Stroke of Fire

by Kira Nyte

  “Somewhere.”

  “Would you mind if I looked for it? I think it’ll help you.”

  “You don’t have to.” I don’t need you seeing me like this. She thanked the severity of the hangover that spared her utter embarrassment, however temporarily. When she woke up sober, that embarrassment would hit her tenfold, as well as the probability that Syn would never want to see her again. “It’s my problem.”

  “Nonsense. I would never leave someone is such a state.”

  Either he moved as fast as he did gracefully or she was so badly off she couldn’t judge the distance they traveled until Syn settled her in her bed. The motion as gentle as it was tender, the man who claimed responsibility for her adjusted her with such care she wondered if he thought he’d break her. In the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn’t have allowed him into her private sanctuary. She had no chance to defend herself.

  But…

  Syn was different. Her intuition whispered that as truth. Her body burned with a potent force despite the headache. Those few moments when she was cradled in his arms she felt as though it were right where she was always supposed to be.

  Silly. Foolish. You’re not hungover. You’re still drunk.

  Syn pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and slowly brushed hair from her eyes. “I’ll be right back. Stay put so you don’t make it worse.”

  She had no problem with that. The very act of breathing sent spikes through her head. Sleep would be a blessing, even if it meant she’d lose her chance to enjoy Syn’s company. Instead, she found herself counting each pulse in her skull, willing them to stop.

  A faint scrape at the bedside drew her attention. A warm finger traced her cheek, followed by a hand slipping beneath her head. She opened her eyes.

  “Here. Take these.”

  Syn supported her head as he lifted it off the pillow. She gazed at the two pills in his hand through squinted eyes. Satisfied that they were simple over-the-counter pills and not some other drug, she popped them into her mouth and washed them down with a small sip of hot coffee.

  “I need water.”

  “Drink some of the coffee first. It’ll get those pills working faster. I brought a glass of water in for you, too.”

  She twisted her head enough to see the glass on the nightstand, then took another sip of coffee. Her stomach rebelled against the strong, bitter taste. “It’s awful.”

  “It’s black. I expect it would be awful.”

  Despite herself, she managed a short, quiet laugh, took another sip of the terrible brew, and allowed Syn to lower her head to the pillow.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “No thanks necessary.” His thumb rubbed a delightful circle around her temple. The motion, slow, methodical, worked magic that had her drifting off to sleep within minutes.

  “My sweet. Sleep and you will feel no pain.”

  * * *

  In those seconds before Briella opened the door, he sensed something wrong. It crept over him, sour and dark. His scales prickled along his arms, thankfully covered by his jacket. He couldn’t decipher what exactly was wrong until he set eyes on the sexiest bed-ruffled woman he’d seen in his life. It took him a short moment to get his bearings and realize the ‘wrong’ was her immense hangover. He could see it in her eyes, the pain she suffered.

  Syn listened to the soft, even breaths coming from the woman tucked beneath a steel gray comforter. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the tension released from her muscles as she drifted deeper into sleep. He continued the tender massage at her temples, taking in the smooth features of her creamy skin, her pert nose and full lips. Dark lashes cast shadows over her pale cheeks, long and thick beneath the gentle arch of her dark-red brows.

  When he was certain she was asleep, Syn sat back in the chair beside the bed and stared at the beauty. His body burned from carrying her. A pleasant, if not maddening, burn that smoldered beneath his skin. The woman fit too perfectly in his arms, felt too right against his chest, just as she had last night. He hungered to taste her, even if only a chaste kiss.

  His relentless dragon didn’t help his calm.

  Time ticked by. Syn kept vigil over Briella to ensure her sleep was sound and peaceful. Aside from the motions of her breathing, she did not move. He gauged the time by the shadows the sun cast throughout the studio apartment.

  One of her paintings caught his attention.

  Syn left Briella’s bedside, his attention on the canvas perched on one of three easels. He’d been too worried about Briella to take notice of the artwork spread around the room. Dark, shadowy, obscured, and ominous artwork with flickers of hope and happiness.

  Syn approached the easel, his eyes narrowing on the image. He’d never realized how many hues of gray were possible, but every brushstroke lent the work a deeper layer, a definitive shape.

  That shape?

  Is this how you saw me, my sweet? As a threat?

  He pressed his lips together, unsure of how to take the blurred image of himself from the other night. There was no doubt the man tucked in shadows with a wet hoodie was him.

  Briella had painted his eyes on fire.

  She had seen the dragon after she used that damn stun gun on him.

  Syn rolled his shoulders as he processed the obstacles that would present. This painting, far from done, was proof that she perceived him as an enemy. The tone was dark and threatening, filled with an essence of danger.

  “I would never hurt you, Briella,” he said softly to the painting. “Never.”

  Syn tore his attention from the disturbing painting and admired her other works. Everything she painted had a gray and obscured feel to it, but each piece was breathtaking and magnificent. His lifemate had true talent, a talent that sucked him into each painting far longer than anything had before. They appeared blurred, like she saw images through a dark, shadowy veil without fine definition or detail. An idea, a suggestion of form and emotion.

  She deserved the gallery exhibit she’d been offered. She deserved so much more.

  That thought twisted something in the back of his mind. A haunting resonance. Another obstacle.

  They dragons and Keepers were returning to The Hollow. And there were no art galleries there.

  He longed to return to his home. As he studied Briella’s masterpieces, he realized the callousness of thinking she’d come with him without complaint.

  He’d be ripping her from the only world she knew, away from her hopes and her dreams.

  That’s the problem. Any female born outside The Hollow knows nothing beyond this world, this realm. Each of us will be tearing them out of their comfortable lives and forcing them to live in ours.

  What a damn mess. It was no one’s fault except for the Baroqueth that attacked them all those years ago.

  Syn watched the sleeping woman and sighed. He’d found his lifemate. There was no way in hell he was losing her. He’d do whatever it took to make her happy.

  Finding Briella was a gift, but it also begged the question of whether his Keeper, Giovani Everett, still lived. And if he did, where was he? Had Saralyn survived the attack? Was Briella the product of their love before death and destruction tore their lives to shreds? He thought so.

  Syn recognized Giovani in Briella. Her bright gray eyes with the hint of blue. The arch of her brows. The angle of her nose and the shape of her lips. But the delicacy of her features were a far cry from his Keeper’s rougher features. They definitely resembled Saralyn’s feminine beauty.

  Hope burst to life inside him. The very idea that Giovani and his dear Saralyn survived the attack was nothing shy of a miracle. Most of the Keepers hadn’t settled down in committed relationships prior to the ambush. Giovani and Saralyn were an exception.

  After another check on Briella and a glance at the time, Syn slipped into the stairwell. He took out his cell phone and dialed Cade.

  The tatsu leader answered on the first ring with a deep, gruff, “Syn. Where are you?”


  “New Orleans. Came here to meet up with Taryn about some questionable activity,” Syn answered, his voice low. He pulled the door at the top of the stairs mostly closed, leaving it open a crack so he could hear if his lifemate began to stir.

  “What have you found?”

  “Oh, there’s certainly activity. More than I bargained for.” A grin crept over his mouth. “They’re snooping around the city, and one particular woman.”

  Silence answered him for a long moment.

  “Another Keeper female?” Cade finally asked.

  “Yes.” Briella’s image scorched through him, leaving him hard and hot. A possessive growl in his voice, he said, “Mine.”

  “Giovani?”

  “I don’t know his whereabouts. I made contact with her two nights ago, after a Baroqueth broke into her apartment while she was out. I haven’t had a chance to question her.”

  “Does she have your dragonstone?”

  Syn straightened. It hadn’t occurred to him the Baroqueth might have ransacked her apartment in search of his dragonstone. It was part of him, and linked him and his Keeper through blood. The magic and power contained in the jewel was highly sought by the Baroqueth.

  The dragonstone was a key to life and a promise of death.

  “I haven’t noticed it. Haven’t felt it nearby. I’ll ask about it when she wakes,” Syn said. The jewel had been dormant since the day before the attack. If he were in close proximity to it, the pull of its magic would have connected with his dragon. “I’ve been monitoring her, watching her. I’m hoping to open up some doors later today.”

  “Have the Baroqueth been tracking her since the break-in?”

  “I feel their presence, but I haven’t seen them again. Taryn’s been keeping the area under surveillance as well. As soon as I have more details, I’ll let you know.”

  “I’m going to send Emery and Gabe to you. I don’t trust they are in New Orleans without numbers. I suspect there are a few dozen Baroqueth stalking us, and who knows how many humans they’ve convinced to help in their cause. With their ability to call on magic when we cannot, we need to be diligent.”

  Syn grunted. Another reason he wanted to return to The Hollow. The human realm stripped dragons of most of their magic and power. Other than their brute strength, keen senses, the diamond shield of their scales, and their fire, they were at a severe disadvantage when it came to facing the Baroqueth.

  He couldn’t protect Briella the way he needed to in this realm. With the growing threat from their enemies, the chances of the dragons and Keepers surviving another major encounter dwindled.

  He heard the bed creak. He eased the door open enough to see Briella’s form outlined beneath the blanket. Thank Goddess, because if she was going to walk around in that skimpy little tank top and those breezy pants that teased him with the outline of her legs, he was going to die a death far more brutal than one at the hands of the Baroqueth.

  “I’ll be checking in on Zareh and Kaylae later this week. I need to convince them to return to The Hollow before she’s too far along in her pregnancy to fly safely,” Cade said. “In the meantime, we need to locate Giovani, if he’s alive. And we need to find your dragonstone.”

  “Trust me, I’m well aware I need to find it.”

  “Hey, Syn? Does she know who you are? What you are?”

  Syn’s mind flashed to the incomplete painting. “I don’t know, but she’s going to find out soon enough. Our time is running out here.”

  “It is. If you need anything, call. Otherwise, I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  Syn disconnected the call and slipped his phone in his pocket before he returned to the apartment. Keeping quiet, he went to the kitchen and started rifling through the fridge and pantry. Briella was certain to wake up starving. She’d need something hearty to wipe out any residual hangover. Syn couldn’t imagine her staying asleep much longer than two hours.

  Cooking quietly proved to be a challenge. Pots and pans were haphazardly piled in one cabinet, dishware in another, utensils cluttered in three separate drawers. He chuckled at the disorganization. Briella was as intriguing as she was stunning. Part of her apartment was neat and tidy, part a sheer disaster. Each a compliment to the other.

  He managed to whip up a plate of eggs, sausage, hashbrowns, and toast without making too much of a ruckus. The glances he cast Briella assured him he hadn’t disturbed her through the process. He covered the plate with another to keep the food warm.

  Something sharp poked the nape of his neck. He straightened, keeping his head still, and smiled when the tip of the weapon pressed hard to his skin, right below his skull. Instinctively, his dragon readied a row of scales below the surface of his skin to protect his brain.

  “What do you want with me?” Briella asked, her voice icy cold and edged with ruthless warning. “Why have you been following me?”

  Syn’s brow furrowed. Okay, now he was confused. Maybe she wasn’t messing around with him, as he initially thought.

  “I made you something to eat,” he said, deflecting the questions. “You’re going to need—”

  He winced when the point of something that felt dangerous dug into his neck. It didn’t hurt, but Briella’s no-nonsense approach was more than he pegged her for. It was a heady characteristic from the small redhead, and amped up his arousal at an inconvenient time.

  “Shut up and answer my question before I silence you for good.”

  Hot damn. Her fire was alluring.

  “What makes you think I’ve been following you? I found you from your license in the clutch.”

  She jabbed at his neck.

  He hissed. In one sleek motion, he spun around, grabbed the cane-like object, and tugged her into him. The scowl on her lush lips tempted him more than the anger and skepticism in her eyes.

  “Now, let’s be civil,” Syn said. With one sharp twist, he relieved her of the object and cast it into the main room. It clattered across the floor. Not missing a beat, Briella snatched the dirty pan he had used to cook her meal and raised it. Syn groaned, caught her wrist and, once again, twisted the object from her grip. “Briella, enough. Why do you think I’ve been following you?”

  “I heard you,” she all but spat. Syn refused to release her wrists from his single-handed bind. He dropped the pan in the sink and raised a brow at her. Her eyes flashed with fury. “Whoever you were talking to, I heard you.”

  “You heard me talk or heard me think?” He relaxed when her mouth fell open and her eyes widened. Lowering her arms, he grinned. “You heard my thoughts because you couldn’t have heard me speak. I made certain of it.”

  “You broke into my apartment, didn’t you? You tried to accost me on the sidewalk.” She tugged furiously against his grip. If her accusations didn’t stoke his frustration, and he was not certain he wouldn’t face another dangerous implement in a fraction of a second, he would have released her. Or maybe not. He rather liked the skin-to-skin connection and the heat that flowed between them. “What were you looking for, you bastard? What do you want?”

  “First, I did not break into your apartment, nor did I accost you.”

  She gave her pinned wrists a pointed and peeved look. He growled and released her, watching for any sign she was going to try to attack him again. To his surprise, she merely took a step back, her gaze lancing him with cold steel gray.

  “Who. Are. You.”

  Her demand was spoken in a low and lethal tone. There was nothing weak or vulnerable about Briella Everett. Pride swelled within his chest. He’d always liked strong women, but the strength she exuded was sweeter than ambrosia.

  “Syn Terravon.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles. Might as well get comfortable. “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “I heard you talking about trying to find something here and your time was running out.” She absently rubbed her wrists. He hadn’t held her tightly enough to hurt her, but the
motion made him aware of how she perceived him. The blatant distrust in her expression was a sucker punch to the gut, as was the slight shift of her gaze to the left before returning to him. She lies. Well, what more did he expect? “You set this all up.”

  Syn shook his head. “I had no way of knowing you would leave your belongings at the bar, but it opened up an opportunity to get to know you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit.”

  “Actually, no. Not really.” He reached over to pick up the covered plate of food. He removed the top plate and set the meal on the small, two-person table against the wall. “Eat. From the shape you were in a short time ago, I’ll assume your stomach is feeling quite off.”

  “What are you talking about? And do you really think I’m going to trust you didn’t drug my food?”

  “Well”—Syn waved a hand toward the bed—“you certainly weren’t quick to refuse a couple of pills from me a little while ago. If I were planning to drug you, Briella, I would’ve done it when I had the chance. When you were at your most vulnerable. I have no intention of drugging you, accosting you, threatening you, or bringing any harm to you.”

  Shadows crossed her eyes. The fight drained out of her by degrees. She glanced at the plate of food. Whether she consciously licked her lips or not, the innocent motion damn near ripped his lungs from his chest.

  Briella eyed him suspiciously as she slowly moved toward the table.

  “I’m not going to harm you,” Syn said, softening his voice as best he could. He hoped she saw the sincerity in his expression, his eyes. Anything. “You have my word.”

  “Words mean little.”

  “Perhaps from those you’ve encountered to this point, but when I give someone my word, it’s binding.”

  “Chivalric.”

  He chuckled at her sarcasm. She flashed him another one of those sexy scowls he found utterly tempting and sat down. Never once did the tension flee her shoulders. She sat awkwardly, keeping her body angled in his direction.