The Lick of Fire Trilogy

by Bianca D’Arc

  Or, this all could be some sort of elaborate trap, but he really didn’t think so. Gifted with strong magic of his own, Paul had used every trick he knew to test the veracity of what Syd had told him. He’d watched everything from her body language to her magical output to see if she was trying to influence him in some way, but everything he’d seen only convinced him more of her innocence.

  He was truly concerned that she was now being hunted. His interference in her affairs had probably drawn more attention to her than if he’d just left the surveillance gear in place, but there really had been no other option. When the leader of that little crew had bopped her on the head, he’d changed the rules completely.

  She’d seen them. She knew people had been in her house. In the normal course of events, she probably would’ve called the cops when she woke up, and they would probably have found at least some of the cameras. Of course, that was if the leader didn’t decide to finish what he’d started and just kill her while she was unconscious and save everyone a whole lot of bother.

  If those people were really Venifucus agents, Paul knew they wouldn’t even blink at the idea of killing an innocent. The Venifucus had done far more grotesque things in their long history of serving evil. Even if they hadn’t killed her, the Venifucus had magic of their own—dark, evil stuff that they could use to infect Syd and perhaps turn her growing abilities to their own use.

  Yeah, Paul had really had no other choice. He’d had to intervene. So, the question then became, what happened now that the bad guys knew Syd had at least one powerful Other on her side?

  Paul shook his head, later that night after Syd had retired to her bedroom on the other side of the cozy house. He was going to sack out on the couch, but not before he spent a little time on her computer, doing some more research. Powered by magic, Paul didn’t always require a great deal of sleep, and he was too keyed up from everything he’d learned to nod off now.

  He began his research by looking up general information about the mountains and doing his best to learn about the geography of the area. He could cover a lot of distance from the air, but he suspected the real searching would need to be done from the ground. He began by familiarizing himself with the different mountain ranges in the area and then started reading about the legends that had been passed down for centuries about things that were rumored to have happened or been hidden in various places.

  Mostly the legends talked about gold. Hidden caverns filled with nearly pure gold ore. In particular, there was one legend that caught his attention—and apparently had sparked human imaginations for the past hundred years and more. That was the tale of the Lost Dutchman Mine.

  According to legend, a German immigrant named Jacob Waltz had struck gold in the late 1800s somewhere in the Superstition Mountains. He kept the location of his find secret, leaving only cryptic clues that people still tried to decipher to find the hidden mine. Supposedly, he’d died with a box full of over twenty pounds of very pure gold ore under his bed and had sold a great deal of gold to the United States Mint years before—enough to buy himself a hundred-and-sixty-acre tract of land that he farmed outside of Phoenix.

  His farm was all but swept away in the great flood of 1891, and it was believed he contracted pneumonia during the flooding, which later killed him, but not before he’d told someone where to find the mine. That person, the woman who had nursed him during his illness, tried to mount expeditions into the mountains the following year, but no one had ever admitted to finding the mine in all the years since.

  Paul sat back, thinking about the story and what he knew of dragons. He’d spent a lot of time doing research in stuffy libraries around the world and on the internet, looking for the merest hint of a legend about his people. Everything he’d read indicated that dragons liked gold and sparkly things. As a dragon himself, Paul had to admit, his eye was drawn by diamonds and precious gems, but he was a practical man at heart. He was more interested in their value as very portable currency than in acquiring them just for the sake of looking at them.

  In fact, he never traveled anywhere without a small pouch of gemstones that he kept on his person at all times. When he shifted, the stones went into the shift and came back when he was human again. There were a few gold and silver coins in the pouch as well because gold and silver were much easier to convert into cash these days than precious gems, but gram for gram, the gems were worth more and weighed less, so they were a good way to keep the majority of his assets with him, and safe.

  Perhaps that’s where the dragon shifters of old had gained their reputation for collecting sparkling objects. Maybe they traveled, as he did, from country to country with ease. Rather than having to worry about carrying around stashes of local currency, Paul had found cashing in a few coins in each new country gave him the operating capital he needed while he was there, and he could turn the cash back into gold easily enough. All it took was a knowledge of the spot price and where to find a coin shop.

  Dragons were unique among shifters in being able to travel vast distances in short times. The problem of needing money wherever you landed was easily solved as long as you had a little gold or a few precious stones on you. It made sense to him that the same strategy he had devised would have served other dragon shifters, as well.

  Maybe—if Syd’s vision was to be believed—a group of dragon shifters were hiding out in an old mine, close to the source of their riches. It would make sense. A ready source of wealth. A hard-to-find cavern. An old mine in the middle of nowhere would make a great hideout for someone who could fly vast distances and navigate rough terrain, who didn’t want to be found.

  Before Paul put himself down on the couch for a few hours of shut eye, he sent out a few emails to friends and acquaintances he had in Grizzly Cove. First, he was looking for some information on the surveillance gear and had sent some images along with the email, showing the items he had and those that might be going spare. He figured somebody up there would want them.

  Second, he needed some contacts on the ground here in Phoenix if at all possible. Paul knew the shifter network was extensive. Even more extensive was the network of ex-military shifters. Most of them were spread out far and wide. It was a rare circumstance that had created Grizzly Cove—a place where almost all the men were former military. Those guys had to have some contacts here that Paul might be able to use. If so, he would need an introduction, and he suspected his newfound cousin up there, the big Kamchatka bear shifter, Peter, would be willing to vouch for him.

  Emails sent, Paul shut down the laptop after scrubbing all evidence of what he’d used it for from its drive and cache. He stretched, did a quick tour around the perimeter, placing magical wards as he went, then came back in and sent his magical senses outward, doing a further check before he could settle. He relaxed back on the couch, stretching out his legs and closed his eyes. A few moments later, he was asleep. Alert on one level, but for all intents and purposes, sleeping.

  Syd was exhausted after the eventful day. When she’d gone upstairs a few hours after dinner, she’d taken a long, hot shower then fallen into bed almost immediately. She slept hard for the first few hours of the night, but then…the dreams started.

  Dreams of being lost, all alone on the dark highway and being attacked by dark wings breathing fire from above. Dreams of reaching out and having her arms burst into flame. Feathery flame that made her rise as she tried to beat them out. Wings. They were wings, she realized after a confused moment. She was a bird made of fire, and she was flying.

  At her side was the dark creature in the dark sky. She couldn’t see him clearly because the night was pitch black and the lights of the city were far, far away. The terrain below was that of the mountains where Arthur lived. Or near there, somewhere. No man’s land, for the most part.

  A male dragon flew at her side. She didn’t know how she knew the dragon was male, but in the dream, it made sense that he was. He was familiar, somehow.

  She let the thought go because—holy sh
it—she was flying! She took a moment to enjoy the sensation, knowing the moment of peace could not last. Somewhere below, evil beckoned. Danger was near, and she would have to face it.

  In her darkened bedroom, Syd thrashed on her bed, dislodging sheets and tumbling pillows to the floor. In her dream, fear gripped her. She was spiraling downward, out of control, the dragon beside her. They were fighting for their lives. They would fall to their deaths if something didn’t change. But what? What could she do?

  And then, she was changing back into her human form, still falling. The dragon beside her changed, too, and he reached out to grab her hand. It was Paul. Syd gasped, falling, falling, falling…

  In her bedroom, a hand grasped hers, and she woke with a startled gasp.

  Paul was there, holding her hand. Syd sat bolt upright in her disheveled bed, trying to catch her breath. He was sitting on the side of her bed, turned to face her, his gaze held deep concern and that calm inner strength that seemed to be his hallmark.

  “What happened? What did you see?” Paul asked, his dark eyes gleaming at her in the dim room.

  “You…” she managed, still breathing hard as if she’d run a mile in less than a minute. “You were the…” She wasn’t sure she should be saying this, but she had to. She felt compelled to say it. “You were the dragon.”

  His gaze narrowed, and his lips thinned into a compressed line. He didn’t look happy, but she knew what she’d seen. She had no idea what it meant, but she stood by what she had seen.

  “Paul. You were the dragon.”

  His grip on her hand was the only thing keeping her from running away. She held on to him like he was her lifeline, and perhaps, for that moment, he was. He didn’t say anything as she tried to get her panic under control. He just held her gaze, his own steadfast and strong. Grounding her…somehow.

  “What else did you see?” he asked, after long moments, as her breathing slowed.

  “Not much else. I was flying. I was a bird made of fire. A phoenix, I guess, though it makes no sense. And you were flying next to me over the mountains, out near where we met. Where Arthur lives.”

  “Arthur?” he asked, his head tilting in question.

  “An old man. He’s actually a retired shaman. I bring him groceries every once in a while,” she explained. “That’s what I was doing out there yesterday. That road we were on leads up into the hills, where he lives. Not much else up there. Just a few homesteads, here and there, though not too close together.”

  “I didn’t know a shaman could retire,” was Paul’s comment, his lips quirking upward in somewhat dry humor.

  She didn’t know what to say to that observation. She hadn’t really ever thought about it before, but that seemed silly now. Arthur had to do something with his time. She just had no idea what that something might be.

  “You should meet him,” she said, a feeling of rightness accompanying the words she hadn’t even known she was going to speak until they came out of her mouth. As she thought about it, though, it made a lot of sense. “He’s the only person I’ve told about my visions aside from you.”

  “When did you tell him?” Paul asked, his tone still concerned, but gentle.

  “Earlier today. That’s why I stayed so long at his place. I had to work up the courage to ask him about it, and that took some time. I didn’t really broach the subject until shortly before I would have normally left. I don’t like to get caught up there after dark, so I usually leave him at least an hour before sunset, so I’ll have enough time to get back to the highway before night falls.”

  “It couldn’t have been him, then,” Paul said, looking to the side briefly, as if deep in thought. “I assume you were together the whole time? He couldn’t have made any phone calls or sent any texts while you were with him, right?”

  “Yes. His house is small. I’d have heard or seen anything like that,” she admitted.

  “Then, in all likelihood, it’s just your co-worker’s actions that set the dogs on your trail,” he told her, speaking quietly, with a slight edge to his voice.

  She didn’t like thinking about the weasel who had ratted her out. Her hand tightened unconsciously on Paul’s, which made her realize they were still holding hands, their fingers entwined. When she tried to move away, he resisted, tugging her closer, instead.

  Her gaze met his…and held. Suddenly, the atmosphere in the dark room changed. Became more intimate. She wanted, more than anything, to feel his lips on hers. To learn the texture and shape of them. The taste of him.

  They were alone in her darkened bedroom in the middle of the night. There was no one here to judge them. No prying eyes—thanks to his work in removing the cameras that had been installed all over her home—to see what they got up to. Nobody to frown at her neediness.

  It had been a hell of a day. Surely, taking a bit of comfort from another being wasn’t asking too much. She’d felt so alone out there on the highway—and again, when she’d walked in to find the sanctity of her home totally violated. Both times, Paul had come to her…helped her…made her feel not so alone. Not so completely isolated. As if she had someone in her life, however temporarily, who actually cared.

  Was it too bad of her to want to take that one step further? If she was reading him right, he wanted it, too. Something that felt so right, surely, couldn’t be wrong. She leaned closer to him, her eyes drifting closed as she breathed in the scent of him. Spice and cinnamon, with a hint of…smoke? Not tobacco smoke. Something earthier. Like charcoal.

  And then, all thought fled as his lips touched hers for the first time.

  Without conscious thought, she let her hands rise up to encircle his neck, feeling the full sensual impact of his kiss. She didn’t fight. She didn’t reject. Rather, she reveled in the way his lips took hers, his kiss full of the mastery he had displayed in every other action she had seen him perform.

  Would he be as masterful in bed? When he was inside her?

  It was too soon to let him into her bed, but something about the way he touched her made it feel inevitable. What was she waiting for? It was clear she wanted him, and judging by the way his tongue dueled with hers—so perfectly—he wanted her, too.

  She didn’t resist when he pushed gently on her shoulders, laying her back down on her bed, her head hitting the pillow. He came down over her, his mouth still joined to hers, the fingers of one hand splayed in her hair, holding her head gently in place as he took the kiss to a new level. His other hand moved downward, caressing, pausing here and there, touching and learning her shape.

  She lifted herself against him, wanting more contact. Her body ached for his possession, and she gave up pretending she wasn’t going to do this. If he wanted to go all the way, she was not going to deny him. She’d been through so much since meeting him, she needed this.

  There was something about him that touched her on a primal level and had since the moment she first encountered him on that dark and dusty road. She ran her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, loving the feel of him, the heat of his skin against her hands. He ran hot—in more ways than one.

  Wherever he touched her, she felt on fire. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were leaving little scorch marks all over her sheets, they were so combustible together. But she didn’t mind. Not in the least. No, she wanted more of his fire. More of his scalding, tempting touch.

  When he gave it to her, his hand cupping her breast, she moaned into his mouth. Yes. That’s what she wanted. That, and more. Oh, so much more.

  He squeezed her soft flesh, reminding her that her breasts were erogenous zones. The men she’d been with in the past hadn’t known much about foreplay if these few moments with Paul were any indication. He didn’t rush anything. He spent time learning her, kissing and touching, stroking and feeling. She’d never been so thoroughly kissed in her life.

  When he finally lifted his head away from hers, his lips lingering until the last possible moment, their eyes met…and held. She saw fire reflected in his eyes, bu
t it didn’t frighten her. In that moment, they were creatures of flame. Creatures of desire. Both wanting to touch the inferno that was brewing within their souls.

  “Are you all right with this?” Paul asked, his voice deep and growly in a way that made her tummy clench. Sexy.

  She nodded, not sure what words to use that wouldn’t make her sound like a harlot. Paul, it seemed, didn’t want to let her off that easy.

  “I want to hear you say it, draga.”

  His whispered words lit fires in her soul. Good fires. Warming fires. Fires she never wanted extinguished. She didn’t know what the word draga meant, but it sounded good. Fierce and sweet, the way he said it. Like he cared.

  “Make me forget everything but you, Paul,” she said, honesty baring her soul.

  She couldn’t claim to love him. Not after such a short acquaintance, but that’s sort of what it felt like. Maybe she was letting her imagination run away with her. Maybe she was delusional. And maybe, it didn’t matter. Not right now, anyway.

  One thing was clear, after the events of the past day. She knew, without doubt, she could count on him when the going got tough. He’d been there for her in ways nobody had ever been before. He’d stood up for her. He’d challenged some pretty tough guys on her behalf. He’d protected her when she was injured and couldn’t take care of herself. Everything he had done since they first met had displayed the heart of gold in his chest, and that deep well of honor that sprang from his soul.

  He was a good man. Of that, she had no doubt. Her instincts confirmed the evidence of the past hours. And the attraction she had felt almost from the first could no longer be denied.

  It might be self-indulgent. It might even be a little slutty. But she knew, in her heart, that if she made love with Paul right now, she wouldn’t have any regrets in the morning. The only thing she would regret forever was if she turned him away now.