“I love it,” she admitted, once again wrapping her arms around his neck. Again, that seductive smile touched his lips. She resolved to make him smile as often as possible.
Drake stepped over the lip and into the tub, surveying her as the water swished a bit. The candlelight was golden, much as it had been when she had seen him in the parking lot, and it made him look as if he were made of a precious metal. He held her gaze and smiled as he sank into the water, lowering them both into first the tickle of the bubbles, then the caress of hot water. Ronnie’s mouth was dry and she was tingling with anticipation of his kiss.
When she was cradled in his lap, pressed against his erection, he kissed her with possessive ease. He held her against his chest with one arm, while the other hand slipped between her thighs to pleasure her.
Ronnie was glad she’d waited for this bath to be the first.
* * *
Eileen was so keyed up after Boris’s unexpected assault that she couldn’t even sit down. She was pacing the loft, not having been particularly reassured by Erik calling her on Donovan’s phone.
She’d heard the strain in his voice and wished he’d come home, rather than supervising the beguiling of witnesses.
Ginger and Alex were similarly concerned, the three of them creating enough nervous energy that they could have fueled a power plant. The other two mates had arrived shortly after Erik’s departure, along with their sons, Nick, Darcy, Liam, and Sean. Eileen had been relieved to know that the other Pyr had come to assist Erik.
The three women had swept up the broken glass together and nailed some plywood over the broken window. That made the loft unusually dark and Eileen felt as if she hunkered in a cave, waiting to be attacked. She missed the view of the sky the window had afforded, especially since there were dragons on the hunt.
She wished that she had some ability to sense the integrity of Erik’s dragonsmoke barrier. The broken window, the surprise attack and the presence of the children made her feel unusually vulnerable.
Never mind that a Slayer had come back from the dead.
Eileen made coffee and the women cupped hot mugs in their hands, sipping without real interest. The boys had fallen asleep, and Eileen knew that had only been possible because they hadn’t come into their Pyr natures as yet.
If they’d been able to smell Slayer, the loft would have been full of dragons.
“We saw him from the street. He looked just like Boris Vassily,” Alex said, giving voice to Eileen’s thoughts. “But I thought Boris was dead.”
“He was dead,” Eileen agreed. “I saw him die. It’s been years now.”
“February 2008,” Alex affirmed, and Eileen recalled that she hadn’t been the only one glad to see Boris breathe his last. Boris had hunted Alex during her firestorm with Donovan, and the fact that Alex seldom talked about it implied it had been terrifying. “It’s been almost seven years.”
“Where the hell could he have been?” Ginger demanded, but the women had no answers. “Do you think they’ve made more of the Elixir?”
Eileen shuddered at the prospect. “I hope not.”
“Me, too,” Ginger agreed worriedly. Delaney, Ginger’s partner, had been force-fed the Elixir by Boris and his fellow Slayers, but had been saved from its effects because of his firestorm with Ginger. “I’ll never forget how Delaney suffered.”
Alex put her hand over Ginger’s and squeezed her fingers. “But he beat it and healed, because of you and the firestorm.”
“I think sometimes of what would have happened to him if we hadn’t had the firestorm,” Ginger murmured.
“The Pyr would say that the Great Wyvern was defending him, as one of her own,” Eileen said and the women nodded agreement.
The three Pyr returned to the loft then, interrupting the women’s conversation. Eileen immediately saw that all of them were worn out, and she was glad that the kids had been tired enough to go to sleep for a few hours. Eileen watched Erik inhale slowly then nod with satisfaction on their return.
So the dragonsmoke barrier was intact. Good.
He glanced at her, his eyes bright, and she knew he was worried about Zoë. She tilted her head in the direction of their daughter’s room. “The kids have all fallen asleep, in Zoë’s room and my office. They’re worn out.” The Pyr relaxed visibly at the confirmation that their families were okay.
That was the moment Eileen realized how badly Erik was injured. He had wrapped Delaney’s jacket around himself and she hadn’t immediately seen the blood on his chest. When he opened the jacket and winced at his injury, she hurried to his side. Erik waved off her concern, retreating to their suite.
“He’ll be fine,” Delaney said reassuringly, and Eileen saw how tired he looked. “I let him fuel up with dragonsmoke.”
That Erik had even needed to do that wasn’t the most reassuring thing Eileen could have heard. She knew he hated her to fuss over him, though, and guessed that he would prefer she tend to their guests.
She’d express her opinion on that when they were alone together.
“We beguiled everyone we could find,” Donovan said, lifting Alex’s mug out of her hands to take a sip. “Fortunately, it was early enough in the morning that everyone was pretty much asleep.”
“Another few hours and we could have had thousands of commuters to deal with,” Delaney agreed.
“What does it mean, though?” Erik said, his voice carrying from the master suite.
“Your dream,” Eileen said, seeing that the others were confused. “Erik dreamed that Sigmund warned him.”
“The blood moon will ripen the eggs,” Erik repeated, his voice slightly muffled. If anything, the sound of his frustration reassured Eileen. “That’s all he said. Over and over again.”
“And Zoë dreamed it, too,” Eileen added.
The other four exchanged glances of confusion. “What eggs?” Donovan asked, but no one had any answers.
Eileen sat down in front of Erik’s laptop. “If the light of the blood moon is important, we should find out exactly where it was cast.”
“That’s a good start,” Alex said. She topped up her coffee, surrendered it to Donovan, and came to look over Eileen’s shoulder.
Eileen followed Erik’s bookmark to the NASA website showing lunar eclipses. “‘At the instant of greatest eclipse (10:54:36 UT) the moon lies near the zenith from a location in the Pacific Ocean about 2000 km southwest of Hawaii,’” she read. “‘The entire October 8 eclipse is visible from the Pacific Ocean and regions immediately bordering it.’”
“Not very much turf to cover there,” Donovan said, a thread of humor in his tone.
“Actually, there isn’t,” Alex said, gesturing to the map on the screen. “That’s pretty much all ocean. Wouldn’t any eggs have to be on land to be exposed to the light?”
“Or floating on the ocean, if these eggs do,” Ginger added.
“What happens when they ripen?” Delaney asked. “Do they hatch?”
“Into what?” Alex asked, her tone skeptical. “Slayers?”
“We don’t hatch like chickens,” Donovan said with disdain. “It makes no sense!”
“Maybe Sigmund was messing with Erik,” Delaney suggested quietly.
Eileen winced. It wasn’t as though Erik and his son had always been on good terms. They had reconciled before Sigmund’s death, thanks to her intervention, but still, their history was long and complicated.
Erik returned to the main room then. He had changed but he was paler than Eileen would have liked. He was limping slightly and there was a burn on the side of his face. She’d thought that was a trick of the light earlier, but it wasn’t. He came to her side and she abandoned the chair, noting how stiffly he moved as he sat down.
And the way he sighed with relief. Eileen’s lips tightened that he was hurt but pretending otherwise. She put her hand on his shoulder and he brushed his lips across her fingertips. Duty. It was always duty first with Erik, and she knew she shouldn’t expect otherwise from h
im.
Not so long as he was leader of the Pyr.
“I’ll ask Brandon if he’s felt or seen anything unusual,” Erik said, but Eileen could tell he wasn’t very happy with such a vague query. “He and Liz are at the Great Barrier Reef for her research.”
“Is Brandt in Australia with Kay?” Donovan asked and Erik nodded, even as he typed.
“And Thorolf’s in Bangkok with Chandra still,” Delaney said.
“They must not have run out of pie yet,” Ginger murmured and the group chuckled at the reminder of Thorolf’s appetite. “Can she bake?”
“I don’t think Chandra spends a lot of time in the kitchen,” Delaney said.
“I would have thought that the only way to Thorolf’s heart was through his stomach,” Ginger said with a smile.
“He has other appetites, too,” Delaney joked. “And I think Chandra has those covered.”
Eileen put on another pot of fresh coffee and was glad to have something to do with her hands. She thought about the Elixir being formulated again and shuddered. She didn’t even want to speculate on what other Slayers might return to life, much less how they’d get even with the Pyr who had slain them.
Mates and children were the weak link, after all.
“Neither of you said anything about coming to Chicago for the eclipse,” Erik said to the other Pyr. “Although I’m glad you did.”
“It’s been too quiet,” Donovan said, pacing the loft with frustration. “I knew something had to happen. This is it, the big finish, but the Slayers are down to just Jorge. I knew he wouldn’t just sit back and let us win.”
“Where is Jorge?” Eileen asked as she returned to the main room. The three Pyr shook their heads as one.
“We never know, not since he drank the Elixir and learned to disguise his scent,” Erik said. “Never mind his ability to spontaneously manifest elsewhere. He could be anywhere.”
“Especially as he got another infusion of the Elixir when he devoured Chen’s corpse,” Delaney said with a grimace.
“It’s disgusting,” Ginger said.
“He’s addicted to it,” Delaney explained, closing his hand over hers. “He’ll do anything to get more, at this point, and there aren’t many options left.” He shuddered visibly and concern lit Ginger’s eyes.
“You said it was Sigmund who spoke in your dream,” Delaney said, and Erik nodded agreement. “Whatever happened to the book he wrote. What was it called?”
“Habits and Habitats of Dragons: The Compleat Guide for Slayers.” Eileen smiled at their surprise. “I never forget a title or an attribution.”
“It’s in the hoard,” Erik said. “Maybe there’s an explanation for those eggs in there.” He left them, purpose in his stride as he went to retrieve the book. Eileen knew better than to ask if she could get the book for him.
The hoard was a Pyr’s most private sanctuary.
Eileen was amused by the way Donovan and Delaney strove to appear disinterested. They cleared their throats and made small talk about the battle. It was beyond rude for a Pyr to eavesdrop on any details of another Pyr’s hoard, but their hearing was so keen that they had to know exactly where Erik’s was secured.
They probably could hear every sound of him moving an item aside, and identify the item in question, without even trying.
“It could be that Jorge has formulated the Elixir again,” Delaney said with obvious distaste. “That second Slayer did appear out of nowhere.”
“And they disappeared right before my eyes,” Donovan said.
“The Elixir does allow any Slayer who’s consumed it to heal very quickly, even form the worst injuries,” Ginger contributed. “But Jorge wouldn’t share, would he?”
“Not unless he wanted to enslave the others, just the way Magnus did, and end up with some new version of shadow dragons,” Delaney said.
“But where did these dragons come from?” Alex asked. “Are there any Pyr missing, who could have been switched sides?”
“Wait a minute.” Donovan frowned in sudden thought. “Did you get a good look at the second one?” he asked Delaney.
“He was garnet and gold,” Delaney said. “With long streaming red feathers.”
“Exactly.” Donovan’s manner was intent. “What if he was ruby and brass?”
Delaney inhaled sharply, but Eileen didn’t follow.
“Boris was ruby and brass,” she said, confused.
“Exactly!” Donovan said. “The second Slayer looked so much like Boris that he could have been his twin brother.”
“They could have been long-lost siblings taking vengeance for their brother’s death,” Alex suggested.
“But how could we not have known anything about them until now?” Delaney demanded. “Where were they hidden?”
The possibility of hidden Slayers wasn’t a good one, in Eileen’s view, especially if they were going to reveal themselves now and be fueled by the Elixir.
Eileen heard Erik’s footsteps as he returned. “Did Boris have a brother?” she demanded of him.
“Boris?” Erik frowned. “No. he was an only son, just like me.”
“Well, that’s really weird,” Donovan said. “How could there have been two Slayers here at the same time who look exactly like Boris?”
“When Boris is dead,” Alex added. “Two Slayers we knew nothing about.”
“The Elixir,” Ginger said, with obvious discouragement.
“I’m healed,” Delaney murmured to her and caught her in a tight hug.
“But the book is gone,” Erik said, propping his hands on his hips. Before any of them could ask, he lifted a hand. “I haven’t checked on it in a while. I thought it secure in my hoard. But it’s gone, and so is that darkfire crystal.”
“I thought the one in your hoard had gone dark after Drake’s journeys with the Dragon Legion,” Donovan said.
“It had,” Erik agreed. “But now it’s gone, and the Pyr’s scent that lingers where the book was is that of Marco.”
“Marco!” they all echoed in unison.
“Marco,” Erik said grimly. “Marcus Maximus, the Sleeper.”
“He had a connection with the darkfire. Maybe he believed the crystal should be his,” Delaney suggested.
Erik scowled. “Then he should have asked me for it. I probably would have given it to him. That he stole it and the book only reminds me that he’s the nephew of the Slayer, Magnus Montmorency.”
“The Slayer who formulated the Dragon’s Blood Elixir,” Ginger whispered.
“Exactly,” Erik said, his displeasure clear.
“Marco couldn’t have turned Slayer,” Donovan said, but there was no real conviction in his voice.
“We don’t really know him,” Delaney said.
“He likes it that way,” Donovan said. “A lot of us are private.”
There was silence in the loft then, excerpt for the sputtering of the coffee maker as it finished its cycle and steam rose from the filter. Eileen could hear their doubts, but there was no old-speak.
Just the tinge of uncertainty.
Eileen poured freshly brewed coffee. Could there be a traitor in the Pyr’s own ranks? She didn’t want to even think about it.
Instead she gave Erik a mug of coffee, then looked him in the eye. “So, are you going to call Sloane about these injuries of yours or am I?”
Erik gave her a smile, then reached for his cell phone. She was glad that even a dragon as stubborn as hers recognized a battle he couldn’t win.
* * *
Sloane drowsed, liking how Sam curled against his side. Her breathing was slow and relaxed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. They’d loved silently and slowly the second time on the patio, only the stars overhead to witness them. He didn’t know how much time had passed and he didn’t care.
Sam was beautiful and sweet and responsive. It had been awesome, which made Sloane wonder how great lovemaking would be if and when they knew more about each other. He couldn’t help feeling there was an intuitive conn
ection between them, although he couldn’t explain it.
She wasn’t his destined mate, after all. He frowned at that, disliking that his romantic future wasn’t his own to choose.
Not that his nature hadn’t influenced their lovemaking. The spark of that distant firestorm had fed Sloane’s passion and his determination to ensure that Sam was pleased. He’d felt as if the dragon side of him had been hovering in his thoughts, and he’d even caught himself on the cusp of change more than once. Everything seemed more potent to him, the feel of Sam’s silken skin, the sense of unity with her, the power of his release. Sloane felt different afterward, momentarily sated yet still tingling with need.
He wondered whether it was Sam, or whether it was the firestorm.
She turned to face him, her eyes open only a little bit. Her eyes were a clear blue. He liked how her lashes were dark like chocolate. Her hair fell over her shoulders in waves when she let it hang loose as she had on this night. He found it sexy that she tied it up in the daytime and one stray tendril curled against the back of her neck, capturing the sunlight, inviting his caress. He caught a fistful of it now, savoring the silken feel of it around his fingers. Her hand landed on his chest, her fingertip tracing circles over his heartbeat. Sloane didn’t want to move, didn’t want this intimacy to end.
In fact, he wanted more.
“I hardly know anything about you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Sam smiled and braced her chin on her hand, regarding him with twinkling eyes. “Isn’t that my line?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s supposed to be women who want to talk all the time, and who want to know everything about their lovers.” She rolled her eyes at the very notion, but he sensed that she was hiding a truth beneath her playful manner. “I should warn you that I’m different.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning maybe you and I know all we need to know about each other.” Her hand slid lower, undoubtedly in an effort to distract him, but Sloane wasn’t ready for another round.
And he wanted to know what she was hiding.
What had wounded her.
He caught her hand in his. “But I’m curious.”
Although her expression didn’t change, Sloane felt that Sam had raised a barrier against him—and his questions. “You know what they say about curiosity and the cat,” she said lightly, and he saw the new wariness in her eyes.