What had someone already done to her? Niall was ready to take heads in his mate's defense.
"You have to look away," Niall advised.
She nodded but still looked shaken, like someone who had awakened from a nightmare. And he supposed she had--she'd been attacked by a shadow dragon for the second time. Phelan had beguiled her, as well, no doubt in an attempt to have her move past the dragonsmoke barrier.
It was a relief to know that Phelan, at least, couldn't cross dragonsmoke. But then, one had to apply oneself to learn that feat, and Phelan had never wanted to work for anything.
Thank the Great Wyvern for that.
Niall heard the gentle rumble of old- speak from his fellows as they flew behind Niall. There was no scent of shadow dragon, which was a break, and Phelan had disappeared as surely as if he'd never been.
"Are they gone?" Rox asked.
Niall nodded even as he scanned the streets.
"Hiding again," Rox said, her tone showing that she shared his disgust for their game.
It wasn't the only thing they had in common.
The firestorm's light illuminated Rox with a golden radiance that comforted Niall as he flew back toward her apartment. Niall knew Rox was frightened and didn't want to frighten her more by introducing new threats. Rox's skin was chilled and she felt delicate to him. The firestorm's golden shimmer shone all around them, heating every point of contact and turning Niall's thoughts in a predictable direction. He held her tightly, aware of his growing conviction that she was a prize to defend forever.
"I couldn't run," she said against his chest, then shook her head. "I couldn't do what I wanted." She sounded frustrated, closer to her usual self, which reassured Niall. She looked up at him suddenly, the brightness of her gaze startling him. "He made me repeat things I don't believe," she said, incredulous. "It was awful."
"Beguiling is a kind of hypnosis."
"It's horrible," she said with disgust, then studied him intently. "Tell me you've never done that to anyone."
Niall would have loved to have pledged that to her, but it wasn't true. "I have worked crowds, persuading them that they haven't seen dragons when they have," he admitted. "It's pretty much the only use the true Pyr have for beguiling, because it protects us."
"And keeping your secret lets you better protect humans and the planet," Rox concluded with a nod of concession.
"We only beguile crowds when Erik insists it has to be done." Niall sighed. "I think it's kind of futile, myself, but he's the leader of the Pyr."
"Why do you think it's futile?"
"Because whenever there are a great many witnesses, it's hard to get to all of them before they talk. And I believe that humans aren't predisposed to believe in dragons." He smiled down at her. "Given time, they'll rationalize that they didn't really see us after all."
"That's what you said to Thorolf after the earthquake."
"It's what I believe."
He landed on the windowsill of Rox's bedroom then, and shifted shape. He stepped into the dragonsmoke barrier with care, hearing its resonant ping, then jumped down into the room and set Rox on her feet.
She stayed close. "Thanks," she said, and laid her cheek on his chest. She didn't seem to want to let him go.
Niall was good with a little physical reassurance. He caught her in a closer embrace and shut his eyes.
The firestorm seemed to Niall to burn brighter then, as if it responded to his being in human form. He felt the softness of Rox's curves pressed against him, smelled her perfume, and became aware that her fingers were running up and down his spine. He wondered whether she was aware of the caress, as she seemed to be thinking, but it definitely gave him ideas. He felt heat emanating from her fingertips, surging through his body, reminding him that he hadn't celebrated the triumphs of the day before. He felt his own arousal and wondered whether Rox was aware of it.
She'd have to have been dead, to use her own words, to not have felt him so hard against her stomach.
She glanced up at him again, a gleam in her eyes that he dared to find encouraging. Her voice dropped lower, to that jazz singer timbre that drove him crazy. "Have you ever used beguiling for anything else?"
Niall shook his head without hesitation. "Never."
Rox smiled. "I like that you're one of the good guys." Before Niall could ask her to explain herself, she slid her hands around his neck and pulled his head down. He felt her stretch to her toes and lifted her against him, bending down to capture her lips with his.
It was a kiss filled with relief and tenderness, a sweet kiss that turned hot enough to singe his skin. Rox opened her mouth to him and Niall deepened his kiss, claiming her mouth completely. She met him more than halfway, and when he grabbed her buttocks, she wound her legs around him as she had before.
Her passionate response drove him even wilder than before, given that it was unexpected. He liked that she could surrender to desire with such enthusiasm, and he understood that her emotional truths would be harder to decipher.
For the moment, it didn't matter. For the moment, the desire between them was sufficient.
Niall couldn't get Rox close enough, couldn't explore her thoroughly enough, couldn't fight the incendiary heat of the firestorm. They were on the bed without his realizing how they'd gotten there. Rox, sprawled beneath him, was pulling him closer. Niall braced his weight on one elbow, then cupped her face in his hand. He slid his thumb across her cheek, and she purred with delight at the resulting flurry of sparks.
He slid his hand lower, unfastening her silk pajamas and running his hand over her breast. The curve fit perfectly in his palm and she arched her back beneath his caress. Niall broke his kiss to watch her pleasure and smiled at the glitter of her half- closed eyes. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, and the firestorm's radiance touched her features with gold.
And he saw the second of her tattoos, the one he had glimpsed earlier. He pushed back the silk to examine the tattoo. It was in script, written across her collarbone in elaborate lettering. carpe diem it said, the Latin for "seize the day."
Niall thought the advice was more than apt.
As always, Rox's body was more forthcoming than she was. The truth was in her gestures, not in her words, and there was no lie in the way she welcomed his kiss. Her touch was utterly lacking in doubts or fears. She knew what he was, and she wanted him despite that.
Maybe because of it.
Niall realized that satisfying the firestorm would diminish its heat and make them both less of a target for Slayers and shadow dragons. Maybe he needed to trust in his luck, his skill, and his fellows, and assume his own survival.
Maybe they should satisfy the firestorm now.
He slid his thumb across her nipple and Rox moaned. He pinched the taut peak and rolled it between his finger and thumb, and she gasped. She writhed beneath him and playfully bit his shoulder, casting him a sparkling glance.
"Do you kiss all the damsels in distress like this?" she asked with an impish grin.
Niall grinned. "No. Do you kiss all the dragons like this?"
"No!" Rox's eyes flashed with pleasure; then Niall bent to take her nipple in his mouth. Whatever she had meant to reply became a low moan, one that excited Niall. She locked one hand into his hair and dug the nails of her other hand into his back in her need to pull him closer. Niall was more than happy to comply.
"Ahem," Rafferty said from the threshold behind them, and Niall was recalled to his senses. He braced himself over Rox, ensuring that her nudity was hidden from his fellows.
"We gotta talk," Thorolf said, and headed for the living room.
"All of us," Sloane agreed. In mere moments, Rox and Niall followed them, hand in hand.
Niall was ready to hear the other Pyr's advice.
The Pyr gathered grimly in Rox's kitchen. She made a big pot of tea, pulled together some sandwiches with Sloane's help, and kept her ears open. Niall's protective embrace had made her feel safe again, even as the doubts Phelan
had introduced gnawed at her thoughts. She was even more afraid of losing her dragon warrior than she had been before.
She had to help ensure his safety. Rox couldn't fight dragons for him, but she could try to figure out what was going on.
She wished she at least remembered what had happened with Phelan, but her mind was completely blank. She'd seen him at the window; then Niall had scooped her from the ruins of his building. What had happened in between?
"What was going on there?" Sloane demanded. "What was that piece of iron?"
"He was going to nail you," Thorolf said, gesturing to Niall, and Rox's heart stopped cold.
"Who?" she demanded.
"That old Slayer. He's lacquer red and gold," Sloane said.
"Chen," Niall supplied. "Phelan called him Chen."
Rafferty looked concerned.
"He had a brand," Niall agreed, "and he was going to mark me."
Rox straightened in fear.
"Was it a tiger?" Thorolf asked. "Like the mark on the neck of those shadow dragons?"
Sloane nodded.
"Phelan has one, too," Niall said. "I don't know what it means, but as Rox said, I think it's a kind of gang mark."
Rox didn't like the sound of this in the least. Rafferty and Sloane also appeared to be alarmed. Thorolf was agitated, but Niall was utterly still. He frowned at the floor, trying to puzzle it out.
"It must have some kind of power," Rafferty said, "if he thought that putting it on you forcibly would make a difference."
A gang mark. Rox swallowed. "Some people think that tattoos and brands have magical power, like talismans."
"This one must," Thorolf said.
"He was going to mark me with it," Niall said. He looked dismayed. "Phelan was holding me down. It was as if he had brought me to Chen as an offering, or something."
"Wait!" Rox said. "Phelan told me that you could both be the same by morning, that he knew a Slayer who didn't need the Elixir to make shadow dragons." Niall grimaced at the prospect. It was one that gave Rox the creeps.
"Do you think that's true?" Thorolf asked.
"But that's just the thing," Niall said. "Phelan isn't a shadow dragon anymore." Sloane glanced up in surprise. "I don't know what he is, but he has his old spark back. He's the way he was before he died." The hope that lit his eyes touched Rox's heart, even though she feared it was unwarranted. "Do you think he's healing? Or regressing?"
Rafferty frowned. "I'm skeptical. He chose the darkness of becoming Slayer, and that is an irrevocable choice."
"But what about this Chen?" Sloane asked. "Do we know anything about him at all?"
Niall shrugged. "It looks like he's gained control of the shadow dragons, and that the tiger brand is part of it."
Rox shivered.
"But how?" Thorolf asked, looking between the Pyr.
"The greater question," Rafferty said softly, "is why?"
"No," Rox said. "The question is why he wants Niall. Shadow dragons are made of dead Pyr, not live ones."
"It could be because of the firestorm," Rafferty said thoughtfully.
"I think it's something else," Rox said, struck by an idea. "You were talking about affinities earlier," she said, working it out as she spoke. "Rafferty thought he sensed Magnus, who had or has an affinity for the earth. Chinese dragons have an affinity for rain. Someone has an affinity for earth and is causing the earthquakes that target Niall."
"Chen," Rafferty said with conviction. "I recognize his voice now. He is the old singer who persuaded the earth to move at his command."
"So that's two elements he controls, as well as the fire that you all have an affinity for." Rox leaned forward. "What if he's trying to capture Niall because of his affinity for air? What do you get when you complete the set?"
Rafferty's gaze brightened. "Never mind that you are in the midst of your firestorm. That could provide the fourth element."
"Or at least enhance it," Sloane agreed, his manner thoughtful.
"But why?" Thorolf asked. "What would be the point?"
Sloane frowned. "There is an old idea that when the four elements are brought into proper balance, they collectively allow a control over spirit, or mind."
"And Phelan's mind is intact again," Niall mused. "Maybe that has something to do with it." He shoved a hand through his hair and looked tired. "I can't think anymore. At least we know that Phelan can't cross the smoke barrier."
"You're right," Sloane said. "Let's get some sleep."
Rox remembered something Phelan had said, and she wondered whether it would shed some light on the puzzle. "But wait a minute. Phelan said you killed him," she said to Niall. "Is that true? Could that be part of it?"
Niall was clearly shocked. He turned away from her, leaving distance between them. "I don't want to talk about it."
Rox had a bad feeling about his evasiveness.
"I think it's a pretty good question," she insisted. "And I think I deserve an answer."
"I believe she is right," Rafferty said softly.
Niall braced his hands on the window frame and kept his gaze averted. He looked as if he might be sick.
Rox was frightened by his reaction. Was this the long story he'd avoided telling her so far?
Was it a bad one?
Did it show Niall in a bad light?
"I didn't strike the killing blow," Niall said tightly, "but it was my fault that Phelan died."
Rox was shocked by Niall's dismay. She expected him to simply call Phelan a liar. She hadn't thought she'd rattle him. He was always so impassive, so resolute. She hadn't thought for a second that she could hurt him.
Whatever had happened must have been really bad.
It seemed characteristic of him that he would blame himself for the results of his actions, even if he hadn't directly killed Phelan. Niall took the long view, which Rox respected. Actions had repercussions, although most people chose not to look that far.
Whatever had happened still upset Niall. On the other hand, he was prepared to give Phelan another chance to be healed. She admired Niall for that, and she knew there was more to the story.
She waited and hoped he would confide in her.
Courtesy of Rox's question, Niall was remembering a night that had been hell, remembering blood and fire. He swallowed, then heard his mother's anguished scream, his father's bellow of rage. . . .
He straightened up, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He stared out into the rain and remembered the darkest night of his life.
Niall shook his head to dismiss his memories, but they wouldn't budge. He could feel Rox waiting. He knew she wouldn't forget her question, but he didn't want to talk about the past.
"Let's get some sleep," Sloane repeated. "With any luck, Erik will be here in the morning, and with his input, we can figure out a plan."
Rafferty nodded, and there was a murmur of consensus. Niall noted that one voice was conspicuously absent from the chorus.
Rox's.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw the uncertainty in her eyes. Whether he wanted to talk about this or not, he had to. He heaved a sigh and faced the fire.
For Rox.
"I promised you a long story last night," he said softly to her. "Here it is."
Rox raised her hands to her lips, her eyes shining. His heart leapt that she understood he was doing this for her and that it wasn't easy for him.
The Pyr settled back into their seats.
"There is a tendency in my family, apparently, for people to make irrevocable decisions too quickly. I think it comes from my father, because that was his inclination."
"Nigel was always decisive," Rafferty agreed.
Niall frowned. "My father didn't tell my mother about his nature before they were married. On their wedding night, they were attacked by Slayers and he shifted shape to defend her. She was so frightened of him that she refused to let him into her rooms the next day. He took her at her word, and left her alone at the country house while he retu
rned to London. They would never have reconciled if she hadn't gone to him, thirteen years later."
"Why did she?" Rox asked.
Niall met her gaze steadily. "She had twin Pyr boys who were entering puberty, and she didn't know how to teach us what we needed to know. Our nature begins to assert itself at puberty, often through shifts that aren't entirely under our control."
"First time, every time," Thorolf said to Rox.
Niall met Rox's gaze steadily. "Evidently they were attacked after the firestorm had been sated." He folded his arms across his chest, remembering. "My father was hard on Phelan when he came back into our lives. He said my brother preferred to use his charm rather than work for anything, that he wanted everything for nothing, that he was lazy."
"Hey, sounds kinda like you and me," Thorolf observed.
Niall glanced up in surprise, knowing truth when he heard it. "I'm sorry," he said. "I always wanted to do things differently from my father, but it's not working out that way so far."
"Aw, don't be so tough on yourself," Thorolf said. "You've been encouraging since I decided to try. Maybe Phelan should have tried, and your dad would have been cool with that."
Niall was startled by the idea. "Maybe, maybe not. I think my father's absence when we were young and his inflexibility with Phelan contributed to Phelan's finding appeal in becoming a Slayer."
"But you didn't turn Slayer and you had the same experience," Rox noted.
"That might have been luck," Niall said. "And Father was tougher on Phelan."
"It might have been character," Rox replied, her tone firm.
Rafferty smiled.
Niall felt his lips set. He was not blameless in this, and he wouldn't let them exonerate him. "The thing is that I don't think Phelan knew what he was getting into, but once the choice was made, there was no coming back from the Slayer side."
"Don't you think your answer to whether he can be healed is right there?" Sloane murmured.
"I think he made a mistake, that maybe he didn't realize what he was getting into before he chose."
"Why?" Rafferty asked.
"Because he's my brother. He's my twin! We grew up together. We got into trouble together and we got out of trouble together. He was always impulsive, leaping before he looked." Niall shrugged, unable to explain it better.
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