Stroke of Fire

by Kira Nyte

  Cade greeted them at the door, his eyes narrowed on Syn. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Like I fell from the sky and hit a concrete wall.” Syn tilted his head one way, then the other, and listened to his neck crack. “Damn. I’m a mess.”

  “You okay to ride?”

  “If it gets me back home, and to Briella I’ll deal with the discomfort. Let me grab a few things from her room. I’m sure she’ll want clothes.”

  Cade followed him up the stairs to Briella’s room. “What can I help with?”

  Syn motioned to the closet. “She keeps shirts and pants in there. I’ll get the other items.”

  A few minutes later, Syn had gathered Briella’s more private essentials from her drawers and stuffed them in one of her bags. When he returned from the bathroom with her toiletries, he found Cade standing in front of the painting of the Baroqueth woman, a peculiar expression darkening his face. His eyes flickered with fire.

  “Who…is this?” Cade asked.

  “Briella wanted to share it with you, but things went a bit off-schedule tonight.” Syn dropped the toiletries into the bag and joined Cade. “This is the woman who attacked Briella at the voodoo shop last week. She was able to paint her, giving us the first visual evidence of one of our enemies.”

  Cade’s head tilted slowly, his lips stretching thin beneath his deep red beard and mustache. His eyes took on a strange glow that left Syn curious.

  “Everything okay?”

  Cade cleared his throat, turning with a stiff jerk to face Syn. He held up the armful of clothing. “Will there be room in that bag?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tension had settled in the big man’s shoulders and his expression as he put the clothes in the bag. Fastening it shut, Cade slung the bag over his shoulder.

  “Let’s get out while we can,” Cade said, casting the painting one last glance.

  Had Syn not been fiercely aching and needing to see Briella, he would have insisted Cade explain his reaction to the painting.

  He never thought he’d see the Firestorm leader unnerved by anyone, let alone a two-dimensional image of a woman.

  * * *

  Briella paced the living room for an hour, pausing only to go to the window and scour the night sky for any sign of the dragons. Her fingers ached from twisting them together. Her stomach rolled uneasily to the point she couldn’t even look at the cup of tea her mother had made for her without suffering a strong urge to vomit.

  She had tried several times to mentally connect with Syn, but their bond remained silent. Her father must have known what she was trying to do, because he explained there was too much distance between them to use telepathy.

  She was at the breaking point, not knowing the fate of the dragons. Of Syn.

  Her father returned to the living room, dragonstone box in hand. Briella stopped pacing and looked at the box. For the last hour, she’d wanted to open that box and talk to Syn.

  Now?

  She moistened her lips. Her mouth went dry. She lifted her gaze to her father’s when he held the box out to her.

  Answers sat within that box, and she wasn’t sure she was prepared to face the haunting truth of what might have become of Syn.

  “All you have to do is open the box and speak to the stone. He will hear you. It’s a catalyst, of sorts. Since you’re lifemates, you need not bleed into the stone first. The essence of my blood in connection with you and the stone is enough to connect you to Syn.”

  “Will he be able to speak to me?”

  Her father nodded once. “Yes.” His eyes dimmed. “If he hears you.”

  Briella forced back the lump in her throat. “You mean, if he’s still alive.”

  “Here, Belle.” He stretched the box toward her again.

  Briella’s arms felt leaden when she reached for it. Her fingertips tingled with energy from the dragonstone magic.

  The truth lies here.

  “Dad, I don’t know…” She cleared her throat, but the lump swelled and tears finally slipped over her eyelids. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “I understand, sweetheart.” He produced the small key for the lock. “Take your time, but never lose hope. Your mother and I held onto that hope for over thirty years. We were blessed by the gods for never relinquishing that hope.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll let you be, but we’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”

  “Thanks.”

  Briella sat down on the sofa, box in hand, heart thumping hard and her head dizzy. She rubbed the delicate key with her thumb, hoping to somehow get an inkling as to what had happened to Syn without facing the merciless truth. He’d been hit, Tajan said. Down. How bad down was in dragon and Baroqueth terms, she wasn’t sure, but in human terms, the prospect was usually pretty grave.

  “You can handle this. You’re strong,” she whispered.

  Her inner voice laughed mockingly at her pep talk. She was strong. She was independent. But the moment Syn stormed into her life, all of her personal strength seemed to have abandoned her. He was her strength. He was her encouragement. He was her life.

  Without him, she feared she’d be nothing more than a shell of a human being, going through the motions of living without passion or hope.

  “I hate men,” she said on a half-sob. With a fierce swipe of her hand to dry her face of tears, she jammed the key into the keyhole.

  The front door flew open.

  Taryn lunged at her, his eyes wild, his hair matching, and urgency in the way his hands grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet. She grappled for the box, catching it against her belly before it slipped from her fingers.

  “Come on. Now,” Taryn breathed.

  “What—”

  “Now.”

  The man practically dragged her from the cottage and up the hill to the landing field. He shifted into his dragon, caught Briella around her midsection with one of his enormous talons, and launched them into the air.

  Briella fought to keep her anxiety from pushing her into a full-blown panic attack. She clutched the dragonstone box tight for grounding. What would they step into? Or fly into?

  What had happened to Syn?

  Taryn soared to the top of a mountain she instantly recognized. He circled the mountain peak to the landing shelf, where he set her on her feet and transformed back to his human form.

  Taryn snatched her arm again and pulled her into Syn’s mountain home. The maze to reach the main living quarters was dark and steep, lit only by a torch Taryn ignited for her benefit.

  “How is he?” Briella finally asked when they slowed in front of a door.

  “Here.” Taryn used his extended talon to unlock the door. He stepped aside and urged her forward. She stumbled into what was as close to a foyer as possible in a mountain. “Go.”

  “But—”

  Taryn closed the door, leaving her to stare at the thick wood and iron in confusion.

  Until her lifemate connection with Syn flickered to life, a brilliant golden warmth inside her head.

  “Syn,” she gasped, spinning away from the door. She hurried through the halls, taking only moments to glance in each room. “Syn!”

  When all the main living spaces came up empty, she almost ran to his room.

  For a heartbeat, the shock of seeing him lying in bed paralyzed her.

  “Syn!”

  He turned his head toward her as she sprinted across the room, dropping the box along the way. She jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and crushing a kiss to his mouth as tears flowed down her cheeks. Her fingers fisted against his scalp as she clung to him, each hard kiss desperate and relieved and overwhelmed at the same time.

  Until he groaned and stiffened.

  She pulled back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were okay? Why didn’t you come straight to me?” She poked him hard in the shoulder. “They said you were hit. You were down. I’ve been so scared—”

  “Hey, love. Easy.” Syn reached up and tucked her h
air behind her ear before wiping her tears with his thumb. His face grew taut when he leaned his head back against the pillow. “I was hit. Tore my wings. Took a bad crash and broke some ribs. The trip here did a number on my strength.”

  Briella stared at him through her tears. “Oh no! I’ve hurt you more.”

  Syn stopped her from climbing off, pulling her back down on top of him. “No. This is what I want. What I need. Knowing you’re safe. You’re here. Sweet, sweet Briella. You are the only thing that matters to me.”

  “How bad off are you? Should I ask Taryn to get you spring water? Is there something else I can do?”

  “Love, they’re bones. They’ll heal up in a few hours. Until then, the only thing I want to do is hold you.”

  “Syn.” She lay her cheek on his shoulder and chewed her bottom lip, trying to control the rush of tears and the press of sobs as she inhaled his scent, absorbed the heat from his body, and melted into his arms. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Don’t you ever scare me like that again. And why didn’t you try to connect with me once you arrived?”

  “I just got here. Taryn must have retrieved you while Cade helped me get into bed.” Syn growled with a sharp intake a breath. Briella squeezed her eyes and cringed at the sound of his ribs grinding. She tried to gingerly move off him again, knowing her weight must be causing him pain, but his arm tightened around her. “No, love. You’re perfect where you are. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

  “Only a dragon would cast off broken bones like a paper cut.”

  Syn chuckled, though his amusement was short-lived. He combed his fingers into her hair and sighed. “I love you, Briella. You are my world.”

  Briella looked into his heavily-hooded eyes and saw the pain etched in his rugged features. She glimpsed the raw red slashes over his arms through the tears in his sleeves. What else had he endured?

  Later, there would be time to ask. Right now, she was grateful to have Syn back. Alive.

  She kissed the rough scruff on his chin, loving the feel of the scratchy day-old hair against her lips.

  “I love you, dragon. Not knowing what happened to you almost killed me. Having you here has made me whole again. I can’t be without you, Syn. I just can’t, so don’t ever make me suffer that pain.”

  “The last thing I ever want you to suffer is pain on my behalf.” His eyes closed. “I’ll make it up to you as soon as I heal. Trust me, there will be no pain in that.”

  She smiled as she tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes. “I’m holding you to that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Men scattered as she stormed down the obsidian hallway. A dim blue glow lit the way ahead, while several lines of energy provided light along the walls.

  For the first time, she had failed.

  She couldn’t understand why she was okay with that.

  The Keeper girl had a vision. The residual shock of energy as that vision passed through the Keeper and linked with her stirred unease within her body. She couldn’t explain it, didn’t understand it, but it had happened.

  The Keeper had seen something. And that something had a direct correlation with her.

  The set of Baroqueth guards standing before the double doors bowed their respect. She ignored them, too consumed by her thoughts and the evidence of what she’d encountered to notice, and pushed her way into her father’s chambers.

  Darieth Constantine sat in his gothic throne, a gilded chair with obsidian trim and black upholstery. Not a real throne, but the grandeur of the chair made his position clear. So did the tattoos that decorated his head where it was shaved on the sides. Those tattoos marked his neck, his shoulders, his arms. The power in those designs put fear in all Baroqueth.

  Except her.

  “Malla, my dear.” Darieth stood, one single fluid motion that blended with the faint misting of his figure. He met her in the center of his chamber, took her shoulders in a gentle hold, and kissed the top of her head. She kept her back straight, never once showing him submission. “I understand our attack did not go as planned.”

  “I told you it was a bad idea to attack in the center of the city. A mess was left in our wake, one that exposed us.” Malla cut her arm to the side. The chamber doors slammed shut with her small pulse of magic. “You should not have sent those extra men. We lost over half our men tonight. The one thing going for us is that the dragons do not know our numbers. Numbers that have been practically depleted.

  “Your breeding program, Father, has failed after the first two waves of births. The strength of your men has become diluted and miniscule at best. After losing ten men before tonight in the last two standoffs with Zareh and Alazar, we might well have to forgo future attacks until our strength increases.”

  Darieth’s eyes darkened to cold black orbs that chilled her skin. His growing anger was evident in the flicker of energy coasting across his chest. His mouth set in a firm line.

  “You failed me this evening, daughter.”

  Malla scowled. “I failed you only because you failed to listen to my advice… Father.” Her hands fisted by her sides. “Nerrick? You sent that idiot to lead the attack in the restaurant? He went ahead of me. I didn’t have a chance to get there, to get Syn Terravon, before they escaped. That soldier of yours is a risk you can’t take right now. I don’t want him on any of my assignments in the future.”

  Darieth’s nostrils flared briefly. Silver poured through the tattoos on his face and neck before disappearing. “You had his lifemate. How did she escape? And the other dragon?”

  Malla stood her ground. “I was distracted by the chaos raining down on the French Quarter.”

  Her father tilted his head in a motion that warned of his impending rage. The silver in his eyes glowed. “Since when do we care what happens to mortals? Kill the lot of them, if you must, but I want those dragons and their mates. I don’t care what it takes, Malla. If we don’t syphon more of their power, our entire race will die. We must strike while we’re still strong.”

  Darieth spun away, his black robe curling around him. Malla stared at his back, the long black ponytail tied at the point above where his hair was shaved. Her nails bit into her palms. Her father loved his hair. Right now, she’d love to cut it all off.

  He paused in front of his throne and cast her a half-glance over his shoulder. “Malla, you are my daughter and the strongest in our fleet beneath me. Do not fail me again. I would hate to force you into the breeding program.”

  Malla clenched her teeth to keep from saying something she’d regret. It wasn’t the first time he’d threatened to throw her into a cell with a dozen other women, waiting to be used by every Baroqueth until she bore a child. The only difference between her and the other women was that they happily agreed to be part of the program.

  It would be the greatest punishment for her.

  Her father dismissed her when he looked away and refused to sit. She swallowed a growl, spun on her heel and stalked from the room.

  Her father’s men averted their heads as she passed. She didn’t stop until she reached her quarters and secured the doors with locks and spells. She’d have to come up with a new plan. She doubted the dragons would stay in New Orleans long. Not with the attention this evening brought to both dragons and sorcerers. A few of the Baroqueth had stayed behind to perform damage control on the humans. She had received a report from one she stationed in Georgia to oversee Zareh and his lifemate that the couple had taken a hasty leave, despite the woman being near to term with their first child.

  As she fell into her plush chaise lounge and pinched her forehead, she couldn’t shake the unease caused by the woman tonight.

  Syn’s lifemate had a vision. A vision Malla wanted to know.

  A vision, she feared, showed the end of the Baroqueth.

  The end of herself.

  Epilogue

  Two Weeks Later

  “Well, I think that’s about it.” Briella brushed her palms on her jeans and looked over
the bags of her belongings. The guest room she had been using was barren once more.

  Syn wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and layered kisses along her neck. She giggled.

  “Stop that, you insatiable beast. Taryn’s waiting for us.”

  “He won’t mind waiting a little longer,” Syn murmured against her shoulder. His teeth scraped her skin and she shuddered in delight. “Mmm, a little more of that and I might have my way with you.”

  Briella twisted around to face Syn. “Dragon, you always have your way with me.”

  Syn chuckled, straightening up. “I do. But so do you.”

  “I’m not arguing that.”

  He pinched her hip. “You have no argument against it.” He placed one more kiss on her forehead before releasing her to pick up the bags. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

  “To live with you in The Hollow?” Briella snorted. “I think that’s a dream come true.”

  Syn nodded once. “And you’re certain you don’t want me to go in with Taryn on the house?”

  The events from the battle between dragons and Baroqueth remained vivid in her memory. That night had been one of the best in her life, and one of the worst. She knew moving full time to The Hollow was not a guarantee of safety, but they were far safer in Syn’s world, where his powers were strongest.

  She loved New Orleans and all the promise it held. She loved the opportunities she’d been given and the friends she’d made. Friends with whom she promised she’d keep in touch. She had fabricated a story about returning to Upstate New York to spend time with an ill family member and wasn’t sure whether she’d return to New Orleans. Mr. Harper was understanding, but impressed upon her his desire to host more showings of her work, to which she happily agreed.