Firestorm Forever

  Jac didn’t have nearly enough information. The videos were years old.

  Where would she find these dragon shifters now? Where were their lairs?

  And what would she do once she did find one?

  Jac set the book aside in frustration and turned on the television. To her horror, there was a story breaking on the news, and more pictures of dragons.

  These dragons had been over Easter Island.

  Jac watched in disgust and revulsion as the photos of the dragons were shown over and over again. They were red and gold, and they looked so similar to each other that they could have been siblings. She guessed they probably were, because they’d been hatched out of the same nest. She winced as the eggs were shown, the way they disintegrated almost immediately revealing why dragon eggs had never been found before.

  Her heart stopped cold when a topaz dragon appeared out of thin air, snatched the red and gold ones, and disappeared. That was the dragon from Seattle again!

  The evil one had claimed these newborns.

  Did that make them minions or captives?

  Did they have a choice about their allegiances? Or would he force them to be evil just like him? Jac could only guess. She put the red and gold dragons on the “evil” side of her divider.

  Guilty until proven innocent.

  The helpful links on the screen took her to two other recent videos she had somehow missed, probably because she’d been so absorbed in reading Sigmund’s book. The first showed a red and gold dragon, exactly like the ones hatched, battling an ebony and pewter one over Chicago. She added another image and sighting notes for the ebony and pewter one. He’d been one of the dragons at the Thames Barrier, she was sure.

  So, did being attacked by evil dragons make him good? It was possible. Her notebook gained a third section: now she had Evil, Good and Unknown. The guy shifting shape in the desert went in the Unknown section too. He hadn’t hurt Cassie Redmond, but that wasn’t enough to make him a good guy.

  The second linked video was blurry, as if shot from a cell phone by a shaking hand, and showed four red and gold dragons with a fifth red and gold one who was injured. Other than the injuries, they were identical, as far as she could see, just like the ones on Easter Island. Did they all look the same when they were hatched and develop differences later? These ones fought with each other, one—that seemed to be missing an arm—vanished, then the others consumed the last one. That said something horrible about sibling rivalry, and Jac was glad that her relationship with Sam had never disintegrated that much.

  Were these the dragons just hatched at Easter Island? They sure looked similar, and the timing was right. Jac grimaced as she added a note to the Easter Island dragons, then wondered where those dragons were now. One was dead, but what of the others? They definitely belonged in the Evil category.

  Were there more dragon eggs in the world, just waiting to be hatched? Jac was on her feet at the very idea. That would be the easiest way to destroy dragon shifters, she was sure of it. Maybe the eggs could be broken before the dragons were ready to hatch. Maybe they’d be weaker then and easier to kill.

  Of course, these eggs had looked like round rocks before they hatched, and who knew how long they had been there, incubating. Checking every round rock on the planet seemed like an insurmountable challenge, but there had to be a way to stop these monsters.

  Maybe Marco knew more than he’d revealed to her.

  Maybe the package hadn’t been misdelivered.

  Maybe it had come from Marco.

  The idea stopped Jac cold. Her new neighbor certainly was mysterious. There was something alluring about his patience and stillness. Jac liked that she could see his admiration in his eyes, but he didn’t rush to make a move on her. If anything, he seemed to be waiting for an invitation. She had no doubt of his orientation—the heat in his eyes when he surveyed her said it all, and set her simmering, too. Jac had the feeling that she only needed to crook her little finger to have an awesome night with him, or even more.

  She was giving serious consideration to crooking her finger.

  If nothing else, Jac recognized a conversation starter when she found one. She wasn’t sure if her hot new neighbor was home, because his apartment was really quiet. It always was. The only way to find out for sure was to go up there.

  And ask him about dragons and their eggs. Either he’d reveal that he knew more and they’d find a common interest, or he’d think she was insane. Jac hoped for the former, but feared the latter.

  Either way, she’d get to see him again. She could decide whether he was just as attractive as she remembered, or whether she’d imposed her own hope on the view. Jac was pretty sure she knew the answer, which was why there were butterflies in her stomach when she decided to go.

  She brushed her hair and put on her favorite shirt for luck. Lipstick would be overkill, she knew, especially as she was trying to look casual. Just dropping by with a question. Jac checked her reflection in the mirror, picked up the book, then headed upstairs to knock on Marco’s door. It was time to find out whether her sense that he knew more about the parcel than he’d admitted had any justification at all.

  Would he tell her the truth?

  Show her where to find dragons?

  What about their eggs?

  It sounded silly when Jac even thought those questions, but she had to find out.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, after all.

  She took a deep breath and knocked on his door.

  * * *

  Marco heard Jac coming.

  He was thinking about the news story he’d overheard through the floor and wondering whether he could use it to draw as close to her as the darkfire desired.

  Easter Island.

  He liked islands.

  But five new dragons hatched from eggs. That made no sense at all. Had someone been fooled? Or was this a manifestation of the darkfire loose in the world? Were they Pyr or Slayer? Marco couldn’t be sure.

  Not without going to the island himself. The scent of those new dragons would linger, and it would tell him a great deal.

  As would any other lingering scents.

  He would go.

  He heard Jac’s approach and decided he might not go alone.

  Marco’s eyes opened and he shifted shape leisurely, savoring the blue shimmer of light in his apartment. He loved the feeling of shifting shape, the way it made his body tingle. He felt as if he were filled with starlight when he changed to human form, and as if he were filled with fire when he shifted to dragon form. Either sensation was wonderful, and he savored the rightness of letting his body do what it did best.

  It was dusk outside and he wondered if anyone in a nearby building might have seen the evidence of his shift. He smiled, wondering what they would make of it.

  Unlike Erik and many of his fellows, Marco felt no threat from humans and little concern as to what they thought of the Pyr. They were treasures to be defended, no more than a task. He had slept through the hunting of dragons that so haunted Erik and could only be fascinated with the blend of weakness and strength that characterized humans.

  Like his enchanting neighbor. Marco heard himself growl deep in his throat at the possibility of learning more of her weaknesses and strengths.

  As well as what kind of pleasure would make her moan aloud. He wanted to see her wild with desire, incoherent with need, and demanding satisfaction.

  From him, of course.

  One day, he might have a firestorm, but to date, he’d been content to live alone, outside the perimeters of expectation. He’d been happy with the darkfire as his companion and fleeting connections with human women.

  Jac enticed him as no woman had in a long time. Was it because of her interest in dragons? Or his sense that the darkfire had led him to her?

  Marco suspected that his firestorm would be in the old style, that he would satisfy it and leave his mate pregnant then disappear again. It wasn’t in him to commit to anyone, not even to pledge to
follow his fellow Pyr. Marco carved his own path and believed he always would. He had slept away too many centuries to fret about the short term. He considered the merit of satisfying his fascination with Jac, knowing that a night—or a taste—would likely be enough to sate him.

  He probably should ensure that he wasn’t distracted, in case the darkfire brought even more unexpected challenges in the year ahead.

  The idea was so appealing that he strode to the bedroom with new purpose. In his human form, Marco was wearing just jeans and a T-shirt. The sound of the fridge echoed loudly in the apartment’s emptiness. He would have unplugged it, ending its rhythmic noise, but he had some food in it, as much for the sake of appearances as anything else. The landlord had proven to be curious.

  The darkfire crystal was on the windowsill, the blue-green light of the darkfire crackling within it, like a spark of lightning. It had become more agitated since the eclipse, as if it had drawn power from the blood moon. The darkfire in the gem was the only illumination in the room, and Marco chose to leave it in view.

  He got the backpack from his closet and put some clothing into it. He tugged on a sweatshirt and set a jacket at the door beside his boots. He had a toothbrush and razor, a few toiletries and added them to the backpack’s contents. He had a passport, which made him smile, because he didn’t need anyone’s permission to go anywhere. Erik had arranged it for him, ‘just in case,’ as well as some human affectations like credit cards and bank accounts. Marco had been amused, but was glad of those preparations now.

  Perhaps the foresight of the leader of the Pyr had its uses.

  He was keenly aware of Jac’s approach and he timed his actions so that he’d, once again, meet her at the door. He had just laced his boots and tossed the pack over his shoulder when she arrived.

  Jac knocked at the door, and her rap sounded loud. He could smell her trepidation and her interest in him, a reaction that echoed his own fascination with her.

  Maybe there could be a kind of kismet, even without a firestorm.

  Marco opened the door to reveal Jac standing there, Sigmund’s book clutched against her chest. She was wearing black jeans and boots, a wide belt around her hips and a black tank top that showed her curves to advantage. Her red linen blouse hung loose and open, the color suiting her well. She had dark hair and blue eyes, but wore neither make-up nor jewelry. Her long hair was drawn up in a ponytail, which made her neck look long, bare and delicious. He wanted with sudden fervor to caress the spot beneath her ear, even to kiss it.

  “Hi,” she said, summoning a nervous smile. “I wondered if you had a minute.”

  “I have all the time in the world,” Marco replied.

  Her gaze flicked over him, landing on the backpack. “You look like you’re leaving.”

  “I am, but we can talk first.”

  She eyed him uncertainly, hesitating when he invited her into the barren apartment with a gesture. She stepped inside and he felt a primal surge of satisfaction that the woman he desired had entered his lair. The vigor of his dragon’s response surprised Marco, but that only convinced him that his scheme was right. Jac looked around, and he felt her surprise when she saw the prophecy he’d written on the walls.

  He waited for her to read it and noticed how her pulse quickened.

  Great Wyvern, he could hear the beat of her heart and feel the rhythm of her breathing. He closed his eyes, savoring his awareness of her vitality, of the blood rushing through her veins, of the uncertainty in her stomach.

  Of the desire burning a little lower. He inhaled slowly, wanting and fearing he would move too quickly.

  Jac turned to him abruptly, her confidence fed by the presence of the prophecy, or maybe because of its contents. Marco was content to wait to find out.

  Her eyes widened as she surveyed him and Marco knew his desire showed. To his delight, though, she didn’t run.

  In fact, she stepped closer, her choice making his blood hum with need.

  Jac cleared her throat with purpose. “The thing is that this book was in the parcel you brought to me the other day, and I was wondering if you knew anything more about it.”

  “About the book or its contents?”

  “Well, both.”

  “You think I opened your parcel?” Marco asked the question in a mild tone, not insulted but wanting to know how much she had guessed about him.

  She blushed. “I thought maybe you’d sent it.” Her color deepened. “I’m sorry. That’s rude, but—” Her gaze trailed back to the prophecy and she bit her lip, the sight of her teeth on that ruddy bottom lip making him want to kiss her. “But maybe it’s not crazy.”

  “Not crazy at all,” Marco admitted, holding her gaze when she fell silent. “I did give it to you.”

  “Why not say so?”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d accept a gift from a stranger.” He watched her swallow, noted how she was physically aware of him. As much as he wanted to taste her, he sensed a little trepidation in her attitude and was content to wait for her to come to him.

  “Why?” Her voice had turned husky, which was promising.

  “Because I thought you needed it, of course.”

  Her lips parted in surprise. Their gazes held for a potent moment, and Marco’s desire for her redoubled. He held her gaze unblinkingly, letting her see his simmering desire. She caught her breath and licked that lip, then took a step closer. Her fingertips landed on his forearm and Marco was the one to catch his breath.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” Marco admitted in turn, which obviously pleased her.

  The darkfire was crackling in the crystal, alive with possibilities.

  The air seemed to crackle between them in the same way. It had been so long—that must be why his reaction to her was so powerful.

  “I hardly know you,” Jac said and abruptly looked away, surveying his apartment again. Her nervousness was interesting and made Marco wonder about her past. He certainly had done nothing to frighten her.

  “There’s an easy way to remedy that,” he murmured and she flushed a little.

  She gestured to the apartment. “There’s nothing here,” she said, as if that was a problem.

  “Yet it is sufficient for my needs.” Marco eyed her, then walked to the kitchen.

  Her gaze followed him, then she did, too. “You don’t even have a television.”

  “No.”

  “How do you know what’s going on?”

  Marco considered the merit of telling her that he listened to her television, but given her uncertainty, decided against such a confidence. He shrugged. “News is on every corner, in every restaurant, even at the gym. I prefer to have a place of refuge and silence.”

  She nodded, even as she scanned the emptiness of his kitchen. “Are you some kind of minimalist? Do you follow an eastern religion?” Jac’s gaze flicked to his. “Or don’t you really live here?”

  “I stay here, for now,” Marco conceded, intrigued by her insistence that he should have his home filled with possessions. “I have water to offer, but nothing else.”

  After he’d caught a whiff of the landlord’s first prowl through the apartment, Marco had made an effort to appear more human. He’d bought a starter set of dishes with four plates, four mugs, four glasses and four bowls, and they were still in the box on the counter. He’d also bought those toiletries and some clothes to put in the closet.

  Jac bit back a smile. “Because there’s a tap included in your rent?”

  Marco smiled and she actually laughed.

  “Thanks. I’m fine.” The sight of the dishes seemed to reassure her, although Marco couldn’t imagine why. She walked back into the living room, her heels clicking on the hard wood floor. “Just like college,” she murmured. “Living on pizza and beer, eaten out of the box and drunk from the bottle.”

  “That’s not my diet,” Marco said, leaning in the doorway to watch her. He liked the way
she walked, as if keeping time to music he couldn’t hear. There was a rhythmic swing to her hips that he could have watched forever.

  She stopped in front of the darkfire crystal, just as he had anticipated and was staring at it in fascination. “What’s this?”

  “It’s called a darkfire crystal.”

  “Does it have a battery?” She bent down to peer at it. “What makes the spark?”

  “The darkfire illuminates it.”

  She glanced back at him, her confusion clear. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s the last one remaining in existence,” he said, then strolled to her side. He picked it up, turning it in his hand while he savored the scent of her skin. The quartz crystal was large, several inches across and long enough for the points to protrude beyond his palm. The blue-green spark of the darkfire brightened at his touch, as it always did, and illuminated the apartment more brightly.

  Jac caught her breath. “Can I touch it?”

  Marco handed it to her, noting how the spark did not dim. It changed color, becoming greener when she held the stone, and flared wildly, as if it would force its way out of the stone. He dared to drop his hand to the back of her waist, felt her pulse leap, and liked that she didn’t move away.

  No, she took a little step closer, as if she wanted to be in his arms.

  “I guess if you’re only going to own one thing, it should be remarkable, like this.” Jac smiled up at him and made to hand it back to him.

  Marco instead closed his hand around hers, leaving the stone in her grip. The darkfire snapped and jumped when both of their hands were folded around it, illuminating the room with its strange light. Jac caught her breath. “It likes that,” she whispered.

  “It’s not alone,” Marco murmured and bent to touch his lips to that spot below her ear. He felt Jac shiver, then she turned to him without pulling her hand away.

  She stared up at him, then reached to brush her lips across his. “I wish you weren’t going,” she confessed, then a twinkle lit her eyes. “Not when things are just getting interesting.”