Winter Kiss

by Deborah Cooke

  Ginger flushed a little as she smiled up at him and he knew their thoughts had turned in the same direction.

  “Maybe you guys have somewhere to be,” he said to the Pyr.

  Niall chuckled again. “That’s the thanks we get.” “Thank you very much, now go away,” Thorolf said with a grin.

  “How about thank you very much, now let’s fix the roof of the barn,” Delaney countered.“Ginger isn’t going to bear the expense of our time here.” Even though he was defending her interests, he felt her withdraw from him. She put one hand on his chest and the heat from her palm shook him to his core.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  He wanted to seduce her.

  He wanted to hear her sigh with satisfaction all over again.

  But she didn’t want to have his child alone. He had to respect her wishes; he wanted to respect her concerns, but his body was driving him to do what needed to be done for the Pyr.

  Ginger wriggled until Delaney put her on her feet, although he was reluctant to do so. There was something marvelous about the languid rush of desire that the firestorm sent through his veins, and he didn’t want there to be any distance between them. He tried to keep an arm around her waist, but Ginger stepped away from him, her own inclination more than clear.

  Delaney knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d as much as said he wouldn’t be staying. He knew he shouldn’t have been disappointed, but he was.

  And he knew it wasn’t just because his firestorm remained unsatisfied, a mark of his failure to play for the team.

  Even without a firestorm, he’d have been fascinated by Ginger Sinclair.

  He thought about forgoing his mission. He thought about leaving the Elixir where it was and walking away from the task he’d chosen for himself. He thought about taking the time to know Ginger, to slowly seduce her and savor the firestorm, to build a future together.

  But that future would always be tenuous. His past would come to destroy them, to steal his child, to endanger Ginger. So long as the Elixir existed, his nightmare could come true.

  He couldn’t condemn her to that.

  He was caught, snared between his duty and his desire, between his reality and his dream. He knew what he had to do, but his determination to do it was eroding quickly in Ginger’s presence.

  Still, he had to make things right between them.

  He had to try to make amends.

  Niall and Thorolf headed toward the barn to assess the damage. Ginger might have marched after them, but Delaney caught her elbow in his hand. Those sparks danced and he swallowed at the fresh surge of desire that rolled over his flesh.

  “Wait,” he said quietly. “I need to apologize to you first.”

  The problem with Delaney was that he was just too sexy.

  No, the problem with Delaney was that he had both power and vulnerability, all rolled up in a tasty package, and Ginger had a weak spot for strong men with, well, a weak spot. She could see the shadows in his eyes and felt sympathy for whatever he had suffered. The fact that he had endured the pain of dragonsmoke in order to save her was enough to undermine her determination to avoid him.

  That wasn’t fair.

  It also wasn’t fair that his presence made her think about repeating their activities of the night before. The man was too yummy for words, and Ginger had to remind herself that having his child—never mind raising it alone—was not on her agenda. She’d gotten lucky once, according to Rafferty, and should have known better than to push her luck.

  Even if dragging Delaney back to her room again was a very tempting idea.

  But the last complication she needed in her life was a child.

  Ginger might have put distance between them, just to save herself from her own weak impulses, but Delaney touched her arm. She looked back and was lost in the appeal in his eyes. It wasn’t the spark of the firestorm that made her knees and her resistance melt to nothing—it was the fact that he wanted to apologize.

  He grimaced and shrugged, as awkward with words as she might have expected of a man whose deeds spoke the loudest.

  “I wasn’t fair to you last night,” he said, his voice low. “And I’m sorry. It’s not a justification, but we’re taught all our lives that if we have the gift of a firestorm, we have to consummate it. We’re taught that we have an obligation to create more Pyr if the opportunity presents itself.”

  He smiled at her, his expression so tentative that it tore her heart, and shrugged. “I didn’t think beyond that.” He exhaled, then laced their fingers together. “And really, I don’t think I could have thought about much of anything last night except you.”

  His philosophy didn’t sound that different from her own, when phrased that way, and she felt that sense of common ground again. Ginger took a half step closer to him, and had to admit the truth. “Ours was a pretty strong connection, right from the start.”

  “And it was a magical night.” He kissed her fingertips, his warm gaze locked on hers. “And I’m sorry that the Pyr knew we’d spent the night together.”

  “But you had to tell them that you’d fulfilled your obligation—or tried to do so—before going on a suicide mission,” Ginger concluded. “I get it. You guys play as a team.”

  Delaney frowned and looked down at their entwined hands. His words were husky. “I’m glad, though, that the firestorm wasn’t satisfied.”

  “You mean that I’m not pregnant.”

  He nodded.

  “Even though you’re supposed to knock me up?” she teased.

  He didn’t smile. “It’s primal, the urge to satisfy the firestorm. It’s a call to breed and one that’s hard to ignore.”

  “I know something about primal urges,” Ginger said. He looked at her again, his confusion clear. “I own a farm. I raise and breed dairy cows. I make a good buck selling primo bull semen.”

  His smile was quick then, transforming his features for a tantalizing moment. She had a glimpse of the man he might have been, or maybe the one he once was, and despised Magnus and his scheme all the more. She wished Delaney would smile more often, but knew that wouldn’t happen soon.

  “Okay, I guess you do understand that then,” Delaney said quietly. His gaze clung to hers for a long moment and Ginger wished he would touch her. He swallowed. “I understand your reservations, and I respect them.

  I know what I have to do, and what I should do.” He looked up then and the light in his eyes made her chest tight. “But you mess with my resolve, Ginger Sinclair.”

  Ginger found herself smiling in response, the warmth that spread around her heart having nothing to do with the firestorm. “I know exactly what you mean,” she said softly. Their gazes clung and held for a moment, his intensity leaving Ginger dizzy.

  And yearning for his touch again.

  Then Delaney’s tone changed, becoming more brusque as he stepped away from her. “We should fix the roof of your barn. Why don’t you go in the house and get warm?” He might have left her then, but Ginger caught at his arm.

  She couldn’t fully explain the strength of her desire to help him, but she was accustomed to running on her intuition. And she was pleased by his determination to fix whatever fallout the Pyr had left in her life. She dared to trust her gut again.

  “Here’s something else I understand,” Ginger said, her words falling quickly. “The firestorm is a mark of a Pyr needing to breed, right?”

  “That he’s met his destined mate, yes.” That wariness was back in Delaney’s eyes and Ginger wanted to know whom he distrusted more—her or himself. She could have guessed the answer, which made her more determined to persuade him of his own merit.

  “So, there’s a big Pyr breeding program, a lot like the one I manage with spreadsheets in my office.”

  “I guess so.”

  “And someone’s making the matches that count.”

  “Rafferty would say it’s the Great Wyvern.” Delaney shrugged. “Our god.”

  “Okay. I can live with a divine bre
eding plan,” Ginger acknowledged. “We all believe what we need to—that’s what my gran used to say. The point is that there is a breeding plan, and someone—maybe this Great Wyvern—has chosen you and me to be a breeding pair.”

  “Yes.” Delaney was watching her closely, listening to her every word. His eyes had brightened, another sign of his interest. The firestorm seemed to heat an increment more, or maybe it was just the effect of Delaney’s watchfulness that made Ginger simmer.

  She wanted him all over again, this grim fighter so convinced that he had no worth himself. Ginger could see lots of merit in Delaney Shea, from his nobility of purpose to his strength, from his sense of honor to his passion. His friends saw it, too.

  Ginger smiled at him. “Well, in my view of the world, that means there has to be a point. Why you and me? Why not you and my friend Tanya? Why not me and her fiancé, Steve?”

  Delaney almost smiled. “I’ll guess that you have an idea.”

  “I do. I’m thinking that the firestorm is kind of like love at first sight, that it’s an instinctive recognition of a connection. Maybe a connection that’s good for both of us.” She hooked a finger into his collar and tugged him closer, letting challenge fill her tone. “So I think you owe it to me, if not to the Great Wyvern, to figure what the point is before you kill yourself in destroying the Elixir.”

  His gaze flicked over her and she knew she had pushed him, maybe a bit too far. His tone was firm, as if he’d put a wall between them. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.” He tried to step away, but Ginger hung on.

  “Maybe I want to. Maybe that’s the point.” Ginger swallowed. “Maybe I just want to have a chance to find out.”

  “I’m not that special, Ginger. I have a taint—”

  She put her finger over his mouth, silencing him in a flash of light. That predictable heat rolled through her body, emanating from her fingertips against his lips, weakening her knees, and making her wonder what would be so bad about having Delaney’s son. “I’d like to have the chance to decide for myself about that.”

  Delaney was silent beneath her fingertip.

  The snow swirled around them, surrounding them in a cocoon of dancing white. Ginger swallowed. “Magnus plans to kill you. He has a scheme. . . .”

  “Magnus always has a scheme,” Delaney said quietly. “I don’t want you to get sucked into the Pyr’s troubles.”

  “But he wants to kill you.”

  “He’s tried to kill me a number of times and hasn’t succeeded yet.” Delaney spoke with familiar resolve. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “But I do! You have to listen to this.”

  “No, Ginger. You have to forget about us.”

  “I’ll never do that,” she said, her tone ferocious.

  And Delaney smiled. The curve stole over his lips so slowly that Ginger was transfixed. The smile banished the shadows from his gaze, leaving his eyes clear and focused upon her. His voice dropped low, even as his arm slid around her waist.

  The firestorm shimmered and shone, filling the space between them with the golden glow of candlelight. Ginger was warm right to her toes, those toes curling in her boots. Her mouth went dry as she stared up at him, savoring how just his smile could turn her on.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, studying her as if he’d never get enough of her. “That’s more than expected or deserved.”

  “Wrong,” Ginger argued. “It’s not nearly enough.”

  Something flickered in his eyes then, a glimmer that could have been hope. It could have been desire, given the radiant and persistent glow of the firestorm.

  Ginger didn’t care. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t much worried about why.

  She eased closer, pressing her breasts against Delaney’s chest. She let her hands rise to his shoulders, liking how he simply waited for her to set the pace. She could have her way with him and he would respond in kind, or she could walk away and he, she was confident, would let her go. He was incredibly powerful, but he let her be in control.

  That was a seductive gift, perhaps the most seductive gift of all.

  And a kiss wouldn’t leave her pregnant.

  One kiss.

  It was a small concession, and one she couldn’t resist.

  Delaney bent his head, his gaze intent upon hers, and Ginger stretched to her toes to meet him halfway. When his mouth closed possessively over hers, Ginger sighed into his kiss, locked her hands around his neck, and surrendered to the moment.

  It was a good one.

  Ginger was more than he deserved. Delaney couldn’t believe she would give him even a kiss, especially after she had been so angry that morning. He couldn’t believe she wanted him to survive, and he was humbled by her concern.

  But Ginger didn’t understand. She didn’t know about the monster that dwelt within him, the one he couldn’t control under the light of the eclipse, the one that could destroy everything that was precious about her.

  As much as he wanted her kiss and her trust, as persuasive as he found her logic, he didn’t want to ever see her face his dark truth. It would be better, far better, that he continue with his plan and even pay the ultimate price. It would be better to leave her with a fond memory of him.

  Rather than a nightmare.

  He knew too much about nightmares.

  Delaney savored her kiss, uncertain whether it would be the last taste of her he ever had. She was sweet and hot, so giving that he yearned to have the opportunity to spend time with her.

  But the Elixir had stolen that from Delaney.

  And eliminating the Elixir was the only way Delaney could even the score. He had to be certain that no other Pyr ever suffered as he had.

  He broke his kiss with reluctance, Ginger’s soft flush making everything within him tighten. He wanted her, over and over again. He wanted to carry her to that prim bedroom and make her moan a thousand times before the morning. He wanted to feel her shiver and see her tremble and feel her heat close around him.

  But she was right—he had no right to leave her pregnant and alone.

  He stepped away from her and it wasn’t easy. That minute distance didn’t make the firestorm much easier to ignore, its sparks dancing between them with a vehemence that stole his breath away. Ginger eyed him, the golden light of the firestorm making her look precious.

  “Go inside,” Delaney said, his voice husky. “Have a shower and get warm.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “We’ll fix the roof of the barn, then be in.”

  Ginger smiled. “I suppose you’ll all be hungry.”

  Delaney frowned. “You shouldn’t be put out by us, or feel obligated to spend on our behalf. I’ll give you money to cover the groceries and to have the roof fixed professionally. . . .”

  Ginger stepped closer and put her hand on his chest. White heat jolted him at her touch, nearly stopping his heart and making him close his eyes against the tide of desire. “Are you leaving?” she whispered, urgency in her tone.

  “No.” Delaney shook his head. “I have to stay here and defend you. The heat of the firestorm will attract others to your farm, but I’ll make sure you’re safe tonight.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “Let’s focus on one challenge at a time.”

  It wasn’t a real answer, but he saw she understood his intent.

  “You’re wrong,” she said with vehemence, then shivered. “But if you promise you’re staying tonight, I’ll save that argument for later.”

  “I promise.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then stretched up to brush her lips across his. Delaney closed his eyes against the tingle of heat launched by her touch, bracing himself against the way his body grew taut. He lifted his hands, a beat from snatching her up against him and claiming another kiss, but Ginger stepped away from him.

  “I’m going to hold you to that, hotshot.” She grinned then, all confidence and vitality, then strode to the porch. He watched her go, feeling the hunger to
possess her again. He could easily lose himself in the sweet perfume of Ginger’s skin, the study of her freckles, the caress of her curves.

  Once hadn’t been enough.

  Delaney wondered whether it was possible to have enough of the ray of sunshine that was Ginger Sinclair.

  “So, are you helping with this project, or just standing around?” Niall shouted, recalling Delaney to the moment. The door shut behind Ginger, and Delaney checked the resonance of his unbroken smoke ring.

  No one had violated it except the Pyr, and he hadn’t sealed it against them. He couldn’t smell Slayer on the wind, which was no guarantee of their absence.

  He thought the injuries they had sustained were a better guarantee that Ginger’s farm would be quiet for the next few hours.

  But he wasn’t going to count on that. Delaney remained vigilant, even as he went to help Niall and Thorolf repair the damage Jorge had done.

  The phone was ringing when Ginger stepped into the kitchen and she ran for it.

  “Ginger!” Tanya exclaimed with relief. “Where have you been?”

  It was good to hear her friend’s voice, a return of the real world that Ginger welcomed after the day she’d had. “Um, out in the barn.”

  “Right. Cows don’t wait, do they?” Tanya teased, and Ginger felt guilty for not having mucked out the barn yet. She’d have to do that before nightfall. “I guess Luke didn’t make it over today.”

  “No. No sign of him. And really, that’s a good thing.”

  Tanya agreed but for a different reason. “No point in anyone going far in this crazy weather. Are you okay?”

  “Everything’s fine here.”

  “I thought maybe your power would be out.”

  “No. Everything’s fine.” So to speak. Ginger sat down at the kitchen table when she realized her knees were shaking. “The freezer’s full, after all.”

  “So, if your power does go out, you’ll be working your way through everything we made for the wedding.”