he’d show up when the eggs hatched.

  He’d been missing an arm, after all. Whether it had healed or was still regenerating, he’d need more Elixir. The hatchlings would be easy prey in their first moments out of their eggs.

  Brandon was pumped and agitated, a combination of factors coming together to put him on the cusp of change. The eclipse was imminent. If all went as they expected, there would be an unknown number of Slayers appearing suddenly in their immediate vicinity. Liz was with him, and he knew he had to defend her. He couldn’t have left her behind in safety, though, because her sense would direct them to the hatching stones. He paced, restless, wanting it to start and wanting it over.

  “Too many questions,” Thorolf muttered, his gaze on the sky. His fingers were tapping with similar agitation. “I wish we knew more.”

  “Too many rocks,” Brandon agreed.

  “You’re going to wear a valley in the desert, the two of you,” Liz teased, but her comment didn’t make either of them relax.

  “And there it goes,” Chandra murmured, pointing to the moon. “The eclipse begins.” They all looked up in unison, and Brandon saw the shadow appear on one side of the full moon. It looked as if someone had taken a bite out of it. He stared as the shadow grew larger and turned reddish brown. It was easy to remember his firestorm with Liz, and how incredible the sensation had been.

  He felt the spark of a firestorm, not very far away. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering which of the Pyr was nearby, and caught Thorolf’s frown.

  He’d felt it, too.

  “Who?” he asked but Thorolf’s frown deepened.

  Liz pivoted suddenly and looked up at Uluru. “There it is,” she whispered, then shuddered from head to toe. She turned to a being of flame, all brilliant orange and red. Even though Brandon had suspected she would change form to increase her sensitivity, he was awed again by her powers as a Firedaughter.

  Liz lifted a burning hand and pointed. She didn’t need to say more. Brandon and Thorolf shifted shape immediately, seized their mates and launched into the air. Brandon took the lead, Liz securely in his grasp. She was like a beacon and even though the heat of her figure burned his talons, he knew he had to endure it until they identified the stones.

  “Two,” she whispered, even her voice crackling like a bonfire.

  “Perfect,” Thorolf murmured, then switched to old-speak to confer with Brandon. “Remember that we have to take one alive.”

  And that, Brandon couldn’t help but think, would be the real challenge.

  * * *

  Darkfire crackled around the world, enclosing the planet in a flash of its blue-green light. Sloane felt it as well as saw it and rushed to check on Rafferty. The darkfire was flaring beneath the Pyr’s scales, and he groaned as if in pain. It was the first sound he’d uttered in months, and Sloane wished he could have known whether it was a good sign or a bad one.

  “What’s happening?” Melissa demanded, her fear clear. She’d been sitting beside Rafferty, taking her turn watching him.

  “I don’t know,” Sloane admitted, watching the rhythm of the strange light, which rolled over Rafferty in waves. It was throwing blue-green sparks into the air, and it seemed to Sloane that it was getting brighter. The atmosphere in his house seemed to be crackling with energy and the shadows filled with strange shapes.

  What was happening?

  He looked into one corner and thought he could discern his father, sitting before the fireplace here as he had in that house in Ireland. Tynan lifted his head and smiled slightly at Sloane.

  “It is the role of the Apothecary to heal, no matter the price to himself,” Tynan said in old-speak, and Sloane remembered the day his father had first given him this warning. “It is the role of the Apothecary to give, to choose where to give, to sometimes decide who will live and who will die. It is the task of the Apothecary to guide the dying to their release and summon the injured back to life. The task is not easy, but it must be done. You will be the Apothecary in dire times and you will be tested. Do not forget your abilities, my son.”

  Tynan nodded once. The darkfire illuminated his figure with a blue-green aura, then leapt to Sloane’s tattoo. It slid over the lines of the caduceus, making the tattoo burn all over again, then winked out.
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br />   In the meantime, the room had filled with Sloane’s guests. Rafferty seemed to be on fire, that blue-green light radiant beneath his scales. Which way should Sloane escort him? To death or to life? Eileen took one look and sent the girls back to bed. Erik was fully recovered and he, too, came directly to Rafferty. Drake was sealed into the isolation zone they’d created for Veronica, though Sloane could feel his attention.

  Rafferty moaned again, a sound of pain that came from deep within him. Melissa fell to her knees beside him and put her hand upon him. “Is it burning hotter?” she demanded. “Is it hurting him?”

  “He’s fading,” Erik said and shifted shape in a sudden flash. He breathed a stream of dragonsmoke and drove it beneath Rafferty’s scales.

  Sloane understood his tactic immediately. The Slayers used a conduit of dragonsmoke to steal energy from the Pyr in battle. Erik planned to use the same tactic to give strength to Rafferty.

  Erik’s dragonsmoke slid beneath Rafferty’s scales and it glittered as Erik gave vitality to his old friend. The darkfire sparked more brightly and Rafferty twitched in agony.

  It was only half of the solution.

  “He’s making it worse!” Melissa cried.

  “No, the darkfire is stealing the power and using it,” Sloane said. “We need to siphon it off and secure it.” He needed to repeat Pwyll’s feat of snaring the darkfire in the stone.

  Even though he didn’t know how to do it. He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, urging him on.

  He had to try.

  Sloane shifted shape in a brilliant shimmer of blue and seized the darkened crystal that had once held the darkfire. He had a terrible sense that Rafferty’s fate would be decided during this eclipse.

  He breathed another river of dragonsmoke, hoping he could save his comrade. It was difficult to breathe slowly and steadily, especially when he feared time was of the essence. The darkfire had crackled at the moment the eclipse had become total, and he knew this one would be of short duration. He suspected he had only about ten minutes to make a difference to Rafferty.