Enchanted By Fire (Dragons Of The Darkblood Secret Society Book 3)

by Meg Ripley

  “Yeah, I bet it was. Well, my old man never rode any bulls because bulls always brought out the bear in him. Rory, he rode bulls because he wanted to prove to the world there was no bear in him at all.”

  “What about you? Why do you ride?”

  Dean checked his rearview mirror and frowned. “Hey, you don’t think your mom would have called the cops, do you?”

  “Why?” Marisol’s head whipped around. “God! How long has that cruiser been following us?”

  “A few miles. But I’m doing the speed limit.”

  “I don’t know. Even if she did call the sheriff, what would she tell him? That her grown daughter has left the house? I don’t think that’s illegal.” Marisol sighed. “I know she’s just worried about me but...I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about her. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question was that?”

  “Why do you ride?”

  “Because I want to. Would you do it… if you had the chance?”

  “Ride a bull? Hell yeah, I would.”

  “Of course you would. And there’s just nothing else like it.”

  “Not even sex?”

  “It depends on the night. Depends on the ride.”

  Marisol’s laugh was cut short by a wide yawn.

  “Are you tired?” Dean asked. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  “I’m okay, I’m just—” she yawned again and blinked at him. “I think it’s the road.”

  “Go ahead and close your eyes. When you wake up, we’ll be there.”

  Dean was true to his word. When she opened her eyes again, they were parked outside of Rory’s secluded cabin in Jackson. The sun was sinking lower and the shadows were long over the man’s face as he walked out to meet them.

  “I still feel sleepy,” she muttered.

  “I know. Rory needs to talk to you, then you can take another nap,” Dean promised as he stepped out of the truck. She was still blinking heavily when he opened her door and helped her to the ground. Rory offered his hand with a warm smile.

  “Howdy, ma’am. You had a long drive. Can I get you some water? Or maybe a beer?”

  “Water, please.”

  Rory was a tall man and he absolutely towered over Marisol. He offered his arm, escorting her up the gravel driveway to his cabin. Dean followed a few paces back, listening as Rory asked about the drive up from Cody. Marisol answered, shooting a curious look over her shoulder to Dean; he nodded and gave her the most reassuring smile he could. Marisol returned his smile, but he could see the trepidation in her eyes. She was probably wondering when the exam would start, but Rory knew everything he needed to know by the time they reached the cabin’s door.

  He ushered Marisol inside and paused to take Dean by the arm. “I need to talk to this girl. Go out to the shed and get my rawhide bag. The one by the door.”

  “Is she…?”

  “We’ll know soon enough. Now go. Don’t dawdle.”

  Dean was already taking long strides across the yard. His phone sounded just as he reached the shed. A text from his brother. There’s been another murder. They’re looking for a bear.

  Dean wrote back. Sit tight. Keep your head down. Everything will be fine.

  ****

  “Everything’s a disaster. My life is...it’s ruined.” Marisol lifted her eyes to meet Dean’s, but she couldn’t stand to look at him for more than a second. Rory’s solemn declaration still echoed in her head, twisting her stomach into new and interesting knots with every beat of her heart.

  “Your life is not ruined,” Dean said softly.

  “How will I tell my parents? The sheriff will probably want to arrest me for killing that poor man. I’ll never be allowed back on the rodeo grounds again. They might kick me out of school if they deem me too much of a threat.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Why did this happen to me? How could this happen to me?”

  “Your parents will understand. Mari, you have nothing to be ashamed of. This isn’t your fault.”

  “Well, whose fault is it? How did it happen?”

  Dean shrugged. “It’s nobody’s fault. It just...happened. One of your parents may carry the gene. Hell, they both might. It might just be dormant in them.”

  “But...if I’m a bear shifter, wouldn’t I have always been?”

  “You’ve always been a bear shifter, but you may not have had the ability to shift until now.”

  Dean had been calm and reasonable since the moment Rory gave her the news. He’d told her there was no way to be completely positive until somebody actually saw her shift, but he added, “I’m still pretty damned sure.” Marisol had managed to keep her tears at bay until they were on the road, but now they streamed down without stopping. She wiped them away, but her fear kept the pump primed.

  “Dean, what am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to live your life. You’re going to find a way to control it and you’re going to continue to be Marisol. Beautiful, intelligent, sweet, wonderful Marisol.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Well, yeah. Of course.”

  “And wonderful?”

  “I think you’re the most wonderful girl I know.”

  “Even though I’m a bear?”

  “That makes no difference to me.”

  She paused. “Are… you a bear?”

  Instead of answering, Dean signaled and moved into the exit lane that led to a nearly abandoned rest stop. He parked on the opposite end, away from the two idling semis, and turned the ignition off. They sat in silence for a few moments as the engine ticked and Marisol licked her lips, waiting for the answer that a part of her already knew.

  “Yes, I’m a bear. Nobody knows but my family. And I’d like to keep it that way. If anybody knew—”

  “You would be banned from the rodeo.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So how do you keep it under control? Can you...can you teach me?”

  “Of course.” He reached for her hand. “I’ll teach you everything I know.”

  Marisol looked down, transfixed by the way his thumb moved over the back of her hand. Perhaps he intended the gesture to be soothing, but it was having the opposite effect on her. A chill raced down her spine as her cheeks flushed. As silence settled between them, she realized it was her turn to talk, but she couldn’t summon any words.

  “I want to kiss you right now,” Dean said, his voice low and tight.

  She licked her lips. “What’s stopping you?”

  “You’re my friend.”

  “We’ll still be friends after you kiss me.” She unconsciously leaned into him, and he shifted forward and their mouths were only an inch away. She inhaled and caught the scent of him—the full scent of skin and sweat and blood beneath the superficial smell of aftershave and horses.

  “Mari.” The rumble of her name from his throat was like music to her, pulling her forward until their mouths finally touched. She’d had a few awkward, closed-mouth kisses before; kisses that did nothing for her except make her believe that kissing was a ridiculous custom that she hated. But her lips almost immediately parted under the pressure of his, and she melted at the first brush of his tongue.

  Marisol felt a strange sense of déja vu, though she’d never been kissed so thoroughly before in her life—like maybe they’d exchanged these sweet caresses in a dream. She leaned in as close as she could, all too aware of the empty space between them, the void where their bodies didn’t touch. She needed his heat, needed to feel the texture of his skin and the rhythm of the blood coursing through his veins. He seemed as hungry as she was, his hands running over her arms, her shoulders, down her back. He touched her everywhere a friend might leave a casual caress, and she strained forward, hoping to guide his hands to her breasts and her aching nipples.

  When they finally broke apart, she was left gasping and wanting more. Dean’s breathing seemed labored, too, and his large fingers curled around her arms, holding her with almost bruising strength.<
br />
  “We...God, Mari, we have to stop.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s getting dark. We can’t...I don’t want to do this here.”

  “This? Kiss?”

  Dean shook his head. “You must know I want to do more than kiss you. Look what you do to me, Mari.”

  He took his hand and guided it to his rock hard erection. She gasped at the feel of him, curling her fingers slightly. He moaned at the pressure, even through his jeans, and she completely forgot they were supposed to stop. It was getting dark and her parents were waiting, but she wanted to rip his zipper open and push her fingers through the fly to find his hot flesh. She tingled at the thought, her body clenching and trembling with anticipation.

  “Mari, we should really stop. This isn’t the right time.” He gently pushed her hand away and turned the key. She heard his ragged breathing over the sudden roar of the engine, but her own racing heartbeat nearly drowned everything else out.

  “Have you...wanted to do that before?” Marisol asked shyly while he navigated back to the freeway.

  “Yes. Many times.”

  “Me, too.”

  He shot her a sideways smile. “I’m glad I didn’t have to wait until the 4th to do that.”

  “I wish you hadn’t waited until now.”

  His smile faded a little. “Yeah.” He reached across the divide and took her hand, clasping her fingers tightly. “But first things first. We need to get you fed.”

  “Am I going to keep...killing people?”

  “No,” Dean said firmly. “Remember, the bear is hungry. If we keep the bear sated, you won’t go hunting. Besides, I’m going to keep an eye on you. I won’t let you hurt anybody.”

  “What are you going to do? Sit up outside my house all night?”

  “Yes.”

  Marisol shook her head. “You can’t do that. You need your sleep.”

  “I can always catch a nap before the rodeo. Don’t worry about me. I’m here to help you, okay?”

  She smiled weakly. “Okay.”

  They passed the Cody city limits just after nine. Marisol expected her parents would be at the arena, and she was counting on having a few extra hours to herself to work out her story and decide how much she dare tell them of the truth. But when they turned the corner of her street, she saw the house blazing with lights and the driveway packed full of cars.

  “Looks like they rounded up a posse,” Dean muttered.

  “Oh God. Just drop me off; you don’t have to deal with them.”

  Instead of agreeing, Dean surprised her by taking her hand again. “We’re a team. We’ll deal with them together.”

  Marisol’s head was still spinning from everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours, but his touch grounded her, and for a moment, she thought they would actually face everything together and get through it.

  Right up until her mother shouted at Dean to get the hell out of her house before she called the police and had him arrested for kidnapping and trespassing.

  Dean’s response was to tighten his grip on her hand, but she gently pulled away.

  “Don’t talk to him like that. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “You watch your mouth,” Anna snapped. “You disappeared without as much as a word. Do you have any idea how frightened I was? How much you worried your father?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It was just...a trip. For class. I needed to do some research in Jackson.”

  Her mother narrowed her eyes, and Marisol realized she’d miscalculated. “Now you lie to me? Go to your room. You’re grounded for the rest of the summer.”

  “Mom, I’m a grown woman. You can’t ground me.”

  “You’re a liar. As long as you live under this roof, you will follow my rules, and you will respect me and your father. No more lies and no more rodeo.” She turned her attention back to Dean. “You and your kind are not welcome here. If I see you sniffing around my daughter again, I’ll call the sheriff and have you removed. Do you understand me? Now get the hell out of my house!”

  Dean had no choice but to comply. Her heart sank as the door closed behind him. Her mother’s face was red and Marisol could sense another tirade. She didn’t give her a chance to launch into another rant; she turned on her heel and marched into her room, her head spinning, her eyes burning, and her stomach churning.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Anna shouted after her. Ernesto watched the entire exchange without a word, and he didn’t make a move to stop Marisol as she marched down the hall. Her only answer was the sound of her bedroom door slamming.

  “Marisol? Are you there?”

  “Dean?” She rushed to her window and leaned over the sill. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you, we’re in this together.”

  “She’ll call the sheriff if she sees you!”

  “She won’t see me,” Dean promised. “Listen, I know you’re upset, but you have to calm down.”

  “I am calm.”

  He reached for her hand, holding it tightly as he met her eyes. “You’re not. You’re upset and you’re hungry. Concentrate on your breathing and slow your heart rate. You need to have control over yourself.”

  “She has no right to talk to you that way.”

  “I know. Take a deep breath. Good. Yeah. Just like that.”

  “How are you going to help me if I’m never allowed to see you?”

  Dean squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about that. I want you to concentrate on this moment, right now. Don’t think about your mother. Don’t think about tomorrow. You watched Peter Pan, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Find your happy thought.”

  Dean. The texture of his roughened hands, the way the sun lined his face and crinkled his eyes, the shape of his lips, and the smooth, velvety sound of his voice as he offered her his reassurances. Dean was her happy thought. Concentrating on him had the desired effect, and she felt herself beginning to calm down.

  “I’m here,” he murmured, “and I’m not going anywhere.”

  She believed him. She believed in him, as he believed in her. That may be the one bright spot she had, but it was as bright and warm as the sun.

  ****

  The first week of July was the biggest week of the year for Cody, Wyoming. Summer tourists and rodeo fans kept the small town busy throughout the summer, but the population swelled beyond the borders for the Independence Day celebrations. Cowboys and cowgirls, clowns and queens, fans and dreamers all flocked to Cody for one of the biggest professional rodeos in the States.

  Anna kept up a good business throughout the summer, but it was the 4th of July weekend that kept her in the black. The food truck was slammed with hungry customers from the minute she opened it until the minute they ran out of food. Over the holiday weekend, she never closed the truck down until there wasn’t a single bite of anything left to serve. That reality, and that reality alone, was the reason Anna allowed Marisol to leave her room and return to the arena.

  There were several conditions, however. Marisol was not allowed to leave the truck to watch any of the events—and that included bull riding. She was not allowed to venture away from the truck or out of her mother’s sight. She wasn’t even allowed to go to the pens after the rodeo to find her father and help him back to the truck, as she had done every night for the past ten years.

  The twenty-two-year-old chafed against these rules and conditions, biting her tongue hard to keep from protesting as her mother continued to spell out the requirements for her parole. It went without saying that Marisol was to have no contact with Dean Longstrider, but her mother did say it. Several times. At length.

  It would have been too much to tolerate. Marisol had seen Dean every night for the past week, and after her parents went to sleep, he arrived, positioning himself beneath her window, promising to keep her safe. They couldn’t risk speaking to each other, but they sent texts back and forth until she finally fell
asleep, knowing he was there for her. Knowing he would stop her from harming anybody.

  He couldn’t stop her dreams, though. Vivid, exhilarating, and terrifying, they consumed her sleeping hours, taking her far from the comforts of her bed, her home, and her family. In her dreams, she traveled through the woods and into the mountains, across the badlands and over the plains. She roamed the west, searching land she’d never encountered before, discovering a life she could not articulate during her waking hours. When she woke, the images remained fresh, and her nose tingled, too weak to pick up the dimensions, the nuances, of her human life.

  Dean wasn’t there when she woke on the morning of July 1st. The summer sun slanted through her room, warming her face and toes, promising to keep the day hot and bright. She emerged from bed with the customary excitement the first week of July always brought to her heart. That excitement stayed with her as she showered and dressed, not dissipating until she joined her family for breakfast.

  Her mother didn’t hum or sing under her breath as she prepared the meal, and she served Marisol her plate without so much as a smile. Marisol’s heart sank to her stomach as she remembered that this year, there would be no 4th of July celebration for her. Whether or not her mother was still angry that Marisol disappeared with Dean for a day, she couldn’t say for sure, but clearly, there was still no forgiveness.

  Marisol could handle the anger. She could even cope with the drudgery of working and not seeing Dean or the bull rides. But she couldn’t cope with keeping her secret from her parents. She couldn’t live with the silent treatment. Her father barely spoke to her, though when he did, it was without the edge that constantly sharpened her mother’s tone. She would give anything to fix the situation, but she was unequipped, having never been on the receiving end of her parents’ anger or disappointment. How could she share her secret in this state? How could she ask for their much-needed support or guidance?

  Since discovering that the spirit of the bear dwelled within her, she’d debated several tactics to reveal the truth. But what would be the point? Her parents would disown her and likely alert the University to the fact that she was a shifter. She could face suspension—or worse—if the school learned of that. But then, perhaps that was for the best. Dean couldn’t follow her all the way back to Laramie and sleep outside her window every night to stop her from maiming and eating innocent people. She was too dangerous to be allowed on campus and too miserable to stay home.