A silver-haired security guard met him at the bottom of the tree. “Pyr?” he asked in a soft growl.
Theo nodded, surprised. “How did you know?” And why hadn’t Theo known there were wolf shifters in the city? Did their presence explain his strange feeling? Did Erik, leader of the Pyr, know there were other shifters in the world? Theo had never heard a mention of them.
“Melissa Smith’s specials, of course. You guys are famous.” The guard didn’t seem to approve of that. “Can you beguile? We could use some help minimizing the damage.”
“Sure. What exactly happened here?”
“Fae attack,” the wolf shifter said. He lifted a brow. “Vampire rescue. We’ll see how that works out.” He offered his hand. “I’m Caleb Davison.”
Theo shook his hand, liking the other man’s firm grip. “Theo Stephens.”
“There’s got to be more of you,” Caleb said.
“And if there are?”
“This isn’t the first or the last of the Fae attacks.” Caleb pulled a card from his pocket and offered it to Theo. “Come to Bones on Halloween to meet more Others. We’ve got to work together to win this one.”
Bones. And the Others. That had to mean more shifters—and more shifters he hadn’t known about. Theo eyed the card and the address. He was meeting some of the other Pyr in New York for the weekend but could call them early. If there was a battle to be fought, they’d want to be part of it. He definitely wanted to meet these Others.
“If you could do some beguiling, that would be great,” Caleb said, indicating the ringleader. “Rosanna is gathering the most skeptical people there.”
Emily was right on time for work on Monday morning, which she personally considered to be a miracle. She had a long drive into Philly but the traffic had been particularly light. Maybe everyone was taking the week off for Halloween. She waved to the crew as she walked into the offices, eager to learn what was planned for the week.
Her boss, Maeve O’Neill, was leaning on a desk and checking messages on her phone. She looked sleek and expensive as always, and Emily admired again how polished Maeve was all the time. Her make-up and clothes were always perfect, so she could walk on camera with no delay, and she did everything in four inch heels. She was wearing a black suit with a pencil skirt and a brilliant red silk blouse. Her lipstick matched the blouse and her dark hair nearly matched the suit. She was a strikingly beautiful woman.
“How was your trip?” she asked with a slight smile.
“It was great,” Emily said, putting down her messenger bag. “Nothing like a few days in the big city to make me appreciate home.”
“It was your friend’s birthday, wasn’t it?” Maeve was looking at her phone again. Of course, she wasn’t hugely interested—she was too important for that—but Emily was always impressed that Maeve remembered so many details of her employees’ lives.
“It was. And we went to that place. It was great.”
“What place?”
“You shared the review. A barbeque place called Bones.”
Maeve’s eyes lit. “Oh, right. I’d forgotten about it. And good?”
Emily nodded agreement. “But stay away from that cocktail they mix called Name Your Poison. That is one fierce drink and I had two. Big mistake.” She laughed and Maeve laughed with her.
“Maybe not such a bad way for your friend to celebrate her birthday.”
“Oh, she didn’t drink one. Not Sylvia Fontaine. She’s all about white wine.” Emily stuck out her tongue. “I’d rather have water.” She shook her head. “The weird thing is that she was seeing auras even before we got a drink.”
“Auras?” Maeve asked, her voice sharpening slightly.
Emily glanced up to find her boss’s green eyes glittering with interest. That made her look hungry in a very unsettling way. Emily looked down at her bag, feeling like she’d been caught telling tales out of school. She cleared her throat, making her tone dismissive. “She said they were like animal ghosts behind people. Really weird.”
“That is strange. Maybe she started celebrating early.” Maeve, to Emily’s relief, was focused on her phone again and her tone was distracted.
“That’s what I thought. So, where are you going this week?”
“There’s a little story in Florida that I’ve been asked to follow up,” Maeve said, tapping her phone. “I’m sending you the details. Maybe you can get a flight this morning for me and the team. I don’t think we’ll be there long, but then there’s something interesting in Nevada I’d like to explore...”
“Good morning!” Bryant called from the doorway. Emily turned to smile at Maeve’s cameraman, who was the most cheerful person she’d ever known. He was also really good looking, with his tousle of blond hair and his sparkling blue eyes. He was tall and buff and could seriously wear a pair of jeans—or anything else, for that matter. Not for the first time, Emily regretted just a little bit that she was so happy with Mike.
Bryant grinned at her and winked. “Stay out of trouble in the Big Apple this weekend?” he teased.
“Pretty much.”
“That’s disappointing.” He strolled into the office and perched on a desk. “I’ve got a present for you, Maeve,” he said and she finally looked up from her phone. “I went to this when I was in the city, and it was one sad operation. You’d be doing the world a favor if you did a feature on it and got it shut down.”
Maeve’s eyes gleamed and he produced a flyer, waving it beneath her nose. “Circus of Wonders,” she read, her tone thoughtful. Emily gasped in recognition of the name. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
“It was terrible.” Bryant turned to Emily. “You been there?”
“No, but my friend’s new neighbor works there, as a security guard.”
“Small world,” Bryant said, raising a hand to invite Maeve’s opinion.
“We should check it out, after Florida,” she said and gave Emily the flyer. “See about making some arrangements for the end of the week.”
“You’d better go if you’re going to catch that flight,” Emily reminded her.
And just like that, everything was back to normal. Maeve grabbed her make-up bag and Bryant loaded up his camera and gear, the two of them comparing notes. Emily booted up her computer, put on her headset and got back to the business of getting Maeve O’Neill, roving reporter, to wherever she needed to go.
The house was quiet when Eithne took the keys to the cellar from the hook beside her fridge. She knew what she had to do, but she was worried about the results. She didn’t hurry, just in case something changed and she could avoid this task.
But nothing changed. The air remained charged with peril. Her fears for Sylvia were undiminished. Her awareness of Others only grew stronger.
She unlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating on the threshold. The cellar was dark but it was dry. She’d bought the house because of its cellar, nestled in a solid foundation and secure. There was junk in the cellar but that was just for appearances, in case anyone ever managed to get in.
The only thing of importance was the long stone box that was aligned with one long wall. It was under her own apartment, under her own bed, so that she could listen without entering the cellar.
Not a sound came from within the stone box, which was exactly how it should be. Eithne sighed and ran her hands over it, hesitating before she did what she knew she had to do.
It had been so chaotic the last time. She shook her head, hoped for the best, then lifted the stone lid. Most people would have been surprised to see such a slight older woman showing such physical power, but it wasn’t force that lifted the lid of the sarcophagus.
It was magick.
Magick sparked from the tips of Eithne’s fingers and it sparkled in her hair. It surrounded her with a glow of possibility and it lit the walls of the cellar. It also illuminated the face of the man who was apparently sleeping in the sarcophagus. His breathing was so slow that it was almost non-existent. His pulse was s
o quiet that it was almost impossible to detect.
He hadn’t aged more than a day since she’d enchanted him. She was well aware that she looked older and wondered how he would respond to his first sight of her in over two millennia.
And he was just as handsome as he’d been when she first met him, so many many centuries before. His hair was dark and a little long. His features were chiseled perfection—Eithne particularly admired his aquiline nose. His lips were firm but full. He looked like he was smiling, as if his dreams were sweet. She knew he was a good foot taller than her and a lot broader, all muscled strength and grace, just as a dragon shifter should be.
She bent her knee and bowed her head, touching his hand only briefly. His eyelids fluttered, giving her a glimpse of the clear green of his eyes.
“Your majesty,” she said softly, for his keen hearing meant there was no need to raise her voice. “It is time to rise.”
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An Excerpt from Dragon’s Kiss
Book #2 of DragonFate
Her kiss could be his doom...
When dragon-shifter Kristofer feels his firestorm ignite, he eagerly follows its spark to his destined mate. To his surprise, the sparks lead not to a mortal human but to a Valkyrie intent on claiming his soul. Even so, Kristofer has never met a woman as alluring as the fierce warrior before him. Trusting in the firestorm, he must convince her to fight with him instead of against him.
Trading the life of a dragon shifter for that of her sister Valkyrie is an easy choice for Bree... until she meets Kristofer. Experience taught her that dragons are evil, but in him she sees a bold and noble warrior. Finding his confidence as irresistible as his touch, Bree begins to question if she has been beguiled by his charm. How can she take his life when his very presence makes her burn with desire?
Forced to join forces, Kristofer seize the chance to convince Bree of the promise of partnership. Yet as a sinister plan unfolds, an ancient dragon is roused from his slumber. With danger closing in, can Kristofer convince Bree to surrender her immortality for their forbidden love? Or will Bree’s fears of all dragons prove justified?
Dragon’s Kiss
The DragonFate Novels #2
* * *
Coming December 2019
An excerpt from Dragon’s Kiss:
A life for a life.
It seemed like a comparatively fair deal, especially as it had been offered by the Dark Queen of the Fae. Bree had to wonder if there was a catch.
But then, it didn’t really matter how fair it was. She’d hated dragons for as long as she could remember, so one less in the world was all good—even if he was a dragon shifter. The details were unimportant.
As she waited to see whether her prey would take the bait, Bree told herself that it didn’t even matter if he led all of his kind into danger. A world without dragons would be good. And winning the release of her sister from captivity was more than worth any price.
Bree simmered in the darkness, feeling the effects of Maeve’s fake firestorm. It simmered and burned. It flushed her skin and ran like liquid fire through her veins, turning her thoughts to the pursuit of pleasure and sexual satisfaction. In a way, it fed her base instincts, fostered her need for a man’s touch, and drove her thoughts from everything else. She liked sex just fine, but she didn’t want to obsess about it.
She didn’t want to burn with need for it.
And she didn’t want to desire the hot dragon shifter touched by the firestorm’s light. She wasn’t going to be fooled by a spell’s effect or seduced by smoking hot good looks—he was tall, blond, ripped and gorgeous in his human form, a man she would have noticed even without the influence of magick.
But he was a means to an end.
She’d never have him.
She shouldn’t even want him.
Even if she did. Maeve had neglected to mention that the firestorm would also affect Bree, and she guessed the omission hadn’t been an accident.
She clenched her fists and reminded herself that Kara’s release was the point.
Then her heart stopped as she saw the dragon come through the portal.
Her prey entered Maeve’s realm by choice.
Perfect.
Bree had tempted him, but he’d taken the bait with predictable enthusiasm. His choice proved that dragon shifters were driven by their base instincts, just like the dragons she’d hunted in the past: the fake firestorm’s light made this Pyr believe he was going to get lucky.
Little did he know he’d just abandoned every scrap of luck he’d ever had.
She saw the dragonfire spark in the darkness high above her, then a dragon roared loud enough to shake her bones. He soared into the inky darkness of Fae, a massive and magnificent beast with glittering scales. His huge wings sent him shooting into Maeve’s realm with a single beat. From this angle, she could see that his belly was golden-yellow, like gold armor, but probably not as soft.
Bree stared in awe, despite herself. This dragon’s scales were pale green, like peridots, and they shone with the clarity of fine gems. Each one was edged in brilliant gold, and the scales on his chest were all gold. His nails were gold, too, and the firestorm’s light caressed him like the marvel he was. He might have been a magnificent treasure come to life.
She felt admiration, which was both unwelcome and unnecessary.
The dragon she’d hunted centuries before had been black and a brute beast, with a heart so dark that it might have been made of coal. He’d been more savage than a wild animal and less noble, incapable of prompting any admiration.
But this Pyr was majestic. He flew with measured power, his dark wings stretched wide as they beat slowly. His tail trailed behind him, and he made flight look effortless and easy, despite his size. The sight of him lifted her heart with unexpected joy.
Bree wondered what it would be like to fly with him.
No, her urge was to ride him, to ride him into war. She thought they’d be a hell of a team, then caught herself.
Kara’s survival relied upon the entrapment of this dragon.
She had to finish what she’d started, whether he was gorgeous or not.
Bree let herself fall, even though she was uncertain how far it would be to the ground. She stayed in her human form, letting her prey underestimate her. She flailed her arms and shouted, trying to sound desperate and feeble. Didn’t dragons like damsels in distress? She could work with that, even if it was another reason to despise them.
The false firestorm sparked around her, touching her with golden light. She felt warm and aroused, which might have been pleasurable if she hadn’t been trying to ignore it. Even this fake firestorm undermined her resolve and made her thoughts turn to sensual pleasure. Was that how dragon shifters got what they wanted? They just overwhelmed their mate’s objections with pulsing desire?
The glow was becoming a darker hue of orange as the distance between them increased.
“Help! Help me!” she cried, then screamed as if terrified.
She watched the dragon pivot in the air high overhead and look down for her. His eyes glittered suddenly and Bree knew he’d spotted her. His nostrils flared and his tail slashed through the air. With astonishing speed and accuracy, he dove toward her, talons outstretched and wings beating hard. Bree’s throat tightened despite herself and her heart leaped with anticipation. Gods, but it should be forbidden for any creature to be so beautiful. The golden glow of the firestorm brightened as he drew closer, the sparks flying with greater speed between them. The light washed over him lovingly, making him look his best.
His dragon eyes glinted with intelligence and understanding—not raw hunger, like the brute dragon she’d hunted so long ago—and Bree’s doubt grew. Was he smiling? If so, it wasn’t a hungry smile. It was one filled with anticipation, as if he liked the look of her. The glow in his eyes took her breath away—and his proximity made her burn with desire. She felt like a treasure he was about to claim, one he’d cherish. She closed her eyes, telling herself she had to protect her eyes against the brilliance of the light. She reminded herself that all males were charming when they hunted.
Still, she was thrilled.
And that was before he snatched her out of the air, cradling her in one claw, and soared upward again. The wind whipped Bree’s hair around her face, but she was safe in his grasp. He cupped his claw against his chest, protecting her, and she got a close look at his scales. They were large and hard, with sharp edges: they shone so brightly that they might have been polished. Maybe they were. Bree had no idea what dragons did in their spare time. Maybe they buffed and waxed their scales. They were gold, but warm—she knew because she reached out and ran her hand over one.
They were smooth and elegantly shaped, like armor made by a talented artisan.
Actually, she caressed it.
But this was his hide, and he growled low in his chest with pleasure at her touch. Bree felt the vibration of his voice and it made her body hum in response. Her heart skipped and she wondered how mortal women, inherently weaker than Valkyries, even survived a real firestorm.
Good thing she knew it was all a lie—and the sooner she got down to business, the better. Bree surreptitiously pulled her dagger, taking one last moment to savor the sensual power of the firestorm. She was hot and bothered, aroused and tingling. She felt good, even more invincible than ever, but she had a job to do. She’d get her satisfaction later.
Maeve’s Book of Beasts Page 11
