"An heir?" she asked, and he grimaced and nodded.
"The firestorm is a dream come true," Rafferty said with undisguised satisfaction.
"How many of you are there?"
"Not enough," the three men said in unison; then Thorolf grinned.
"That's what Erik always says," Rafferty said, a sparkle in his eye as he clearly anticipated Rox's next question. "Erik is the leader of the Pyr."
The count was up to four. They'd mentioned Erik before.
"Pyr." Rox tried out the word on her tongue.
"Dragon shape shifters," Niall supplied. "The ability passes through the male line."
"From father to son," Rox said, understanding. "So you have relatives. And there must be female Pyr."
The three shook their heads as one. "Only one at a time," Niall said. "She's called the Wyvern and has prophetic powers."
"Well, fathers don't get sons without a female being involved," Rox said. Niall frowned, and she wondered why he was at a loss for words. "It's just basic biology. Unless there's something really odd about you guys."
Niall shook his head and Rox was relieved.
"That's where the firestorm comes in," Rafferty said, his tone encouraging. They fell silent, Rafferty and Thorolf studying Niall. It was apparently up to him to explain.
"Each Pyr has a destined mate," Niall said, his gaze fixed on the flagstones. "Once in a lifetime, a Pyr will find the woman who can conceive his son--or sons, if he's lucky--and that mating is marked by the firestorm. The firestorm is a sign of that opportunity," Niall said quietly, then smiled slightly. "One that you're not supposed to miss."
"I guess not." Rox had to be sure it was clear. "So I'm your destined mate?"
Niall averted his gaze. "You're the woman who can conceive my son, if we choose to consummate the firestorm."
Rox couldn't ignore her impression that Niall was less than thrilled to have a firestorm, or maybe a mate.
She certainly didn't have babies in her ideal future. Maybe this was something else they had in common.
"What happens if we don't?"
Niall looked toward Rafferty.
"The firestorm keeps burning, hotter and hotter," Rafferty said with a shake of his head. "Firestorms are disinclined to be ignored." He smiled at Rox. "They are magical and marvelous opportunities."
"Have you had one?"
Rafferty shook his head slowly, his regret clear. "I've been waiting twelve hundred years for the right woman to cross my path"--he shrugged--"and I will wait twelve hundred more, if the Great Wyvern decrees it should be so. There are things worth every increment of patience they demand."
Rox was stuck on one thing he said. "Twelve hundred years? As in, twelve centuries?"
Rafferty nodded, amusement curving his lips as he watched her accept his claim.
"How can you possibly be that old?"
"We age slowly before our firestorms. It's common for people to think us immortal as a result, but that's not technically true." He smiled broadly. "I like to think I don't look a day over four hundred years."
Niall chuckled and Rox turned her attention on him again. "How old are you?"
"Barely two hundred years," he admitted.
She looked at Thorolf.
"Not sure," he admitted with a shrug. "At least eight hundred."
"Kids," Rafferty scoffed as Rox tried to accept what she was being told.
"So, you have a firestorm at some point, have sex with your destined mate, make a son, then start to age more quickly," she said in review, keeping her tone neutral. Niall watched Rox, and her sharp awareness of him became even stronger. This heat made it too easy to imagine being intimate with Niall, to think of his strong fingers sliding over her skin, to imagine the hard press of him against her. "But what if they don't conceive a son?"
"Then the Pyr misses the opportunity of a lifetime," Rafferty said quietly. He held up a single finger. "It's a onetime offer." He smiled easily. "But then, who needs more than one chance to get it right?"
"But the firestorm lasts until the woman conceives the Pyr's son?" Rox insisted.
"Apparently it takes only the once," Niall said.
"That can't be true," Rox argued.
Niall sat beside Rox then, his presence and the firestorm's heat setting her nerves on edge. His shoulder bumped hers and sent an imperative through Rox's body. "That's what Ginger said. And Eileen and Sara and Alex."
"Who are they?"
"Pyr mates identified by firestorms," he said, then smiled at her. "All have had children since their firestorms--children conceived during their firestorms."
The Pyr and his mate got to do it only once before she conceived? Rox crossed her legs, not liking the sound of that. A sexy beast of a dragon man was one thing. Potentially having a relationship with someone who defended her was another. But conceiving his child immediately did not fit into Rox's life plan.
"But what happens after that?" she asked, trying to hide her reservations.
Rafferty sat on Rox's other side. "There are two schools of thought among our kind."
"Get in and get out, make more while you can, and never look back," Thorolf said with enthusiasm.
Both Niall and Rafferty regarded him unhappily.
"That is one perspective," Rafferty continued, "while others believe that mate and Pyr complement each other's strengths, that the firestorm is the mark of an opportunity for each to become more than they could be alone."
"The firestorm shouldn't be satisfied outside of marriage," Niall concluded. "It should be a permanent commitment."
Marriage now, too?
Rox had heard enough. "I don't think so," she said, her words hurried as she pushed herself to her feet. She had to put distance between herself and Niall before the firestorm coaxed her into making a big mistake. "I don't do permanent; I don't do long-term. I don't do marriage and I won't do babies. The planet is crowded enough without making more."
"Even more Pyr?" Rafferty asked softly, his eyes shining.
"Even then," Rox said with resolve.
"But it's the firestorm," Thorolf protested.
"We should talk about it." Niall rose to his feet and stretched out a hand toward her. That he had the most reasonable perspective only made it harder to keep her distance. Rox knew that if he touched her, she'd lose her resolve.
The firestorm was on his side, after all.
"Thorolf, will you give me a ride home?" Rox asked, spinning away from Niall's bright gaze. "Like, now?"
Niall watched Thorolf carry Rox away, a jumble of reactions churning inside him. He wasn't convinced that a crowded planet was the real reason she didn't want to have children. Her comments about the long term only made him fear that satisfying the firestorm would lead him to repeat his father's mistake.
Once again, he wondered about Rox's history.
Could Rox's perspective be changed? Maybe she was dealing less well with his reality than he thought--she had experienced a lot in a few hours and been in danger several times.
Niall ran his fingers over the cut on his shoulder, reassuring himself that the damage wasn't too extensive. He felt a bit overwhelmed by all the responsibilities he needed to manage. He fought against that pervasive sense of dread.
Instead he thought about his tours coming home, about the people he'd promised to check on, about no longer having a home or an office, about his working without a partner and logging too many hours, about needing to train Thorolf, about the shadow dragons who were still out there, about his twin brother's determination to interfere with his firestorm, about the challenges Rox herself offered, and he had to sit down again.
"You have to change her mind," Rafferty said softly in old-speak, and Niall bowed his head.
"I don't have time!" He flung out his hands in frustration. "There isn't time to court a mate, much less seduce her, much less raise a son."
Rafferty smiled. "I would wager that Roxanne is much closer to seduction than you believe."
Ni
all frowned and shoved his hand through his hair. Rafferty might be right, but Niall didn't believe he could juggle another responsibility at this time. "I really wanted my firestorm to be different. I really wanted to do it differently from my father--to make better choices and take more time."
"The Great Wyvern does not bless us with any burden we cannot carry," Rafferty said, his tone soothing. "There is a way, but you must find it."
"You heard Rox--she doesn't want kids. That's fair. She gets to make those kinds of choices for her own life."
Rafferty pursed his lips and studied the sky. The rain fell steadily as he thought. "She would not be your destined mate if there was no chance of conception."
Niall pushed himself to his feet, lacking Rafferty's confidence in a great plan. "Maybe after the shadow dragons are eliminated, I can attend to the firestorm," he said, already guessing what Rafferty would say. "Maybe then Rox and I can build a relationship. We need to take some time to know each other. . . ."
Rafferty interrupted Niall sharply. "We can both guess that the elimination of the shadow dragons will be linked to the consummation of your firestorm."
He was right. Niall sighed, displeased with this idea as much as he'd anticipated it. "But it's so dangerous for Rox."
"The danger exists already. You must face it to be rid of it. In fact, consummating your firestorm could make her safer."
Niall met the confident dark gaze of the older Pyr. "Because there won't be the heat of the firestorm to attract danger."
Rafferty raised a brow. "You cannot evade the danger, just as you cannot evade the destruction of your brother. Your task would have been simpler if you had destroyed him tonight."
So Rafferty had noticed his reluctance to destroy Phelan, as well. "I can't help but think of when we were children together, before he turned Slayer."
"That is the treacherous power of the shadow dragons. They prey upon our emotional response and memories, although they have few themselves."
"No, it's more than that," Niall argued. "I thought of Delaney. He was forced to consume the Elixir and he was healed of its effects. He was returned to the Pyr." Niall appealed to Rafferty. "What if Phelan can be healed, as well?"
Rafferty winced. "He chose in his life to turn Slayer. That is no portent of success in this endeavor."
"But I don't think it was his choice." Niall sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. "I think he didn't have all the information, and he made a mistake. He asked for my help."
Rafferty folded his arms across his chest. "Was he not inclined to deception, even before he turned Slayer?"
It was a truth that Niall couldn't evade. "But what if seeing the darkness made him realize what he lost? What if all he needs is another chance?" Rafferty looked unpersuaded. "Rox, you know, is always giving people more chances to redeem themselves. I wondered whether this is the lesson of my firestorm, that I learn how to be less judgmental."
"From Roxanne," Rafferty murmured, then nodded thoughtfully. "It is a possibility. But the fact remains that your choice to let Phelan survive leaves your mate in greater danger."
Niall met Rafferty's solemn gaze. "How can I create a son without knowing for certain that I'll be around to teach him what's right?"
Rafferty considered the question for a long moment, as the rain beat on the awning overhead and the flagstones all around. "You cannot," he said finally. "None of us can truly be certain." He heaved a sigh and put a hand on Niall's shoulder. "But you must trust in the wisdom of the Great Wyvern. You must try. You must discover whether the answer to your concern lies in the nature of your mate."
Niall grimaced. "I knew you would say something like that."
Rafferty chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. Just the presence of the older Pyr made Niall acknowledge that obstacles might be overcome.
That a resolution to all of this might be possible.
He just needed some sleep to restore his perspective.
And that gave him an idea.
"You know," Niall said as he watched the rain fall, "I need a place to stay for a few nights. I need to ensure Rox's safety in the short term by keeping guard over her."
"Dragonsmoke is no longer the effective defense that once it was," Rafferty agreed. "Vigilance is best."
"Plus Thorolf just moved out of Rox's spare room. Maybe it's still available."
Rafferty smiled encouragement. "You see? The Great Wyvern is moving mountains for you."
Niall smiled despite himself. "All I have to do is persuade Rox to let me in."
Rafferty met his gaze steadily. "A firestorm is never without its obstacles."
There was nothing Niall could say to the truth of that. He sent an old-speak message to Sloane, requesting his presence and his advice regarding Phelan as soon as possible.
As he took flight from the terrace roof, his heart leapt with the prospect of seeing Rox again. There was far more to his mate than met the eye--Niall just hoped they could survive and find a middle ground.
In the pouring rain, with his awareness of the shadow dragons hunting him, it seemed a lot to ask.
Rox was unsettled.
She didn't feel safe in her apartment, for the first time ever. It was true that she hadn't lived alone since she'd dragged Thorolf home in an attempt to save him from himself, but Thorolf had always gone out in the evenings. Rox had given up on waiting for him pretty quickly, as he was better equipped than most to fend for himself.
And he had a cell phone, in case he needed to call her for help.
Like the two times he'd needed her to post bail after he'd gotten busted in bar fights that spilled into the street. Thorolf meant well, and he had a great big heart, but he was too quick to use his fists.
Rox had told him that umpteen gazillion times, to no discernible effect.
She couldn't help thinking that Niall's restraint was more admirable. She respected that he used his power with discretion and had tried to find alternative answers. He'd taken her comment to heart about giving Thorolf another chance, and it seemed to be working.
It was also true that she'd told Thorolf not to stay with her on this night, mostly because she sensed his desire to return to Niall. If nothing else, Thorolf had taken to this mentorship like a fish to water.
Or a dragon to the fire.
That was good and she was glad for Thorolf.
A child. Rox's heart clenched at the word that kept echoing in her thoughts. Niall's son. She could never bring a child into the world, could never go the whole marriage-and-babies route. It wasn't her style.
It smacked of her past, of pain and heartache and emotional journeys she was determined to avoid.
Were there more dragon shape shifters? It was tempting to consider that a different one might be the right one for her, but her fascination for Niall and admiration of him undermined that.
She wanted Niall.
Without the firestorm's suite of obligations.
Rox was out of luck.
So she paced around her apartment, restless.
The rain kept falling hard and fast, so hard and fast that Rox thought it might never stop. She stood at the window and watched the raindrops pelt against the pane. The water turned the streets dark and slick, the puddles reflecting the streetlights. She usually liked the rain, but on this night, it gave her the creeps.
She decided to make herself a cup of herbal tea, pacing while the kettle came to a boil. Each time she looked at the dark, wet windows, she thought of the dead eyes of Niall's twin and shuddered. She lowered the blinds in every room and played some soothing music, but still.
She couldn't settle down.
The tea didn't help.
She really needed to get some sleep.
She had a quick shower and washed both the mousse and the temporary color out of her hair. Then she tugged on a favorite pair of red silk pajamas. She was heading to the kitchen to make another cup of tea, when there was a knock at the door.
A decisive knock.
S
he froze and stared at the door, then at the clock. It was past two in the morning. Who would be at her door?
Rox was actually quite sure who it was.
And she was honest enough to admit that she was glad.
Rox crossed the living room on silent feet, the warmth that grew stronger with every step supporting her theory. She splayed her hands on the door, letting the heat of the firestorm spread over them. It embraced and enfolded her, filling her with a seductive and welcome heat. Rox savored the sensation for a minute, then looked through the peephole. Her body simmered even before she saw him.
Niall stood in the corridor, looking straight at her. His hair was wet and curling at the ends from the rain, his shoulders were soaked, and his T-shirt clung in all the right places. He had that black laptop bag slung over his shoulder and his left hand rested on top of it. He looked impatient and grim and absolutely scrumptious. Rox's heart skipped a beat, then skipped again when he waved two fingers in a curt salute.
Rox opened the door as far as it would go with the chain still on. It was stupid, because even in human form, Niall could have broken down the door, but in a way, it made her feel more in control of the situation.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi." Niall cleared his throat and looked uncertain of himself for a moment. "I was wondering whether you're as worried about my brother as I am."
"What do you think he's going to do?"
Niall grimaced. "Something sneaky."
Rox had exactly the same feeling, and she doubted that anything good would happen to her after that. "What do the bad Pyr do to mates?"
"Slayers," Niall corrected. "And they kill mates." He didn't flinch and he didn't put a gloss on the truth. Rox appreciated that, even though she didn't like his answer. "If you think about it, that's the easiest way to eliminate the chance of making more Pyr."
"Did you come to defend me or to watch?" Rox asked. It was supposed to be a joke, but it sounded a little more defensive than she'd intended.
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