Within the Flames

by Marjorie M. Liu

  Somewhere, not so long ago, one of his ancestors was a dragon.

  “Whoa,” she said, opening her eyes.

  Eddie blinked. “What?”

  She told him.

  “Oh,” he said, staring. “Whoa.”

  Eddie had never really questioned where his ability with fire came from, though some years back, he had finally asked his mother and grandmother if there were any truly unusual family stories . . . like, anything that verged on the supernatural.

  “No,” both of them had said, which was either true, or meant that someone had been very good at hiding what they were.

  Of course, he’d had to accept that this gift could have come from his father’s side. But given that his father had no living relatives, except a distant cousin who lived in Spain, there really wasn’t much way to find out.

  Except now he knew he had shape-shifter blood inside him. And that was odd . . . but also comforting. The fire was not random. The fire was in him for a reason.

  That, and Lyssa, occupied all his thoughts.

  They lay tangled, talking, half-sleeping, touching each other and making out, and making love, and just . . . being. It was the most miraculous few hours of his life. More healing than anything he could have imagined. Waking up with Lyssa warm and naked in his arms . . .

  If he lived forever, he would never forget, never take for granted, never never never let go of how deep a blessing it was that he had found her and that she was with him.

  His stomach started rumbling, though. And then, so did hers.

  “Rwar,” she said, scraping her teeth against his shoulder. “Fooood.”

  He laughed, smoothing back her hair. “What do you want?”

  “No one’s asked me that in ten years,” she said, blinking at him. And then she grinned. “What do you have?”

  “I don’t even know. I usually eat out.”

  Lyssa looked away from the bed, at the floor where she’d left her clothes. “All my money is in New York. I never used a debit card, but I could call and try to wire—”

  “No,” said Eddie, and when she arched her brow at him, he added, “What I mean is, don’t worry about that yet.” Then, feeling even more awkward, he started to say, “That is, it’s not . . . I’ve got . . .”

  “Money,” she said, dryly. “We really are going to have to figure out how this works.”

  “Let me take care of you,” he replied. “At least for now.”

  “Mmm.” Lyssa tapped her finger against his shoulder. “Just as long as you don’t ask me to call you Big Daddy.”

  Eddie laughed and squeezed her backside. “Deal.”

  She squirmed, giggling breathlessly, and rolled off the bed. “This is unreal.”

  He pushed himself up on his elbows, admiring the view. “Tell me about it.”

  Shyness entered her eyes, and she hugged her right arm against her body, backing away from him. Eddie pushed aside the sheets, and slid from the bed—following her. An appreciative smile touched her mouth as her gaze roved down his body, and desire filled him, again. He couldn’t imagine ever not wanting her.

  “Never wear clothes,” she murmured. “I’ll call you Big Daddy all you want. And it will be well deserved.”

  He bit back a smile. “Do you know how beautiful you are? Do you have any idea how crazy I am for you?”

  “Crazy, yes,” she said, and gave him a self-conscious shrug. “I don’t know about beautiful. I’ve got this quirky appendage, don’t forget.”

  “Beautiful,” he said again. “You’re the bestest-looking government experiment ever.”

  She laughed, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, that poor kid.”

  “He has a bright future,” Eddie told her, and meant it. “Let’s eat and get you some new clothes.”

  “Yo,” she said, holding up her clawed right hand. “I know this is San Francisco, but people here have to have some limits for strange, right? Maybe we should shop online.”

  “Please. If you show off all that dragon, the tourists will love you, and the locals will give you an award for cool.”

  “They’ll think it’s some makeup job?”

  Eddie smiled, feeling lighter and more unburdened than he had in had years. “Let’s go find out.”

  Lyssa growled at him and went to explore his closet. He followed, and found her digging through his long-sleeved shirts.

  “Take anything,” he said.

  “I will,” she replied, pulling a soft, battered, long-sleeved shirt off the hanger. It was black, like a lot of his clothes.

  Before she slipped on his shirt, he couldn’t help but reach out and stroke his finger down her smooth back. Lyssa shivered, giving him a half smile that was warm and knowing. His erection was instant, and throbbing.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I want you again. Right now.”

  She laughed. “Do you have any jeans I can borrow?”

  “They’ll be huge on you.”

  “I like wearing your things.” Lyssa bent over to dig through his folded pants.

  He either needed to touch himself or find his way inside her body. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

  “I’m wet for you,” she said bluntly. “Of course I am.”

  His breath exhaled in a rush, and he reached for her hips. Lyssa leaned forward, bracing her hands on the wall and looking over her shoulder with glowing golden eyes.

  “I’ve always wondered,” she said, “what it would feel like to be taken from behind.”

  “God,” he said, and showed her.

  His cell phone rang several times, but he was too busy exhausting himself—and Lyssa—to even think about answering. It wasn’t until after a fairly vigorous shower that he finally checked his messages.

  All of them were from Roland.

  “What is it?” asked Lyssa, rubbing a towel through her hair.

  “My boss,” said Eddie, reluctantly. “He wants us to come over. Are you comfortable with that?”

  “More than you are, I think.”

  Eddie smiled, grim. “Yeah.”

  Lyssa dressed in his jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She had to wear a belt and roll up the legs, but she still managed to look cute, even with a winter scarf wrapped around her neck and gloves on her hands.

  His apartment was within walking distance to the office. Lyssa ventured outside with hesitation, touching the scarf, checking her gloves.

  “I feel like I’m in a different world,” she told him. “I know that sounds stupid, but I’m a creature of certain habits. I’ve had to be. I familiarized myself with every city I lived in. I studied the people, how to behave . . .”

  “You feel out of place here.”

  “More than usual,” she admitted. “Off-balance. Part of that is you, though. It feels strange . . . being with someone. I’m so used to doing everything on my own.”

  Eddie hesitated. “Do you feel stifled?”

  “No.” Lyssa smiled. “No. I’m thinking about what to illustrate for my next job assignment.”

  He ducked his head, pleased—and tucked her hand in his.

  It was early evening, and the sun was setting. Scattered clouds covered the darkening sky, and seagulls cried. Eddie bought Lyssa hot chocolate, and he sipped coffee as they walked. It felt natural to have her beside him. As right as anything he had ever experienced. It made him feel . . . like a normal man.

  Scattered memories filled him, flashes of his childhood, his life on the streets. He thought about the cage, and the fire that had wracked him so deeply he had expected his life would never be his again to control.

  Out of control. Fighting for control. Stifling his life for control. That described so much of how he had existed.

  But with Lyssa . . . he could just be.

  “I think Estefan might have mentioned Dirk
& Steele,” she said, when they reached the building and he undid the locks on the narrow front door. “But I wasn’t really paying attention, and it was just in passing. All I can remember is an impression of his voice saying the name.”

  “He knew enough to contact us.”

  Lyssa forced a sad smile. “Yeah.”

  During the elevator ride up to the top floor, she began to fidget. Eddie felt the same. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Roland.

  But it was Long Nu who greeted them when the elevator doors opened.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The first shape-shifter Lyssa had ever met, besides her father, was an old woman with sharp teeth and a sharper heart. Nothing soft inside her. No compassion for anyone who strayed past a certain line.

  A line her father had crossed in marrying her mother.

  A line, said the old woman, with a price.

  Exile, for starters. And one day, perhaps, death.

  The threat of death was a bluff, she realized later.

  Long Nu would not have dared cross Lyssa’s mother.

  Even dragons were scared of the dark.

  The old shape-shifter had not changed at all. Same wrinkles, same coiffed hair, old, knowing eyes, and a half smile that was cold as ice.

  “You,” Lyssa said.

  Long Nu drew in a deep breath. A man appeared at the end of the hall, big in the shoulders and tall. He had a craggy face, and brown hair that needed a cut. He smelled like the inside of a liquor cabinet, but his eyes were sharp with intelligence.

  Roland, she thought. Eddie’s boss.

  Lyssa had wanted to make a good impression, but with Long Nu present . . . she gave up on that plan. Things were going to get ugly.

  “Is there a problem?” Roland asked gruffly, striding toward them.

  “I don’t know,” Eddie said, watching Long Nu. “Is there?”

  “Yes,” replied Lyssa, stepping off the elevator, taking some small pleasure in making the dragon-woman back up. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “I’m here,” Long Nu said stiffly. “I’m facing you.”

  Lyssa slapped her. Right hand. With all her strength.

  “Fuck,” said Roland, while Eddie let out a muffled sound of surprise.

  Long Nu did not go down, but almost. Holding her face, she stared at Lyssa with contempt—but also a hint of fear. “Is that all?”

  Rage flowed. Pounding, throbbing, fury. The dragon inside Lyssa unfurled its wings, and a terrible ache raced down her right arm. Her vision faded into a golden haze.

  “Don’t tempt me,” she whispered . . . and, finally, Long Nu averted her eyes. Lyssa stepped closer. “Show me your hands.”

  “Hey,” snapped Roland. “What the hell is this?”

  “Lyssa,” murmured Eddie.

  “I want to make sure she’s not holding a weapon,” she told the men, her gaze never leaving Long Nu. “Do it.”

  Stiff, chin raised, the old woman held out her hands—palms up.

  “Now back away,” Lyssa told her.

  “You’re a stupid child,” whispered Long Nu. “I never tried to kill you.”

  “You promised my father that you’d try,” she shot back. “What was it you said? ‘Monsters shouldn’t breed’? I remember that like it was yesterday.”

  Eddie stiffened. The big man, Roland, stared at the back of Long Nu’s head as though he could see right through it. A scowl tugged at his mouth.

  The old woman backed away. Lyssa’s clawed right hand ached to strike another blow, but she fought down the urge with the same strength and desperation that she used to fight her hunger for blood. If she started fighting Long Nu, she would not stop.

  And she would win. She knew that, sure as she was breathing.

  It would be worth it, whispered the dragon.

  Eddie touched her back, placing himself between her and Long Nu. “Come on.”

  The old woman’s nostrils flared as Eddie and Lyssa walked past her.

  Lyssa saw that the apartment was huge once they reached the end of the long corridor. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched from one end of the room to the other, and the entire space was filled with comfortable chairs, and long antique tables laden with newspapers and books.

  She didn’t let herself admire the view, instead putting her back to the window so that she could face Long Nu.

  The woman was as graceful as ever, but Lyssa had the benefit now of being older, with ten years of hard living behind her. She was no longer scared of the old dragon. Or as naïve about her own power.

  Eddie stood very close: an anchor, her broad shoulder to lean on. His presence helped her focus.

  “Be honest,” said Lyssa. “You hoped I was dead, all these years.”

  “Not exactly,” replied Long Nu in a cold, flat voice. “I found your parents after their murders. When I realized your mother had not killed the other Cruor Venator, I was upset. I was even more upset, though, when I didn’t find your body. I thought, maybe, if you lived . . . that the witch who killed your family was raising you. Which, frankly, was a bomb waiting to go off that I did not look forward to dealing with.”

  “Fuck,” said Roland, staring at her.

  Eddie said nothing, but heat throbbed off his body, making the air shimmer around them. Lyssa basked in that warmth, breathing deep of it, making herself calm.

  “I always suspected,” she said, “that you led the Cruor Venator to my family.”

  Long Nu shook her head. “No, I did not do that. I promise you, I did not. But you cannot blame me for wishing that your mother had been strong enough to kill the witch.”

  “My mother was strong enough . . . but she gave her life to protect mine.” Fury thickened her voice, as did grief. “And yes, I wish she had killed Georgene. But only because I loved her. Not like you . . . who only wanted to see the lesser of two monsters gone.”

  Eddie’s hand curled around hers. “Maybe we should go.”

  “No,” Roland said gruffly, staring at Long Nu. “Not you.”

  Lyssa stepped closer to the old woman, ignoring both men. Power filled her, born from her own blood and spirit, and the dragon waking inside her. She could feel, on the edge of her spirit, the ability to make Long Nu afraid. Afraid, as Nikola and Betty had made others afraid.

  But just before she accessed that power, she thought of Estefan, and pulled back.

  “Why now, after all these years?” she asked softly.

  Long Nu swayed, golden eyes gleaming. “Because the other Cruor Venator began killing. She took the life of a shape-shifter in Florida, one who knew you . . . and I realized that she did not have you and that you were alive. And that maybe, just maybe, you might be the one to kill the lesser of two monsters.”

  Anger filled Lyssa, and disdain. But after a moment, confusion crept upon her, as well.

  Lyssa stared. “You knew she killed Estefan?”

  “We discovered his murder just before we started looking for you in New York,” Roland said.

  She took those words in . . . and turned to look at Eddie. Searching, stunned. He did not hide from her gaze, but his eyes were filled with regret.

  “How could I tell you?” he said softly. “How, when we first met, could I have said those words?”

  “You could have,” she whispered, even though she knew he was right. It stung, though, that he had kept something so large and important from her. It hurt worse than she could have imagined. Tears threatened, but she pushed them down—and shook her head at him when he moved to touch her.

  Eddie stilled. Lyssa summoned up all her strength and met Long Nu’s cool gaze.

  “You,” she said in a hoarse voice. “I know how much you value your own skin. I suppose that’s why you didn’t come looking for me yourself. You always had such little faith in my mother . . . and in me.”

&nbs
p; Lyssa glanced at Eddie. “She sent you . . . someone who would be a temptation if I’d gone bad. If you lived, she’d know I wasn’t entirely dangerous. If you died, she would have had another answer.”

  His jaw tensed. Roland spun away to stare out the window.

  Long Nu smoothed down her sleeves. “It was the only way to be sure about you. Perhaps you don’t remember the days of the old Cruor Venator, but I do. I would do anything to make certain that we not live through another genocide.”

  “I would, too,” Lyssa whispered.

  The old woman gave her a mirthless smile. “Then kill the other Cruor Venator. Do it fast, as you should have when you had the chance. And then never have children. So when you die . . . finally . . . it will be over. All of you will be gone.”

  Lyssa stared, stunned to hear the vicious clarity of those words.

  Eddie stepped forward, his eyes consumed with fury. Flames erupted over his arms, hot and crackling. The firelight reflected off his eyes, turning them briefly golden.

  He reminded her, in that split second, of Lannes—when the witches had threatened his wife’s unborn baby.

  Her belly clenched. No condoms this morning. She’d known what she was doing and hadn’t cared. She still didn’t. If she was pregnant . . .

  I’ll do what my mother did. I’ll love my baby. I’ll teach her love.

  That was all anyone could do. And she would protect that child with her last breath.

  “Stay the hell away from her,” growled Eddie.

  “Yes, I made a mistake with you,” murmured Long Nu, unflinching as she met his enraged gaze. “I had no idea you would bond as mates. A Cruor Venator shares her protection with her blood match. It happens upon first meeting. I could feel it on you like slime when I saw you together in that elevator.”

  Roland stepped in front of her. “Stop talking and get out. Get the fuck out, and don’t come back. I mean it. You’re no longer welcome here.”

  She seemed truly surprised. “We have an alliance.”

  “We don’t have shit now.” Roland leaned in, his big frame rigid and strained. Lyssa smelled whiskey on his breath and noted his rumpled, slept-in, clothes. “You manipulated me and people I care about.”

  He stabbed his finger at Eddie. “This boy is like my son. He is one of the finest people I know. That’s a line no one crosses. And if he vouches for Lyssa Andreanos . . . then I don’t care if she has flying fucking monkeys coming out of her ass. You leave her alone.”