Savor it. Rania’s mouth went dry as she recalled how he’d savored her. “No,” she said flatly, guessing that if Hadrian made love to her for hours, she’d never be able to finish him off.
Maybe that was what he was counting on.
Rania folded her arms across her chest to keep from reaching out to touch him. “Besides, there’s probably a trick.”
He shook his head slowly, looking leonine and reliable. She instinctively wanted to trust him—and agree with him. “No trick. The firestorm is satisfied with sex, plain and simple, and the mate conceives the Pyr’s heir the first time they’re intimate.”
“What else?”
“Nothing else.”
“No deal.” She stretched out her hand for the knife.
Hadrian laughed. “So, you can kill me now? I don’t think so. You’ll have to pick another one.” His eyes twinkled. “Maybe I’ll start a collection of weapons you’ve been unable to use against me. We’ll have to decide what happens after we get through your entire collection.”
“You’re not that lucky,” she said. “No one is.”
“Did you get the bichuwa from a collector?”
“I was the collector.”
He tilted his head, studying her with a curiosity that seemed to echo her own. “What were you doing in Thanjavur?”
“What do you think?”
He held her gaze steadily for a long moment, then spoke softly. “Who did you kill there?”
“A djinn.” Rania frowned at the memory. “It took a while to stalk him.”
“Seeing that he could turn to a wisp of smoke.”
Rania shook her head. “This isn’t solving anything. You can give the knife to me or I can come back when you least expect me.”
“True enough, but this is a great opportunity for me to learn more about southeast Asian metallurgy.” Hadrian turned and walked away from her, as if she were no more dangerous than a mouse.
Where was the knife? She couldn’t see it anywhere.
“You can’t just take it!” she protested.
“Well, I’m not going to give it to you so you can kill me with it.”
That wasn’t an unreasonable argument. “But it’s mine.”
“And now it’s mine. The djinn probably thought it was his, too.”
Rania could have growled with frustration. She glared at him, but Hadrian just smiled again. “I like when your eyes flash like that. You look like you could take me out with your bare hands.”
“I’m tempted.”
“Go ahead and try,” he said, his voice low and his gaze hard. They stared at each other for a potent moment, then his gaze slid over her as surely as a touch.
“How about it?” he murmured.
She knew he was referring to his offer. “Why would you give me the bichuwa just for satisfying the firestorm? That makes no sense.”
“Because everyone deserves a last wish,” he said. “Because a son is the greatest legacy a Pyr can leave.”
“But you don’t know that I’ll be a good mother. You don’t know that I’ll raise your son the way you want.” She flung out a hand. “You don’t know anything about me!”
“Wrong,” Hadrian said with conviction. “I know what’s important. You’re my destined mate.”
“There’s no such thing as destiny,” she insisted. “And no such thing as romance. It’s my task to kill you, no more and no less. That’s the one thing you know about me and it’s hardly the reason you should choose me to have your son.”
He shook his head with conviction. “No. The firestorm chose you, and the firestorm is never wrong.” He approached her and that white glow brightened. “I know that you’ve been trapped by the Dark Queen and that you’re determined to free your brothers. That kind of commitment to the team and to family is something I live and breathe. I know we have that in common.”
“But...” Rania took a step back, feeling the firestorm turn her thoughts in a predictable direction as Hadrian moved steadily closer. He didn’t slow down or stop but kept taking one step after another, closing the distance between them. His eyes were very green and filled with intensity.
“I know that you think Maeve is going to keep her end of the bargain, which shows that you have a sense of honor. It’s unthinkable to you that someone could break their promise, just as it once was to me.”
“What changed?” Rania found her back against the wall.
“The Dark Queen lied.” He stopped right in front of her. “She taught me distrust, just as she’s going to teach you distrust.”
“No. That’s not going to happen.”
His confidence was unshakable. “Yes, it is.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” Rania’s protest sounded desperate even to herself.
“Yes, I do.”
“But you’re still willing to let me kill you, in exchange for conceiving your son?”
“In exchange for a lot of pleasure, too. Don’t forget that.”
“You can’t know that I’ll take care of that son.”
“But I do.” His gaze locked with hers. “I know Maeve is going to do something unfair, something to cheat you of your due. You’ll learn the truth about her, and eventually, you’ll triumph over her and get the freedom you deserve. It’ll be too late for me to help you or to celebrate with you, but that lesson will ensure that you take care of my son. You’ll want to give him a legacy, because I warned you. You’ll feel an obligation to me.”
It sounded all too plausible. “You don’t know that...”
“I do, because I would feel the same way. I think we’re a lot the same.” He reached for her and touched a fingertip to her cheek. “I think you’re going to defend our son with every bit as much valor as you’ve used to fight for your brothers.”
The raw admiration in his gaze made it impossible for Rania to look away from him.
But he was manipulating her!
She spun away from him, still looking for her knife. “You’re making all of this up,” she complained. “I trust Maeve! I know she’ll stand by her terms.”
“Why?” Hadrian asked, his voice hard. His hands closed over Rania’s shoulders and she found herself leaning back against his strength as the firestorm crackled and burned, stealing her breath away. “What’s in it for her?”
“Keeping her word. Justice.”
Hadrian’s lips were on the back of her neck and she felt his breath when he laughed. “Justice. That’s rich. You’re a shifter. You’re on her list of species to be eliminated, just like I am.”
Rania spun to face him. “That’s why I have to finish the deal. She’s going to give me a reprieve.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched her, his confusion clear. “How so?”
“She’s going to make me Fae. My brothers will be mortal men again and I’ll be Fae. It’s win-win.”
“Not for me.”
Rania forced herself to shrug. “Oh well.”
Hadrian’s hand moved quickly and he hooked a finger beneath the chain that hung around her neck. In a flash, he held the ring in his hand, his gaze boring into hers. “Does it always glow this brightly? I’ve heard of gems looking like they’re lit with inner fire, but this one really does.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she admitted reluctantly.
His gaze was mischievous. “Maybe it’s as affected by the firestorm as both of us.”
“No.” She tried to tug it out of his hand but failed. She didn’t want to break the chain so she gave it up.
“Who was he? Who is he? Are you still in love with him?”
“I don’t owe you that story...”
“What kind of stone is it?”
Rania bit her tongue and kept silent.
That didn’t silence Hadrian, but then, she hadn’t expected otherwise. “And here I thought you were turning me down because of this guy, whoever he was. I thought you were holding out for love and romance.”
“I’m turning you down because I don’t want to have your s
on,” Rania said, her voice rising slightly. “I’m turning you down because I don’t believe in destined mates, and maybe you don’t either. Maybe you’re just trying to buy some time.”
“Maybe I just think the firestorm shouldn’t be denied,” he countered, then leaned toward her, obviously intending to steal a kiss. Rania’s thoughts were too jangled and her resolve too compromised to let that happen.
She wished to be home.
Four
Gone again.
And he’d been cheated of a kiss again.
Hadrian’s mate had to be the most annoying woman he’d ever met—but she was also the most intriguing. He didn’t know what to expect from her and that snared his attention completely.
After all, she admitted the most incredible things. She was a swan-maiden, which was alluring in itself, but how did she imagine Maeve was going to make her Fae? Could the Dark Queen really turn a mortal into an immortal? Hadrian shook his head, instinctively doubting the story. His mate clearly believed that she wasn’t on Maeve’s inventory of shifters who had to die—or that she wouldn’t remain on it once her assignment was completed, once Hadrian was dead.
Hadrian had his doubts. He suspected the Dark Queen had been deliberately deceptive and that the so-called bargain could only end badly for his mate. If anything, that only made him feel more protective of her. How could he convince her of the truth, before he was toast? He admired her loyalty but wished it hadn’t been misplaced.
And whose ring was this? The chain had snapped when she’d vanished and Hadrian still had the ring in his hand, the broken chain hanging from it. It was a man’s ring, obviously, which made Hadrian wonder who had owned it. Father? Brother? Lover? Son? Friend? Each option prompted its own questions.
He’d thought at first that it was silver, but on closer examination, realized it was platinum. There was a single large stone in the setting. It could have been an opal or a moonstone, if not for that glow. He was sure a flame crackled in the heart of the stone, which he didn’t think was possible. Was it magick?
He knew it was a particularly fine stone even though he wasn’t a jeweler. He did have an affinity with the element of earth and the stone whispered to him of its own splendor, its size and clarity, its color and the commanding flicker of that inner light. It didn’t confess what kind of stone it was, though. Where had she gotten it?
Why did she keep it? That was the important question. It didn’t fit her fingers. Was she planning to return it? Or was it a memento?
Hadrian doubted his mate was sentimental, so this ring had to be about something else. Maybe it was a trophy from someone she’d killed. Her first assassination perhaps. Maybe it was from the man who had betrayed her or abandoned her, the one whose rejection or departure had made her prey to Maeve’s plot. Was the original bearer alive or dead? Had it belonged to one of her cursed brothers? He could envision it as a family piece, with the feathers etched into the sides of it.
Hadrian wished he knew.
He doubted his mate would tell him. He put aside the broken chain and tried the ring himself. It fit the index finger on his left hand, and once he’d pushed it on, it fit so well that he couldn’t pull it off. He supposed that meant it was safe there.
And if she wanted to retrieve it before she killed him, her efforts would definitely wake him up. That ring wasn’t coming off easily.
Hadrian didn’t want to consider that she might just slice off his finger. On the up side, though, that would wake him up, too.
How long would it be before she returned? He doubted it would be long. He guessed that she was someone who stuck to a task until it was done. He doubted he could stay awake much longer, but somehow he had to do it.
What did his mate’s bargain with Maeve mean about his firestorm? Did Maeve’s involvement mean that Alasdair could have been wrong? Hadrian hadn’t known his parents at all, but he was curious to verify what Alasdair remembered about their firestorm.
He wanted to double-check that his own firestorm was real before he made any more choices.
Assuming that he actually had the chance to make them.
It was almost dawn. Maybe Alasdair was waking up.
He’d make some coffee in the kitchen and maybe encourage him to do so.
Rania landed hard in the middle of her own kitchen. The house was dark and cold, since she hadn’t been there in a while. The back of her neck was sore and she raised a hand to discover that her necklace was gone. Hadrian must have held on to the ring which made the chain snap.
The loss shook her, as did the fact that she’d failed again. She hadn’t just hesitated this time—she’d talked to him. She’d been curious. She’d been tempted and charmed. What had he done to her? Rania didn’t care about anyone else. She was alone and always had been. Self-reliant. Indifferent to others.
But she wasn’t indifferent to Hadrian MacEwan. Why not?
The bizarre thing was that she felt so different. She felt more than emotional and volatile, more than jangled and uncertain. Desire hummed through her body, insistent in its demand that she surrender to sensation. She’d never experienced such yearning before. Was it because of this firestorm? Was it really so powerful that it could change her nature?
She’d been treacherously close to agreeing to his wager. Why? Rania had no desire for children and there was no point in bringing another shifter into the world when Maeve was going to clear the planet of such abominations. The boy would have a short life, so short he might as well not be born at all.
But she’d been tempted to please Hadrian.
That was dangerous.
Funny how satisfying the firestorm didn’t seem like such a foolish idea when Hadrian suggested it. Funny how he didn’t seem like an abomination to her, even though she remembered Maeve’s words about shifters. Far from it. Rania thought Hadrian was magnificent, in either form.
How could she be forgetting everything she knew to be true?
What was wrong with her?
Her eyes widened as she felt something moving beneath her skin. It started in her chest, then wriggled down her left arm. It was deep inside and felt both sharp and cold. Rania felt her arm, feeling the muscle flex as whatever it was edged down to her elbow.
She watched in horror as she felt its prickle in her lower arm, then was sure she could see a lump moving beneath the skin on the inside of her wrist. Rania moved toward the light as she felt something in her hand. She could see the ripple beneath the skin as it made steady progress toward the surface. She was both horrified and fascinated.
When one sharp point pricked through the skin, she was reminded of a sliver. A sliver could push its way to the surface over time, but this sliver moved too quickly. She wondered whether it had a mind of its own, then it popped onto her palm and stilled.
It was less than a half an inch long. It glowed red, like it was magick. It shimmered then, like starlight, and she bent closer to examine it.
A shard of glass? Where had that come from? Before her eyes, her skin healed so there was no longer a hole where the splinter had emerged. The sliver flashed silver, melted into a tiny puddle that evaporated. She turned her hand beneath the light but there was no sign that it had ever been.
It had happened so quickly that she doubted her own eyes. Had there been a sliver of ice, or had she imagined it? Her skin was perfectly smooth and there was no indication that anything had popped through it.
She felt lighter, too. More inclined to smile. More likely to care.
Rania wasn’t going to think about Maeve’s command of magick. She was definitely losing her edge if she was starting to hallucinate.
No, this was all Hadrian’s fault. This was his so-called firestorm, bending her thoughts so that she didn’t fulfill her obligation to Maeve.
Let him have the ring for now. Rania didn’t really need it. She just preferred to keep it, since she’d had it all her life. She could retrieve it once he was dead.
How dare he suggest that Maeve wouldn’t k
eep her word? They had a bargain and Maeve would do as she’d promised. Rania trusted the Dark Queen completely.
Hadrian was just trying to undermine her resolve, for obvious reasons.
It shouldn’t have worked so well.
No doubt about it, this dragon shifter had a dangerous charm.
Rania went down into the secret room hidden beneath the main house, opening the panel to display her knife collection. The bichuwa had been the ideal choice, but she was ready to compromise.
She surveyed her collection and chose.
Sebastian was late.
Sylvia couldn’t decide whether to continue waiting for him or not. She knew he had mixed feelings about the alliance between the Others, and that he was shaken—although he wouldn’t admit it—by the death of other vampires in the coven of mercy. Had he left the city? Was he just sulking in his library? She had a feeling that he was annoyed with her, too. He hadn’t liked her suggestion that she tempt the magick to play.
One thing she knew about Sebastian was that he hated magick.
Of course, they could have had a massive argument about her choice but Sylvia didn’t remember because he’d removed her memory. They could have had a torrid affair that she didn’t remember for the same reason. He could have confessed every single detail about his life and his motivation, then taken her recollection away. He really was infuriating in his insistence on remaining an enigma.
Was he really several thousand years old, or had that been a joke?
Sylvia had no idea what she knew or had known about him. As someone who loved to do research and remember it, this trait of Sebastian’s drove her crazy.
Still, she liked him, in a strange attraction-of-opposites kind of way. He fascinated her. His touch excited her. Her reaction to him was more potent than any attractive she’d felt before—but potentially a lot more unhealthy. Was it the risk? Or was it her sense he that she could help him, with something? Maybe he was drawn to her for the same reason, and against his will.
Maybe the attraction was just as potentially threatening to him.
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