Kiss of Fury

by Deborah Cooke

  Nikolas wondered where they would go.

  And when they would be back.

  Three dragons—sapphire and steel, tourmaline and gold, amethyst and platinum—stood on the lip of the chasm and breathed dragonfire into the pit in unison. The sapphire dragon’s fire was white-hot and burned clean. Nikolas lost sight of the jade and topaz dragons in the flames.

  When the pit was full of the ash of the dragons who were neither dead nor alive, the opal dragon’s song changed ever so slightly. Its tune made Nikolas nostalgic for past glories. The earth shut with a groan, trapping the fallen within her darkness.

  The lapis lazuli dragon landed close before Nikolas, assessing him. “You’re the Dragon’s Tooth,” he said.

  “I am but one of many, one of an army enchanted. Old tales have their roots in truth,” Nikolas said, allowing himself a smile. “I have slept long and now I am prepared to fight.”

  He held the gaze of the lapis lazuli dragon and by some unspoken agreement, they shifted shape in unison. “What were they? The undead ones?”

  “Dead Pyr who had not been exposed to all four elements,” said the man who had been the copper and emerald dragon. He shuddered, as if he knew too much of this. “Pyr who were enslaved by the darkness of the Slayers.” He and the auburn-haired man shook hands and Nikolas saw the physical similarity between them.

  “Slayers,” Nikolas had not heard this term before and he repeated it again. “Are they not Pyr?”

  “They were Pyr, but now are Slayers bent on destroying mankind,” said the one who had sung to the earth.

  “The dark ones,” Nikolas said with a nod. “There was always darkness, but in my time, it had no such name.”

  “Donovan Shea,” the auburn-haired Pyr said, offering his hand. “Welcome.”

  “You are the Warrior foretold,” Nikolas said, acknowledging a truth that was obvious to him.

  Donovan inclined his head in agreement.

  “Nikolas of Thebes,” he said, liking the strength of the other warrior’s grip. “And where am I welcomed?”

  “The United States of America,” Donovan said. “Two thousand and seven years after the birth of Jesus Christ.”

  “Where? Who?” Nikolas asked in confusion. Donovan laughed. “You’ve slept many thousands of years. We’ll help you.”

  Nikolas felt relief at this, and a measure of excitement. He watched the dark-haired man who had been the sapphire dragon stride closer. The opal dragon became an older man, one who moved with purpose as befit one who sang to the earth.

  “Quinn Tyrrell,” Donovan said. “The Smith. And Rafferty Powell.”

  Beyond the men was the shelter protected by dragonsmoke and occupied by the women. One set down a child, who ran toward the Pyr.

  “Sloane Forbes,” said the dark-haired man, scooping up the boy with one arm as he offered his hand with the other.

  “My dragon,” the boy said.

  “Apothecary,” Sloane corrected, then arched a brow as he considered his fellows. “With a good bit of work to do.”

  “Niall Talbot,” said the fair man who had been the amethyst and platinum dragon. He had a head wound that obviously concerned Sloane but spared a glance at the sky, as if seeking some sign of his departed opponent.

  An onyx and pewter dragon spiraled out of the sky just then, angling his flight to land before them. Nikolas bristled, prepared to defend the Pyr if necessary.

  Rafferty shook his head as he noted Nikolas’s response. “Erik Sorensson, leader of the Pyr.” He smiled. “You need fear only the sharpness of his tongue when he is displeased.”

  “Oh, I have known many such leaders in my time,” Nikolas acknowledged, and they all chuckled.

  “Boris is dead,” Erik said by way of greeting, and a ripple of shock passed through the Pyr.

  “Boris Vassily was the leader of the Slayers,” Niall told Nikolas, and he nodded his approval along with the others.

  “You’re sure?” Rafferty asked, eyes gleaming.

  “Absolutely.” Erik nodded with conviction. “His body was exposed to the four elements.” Erik’s gaze landed on Nikolas and his eyes narrowed. Donovan introduced them, and Erik smiled slightly as they shook hands.

  There was nothing, in Nikolas’s experience, better than a battle ended well, and the company of comrades in arms. He was ready to celebrate in the traditional manner, more ready than usual, given that he’d spent several millennia enchanted.

  He glanced toward the two women who stepped out of the shelter, unable to decide whether the tall, dark-haired one or the delicate blonde was more attractive. Donovan and Quinn bristled as one, though, and Nikolas knew he would have to look elsewhere for that particular pleasure. These women were claimed.

  It was reassuring how few things had changed.

  Donovan was raging with desire and impatient with details. He wanted to celebrate victory with Alex. They had a whole night to share before her meeting, and he knew how he wanted to spend it. He wanted to talk to Alex.

  He wanted to make love to her.

  He wanted to settle the questions that were outstanding between them, the questions about their future together.

  He wanted to do it alone.

  “Alex should be clear for her meeting tomorrow,” Erik said.

  “I’ll be with her,” Donovan said flatly, and Alex leaned against him. He pulled her close against his side, and tapped his toe with impatience to leave.

  Sloane considered Delaney. “What happened there? Are you back on our side or not?”

  “I don’t know,” the Pyr said with a shake of his head, and Donovan felt sympathy for his brother. “It’s as if the shadow and the light are at war within me. I can’t tell who will win.”

  “That whistle of Magnus’s gave the shadow the upper hand,” Alex guessed.

  “Never mind his chant,” Sloane added.

  “It triggered something I couldn’t fight. How do I get rid of that?” Delaney asked with fear. “Will they always be able to get my attention that easily? How can you all count on me? How can I count on myself?”

  “I have the treatise,” Sloane said. “Come with me to my lair and I’ll try to heal you.”

  “I don’t think it will be easy,” Delaney said, looking despondent. “I don’t think I’ll ever be right.”

  “Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” Donovan said, and when his brother looked at him, he smiled. “Thank you for helping Alex. Even under Magnus’s spell, you proved that I could count on you.” Donovan sensed that Delaney drew strength from his conviction. “Anything you need from me,” he said, “anything, anytime, you just let me know.”

  “Thanks.” Delaney straightened. “I want to beat this. I need to beat this.”

  “I think you’ve made a good start,” Sloane said. “A selfless choice, like the one you made, is a step away from the darkness.”

  “How many were there in the academy?” Erik asked.

  Delaney shuddered. “I’m not sure. We were isolated from each other.”

  “There could be an army of ghouls,” Rafferty said.

  “More even than we battled tonight,” Quinn added grimly.

  “How many Pyr have died and not been exposed to all of the elements, over the history of our kind?” Erik uttered the question in all of their thoughts. No one had an answer and no one liked the prospect of meeting more like those they’d defeated.

  “I dislike the fact that Magnus has returned,” Rafferty said. “And that he had a minion.”

  “We defeated them both,” Sloane said.

  Rafferty shook his head. “I have thought Magnus defeated before. He has old knowledge, which was arcane even when I was young. It was even said that he possessed the Dragon’s Blood Elixir—”

  “Which does not exist,” Erik interrupted sharply. “Magnus lies about such myths to impress his minions.”

  “And he is not one to be satisfied with a single minion. I will wager that he has trained more Slayers.”

  The future
looked more grim than Donovan would have liked. “It has to be worth something that we’ve fulfilled the prophecy of two firestorms,” he said.

  “Something, but not everything.” Erik cleared his throat and nodded at Nikolas. “I can teach you what we know, if you’d like to be my guest in my lair. With any luck, you’ll have lore to share with us. We’re going to need every asset we can find.”

  Nikolas frowned. “What about the others?”

  “What others?” Erik asked. All of the Pyr looked puzzled.

  “There were a hundred of us imprisoned by that curse. Where are the others? If you seek an army, there is an enchanted one that can be awakened.”

  The Pyr exchanged glances.

  “I would wager that Magnus knows,” Rafferty said.

  “And that he won’t tell,” Donovan concluded.

  “What about his old hoard?” Sara asked. “He said he had collected them all.”

  “I wonder,” Rafferty mused. “Is it lost or hidden?”

  “You could ask the earth,” Donovan suggested.

  His old mentor nodded. “I can, although one can never predict when she will answer.”

  “Were you all Pyr?” Erik asked Nikolas with excitement.

  “We all were dragon warriors.”

  “But Pyr or Slayer?”

  Nikolas shrugged. “There are shadows in the hearts of all men. We did not divide into two camps as you have done. There were those I would trust and those I would not.” Donovan wondered whether he was the only one who heard the echo of Sophie’s prediction in Nikolas’s words.

  “Do you think you could tell the difference between teeth, should we find the hoard?” Erik asked.

  Nikolas shrugged. “I cannot say. I have never seen these teeth.”

  Before Erik could respond to that, a sweet wind began to blow. It swirled over the trees, smelling like sunshine and summertime.

  “Look!” Jared shouted from Sloane’s shoulder, and pointed high.

  It was the Wyvern. Donovan watched her descend, her white feathers swirling. He was always struck by her delicacy, how she could have been made of spun glass. He felt the usual wonder in her presence, but there was one even more awed.

  “A miracle,” Nikolas muttered, and fell to his knees. He bowed his head and touched it to the pavement, his hands spread before him in supplication.

  He was the one.

  The thought echoed in Sophie’s mind with utter conviction. One glimpse of the new Pyr, with his rugged masculinity and dark good looks, was enough to tell her of his origin.

  And his destiny. He alone was old enough to enter the dark academy and survive.

  There was something else about him, too, something that made her afraid to look directly at him, something that made her flutter her feathers a little more as she landed.

  There was something about him that made Sophie feel shy.

  She was afraid that she knew exactly what it was.

  Rafferty was intrigued. Sophie shifted shape and strolled toward them, her sheer dress swirling around her ankles. Nikolas didn’t move and she didn’t seem to notice him.

  Rafferty didn’t believe that for a minute, but he still didn’t know what was going on.

  “Two destined firestorms concluded with success,” he said when Sophie drew near. She nodded, indicating that she already knew as much. “And a Warrior upon our team.”

  “One more to go,” Erik said, his exhaustion clear. “Whose will it be, Sophie? Or are you not going to tell us?”

  “A prophecy, maybe?” Donovan said with a smile.

  “You already know,” Sophie said softly, and looked at Rafferty.

  He felt a jolt when her gaze landed on him and knew that the time to tell of his dream had come.

  He counted the destined trilogy off with his fingers. “Smith and Seer. Warrior and Wizard.” Rafferty slanted a glance at Erik. “That leaves King and Consort of the high three.”

  Sophie nodded approval, her gaze moving between Rafferty and Erik.

  Erik’s eyes narrowed. “Assuming you know who is to be King.”

  “You lead us,” Rafferty noted. “It will obviously be you.”

  “I lead with less success than I could hope,” Erik said. “My mistakes have led us to our current compromised situation.”

  “Perhaps your firestorm will transform you,” Sloane suggested.

  “But I’ve had my firestorm.” Erik looked grim as Sophie watched him. “And the product of it is the Slayer who provides the learning they use against us.” He dropped his hand onto Rafferty’s shoulder. “It is said that the true King reveals himself when his presence is necessary. That may not be me.”

  Rafferty’s heart leapt. His firestorm. Could it be true? Would he be next? He cared less about the fated role of King and leader than he did of having a mate after all these lonely centuries. He looked at the Wyvern, but she simply smiled at him, revealing nothing.

  “The eclipse is in February,” he said, recognizing that Erik was letting him take the lead. “Then we will know for certain.”

  “Indeed we will,” Sophie said, then turned her turquoise gaze on Jared. The little boy was wide-awake despite the hour.

  She smiled at him and touched his cheek. “I am sorry, but you must forget all of this,” she murmured. He looked as if he would argue, but she ran her fingertip across his mouth. “It is for the safety of all of us. Do you not want your dragon to be safe?”

  Jared nodded. He surveyed all the Pyr quickly, as if trying to secure them all in his thoughts. He held on tightly to Sloane, who told him not to be afraid.

  Then Sophie leaned closer.

  “Close your eyes,” she whispered. “And forget.” On his forehead she planted a kiss, one that shimmered silver on his skin.

  When it faded, Jared was asleep on Sloane’s shoulder. Sloane passed the little boy to Alex, who carried him into the house, Donovan fast behind her. They looked right with a small boy in their care, although their son would have red hair.

  Rafferty watched them go, pride swelling his heart at what his student had become.

  “You glimpsed the Warrior in him,” Sophie said beside him.

  “I thought so.”

  “You believed in him, and that was the key.” She slanted a smile at him. “Remember, Rafferty, the Great Wyvern works in mysterious ways.” She held his gaze as she faded away, disappearing as surely as if she had never been present.

  But her last words echoed in Rafferty’s thoughts, tempting him to believe that nothing would proceed as they anticipated.

  Too bad he didn’t know whether that was bad or good.

  Something had changed in Donovan. Alex could feel the transformation he had undergone. He exuded new power and authority; his eyes were brighter and his manner more intense.

  She understood that he had become the Warrior.

  What happened to the Wizard after that?

  He caught her hand in his, the white heat of the firestorm making her mouth go dry. She wanted him as badly as she had the first time she’d glimpsed him—no, even more than that. She would never have believed it possible that desire could burn with such ferocity, that she could find such pleasure and still be hungry for more.

  She’d never imagined that one man, especially a man with Donovan’s powers, could have eliminated her nightmares. But she hadn’t dreamed of dragons the night before.

  Donovan had given her that gift. He’d taught her that not all dragons were to be feared, that she wasn’t powerless against him and his fellows. Her heart beat a little faster when she left Jared’s room and found Donovan waiting in the hall.

  He glanced up, and their gazes locked. Even at a distance, the man could set her to simmering. They stared at each other for a potent moment; then Donovan came to her side.

  He smiled down at her, and his crooked grin and the way his hand caught hers combined to shake her world. He glanced at their interlocked fingers and the glow that emanated from that point. “Still getting hotter,” he s
aid, his eyes gleaming. “The firestorm is relentless.”

  “I guess it doesn’t want to be cheated.” Alex ran a fingertip over his tattoo, unable to keep from touching him. Sparks shot from beneath her hand. She thought more about babies and long-term commitments than she ever had before.

  Maybe other options were possible, too.

  Donovan watched her so carefully that Alex was sure he could read her thoughts. “No,” he said softly. “The firestorm won’t be cheated.”

  Alex heard the consideration in his tone and met his gaze. She thought about having Donovan in her life for the duration and liked the concept a lot. She could even wrap her mind around the notion of having his child—a little red-headed boy who would be full of energy and enthusiasm.

  Would he have green eyes or brown? Genetics said brown would dominate, but Alex had a feeling that Donovan’s child would favor his father in more ways than one. She imagined the three of them together, and her chest tightened just a bit.

  “You look stronger and bigger,” she said, trying to change the subject.

  He trailed a finger down her cheek, leaving a trail of fire that stole Alex’s breath. He smiled slowly, looking like trouble and temptation in one tasty package. “That’s your alchemy, Wizard.”

  “What happens to the Wizard once the Warrior is transformed?”

  Donovan studied her and spoke very softly. “That’s up to the Wizard.”

  His slow kiss left her sizzling and breathless; she was trapped against his broad chest and unwilling to be anywhere else. His eyes were glittering when he lifted his head, and their hearts pounded in unison. Alex had to narrow her eyes against the brilliance of the firestorm, its light burning hot and furious between them.

  “Don’t we have a triumph to celebrate?” Alex whispered. “In the traditional way?”

  Donovan smiled. “It might be a shame to end this,” he mused, playing with the sparks that danced between their fingertips.

  “And sating the firestorm is a big commitment,” Alex agreed, her heart leaping. “Babies and dragons, fighting Slayers, saving the world.” She shook her head, pretending to be daunted, but Donovan wasn’t fooled.

  He arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid?”