Kiss of Fury
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Teaser chapter
About the Author
Praise for Kiss of Fire
“Cooke, aka bestseller Claire Delacroix, dips into the paranormal realm with her sizzling new Dragonfire series. . . . Efficient plotting moves the story at a brisk pace and paves the way for more exciting battles to come.”
—Romantic Times
“Paranormal fans with a soft spot for shape-shifting dragons will definitely enjoy Kiss of Fire, a story brimming with sexy heroes, evil villains threatening mayhem, death, and world domination, ancient prophesies, and an engaging love story. . . . An intriguing mythology and various unanswered plot threads set the stage for plenty more adventure to come in future Dragonfire stories.” —BookLoons
A Wizard’s Fury
Sophie only turned away, carrying the Dragon’s Egg back to Erik’s hoard. He waited for her to return, his thoughts swirling.
If Alex Madison was the Wizard, then she was the one who had taken the initiative that would save humans from the repercussions of their own deeds. And if the old legend was true, she would mate with the Warrior. They would lead the Pyr to victory.
Donovan. The best candidate to become the Warrior had to be Donovan, the Pyr’s greatest fighting machine—and the Pyr most reluctant to make a commitment of any kind. What if the Warrior and the Wizard didn’t consummate their firestorm? What if Donovan didn’t allow himself to be transformed into the Warrior? What if this Alex Madison didn’t want to be involved? Erik winced and shoved a hand through his hair.
He decided that he hated portents and prophecies.
ALSO BY DEBORAH COOKE
Kiss of Fire
SIGNET ECLIPSE
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Copyright © Claire Delacroix, Inc., 2008
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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For all the readers who wrote to me about their love of dragons and their enjoyment of this series. Thank you for your enthusiasm! I hope you enjoy this dragon’s story just as well.
Prologue
August 28, 2007
Erik Sorensson was tired, but the ritual with the Dragon’s Egg always exhausted him. He and the other members of the high circle of Pyr had met in Samoa earlier in the day. Beneath the full lunar eclipse, they had received the portent that the next firestorm would occur in Minneapolis.
Would it be his? Erik thought not.
He hoped not.
He’d worry about the details later. For the moment, he just wanted to sleep in the solitude of his lair. He replaced the Dragon’s Egg in the most secure area of his hoard and yawned.
“It is more than the journey that fatigues you,” said a woman in close proximity.
Erik jumped and pivoted.
Sophie waved her fingertips at him. “Surprise.”
She lounged on one of his two black couches, looking as ethereal as ever. Her fair hair fell loose over her shoulders and she wore a dress made of sheer layers of silver and gray. She could have been a stray beam of moonlight.
Erik checked, but his protective smoke was still thick around the perimeter of his lair. It resonated with the clarity of an unbroken territory mark.
“How did you get in here?”
“I am the Wyvern,” she said without interest. “I know many tricks, both magical and mundane.” She glanced around his home, which was in a converted warehouse. The old hardwood floors gleamed and the furnishings were modern and few. “Nice lair. I like the smell of brimstone. It’s a fitting touch.”
Erik strode across the floor to check his locks. He knew his tone was sharp and he didn’t care. “It’s not brimstone. It’s sulfur. I store the pyrotechnics in the back room.” The locks were exactly as he had left them. He faced Sophie without troubling to hide his irritation.
She held his gaze. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’ve disturbed your solitude?”
“You’re the prophetess. You tell me.”
“I’m not the only one with the gift of foresight.”
Erik muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath and Sophie smiled as he perched on the couch opposite her. He might as well hear what she had to say, as enigmatic as it was likely to be. “All right. Tell me why you’ve come.”
“Surely you can guess.”
“Maybe I don’t want to. I’m tired, Sophie, and need some sleep.”
She shook her head, her gaze knowing. “Sleep isn’t going to fix what ails you.”
Erik ignored that. “Why did you come?”
“I had a portent to deliver, of course.”
“The next firestorm will be in Minneapolis,” Erik said, even
though he expected that Sophie already knew as much.
The firestorm was the mating sign of the Pyr, the sign that a Pyr had met the mortal mate who could bear his child. A firestorm could happen at any time in any place, but those of critical importance to the Pyr were signaled by total lunar eclipses.
“Do you know whose firestorm it will be?”
Sophie closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch. Her long hair spread across the dark fabric like a veil. Erik remembered the sight of snow on coal, felt a pang for the past; then her chanted words brought him back to the present.The Dragon’s Tail demands recompense
Owed the land for man’s violence;
Both human and Pyr must sacrifice,
To earn the chance to make matters right.
A portal has opened to the past
Making possible what has been lost;
Time to muster forces for the final battle,
In which Pyr and Slayer learn their mettle.
“That sounds like a warning,” Erik said when she fell silent.
She opened her eyes and smiled sweetly at him. “It is.”
Erik felt a surge of frustration, one he often felt in Sophie’s presence. “I know there will be three total lunar eclipses, which follow the change of the moon’s node to the Dragon’s Tail. And we’ve known for centuries that a total lunar eclipse is the mark of a firestorm of particular import to the Pyr, like the firestorm the Smith indicated by the last eclipse.”
Sophie continued to smile.
“So, this one, this firestorm that will occur in Minneapolis, must also be important. But how? The Smith is already mated and Sara carries his child. What is significant about the next firestorm, or about the Pyr who will experience it?”
“Three total eclipses in rapid succession,” Sophie mused, staring at her three outstretched fingers. “Three Pyr of critical importance who will feel the firestorm.” She looked at Erik. “Three firestorms that must succeed, if the Pyr are to survive for the pending battle.”
“We must ensure them all or lose the war before it begins?” Erik was incredulous, but Sophie was serene. “Can’t you tell me any more than that?”
“I brought you the prophecy.”
“But it tells me nothing!”
“On the contrary, it tells you everything you need to know.”
Before Erik could argue, Sophie unfolded herself from the couch and drifted across the room. She seemed to float, to not be bound by gravity. She disappeared into Erik’s hoard and he forced himself to stay put.
They were on the same team, after all. He should trust her.
She returned with the Dragon’s Egg. He was offended to see anyone else handling it. “I just put that away. . . .”
She halted before Erik with the obsidian orb cradled in her hands. “Look,” she said.
Erik knew better than to argue. He looked.
The Dragon’s Egg gleamed. Sophie’s tune began low and soft. Erik couldn’t hear the words, couldn’t anticipate the rhythm, but he knew he was hearing an ancient charm. The surface of the stone seemed to swirl, as if it were covered with clouds of gray.
Storm clouds.
He’d never seen the Dragon’s Egg respond to anything other than the light of a total eclipse. He stared and marveled.
Sophie’s song grew louder and the clouds became darker, ever darker. They churned and boiled on the surface; then abruptly they cleared.
Erik was looking into a dark mirror, one as clear as glass. It reminded him of deep water and he wanted to recoil, but he forced himself to keep looking. His own past wasn’t important, not now.
Sophie leaned over the stone, her brow almost touching his. “Tell me what you see,” she urged in a whisper.
“An office,” he said, watching with excitement as the shapes became clear. “At night. There’s somebody there, working on a computer. I see the screen but no other lights are on.”
He glanced up in confusion.
“Yes. Look deeper.”
Erik did more than look. He used all of his keen Pyr senses and felt the scene. He became a part of it. He was there, in the moment, experiencing the events. He saw shadows separate from the walls, heard the snick of an alarm wire being cut. He sensed a threat sliding into the quiet building and was aware that he looked through the eyes of another.
But who?
“There are others, breaking in,” he murmured. “They don’t know there’s anyone there.”
“Don’t they?” Sophie said quietly.
Erik felt a heart race and knew the person who watched events unfold was afraid. “When will this happen?”
Sophie’s tone was resolute. “Look.”
Erik knew the crime had to somehow be important to him and the Pyr. He looked. He saw chairs being flung and desks overturned. Files were dumped and computers were thrown at walls. “They’re destroying the place. Where is it?”
Sophie didn’t answer.
Erik fell silent when he saw the dragonfire erupt, its orange flames devouring the carpet, cubicles, files, and walls. Its hue and power were unmistakable. He watched more closely, knowing what he would see. His heart sank all the same when he spied the silhouettes of his own kind in the flames.
He felt the viewer’s palms grow damp with terror. He heard the scream of another human being injured and felt the viewer catch his or her breath. He heard malicious laughter and knew what he was witnessing.
The old battle had moved to new ground.
“Slayers,” he said to Sophie, hearing the hatred in his own voice. “Why this place? What are they trying to destroy? Whom are they hurting?”
Sophie blew on the Dragon’s Egg. The flames on its surface burned brighter, then disappeared, as if she had extinguished them. The Dragon’s Egg was so black that it might never have been otherwise.
“When will this happen? Where?” Erik demanded, his frustration rising when Sophie didn’t reply. “Can it be prevented? Can the victim be saved? Why are they injuring a human?”
Sophie bent and kissed the stone with reverence, and Erik sensed that she was thanking it for its aid.
Then she glanced up at him, her eyes clear and bright. Their remarkable turquoise shade always startled him. “We cannot save humans on our own. They must make reparation themselves for the injury they have done to Gaia—they must initiate change within their own society. Then and only then can we fight for their survival.”
“These humans were targeted by Slayers because they took that initiative,” Erik guessed. Sophie’s smile was fleeting, but he knew by the glimpse of it that he was right.
“You have seen through the eyes of the Wizard,” she said.
Erik caught his breath at her assertion. “The Wizard and the Warrior. It was once said that together they could build an army and lead it to victory.”
Sophie smiled again.
“But that’s just an old story, Sophie, a myth that has no root in truth—”
“A myth?” she interrupted him with a laugh. “And you are not a myth come to life?”
Erik was impatient. “There’s never been a Wizard, not that I know of. . . .”
Sophie spoke as if he hadn’t. “Alex Madison will survive this attack,” she said with force, then met his gaze. “You cannot stop the attack, but you can help her.” Her words silenced Erik’s protestations.
“Alex Madison is the one who was working there, the one who was afraid,” Erik guessed, but he knew the answer already. He was shocked that he knew the name of the woman who would experience this firestorm—Sophie had never been so forthcoming. A cold shiver of dread slid down his spine. Were their prospects that grim? “And she’s the Wizard.”
Sophie’s smile left him hungry for more.
“When will this happen? Or has it happened already?”
Sophie only turned away, carrying the Dragon’s Egg back to his hoard. Erik waited for her to return, his thoughts swirling.
If Alex Madison was the Wizard, then she was the one who
had taken the initiative that would save humans from the repercussions of their own deeds. And if the old legend was true, she would mate with the Warrior. They would lead the Pyr to victory.
Donovan. The best candidate to become the Warrior had to be Donovan, the Pyr’s greatest fighting machine—and the Pyr most reluctant to make a commitment of any kind. What if the Warrior and the Wizard didn’t consummate their firestorm? What if Donovan didn’t allow himself to be transformed into the Warrior? What if this Alex Madison didn’t want to be involved? Erik winced and shoved a hand through his hair.
He decided that he hated portents and prophecies.
He paced as he waited, his impatience rising with every moment.
Sophie didn’t come back.
Erik finally pursued her into the hidden warren of his hoard. The Dragon’s Egg was precisely where it belonged, nestled in its black velvet sack. The doors to his lair were still barred and locked. His smoke was still undisturbed.
But Sophie was gone.
Erik was alone once more. He swore, returned to the main room, and booted up his laptop.
Fortunately, the Wyvern wasn’t his only source of information.
Chapter 1
Minneapolis
The following October
Hell had swallowed her world.
Worse, there was nothing Alex could do about it.
The flames raged from every side, their orange tongues greedily devouring files, walls, carpeting. It was impossible, improbable that the lab should erupt in fire now. Mark had run through the flames into the lab, but she feared for his life.
Alex was about to go after Mark when someone laughed.
More than one someone.
For once in her life, Alex was cautious. She held a damp cloth over her mouth and listened. Her heart pounded and her palms went damp. She heard the intruders fling open file drawers, heard the flames crackle as fuel was added to the fire. She heard computers crash and screens shatter. She heard the fire alarm ringing insistently as the smoke got thicker.
The laughter became louder, closer, meaner.