Whisper Kiss

by Deborah Cooke

  He sensed a familiar darkness and glanced toward the only doorway. Steps wound down into darkness, but Magnus knew that sound, that smell. "The shadow dragons!" he said with relief. "You've retrieved them from the destroyed academy." His own fortunes had taken a turn for the better. "And now I can lead them. . . ."

  "I've gathered them for my own purposes," Chen corrected softly.

  "But I command the shadow dragons!"

  "You did. Once."

  That was when Magnus heard the rattle of fetters. He stared at Chen.

  "They are my tools now," Chen murmured. "Since you cast their stewardship so carelessly aside."

  "I was attacked! I was trapped. . . ."

  "And how did you become free?"

  "My song. I sang the song of the earth, and Gaia released me." Magnus's conviction faded along with his voice as Chen shook his head deliberately. He had wondered why his song had suddenly begun to work, and now he guessed.

  "I gained your release, which leaves you in my debt."

  "So, we can be partners. . . ."

  Magnus could have sworn that Chen smiled, right before he shifted shape.

  To Magnus's astonishment, Chen took the shape of a beautiful woman. She wore a tightly fitted red and gold blouse, a cropped cheongsam of embroidered silk. It hugged her curves, as did her black leather pants.

  She smiled at Magnus's astonishment, her red lips curving into an expression that wasn't at all friendly. That smile didn't touch her dark eyes, either. They tipped up at the corners and were outlined in black, the makeup adding to her exotic appearance. Her long, carefully tended fingernails were the same deep red as her lipstick, and her straight dark hair was tugged into a sleek ponytail.

  Magnus stared. Chen could take two different human forms? Magnus could take three forms--dragon, man, and salamander, the last being a particular point of pride as the salamander form was traditionally reserved by the Wyvern. But all Pyr and Slayers Magnus had known took the same human form each time.

  Had the old man been Chen, as well?

  What else could Chen do?

  The woman who was Chen turned and took down a jar that Magnus hadn't noticed before. It was a large clear glass sealer. Chen dropped Magnus into the jar, then closed the lid and locked it down. There was a rubber ring around the lip, one that sealed the contents completely.

  "I won't have any air!" Magnus cried.

  Chen smiled. "I have no need of a partner, not now when everything is coming together so well."

  "But I can share my knowledge!"

  Chen laughed. It was a chilling sound. "You have nothing to teach me, old man."

  "Then why ensure my release?"

  Chen leaned down, his face magnified and distorted by the glass. "Because I don't trust you, and I like to keep track of those I don't trust."

  Magnus scurried around his new prison, more agitated than he had ever been. But he was still tired, still weak from his ordeal, still without the power to change his circumstance. Magnus tried to manifest himself on the outside of the jar without success.

  And he would only grow weaker with every passing moment.

  The woman who was Chen leaned against the wall to watch him with a bemused expression.

  "I could break it," Magnus murmured.

  Chen smiled. "It is fortified with my will."

  "I will bargain with you!" Magnus cried. "Let's come to terms."

  "Such a charming offer," Chen mused, "but unfortunately you have nothing left that I want or need."

  Magnus couldn't believe it. He wasn't obsolete. He couldn't be dismissed, but Chen clearly did not care about his powers or his agenda.

  He stared at the other Slayer, realizing only now how he had been deceived.

  Too late to do anything about it.

  Then Magnus heard the steady drum of rain against a metal roof. He heard it slap against glass somewhere above him, as if the drops were large and heavy. Then he heard gurgling begin far far below, followed by the rush of flowing water.

  Was there a sewer down there? Or an underground river?

  "Dragon rain," Chen said softly. That enigmatic smile curved those red lips once more as he looked upward. Then he surveyed Magnus once again, his smile fading to nothing. "The best kind."

  Chapter 7

  Niall was uncertain that he'd made the right choice in letting Phelan retreat. He didn't doubt that his brother would be back, or that Phelan would play by his own rules. Niall would have to be on his guard his own rules. Niall would have to be on his guard 24-7.

  And he'd have to guard Rox with his life.

  He'd taken a risk, and that wasn't his favorite choice of options. All the same, if he killed Phelan, there was no undoing his decision.

  Niall wanted to be sure. He owed his brother that much. His father hadn't given Phelan another chance, but Niall was determined not to make judgments in anger. It was possible that this was the lesson of his firestorm.

  Or it was a big mistake. Niall wished he'd had enough sleep recently to let him think more clearly, but he was out of luck on that.

  It didn't look as if he'd be getting much sleep anytime soon.

  He could do without the paranoia of feeling targeted, too.

  Niall heard Rafferty's greeting in old-speak and returned it, then looked toward Thorolf. Rox was as undaunted as ever, her eyes bright and her gaze fixed upon him. She was resilient and he admired that. It was good not to have to worry about her mental health.

  On the other hand, one look told Niall that Rox had questions, probably some that he wasn't going to like answering.

  Maybe Thorolf was right, though, about confiding in his mate.

  The rain began to fall in fat drops that splashed on Niall's scales and beat on his wings. He flew toward Thorolf and extended a claw toward Rox. "Good job," he said in old-speak to Thorolf, who looked ridiculously proud of himself.

  "There it is again!" Rox said. "What is that rumbling? Are you two talking to each other so I can't understand it?"

  It wasn't that surprising that Rox would figure out old-speak before he could explain it. Niall heard Rafferty's deep chuckle.

  "My favorite part of the firestorm," Rafferty said quietly. "When the mate learns about old-speak."

  "What about beguiling? I thought that was your favorite part," Thorolf teased.

  It was clear that Rox had a whole lot of questions, but when Niall took her in his grasp again, her lips softened. She seemed to lose her train of thought, and he could understand that.

  Golden heat rolled through his body at the contact, making his heart pound and his breath catch. He felt a profound relief that she was all right, but that relief was tinged with excitement. Little sparks danced from every point of contact between them and the rain sizzled on Niall's scales.

  Was it burning hotter?

  It certainly was more distracting.

  Rox sighed with contentment, then slid her hands across his chest. She looked up at him and smiled, a promise in her eyes. "Thanks for coming after me. I'm thinking this is worth celebrating," she murmured, her voice so husky and low that Niall couldn't help but think of the last time she'd shown gratitude.

  Rafferty gave a low whistle of appreciation and appeared to bask in the heat. "I do love a firestorm," he murmured.

  "What's a firestorm? Is that what causes the sparks?" Rox asked, glancing up at Niall, her curiosity clear. "What's wrong with your brother's eyes? And what's with the tiger mark on his neck?"

  "The what?" Rafferty asked, his voice sharp.

  "The two shadow dragons we took out tonight had it, as well," Niall said. "It looks like a brand and is shaped like a tiger."

  Rox looked between them. "If they're all shadow dragons and they have this mark, it could be a gang mark." She nodded at Niall. "Happens with tattoos all the time. People mark their bodies to show their allegiance, especially criminals." She winced. "Getting the mark isn't always their choice, but once they have it, they have to live by its code."

&nbs
p; That wasn't news that Niall wanted to hear, although it made a lot of sense. Could someone else have assumed leadership of the shadow dragons? That would explain their having a different strategy. "Let's get out of the rain to talk." He looked around, targeted a likely site, and headed for it.

  "Excellent choice," Rafferty murmured in old-speak. "I like the awning."

  Rox caught her breath, but Niall would explain in a moment. She was showing a remarkable ability to accept his Pyr nature, and he found her more attractive with every exchange. Plus she was smart, and she brought new ideas. Niall was starting to think the firestorm might have led him in precisely the right direction.

  And he was definitely thinking about Rox's suggestion of a celebration.

  The trio of dragons descended in an elegant spiral, landing on the terrace of a penthouse apartment. They shifted shape in unison, ducking under the shelter of an awning affixed to the building. The lights were out in the apartment, and the rain fell steadily on the flagstones of the terrace all around them.

  Rox had been amazed by how gracefully and quickly the three Pyr had shifted shape, dragons one minute and men the next. Niall had been holding her against his scaled chest, flying with her through the air. It could have been her wildest dream come true.

  A heartbeat later he had been carrying her in very muscled arms, with her cheek against his chest and his T-shirt soft against her skin. He was the buffest guy she'd ever known, so being in his arms could have been another wild dream.

  It was a bit startling to experience them back to back.

  But good. Definitely good.

  Thorolf had been the slowest of the three of them in making the shift and Rox thought she caught a glimpse of him unfolding his clothes. It was as if they had been stashed beneath his scales when he was in dragon form. The back of his neck turned red when he caught her staring and Niall exhaled with what could only have been exasperation.

  So, humans weren't supposed to see that. Rox made a mental note to watch Niall more closely when he shifted.

  In Niall's embrace, Rox felt that shimmering heat again, that sizzle of desire that distracted her in a most basic way. She'd been feeling it since she came into Niall's proximity, since he'd come zooming out of the night to help her, and it made her dizzy.

  The lust it awakened was impossible to ignore. Niall's touch was as different from his brother's cold one as could be imagined. Rox was keenly aware of Niall's strength, and that he seemed to be warm everywhere he touched her. There was that light, too, as if they stood at the middle of a bonfire.

  She couldn't explain how much she wanted to jump his bones, either. Her reaction seemed way out of proportion, almost a compulsion, and much stronger than any lust she'd ever felt before. It was hard to think about anything else, which wasn't like her at all.

  She wanted to run her hands all over him. In either form. She wanted to know where his tan ended in human form, whether all of his hair was that golden blond, whether there was any bit of him that wasn't hard-muscled strength. She wouldn't have minded checking out his dragon bits, either, exploring the smoothness of his scales and feeling the power of his body beneath them. She wanted to nibble on him and kiss him and, well, embark upon a major exploration from there.

  She wished the others would disappear so she could get this urge out of her system.

  Niall looked down at her, his eyes gleaming, and Rox's mouth went dry. The other two Pyr were behind her, but she forgot about them for the moment, losing herself in his bright gaze. She felt his hand slide up her back, a proprietary gesture that was hot, hot enough to almost sear her skin.

  Had lightning struck?

  She blinked, then inhaled at the tidal wave of desire that rolled through her as Niall pulled her closer. It made her blood heat and her knees go weak. The sensation was stronger than before, more demanding and impossible to ignore.

  Was it her imagination that Niall's eyes had darkened to indigo? That his heart seemed to be pounding faster beneath her fingertips? She couldn't be imagining the radiant light emanating from every point they touched.

  "First things first. This is the firestorm," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "It's the mark of a Pyr finding his destined mate." Rox parted her lips to ask for more detail, but Niall bent his head and kissed her instead.

  She realized she had initiated their other kisses, because this one was different. It was potent and hot, demanding and driven. It was precisely the kind of kiss a dragon would initiate--one that swept Rox away on a tide of sensation, one that was determined to cultivate her passion and fearless as to where that desire might lead. Niall's kiss left her shaking and unsteady on her feet, glowing with desire and hanging on to his shoulders tightly. He was the only fixture in her universe, and really, the only one she needed.

  When he lifted his head, his eyes glittered. He smiled crookedly at her, well aware of the tumult he had raised within her. Rox exhaled unevenly and he ran a fingertip down her cheek.

  "Mate?" she echoed, hearing unsteadiness in her words.

  "Surrendering to the firestorm's call means conceiving an heir."

  That was plenty of news for Rox. Although it wasn't easy, she stepped away from Niall. The heat diminished with distance, giving her some ability to think clearly. She hung on to the pillar that supported the awning and tried to catch her breath. "Like a child?" she said.

  "A son," Niall said, as if there could be no doubt of his child's gender. Rox blinked and looked around.

  An heir. A son.

  As if.

  Rox forced herself to check out their surroundings instead of Niall. It was time to think of something other than sex. They had a sparkling view of the city spread before their feet, the rain glistening off glass and pavement. Rox thought it would be magical to live in such a place.

  Then she glanced guiltily at the darkened windows of the penthouse. "It's lucky they aren't home while we use their terrace," she said.

  "Not lucky," Niall corrected. "We could hear that this apartment was empty. Rafferty thought the awning made it a good choice."

  Rox looked from one to the next, but couldn't read their expressions. "I didn't hear him say anything," she said carefully. "Are you psychics or telepaths?"

  "We just have sharper senses," Niall said.

  "The ones Thorolf mentioned," Rox said, remembering, and Niall nodded.

  "We can hear at higher and lower frequencies than humans, and also hear sounds from greater distances. Old-speak is low--it sounds like thunder to humans."

  She'd been right! "Except that we can't hear the words," Rox said, feeling obligated to note. "It's like a secret."

  Niall winced as Rafferty chuckled. "Not exactly a secret. It's not meant to be, anyway."

  Rox nodded, realizing that Niall for one wouldn't use his ability to deceive. That might not be true of all his fellows, though. "So that's how you told Thorolf to catch me?"

  Niall folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the opposite pillar supporting the awning. His hair was wet and his T-shirt clung to his muscles. He looked imposing and delicious.

  Rox licked her lips in memory of that kiss.

  An heir. Just the prospect of a baby was enough to quench her desire a little bit.

  That Niall calmly answered her questions just made him more appealing. "I needed the element of surprise. If I'd called to him aloud, then you and Phelan would both have heard. Your shock distracted Phelan just long enough that I could keep him from attacking you."

  "But you were still counting on Thorolf."

  Niall smiled. "Someone suggested I give him another chance."

  Their gazes locked and held for an electric moment; then Rox frowned. "Wait a minute. That means you can talk to one another without humans knowing what's going on. Without my knowing what's going on."

  "Well, yes," Niall admitted.

  "I don't like that. You should speak out loud."

  "Funny how mates always make the same request," Rafferty mused, then co
ntinued at Rox's glance. "I'm Rafferty Powell." He offered his hand and Rox immediately responded in kind.

  "Roxanne Kincaid."

  Rafferty smiled as he shook Rox's hand. "Always delighted to meet a mate and feel the heat of a firestorm."

  He was an older man, one who moved with tranquility and deliberation. Like Thorolf and Niall, he was trim and fit. He had his dark hair tied back in a ponytail and his eyes were darker than dark. He wore a strange ring on his left hand, one that seemed to be made of black and white glass spun together.

  There had been no sparks when he'd shaken her hand.

  All the same, it was incredible to be in the company of not one, but three, dragon shape shifters.

  "Okay, let's get to it." Niall spared a glance at the sky and Rox thought she could see him organizing his list of what needed to be done. Then he met her gaze, and Rox was pleased to find herself a priority. "We can hear, for example, whether anyone is home," he said. "If they were here, we'd hear their breathing or the rustle of their movements, even at a distance." He flicked a glance at the large glass windows. "They do have a cat, but she won't likely give us away."

  Rox perched on a wrought- iron settee. She was determined to learn as much as possible in the time available. "How do you know it's a cat? It could be a dog or another small pet."

  Niall touched the tip of his own nose. "Cat. Spayed female."

  "You don't know her name?" Rox teased.

  Niall smiled and Rox's heart thumped. "She's not telling."

  "You might be making that up. . . ." Rox fell silent when she glanced at the window. A sleek cat the color of soot had come to sit on the sill, her eyes wide and yellow. Her paws were white, as if she'd stepped in paint or wore socks. Her tail flicked as she stared at the intruders.

  "Okay," Rox said, impressed. "Okay. Tell me more about the firestorm." Niall caught his breath, but he didn't kiss her.

  He caught her hand in his, though. There was a shower of sparks; then a radiant glow settled around their clasped hands. Rox swallowed as lust rolled through her, seeming to emanate from the point of contact. She was keenly aware of the strength of Niall's hand and of his holding his power in check to protect her from injury. She looked up, met his gaze, and acknowledged that she liked how he talked to her, too.