Donovan didn’t blame her for being skeptical. “Dragon shape shifters intent on eradicating humans from the planet.”
She nodded as she digested the information. To Donovan’s surprise, she didn’t question it. Her gaze did flick to Keir’s ashes, then back to meet his. “Right. How do you come into it?”
“We’re Pyr,” he said. “Pyr are dragon shape shifters intent on protecting the earth’s treasures, of which humans are one.”
Her eyes took on a tentative sparkle and the sight made Donovan’s blood boil. “I like that philosophy better.”
“Most people do.” Donovan said, and she smiled slightly. “Donovan Shea,” he said, offering her his hand.
She hesitated only a moment before putting her hand in his. Heat flared between them, sending an inferno through his veins. Even though he expected it, desire nearly took Donovan to his knees.
She pulled her hand away. Her cheeks burned red and he could see that her nipples were taut again. “Alex Madison.” She swallowed. “But you knew that already.”
“True.”
“Why were you trying to kidnap me?”
“To keep these Slayers from getting to you.”
Her dark gaze danced to the pile of ash again. “One got away.”
“So you need to come with us.” Donovan saw immediately that Alex didn’t agree.
“I think we should part ways,” she said. “Divide and conquer. Thanks for taking out those dragons, and here’s your helmet. . . .”
“Twice in one night, Alex,” Donovan said flatly. He didn’t take the helmet from her. “If there’s a third time, do you want to be facing them alone?”
The color drained out of her face. Donovan sensed her indecision and didn’t know what to say to persuade her.
Quinn knew. “Come with us. My mate, Sara, is at the hotel. Four months ago, she didn’t know anything about us, either.”
“There are female dragons?”
“Sara is human, just like you.” Quinn smiled. “An accountant who owns a bookstore.”
Alex blinked. “That sounds normal.”
“She is,” Quinn said, his affection for his mate clear in his expression. “If you want, she’ll stand guard while you sleep.”
Alex still hesitated.
“There’s no safer place for you to be.” Donovan watched as Alex’s gaze trailed for a third time to the pile of Keir’s ashes.
“He didn’t bleed,” she said, her voice shaking. “I don’t think he felt any pain. Why not?”
Donovan frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Do any of you feel pain?”
“We all do. We all bleed, except Slayers bleed black.” Donovan found himself staring at the cinders that had been his father. The wind gusted and they began to scatter across the pavement. “I don’t know what he had become.”
“A new development,” Quinn said. “And not a good one.”
“Are you sure he’s dead, then?” Alex asked. Donovan glanced at the blowing ashes, then exchanged a glance with Quinn. He didn’t want to lie to his mate and he wasn’t sure.
Quinn looked away, evidence of his own uncertainty.
Alex watched, then shuddered. “Okay,” she said with obvious reluctance. “Okay, I’ll go with you, then, and stay with Sara.”
Donovan wanted to reassure her. “One condition,” he said in a teasing tone, holding up a finger. “I drive back to the hotel.”
“But you’re hurt.”
“Scratches and bruises,” he said dismissively. He grinned then, wanting to prompt her smile. “Remember: three words.”
Alex did smile then, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes taking Donovan’s breath away. “You’re not going to let me forget about that Buick, are you?”
“Not a chance.” Donovan laughed, liking that she laughed with him.
It had been a bad idea to let Donovan drive, because that meant that Alex rode behind him.
There was no escaping the strength and sinew of him, not when Alex’s legs were around his hips. She kept her hands on his shoulders, not wanting to make his injuries worse, but that didn’t help at all. Her breasts collided with his back; his hips bumped against the inside of her thighs.
She was aware that Quinn flew high above them, that he was acting as a sentry even though the two friends hadn’t said anything aloud. Strangely enough, Alex felt a little bit safer being in the custody of two good dragons.
And more aroused than she would have believed possible under the circumstances. Even the bandages on her hands didn’t keep her from wanting to caress Donovan. She wanted to feel him up, right on the bike. He was hard and muscled, so buff that it was hard to imagine that he did anything other than work out.
The heat between them was inescapable. Alex couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was easy to imagine his muscled chest bare, her hands running over his shoulders and chest, his strength beneath her fingertips. She wondered about the rest of him—how he would kiss, how he would feel inside her—and had to lean the helmet against his shoulders to catch her breath.
The scent of his skin didn’t help. She shouldn’t have been able to smell it, not with the helmet on and the visor closed, but she could. It made her sizzle with desire.
She changed position and hung on to the back of the bike’s seat instead, resisting the urge to rub her hips provocatively against him. Stress obviously was making her forget who she was and how she usually behaved. The thrum of the bike, the vibrations from the engine, seemed to make her body yearn even more.
In one way, Alex wanted the ride to last forever. In another, she wanted it over immediately.
Before she did something she might regret.
Finally, they got to a hotel parking lot. Donovan pulled the bike into the same parking spot. Alex got off the back quickly, wanting to put some distance between them. She pulled off the helmet and shook her hair, then shoved the helmet at him.
There was something between them then, a barrier of some kind, even if it was just a helmet in her outstretched hands.
He was watching her, his arms folded across his chest. His T-shirt was stretched taut; his jeans clung in all the right places, leaving nothing to the imagination in terms of his build. His expression was thoughtful. “Where’d you learn to ride a bike?”
“I took a class.”
“Why?”
Alex looked around the concrete parking garage. If she was going to make any attempt to sound coherent, she had to stop ogling him. “Because of my brother. He wanted to get a bike, but Dad said no.”
“Why?”
Alex smiled. “Dad’s an orthopedic surgeon. He always calls them donor cycles. He took Peter down to the ER one night when a motorcycle accident came in, but Peter still wanted one. Finally, Dad just said no.”
“But he let you take a class?”
“Of course not!” Alex laughed at the idea. “I took it anyway. I was eighteen; Peter was twenty. He spent the summer moping about Dad not letting him do what he wanted. I just went and did it.”
Donovan’s eyes narrowed. Having his undivided attention made Alex’s mouth go dry. It made her feel more sexy than she usually did.
“You wanted a bike, too?” he asked.
Alex wasn’t sure whether he was seeking common ground between them, but she wasn’t going to lie. “No. I wanted Peter to see that you can’t wait for people to give you permission to live your dreams. I wanted him to understand that if you really want something, you just go get it.”
Donovan smiled crookedly. “And did he believe that?”
Alex sobered and shook her head. “No. I think he waits for his wife Diane’s permission for everything now, instead of Dad’s.”
“That’s not much different.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Disappointed in your pupil?”
It was Alex’s turn to smile. “I’d make a lousy teacher.” “But maybe a good example.”
Alex was going to have to think about that. Donovan took the helme
t from her and their fingers brushed, the spark making them both jump. Donovan frowned and indicated the door to the stairs.
Alex wanted him to give her a story about his childhood in exchange. “What about you?”
His expression became guarded. “What about me?”
“Do you have siblings?”
He shook his head. “No. I had a cousin who might as well have been my little brother.”
“Did you teach him to ride a bike?”
His smile turned wicked. “Among other things.”
“So you were a good teacher?”
Donovan chuckled. “And a bad example.”
Alex could believe it. She smiled. “Do you still hang out together?”
“No.”
His sudden change of mood told Alex that there was a story there, one he was unlikely to share. “Where is he now?”
“Dead.” He jingled the keys to the bike. “Let’s get upstairs.”
Alex was intrigued by the glimpse of his vulnerability. “Will you answer a question for me first?”
Donovan shot her a look. “I did that already.”
“Another one. A pertinent one.” Alex took a deep breath. “What’s the firestorm? What does it mean and what causes it?”
Donovan stopped outside the door to the stairs. This time, he surveyed the parking garage as if he were collecting his thoughts.
His gaze collided so suddenly with Alex’s that she caught her breath. His eyes were a vivid green, the intensity of his expression making her wary. His voice was low, as if he were sharing a secret with her, and Alex tingled. “No one knows what causes it, or where it comes from, or why it comes when it does. Some Pyr think it’s fate; others think it’s dumb luck.”
“What about you?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it enough to decide. It doesn’t really matter, does it? It happens or it doesn’t, and that’s all you need to know.” He started to reach for the door and Alex knew he wouldn’t say any more.
Without being prompted.
“But what does it mean when it does happen?”
Donovan paused; then he pivoted, giving her lots of time to back away. There was something about the glitter of her eyes that seemed portentous, as if he might change shape right in front of her, as if it would be smart to run first and ask questions later.
Alex stayed put, even though her heart was racing.
“The firestorm is a mating sign for our kind,” Donovan said. “In practical terms, it means that you and I can feel each other’s presence. It means that sparks fly between us.”
He held up his hand and Alex raised hers more tentatively. When their palms were several inches apart, sparks did jump between their two hands, electrifying and heating the air between them.
Spontaneous combustion. But how? Why? “How does it do that?”
“I don’t know.” Donovan’s eyes gleamed as he looked down at her. Alex swallowed and couldn’t look away. “I do know that I can hear your heart beating from thirty feet away. I can hear you breathing. I can hear whether you are afraid or happy.” He paused and arched one brow. “Or aroused.”
Alex sizzled. He knew. She stared into the glorious green shimmer of his eyes and couldn’t move.
Donovan’s voice dropped to a murmur, a very sexy murmur. “The firestorm means that my body tries to put itself in tune with yours.” He caught her hand in his, locking his fingers around hers. Alex liked his firm grip.
She caught her breath as she felt an inferno launch from their entangled hands. It sizzled over her flesh and awakened such desire deep inside that her knees went weak. She leaned her other hand on his chest and felt his heat beneath her hand. He put his free hand on her waist, almost drawing her into his embrace, and Alex didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Listen,” Donovan commanded softly.
She heard the beat of his heart, felt it through both palms, heard it match its pace to hers. She could smell his skin, and the scent made her yearn. She was fascinated by the way his eyes shone, the way his mouth was shaped, the way his hair curled past his ears. She noticed the stubble on his chin, the earring in his left ear, the dragon tattoo on his left arm.
She felt as if her skin were on fire, as if she should tear off her clothes right then and there. She wanted to ease the blood from his cheek, push back the thick wave of his hair from his brow, reach up and kiss him. She wanted to feel Donovan and to know him, to taste him and to caress him.
He leaned closer, his words a dark whisper, his breath fanning her cheek. “The firestorm means that we lust for each other. It means that we burn for each other.” He arched a brow. “It probably means that the sex would be stupendous.”
“You don’t know?” Alex whispered, her gaze falling to his lips.
“I’ve never had a firestorm before.” His thumb moved against her waist, easing beneath the top of her sweatpants. His sweatpants. Alex took a step closer. She couldn’t have done otherwise. It was natural and intuitive, like a lodestone finding magnetic north. Her breasts were against his chest, which was the perfect place for them to be. Heat emanated from every point of contact between them, melting her reservations with lightning speed.
“The firestorm means that we’ll drive each other wild,” he whispered. “And there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“I can think of one thing we can do about it,” Alex said, leaning her lips against his throat. He tasted like salt and sweat. She wanted to run her tongue over him, peel off his T-shirt, have her way with him right in the parking garage. She felt alive, relieved, and had the urge to celebrate as much.
In a primal way.
He chuckled, then slid his nose through her hair, as if he found her scent equally seductive. His hands bracketed her waist and he pulled her fully against him. Alex liked how muscled and resolute he was, how he was both strong and gentle. There was blood on his T-shirt, where he had been injured in dragon form, but the wound had already closed.
He was a powerful, sexy man and she wanted him. She knew it intuitively, even though it made no sense. It certainly wasn’t sensible.
But it was right.
Alex ran her teeth across his chest, grazing his nipple through his T-shirt, and heard him catch his breath. His lips touched her ear, electrifying her with a caress. His lips slid along her jawline, leaving a burning trail of kisses. Alex’s heart leapt when he captured her lips with his.
Donovan’s kiss was hard and quick, fiery and inescapable. It was consuming and seductive, and Alex’s body responded with such heat that she was dizzy.
She wound her arms around his neck and hung on.
It could have been Alex’s first kiss ever. Donovan’s kiss—and her response—was that different from every other kiss she’d ever shared. His kiss was electric, nuclear fission on the lips, launching forest fires throughout her body from that one point of contact. She burned and yearned and wanted more.
Immediately.
Alex had her fingers locked into his hair before she knew what she was about. She opened her mouth to his tongue and arched against him, liking that his hand slid under her shirt to pull her closer. His hand was strong on her bare back; the way his fingers urged her closer was proof that he was as affected as she was.
Donovan broke their kiss abruptly, his breathing as ragged as hers, and almost shoved her away. His voice was a low rumble when he spoke, one Alex could feel as well as hear.
“That’s the firestorm, or the first taste of it, and that heat is what it means.” Donovan paused, then framed her face and compelled her to meet his gaze. His eyes were cat-bright, as if he could read her thoughts. Alex couldn’t look away.
“What happens next?” she whispered.
“We aren’t going to find out,” he said, then released her and turned away.
He might as well have slapped her.
Alex felt cold outside of Donovan’s embrace but refused to shiver. She told herself that his attitude was for the best, even though it annoyed h
er.
When had a man ever rejected her before?
When had a man ever kissed her like that and rejected her? Who did Donovan Shea think he was?
On the other hand, when had she witnessed dragon fights before?
And when, um, had she nearly done it in a parking garage? If Donovan hadn’t stopped their embrace, Alex knew she wouldn’t have.
It was a night for unwelcome firsts, that was for sure. Donovan held the door for her and Alex tried to look indifferent as she hurried past him. It was tough to do when she was simmering.
Worse, she knew that he knew how aroused she was.
“What happened at Gilchrist Enterprises two weeks ago?” he asked softly as they stared at the elevator doors and waited.
Alex was surprised into looking at him. “How do you know about that?”
“It was a Slayer attack. It doesn’t matter how I know—I do.” Donovan pushed the button for the elevator again. “Did they kill your partner?”
The memory unfolded in Alex’s mind with frightening clarity. She folded her arms across her chest, fought the urge to shudder, and watched the floors count down on the display as the elevator drew closer. Donovan’s question had managed to remind her that getting involved with a dragon shape shifter had to be a bad idea.
It was good that he was rejecting her.
Even if it felt like a disappointment.
“Not going to share?” he asked softly.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Donovan watched her, then nodded once as the elevator doors opened. “Have it that way, then.” He indicated for her to precede him and must have noticed that Alex hesitated a beat before the small space of the elevator. “I don’t take what I want,” he said with such force that she knew he was insulted.
“How do you get it, then?”
“I wait for it to be offered.”
“And then you decline.” Alex sniffed. “Don’t hold your breath for a second offer.” She stepped past him. He pushed the button for the eighth floor with force, his expression dark.
Alex watched his fingers flex as he toyed with the keys to the bike. He didn’t turn when he spoke. “You should know that I decided a long time ago that firestorms weren’t for me.”
Kiss of Fury Page 7
