Fire Maidens: Paris

by Anna Lowe

  Dammit, she was not going to be a passive bystander to her own fate. She was going to…to…

  Her train of thought stalled out. Frankly, she had no idea what she’d do once she got outside. But she was through waiting — and wondering. So she yanked on a robe and stomped toward the spiraling staircase toward the roof. Bijou followed, jumping and playing with the long end of her belt.

  “Hey, kitty.” She stooped to pet the cat. “You think Tristan is okay?”

  Bijou purred, dancing under Natalie’s feet.

  Obviously, the cat couldn’t care less. But Natalie couldn’t relax. She ascended the last few stairs and pushed open the door to the rooftop. It creaked, making her wince.

  “Hello?” She peered around cautiously.

  Bijou slid past her feet, sauntering ahead without even checking for gargoyles.

  “Bijou!” Natalie hissed, hurrying after him with one eye on the sky.

  And that was only one danger, because surely, the cat wasn’t supposed to jump to the very edge of the roof and walk the inch-wide molding on the brink of the nine-story drop. And, whoa — what the heck was she doing, squeezing around the guard rail to follow him?

  She glanced down, then blanched. It wasn’t the first time in her life she’d stepped to the edge of a drop-off without thinking. But that was always followed by a terrifying moment of realization — like now — when fear set in. Not a fear of heights, but fear of her own boldness. Normal people didn’t venture out on ledges. It simply wasn’t done. Could it be the dragon blood in her, erasing what ought to have been instinctive fear?

  Slowly, she tiptoed back. Dragon blood or not, she couldn’t fly, and she certainly couldn’t land on her feet like a cat, not after falling from that height.

  “Bijou,” she hissed, paralleling his path from the safe side of the guard rail. “Come back!”

  But Bijou continued his tightrope walk until he settled atop a ventilation pipe. Then he sat, picked up a paw, and began to clean himself. A lick to the paw, a rub behind the ear, another lick, another rub-rub-rub, as casual as could be.

  “Bijou…”

  Natalie kneeled and reached toward the cat, smacking her lips. That position lined Bijou up with the Eiffel Tower and the nearly full moon. For a moment, she sat on her heels and admired the view in one of those Wow, I’m really in Paris moments that struck her from time to time.

  Then she spotted a blur in the distance — a shadow among shadows, and slowly, shakily, she stood.

  “Bijou…” she warned. That shadow was moving, and it was coming straight for her.

  Her pulse skyrocketed. God, no.

  Bijou took a break from cleaning himself to hiss at the intruder.

  Natalie did a double take and stared into the darkness. Wait a second…

  Bijou sprang to the terrace and disappeared down the stairs, but Natalie couldn’t tear her gaze away from the creature rushing toward her. Its size might have been exaggerated by the backdrop of that huge, silver moon, but wow. It looked big. Dragon-big. The wingbeats were powerful and steady, the body streamlined in the air.

  “Tristan?” Natalie gripped the railing.

  Then she ducked, because the dragon was coming right at her. When it rushed overhead, her hair tossed. Natalie spun around, watching it execute a tight turn.

  Over the past days, she’d thought constantly of dragons and studied them in books. But nothing had prepared her for this. This dragon was huge and powerful. Graceful, too, and leathery. His body was the same brownish-black color as Tristan’s hair and so smooth, the moonlight reflected off his hide.

  How did she know it was Tristan? The same way she could identify his footsteps without looking. The way her heart leaped an instant before he knocked on the door after running errands. She just knew.

  He stuck his talons forward like an eagle ready to snatch a fish out of a river. The massive wings curled, backwinding his momentum, and he landed in three smooth steps.

  Thump. Thump, thump.

  Natalie’s mouth hung open. The timing was exactly the same, every time. But imagining the maneuver and actually seeing it were two different things. Which meant she finally got to see what accounted for the long pause that always followed those three steps. Would Tristan reach his long neck back and comb his wings like a bird? Would he take a few deep breaths then rest?

  She held her breath.

  The dragon stepped forward to the very edge of the terrace, stuck out his chest, and opened his wings. He held his head high and tipped it back like a wolf preparing to howl. But the sound he made was low, rough, and growly, and it was followed by a tiny sliver of fire spat into the night.

  Natalie gulped. Tristan might as well have beat his chest and announced, I am mighty or This is my territory or Challenge me if you dare. It was that commanding. That intimidating. That…

  Princely, she thought.

  But then he whipped his head around and bared a set of startlingly sharp teeth.

  “Wait!” Natalie squeaked, falling flat on her rear. “It’s me.”

  Panic filled her, and she screamed at herself. Oh God. She’d surprised a full-grown dragon on his home turf. If Tristan didn’t recognize her, she’d be toast.

  “It’s me,” she yelped, scuttling backward.

  The dragon tilted his head, staring. It was terrifying, but slowly, the red of his eyes warmed to a friendlier orange hue.

  Natalie, those hundred-carat eyes said.

  She nearly crumpled in relief. “Sorry.”

  Slowly, carefully, the dragon folded his wings, taking care not to spook her. Just as slowly, and just as carefully, Natalie wobbled to her feet.

  “Tristan.” She gazed into eyes that appeared centuries deep. “Is it really you?”

  The dragon’s eyes shone, and the massive head bobbed.

  She took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and extended one hand. “Can I… Can I…”

  Somehow, her lips couldn’t get out all of Can I touch you? But Tristan’s eyes swirled as if to say, Be my guest.

  She inched forward, waiting for the illusion to break. Any second now, lights would flash on, someone would laugh, and Tristan would remove his mask, explaining how he’d pulled off that trick.

  But it wasn’t a trick. That was Tristan, totally different, yet somehow the same. She could tell from the eyes, the wary set of his jaw. His bearing — strong and proud, yet humble, like a man who’d learned life lessons the hard way.

  Her fingers trembled in the tiny gap that remained between them. Finally, she stepped closer, placing her fingertip on the underside of his jaw, exactly the place she would scratch Bijou. His skin was warm, leathery, and just as tough as it looked. So tough, she doubted he could feel her touch. But his head dipped slightly, coaxing her on.

  She set the rest of her fingers down, sucked in another deep breath, and scratched.

  His nostrils flared, and for a moment, her chest tightened. Forcing herself to relax, she scratched harder.

  Nice, those bright eyes said.

  It was nice, the way scratching a cat imparted a heartwarming, he likes it feeling. Growing bolder, she reached along the sharp line of Tristan’s jaw. A wide, blocky jaw, as big as a bull’s, with teeth the size of daggers.

  Moments later, she let out a nervous little laugh. She was petting a dragon — and it wasn’t all that different from petting Bijou. Especially not when the dragon stretched, guiding her to another spot.

  She chuckled. “Bijou does that too.”

  Tristan rolled his oversize dragon eyes.

  Natalie laughed outright. Meeting Tristan in dragon form was a little like seeing her company’s CEO wearing shorts and a T-shirt at the community outreach events she’d organized. The same person with a different look.

  Tristan nudged her lightly, and she hurried back to rubbing his long, pointy ear. Something moved in the shadows behind him — his tail, lashing the air the way Bijou did when she scratched his favorite spot. Natalie shook her head, awed.

>   Tristan must have spotted the motion, because he cocked his head.

  “Sometimes, I can’t believe it. Other times, it’s like I always knew,” she whispered.

  He nodded solemnly, and she cupped his muzzle, stroking his nose with her thumbs. It looked as tough as the rest of him, but the front was as soft and velvety as a horse’s nose.

  “Wow,” she whispered, dumbstruck all over again.

  The dragon’s eyes glowed brighter.

  She peeked around the side of his body. “Can I see your wings?”

  Slowly, he unfolded one glider-sized wing — a wing that could shelter a compact Renault. Hell, it was big enough to cover her entire apartment if the wind ever blew the roof off.

  “You really can fly…”

  He snorted. Of course I can fly.

  Funny, how that made something inside her ache. In her dreams, she could fly, but she would never be able to soar through the air the way Tristan did.

  His eyes darkened, and he tilted his head.

  She forced a smile. “I might be slightly jealous. Of the wings, I mean.”

  He grinned. At least, she was pretty sure that was a grin among all those teeth.

  “I might be jealous of that tail too,” she joked.

  He lashed it proudly, then gently rubbed her shoulder with his chin.

  She broke into a smile, getting the gist of his message. Not everyone had a tail, but that was okay. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his snout and leaned in.

  She only meant to hug him for a moment, but somehow, she couldn’t let go. Her eyes slid closed, and her breath bounced off his cheek. Her pulse slowed, and she found her mind drifting. Boy, was it nice. Warm. Cozy, somehow.

  Then she caught herself. Whoa. She was hugging Tristan. Closely. Intimately. She’d fondled his ears, for goodness’ sake!

  Of course, she’d cuddled lots of dogs and cats in the past — even a few horses. But this was different. Totally different, because within that dragon was a man. And not just any man, but the one she’d spent the past days fantasizing about. Living beside. Seeing almost every hour of every day, and loving it.

  She stepped back, sure Tristan would be as embarrassed as she was. But his eyes were at half-mast, and that edgy aura had eased.

  Eventually, his eyes fluttered, and he blinked back to focus. Yet something about him remained a little forlorn.

  Natalie cleared her throat. “Thanks. It’s… You’re…” She motioned to him, searching for the word. “Amazing.”

  She blushed, because you didn’t just tell a guy he was amazing.

  Then again, he was a dragon.

  His nostrils flared, and she could have sworn she heard, You’re the amazing one whisper through her mind.

  Then he jutted his blocky chin, and she backed up. When the air around him shimmered, she peered around, thinking it was something in the sky. But then it hit her. Tristan was shifting.

  He crossed his wings in front of his body and bowed his head. Everything happened gradually, yet still too fast for her to grasp. His back straightened, and his ears shrank. His tail curled until it was lost from view. His leathery hide paled to his normal skin color, and his wings made a smooth transition to arms.

  Natalie had expected a painful, grotesque process punctuated by moans, but it was perfectly smooth and natural. And when his eyes opened…

  Her breath caught. They were glowing softly — at her.

  Her chest heated, and her rushing pulse echoed in her ears the way a shell echoed the ocean’s hum. The lights of Paris grew blurry, and her lips moved.

  She was dying to kiss him. To touch him. Absolutely aching to press her body against his and never, ever let him go. When she took a step closer, he did the same. But the door to the stairs creaked in the breeze, and they both spun at the sound. Then Natalie turned back, suddenly self-conscious. Had she really been leaning in that close? She inched back a little, giving Tristan space.

  “That was amazing.”

  He flapped a hand. “Every shifter can do that.”

  She snorted. “Sure. Changing bodies? Flying? I can only do that in my dreams.”

  His eyes went wide. “You fly in your dreams?”

  She winced. That sounded ridiculous, didn’t it? She tried to cover up with a shrug. “Just sometimes. It’s silly, really.”

  He took her hands. “It’s not silly. It’s…it’s…”

  He seemed truly taken aback, as if that were somehow significant. So significant, she was dying to hear what he would say. But then she glanced down, and—

  Oops. Big oops.

  Really big, a dirty corner of her mind said.

  Blood rushed to her face, because Tristan was naked. Totally naked, from his broad chest to his checkerboard abs and a couple of fascinating scars. Or, they would be, if it hadn’t been for his equally powerful lower body, and the cock that stood out like…like…

  Like it did in her dreams right before she kneeled in front of him and—

  She whirled away, turning pink. Make that crimson, judging by the fire in her cheeks.

  “Oh. Sorry. I mean…”

  Oh God. Please, please don’t let him read my mind now.

  “Sorry,” Tristan murmured from behind her. “That’s how shifting goes.”

  “Sure. Of course. Makes sense. Well, I’ll just…uh…go to bed, I guess.” She hurried for the stairs.

  “Natalie…” Tristan called softly, almost imploring her.

  She turned, still crimson. Thank goodness he held up his clothes, covering his groin.

  “Yes?”

  His chest rose and fell in a tiny sigh. Then he whispered, and his voice floated across the space between them. “Bonne nuit.”

  She warmed all over again then rushed downstairs after a slightly too sultry, “Bonne nuit.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The minute Natalie disappeared down the stairs, Tristan slumped. Dammit. She’d been so close, and a tingling, magical feeling had come over him as it had so often over the past days. A feeling of peace, as if the world weren’t as messed up as he’d assumed it to be, and that life had a happier, richer side than he’d ever known. Natalie had felt it too. He was sure of it. But now…

  He kicked at the safety railing, then cursed. Lashing out in frustration worked better with boots on.

  When he’d first flown in and spotted Natalie, he’d been sure she would scream and run.

  His dragon huffed. Of course our mate didn’t run. She recognized us.

  She had, and it had blown him away. And when she’d come over and touched him…

  Warmth flooded his body as he relived her first trembling touch. Her awestruck expression. The soft, careful strokes along his ears.

  Felt so good, his dragon hummed. So nice.

  He took a deep breath, trying not to admit how much he’d needed it. The downside of being a dragon was not getting petted…well, ever. Dragons might be big and tough on the outside, but every creature needed affection from time to time. Cats got petted, while dogs got scratched around the ears and told, Good boy! Some lucky horses earned hugs.

  But dragons… It was lonely going at times.

  Doesn’t have to be lonely. His dragon looked in the direction of the stairs. She likes me.

  Tristan snorted. She likes me.

  All right. She likes both of us, his dragon said.

  He gazed up at the stars. It was true. That feeling of connection had remained even after he’d shifted. He’d tried controlling his eyes, but the hot, prickly feeling meant they’d been glowing. Not the ferocious gleam of battle, but the warm, gentle pulse of love. Best of all, Natalie’s eyes had glowed back.

  She’d known. For that brief moment, she’d known how he felt, and she hadn’t shied away. In fact, she’d leaned closer, lips twitching in the prelude to a kiss. But then…

  You ruined everything, his dragon grumbled.

  He sighed. It wasn’t his fault shifting left him naked. But he hadn’t thought ahead, and when Nat
alie spotted him — worse, sporting a boner he hadn’t even been aware of until that awful moment of realization — well, yeah. He’d ruined everything.

  He ran a hand through his hair. A great night of flying and a spellbinding moment had all come to a crashing end.

  My mate, his dragon sighed. She can even fly in her dreams.

  He mulled that over. That must be a relic of her dragon blood. If so, was that fate’s reminder that she was way, way out of his league? A few minutes earlier, he’d nearly come out and said how he felt about her. But if she was a Fire Maiden, that wouldn’t matter. He couldn’t have her, no matter how he — or she — felt.

  What she wants is not important, Alaric had said. What you think does not matter. What matters is the future of the city and the safety of its citizens.

  Tristan glared at the sky. He’d been out hunting vampires and ended up pursuing a gargoyle instead. The bastards were getting cheeky, that was for sure. He’d nearly incinerated it in full view of every human in Paris — and nearly roared his love for Natalie for everyone in the city to hear. But now, reality came crushing back in.

  He gripped the railing, cursing his fate.

  Everything all right up there? a voice drifted into his mind.

  Tristan grimaced and peered down. Dammit, he’d forgotten about Liam. The lion shifter had been keeping watch over the building while he’d been out flying. Tristan searched the shadows of the sprawling park across the street. Was Liam crouched under the elm trees, or was he standing perfectly still by the statue of Queen Geneviève? Once a lion blended in with his surroundings, there was no spotting him — especially not Liam.

  I’m fine, Tristan grumbled.

  His dragon huffed. Fine?

  Fine, he grunted. Aerial patrols show no signs of vampires causing trouble tonight.

  Liam chuckled. I didn’t mean vampires. Is everything okay with you? Or should I say, with you and Natalie?

  Tristan jutted his chin from side to side. Great. Liam had probably witnessed the whole encounter.

  She had to see me shift sooner or later, he said, trying not to sound too defensive.

  See you shift? Yes. But getting up close and personal? I have the feeling Alaric wouldn’t agree.