“That doesn’t sound flaky to me at all.”
Alex rolled her eyes and took another bite of toast. “Consider the source,” she said, her eyes dancing.
Donovan grinned that she could joke about his nature. “So, where do we go from here?”
“Mark and I had planned to pick Mr. Sinclair up at the airport in the Green Machine on Thursday, but the better prototype was destroyed in the fire.” She fell silent suddenly and looked at her coffee, as if she regretted having said so much.
Better meant that there were at least two prototypes.
The other one was still stashed somewhere. She had the disks and the backup data, so she needed to get to the prototype. He could work with that.
So long as they worked together.
Donovan sat back as the waitress came to refill their coffees. She offered pie, which they both declined.
When she was gone, Donovan leaned across the table and caught Alex’s wary gaze. “I know you’ve got to protect your invention and that maybe you’re worried you’ve told me too much. But I need to go with you to wherever you have the prototype stashed, to ensure your survival. Only a Pyr can defend you from Slayers.”
A light glimmered in her eyes. “And you’re volunteering?”
“We’ve seen what they’ll do.” Donovan tried to convince her to trust him, knowing that she didn’t have all of the facts. “If we establish a lair wherever your prototype is, I can breathe smoke to defend its perimeter. I can summon other Pyr to help protect the space and you can get to work, knowing you’re safe.”
Alex sat back to consider him. “There’s that team thing again.” She took a sip of coffee. “From Mr. Lone Rider.”
“Some things are important.” Donovan felt like it was an excuse as soon as he said the words.
“Like this? Or like me?”
“Does it matter?”
Alex studied him and Donovan feared he had made a mistake.
Then she offered her hand across the table. “Okay. Deal. It’ll be good to have a partner again.”
Donovan shook her hand, catching his breath at the tide of heat that rolled through him from the point of contact. He wouldn’t think about how close a partnership they might have.
Not yet. He couldn’t even think about her proposal to cheat the firestorm until they were both secured in a temporary lair.
Then the idea would have his full attention.
Alex was staring at the spark between their hands. The flame startled Donovan with its intensity. Was it burning hotter?
“Put that in a jar and save the world,” she murmured. “Look at it. It’s spontaneous combustion, clean burning. If we could figure it out, we could put that energy to work.”
Her touch was more than distracting. Donovan tried to pull his hand from hers, but Alex tightened her grip. “Don’t do that.”
“Why? Because it makes you blow your cool?” Alex’s smile was teasing, which was even more distracting.
“It attracts the others.” When she looked puzzled, Donovan elaborated. “We can all feel the heat of the firestorm. It attracts us, like a magnetic force.”
She nodded. “Sara said that. Like moths to the flame maybe?”
“Those who play with fire are going to get burned, more likely.”
Alex watched him for a moment and he wondered what she saw. “Or do you really mean once burned, twice shy?” she asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m wondering what worries you so much about me. You’ve got firewalls in place like nobody’s business.”
“Ha ha.”
“I’m not joking. What do dragons have to be afraid of?”
“It’s a question of safety—” Donovan tried to divert her interest, although he doubted it could be done.
“I don’t think so.” Alex interrupted him. “It’s the firestorm that has you spooked. Maybe that’s what burned you the last time you played with fire.”
“No. I’ve never had a firestorm before—”
“Okay, you can’t be afraid of that.” Alex moved on to the next possibility with a logical precision that Donovan could have respected more if it was applied elsewhere. “Maybe it’s just the emotional connection that spooks you.”
“I don’t think this is important—”
“Did you love somebody before?” Alex was undeterred. She studied him. “Maybe somebody who didn’t love you back?”
Donovan glared at her, not appreciating that she was trying to read his thoughts—never mind that she was doing so well at it. “Time to go,” he said.
“Avoiding the discussion doesn’t change anything,” Alex said as she got to her feet. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever gotten burned?” Donovan met her gaze in surprise and found an unexpected understanding there. “Ha ha?”
She had cared for Mark.
Donovan didn’t need to know how much he had in common with Alex. He didn’t need to get emotionally involved.
He tore his gaze away from hers and found trouble.
A stocky man who looked familiar was standing at the cash register, where he had bought a pack of cigarettes. He turned and glanced over his shoulder, casting a sly smile in Donovan’s direction.
Tyson.
There was a gold SUV at the pumps, a second man in the passenger’s seat. He unrolled the window and exhaled a smoke ring, one that floated toward Donovan’s bike. He had pale eyes, a cold manner, and Donovan knew he had a Russian accent.
Donovan saw the silhouette of another man in the backseat of the car. It had to be Sigmund.
Once again, the firestorm had made him forget his surroundings.
“We’re so out of here,” he said, throwing cash on the table.
“What’s wrong?” Alex asked.
“Guess.” He shoved her helmet at her, then had an idea. “You’d better drive.”
Her gaze danced to the man walking back to the SUV and he knew she recognized Boris. She nodded understanding, her eyes wide.
“Just, please, take it easy when you change gears.”
“Three words,” she said grimly as she pulled on her helmet.
“Archibald Forrester’s Buick,” they said in unison, and shared a smile that made Donovan even more determined to win. He pulled on the gloves that Quinn had made for him before getting on the bike behind Alex, knowing that the retractablesteel blades might provide just the advantage he needed.
They pulled out of the gas station and Alex kicked the bike up to speed. She changed gears so smoothly that Donovan was proud. She was driving with more verve now, becoming accustomed to the bike in a way he could understand.
Donovan glanced back in time to see the SUV, its gold bush bar gleaming in the sun. The Slayers stayed a steady distance behind, and Donovan knew they were waiting for their moment. It would be three against one, but he was good enough to thump them all.
The stakes were all or nothing.
Chapter 8
Alex kept an eye on the SUV in the side mirrors. The Slayers remained exactly the same distance behind the bike for the better part of an hour. Alex wasn’t fooled—with every passing mile, the traffic became lighter. She knew they were waiting to catch Donovan alone.
It was cooling off and the sky was clear. The trees were finishing their fall display out here and many branches were bare. Clusters of orange and yellow leaves caught the late-afternoon sunlight. They looked like flames against the vivid blue sky.
Alex would not think about fire.
As the shadows drew longer, Alex wondered whether the Slayers would wait until night fell, or until she and Donovan reached their destination. They’d have to wait a while for that, given that she’d told Donovan to head in the wrong direction. The only thing out this way, as far as she knew, was Iowa.
Alex decided not to mention that just yet. The road took a big turn to the right, pine trees marching right up to the ditch. She and Donovan leaned into the curve together and she liked the feel of his thighs around
hers. He had his hands on her waist and his chest touched her back at intervals. The firestorm made Alex feel languid and sexy, just generally good all over.
They came out of the curve and there was no SUV behind them.
“They’re gone,” Alex had time to say before two dragons appeared over the crest of the trees.
“Just go,” Donovan said. Alex slowed down. He hauled off his helmet as he leapt off the bike, then hooked the strap to the back of the seat. He looked her straight in the eye. “Don’t stop and don’t look back.”
“But . . .”
“I’ll find you.” He grinned and winked. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. We’re a team now. It’s Plan C all the way.” Before Alex could reply, he leapt into the air and changed shape. It happened so quickly that she couldn’t see the moment when he ceased to be human. She heard the clash of dragons colliding overhead, but she had other problems.
A ruby red and brass dragon landed on the road, ten feet in front of her, and smiled. “We meet again, Alex.”
He was the one who had been in Mark’s office, the one who had . . .
Alex revved the bike, ducked her head, and rode straight at him. He took flight and his tail thumped the handlebars when she passed beneath him. The bike skidded into the gravel of the shoulder and he laughed, thinking he had her beaten.
He could think again. Alex righted the bike with an effort, got her balance, then accelerated. The road was straight and empty, and she was going to follow Donovan’s advice.
The Slayer flew immediately behind her, breathing fire and smoke. Alex didn’t look back, just went faster and faster. He wasn’t going to do the same thing to her that he’d done to Mark, not if Alex had anything to say about it. He kept up easily, his throaty chuckle echoing in her ears.
“Roast mate,” he said, and licked his lips. Alex yelped as her back was singed.
She realized that she was quickly leaving Donovan far behind.
The farther she was from Donovan, the less able he would be to defend her against bad dragons.
Like this one.
Her heart was thundering in fear and her hands were sweating on the handles. She reminded herself that anything that didn’t kill her would make her stronger and knew she’d be a powerhouse by the time this adventure was done.
Fear solves nothing. Alex needed an evasive tactic.
And there it was—the side road appeared as if by magic.
Alex took the right turn so abruptly that she nearly skidded out. This road was narrow and quiet, like a shared driveway. It was lined with massive old maples that arched over the road. The Slayer swore as he ascended. He had to fly over the trees, which didn’t give him many chances to blast Alex.
Alex bent over the bike, calculating how far she had come in order to choose her turn. The road wound in a way that would have been more fun to drive if she hadn’t been so panicked. She heard a roar and a bellow and knew she was getting closer to Donovan’s dragon fight.
She needed to turn right again, but the road wound to the left, running alongside a river. The Slayer seized the opportunity to descend and fly alongside Alex. He loosed a torrent of fire at her and Alex turned instinctively away.
She was over the ditch and into the woods before she could stop herself. The bike leapt over the rough terrain and the engine stuttered. Was this his plan? Was he driving her toward some pitfall? Alex wasn’t going to be manipulated like that.
She took advantage of a residential driveway, one that undoubtedly wound back to a secluded retreat in the woods, made a tight turn, and raced back toward the road. The Slayer hovered above the branches of the trees, tracking her progress.
She bent low right before she emerged into a clearing, knowing he’d take a shot at her.
He did.
The tips of the tree branches around the clearing caught fire and Alex knew her shiny red leather jacket wasn’t so shiny anymore. She had to survive, though—and to do that, she had to get back to Donovan.
If you had to fight fire with fire, then only dragons could fight dragons.
She turned onto the main road, retracing her earlier course. The river ran alongside the road only for another couple of hundred yards, and Alex was sure she could make it. She bent low, preparing to accelerate, but the Slayer landed square in the middle of the pavement in front of her. His eyes narrowed; then he loosed a torrent of flames.
The scrub on the one side of the road began to burn. The bulrushes alongside the river lit like torches. He kept breathing fire and Alex saw the pavement start to melt.
She was going too fast to do a one-eighty and there was nowhere to turn. She braked hard and the bike tires squealed as the bike fishtailed to a stop. She was sideways on the road, not a dozen feet from the inferno the Slayer had lit.
Not a dozen feet from the Slayer himself. The bike stalled and she flooded the engine in her fear.
His smile broadened and Alex’s heart stopped cold.
Donovan barely got into the sky before Tyson was on him. The Slayer latched on to his back, his talons digging into Donovan’s shoulders.
“I take your challenge,” Tyson whispered.
“But you had to cheat to have a chance of winning.” Donovan sprung his metal talons, twisted and slashed at the Slayer.
Tyson recoiled in pain, hovering as he eyed Donovan with suspicion. The pair circled each other warily, talons up, tails lashing. “Those aren’t natural.”
Donovan flicked his metal talons. “A little addition to my natural charm.”
“Yet you’re the one who accuses us of fighting unfairly.”
“Ask the other Slayers about Lucien. These babies were his idea. I’m just keeping up with the Joneses.”
“Not for much longer,” Tyson growled. “Only one of us will fly away from here.”
“And I know who it’s going to be,” Donovan said. “You must know, too, otherwise you wouldn’t be avoiding the fight.” He grinned. “Are you scared to die, Tyson? What do they do to the corpses at Boris’s secret academy?”
The Slayer roared and dove for Donovan, talons extended. They locked claws and grappled for dominance, tumbling end over end through the sky. Donovan dug his claws in deep and drove Tyson toward the pavement, keeping all four claws locked. Tyson thrashed and swung his tail, but Donovan expected his move. He wound his own tail around the length of the Slayer’s and held it down.
“Funny,” he mused. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” Tyson inhaled deeply to breathe fire, and Donovan braced himself to remember his lesson from Quinn. He ignored Tyson’s inhalation and made the most of his opportunity. He scanned the Slayer’s chest and found a damaged scale.
Tyson loosed dragonfire on Donovan. Donovan felt it burn and fought to turn the power of the flame to his advantage. He had some success but couldn’t take the fire as well as Quinn.
Yet.
When Tyson stopped for breath, Donovan bent quickly. He tore open a wound with his teeth at Tyson’s vulnerable spot. Black blood spurted from Tyson’s chest and the Slayer shrieked in pain.
Tyson filled his lungs and Donovan knew he couldn’t take another hit of dragonfire. He picked up the Slayer and flung him into the woods, ascending like a hawk after he released Tyson.
The plume of Tyson’s dragonfire followed Donovan, nipping at the tip of his tail. Tyson crashed into the forest and the tree branches began to burn. Donovan scanned the sky. There was only a smaller Slayer hovering out of range.
Where was Boris?
Where was Sigmund?
Or was this other Slayer the one he had seen silhouetted in the backseat of the SUV?
Donovan could hear the faint thrum of his bike’s engine and was afraid that he knew where the others were. He steadied himself and felt the racing beat of Alex’s heart. She was frightened but not immediately in danger.
Tyson extricated himself from the trees and glared at Donovan. Donovan hovered, letting Tyson come to him. He ignored the smaller Slayer, who was obviously going to han
g back and wait for Donovan to be softened up a bit.
As if that would happen.
Tyson lunged at Donovan with sudden speed, but Donovan was ready for him. He exhaled a tendril of smoke, one that wound its way directly toward Tyson’s new chest wound. The Slayer screamed as the smoke eased beneath his scales. It would burn, Donovan knew, burn and itch and destroy all the flesh it touched.
Tyson writhed in pain, then moved out of range. “This isn’t over yet,” he muttered.
“No, it’s not,” Donovan said. “Let’s finish what we’ve started. Unless you’re afraid to do so.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Tyson sneered. “But I’m not going to give you an easy victory, either.” He flew farther away.
Donovan was incensed. “You’re not supposed to fight a challenge in increments. It’s supposed to be once and to the death. Come on, let’s go!”
“Rules are for humans and their defenders,” Tyson sneered. “Let’s level the field first, shall we?”
“What are you talking about?” Donovan was aware that he could no longer hear his bike’s engine.
Where was Alex?
“You’ve killed one of mine. I want you to pay first with one of yours,” Tyson said as he paused beside the smaller Slayer. He gave the smaller dragon a push. “Go on, kid. Say hello to an old friend.” With that, Tyson flew away, his flight more erratic than it had been originally.
An old friend? Donovan fought to make sense of the taunt even as he worried about Alex.
The smaller Slayer flew closer. He was young, but moved oddly. It was as if he were in a trance or sedated. He jerked, like a windup toy, or a puppet being manipulated by someone else. His coloring was familiar, but Donovan was sure he didn’t know him.
His scent was deeply wrong. As he inhaled it, Donovan felt a cold shadow. He quickly scanned the sky but there were no other dragons in sight.