No. She didn’t believe it. She had a strong sense that he was honorable and honest. Maybe he liked to appear dangerous. Some men did.
Sam fought the urge to look out the window. She was more intrigued by her neighbor than she knew was healthy. The fact was that Sloane Forbes wasn’t at all what she’d anticipated. The dragon tattoo was the last surprise, but it hadn’t been the first one. Winston Churchill had said that Russia was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, but he could have been talking about Sloane Forbes.
No wonder she was fascinated by him.
Could she figure him out? Guess some of his secrets the way he’d guessed some of hers? Something about Sloane made Sam want to try.
Solving riddles had always been her best trick, after all.
She checked the house and locked up, knowing she was too agitated to sleep. She returned to the kitchen to make herself a hot mug of milk. In the middle of filling the mug, she froze at the memory: she’d always made hot milk for Nathaniel when he couldn’t sleep.
She’d never have the chance again. Sam put down the milk, blinked back her tears and fought to catch her breath.
Nathaniel. Just thinking his name hurt.
How would Sloane respond if she told him about her lost son? He’d feel sorry for her, that was for sure, but she wouldn’t be able to bear his compassion any more than anyone else’s. Not when she’d failed so very badly. Not when Nathaniel’s death was all her fault. She put the mug in the microwave, turned it on and put the jug of milk away. She felt raw and bruised all over again, and couldn’t decide whether it was better or worse than feeling as numb as she had for the past year.
Her gaze rose to the house several hundred yards away. Would Sloane discern Sam’s secret conviction that she’d been a bad mother? She had a feeling that he might.
She thought he might try to console her, even so.
Or was she just seeing him as more of a hero than he was?
The microwave beeped and Sam stirred the milk. How sad was it that she couldn’t even have simple impulsive sex, with no strings attached, without messing everything up? Their interval had been great and she’d felt wonderful—until she’d made an issue about Sloane’s tattoo.
Which really was none of her business.
Especially given her terms for their relationship. She had no right to make judgments or demands of him, by her own stipulation. A magical night had been ruined by her reaction, and the best feeling she’d had in years had been dispelled for no good reason.
Sam owed Sloane an apology.
She sighed, recognizing a truth when she heard it, and wondered whether she should walk back immediately. Would he still be awake? She had to think so.
Maybe they could pick up where they’d left off.
Maybe she could make it up to him.
Sam was halfway across the kitchen when she saw headlights swing across the darkness. Sloane was backing out of his driveway and heading toward the road.
Leaving.
It was four in the morning. Where could he possibly be going?
Sam wanted to know, more than she’d wanted to know anything in quite a while. Surely, he didn’t have another lover he was going to visit? The idea was more troubling than it had any business being.
For man candy and mindless amusement, Sloane was sure shaking her up.
She watched until the lights of his truck disappeared around the bend of the road. He didn’t come back, not even by the time she’d finished her milk.
It had been a long time since Sam had gotten to the bottom of any mystery, but here was one that demanded her attention. She was going to find out more about Sloane while he was gone, however long he might be gone.
After all, he thought it was reasonable for a person to research their neighbors.
Fair was fair.
* * *
Drake had no doubt of the moment that Veronica’s mind returned to practical matters. He had pleasured her three times and had two orgasms himself. The second time, he’d taken her in the bathroom, where the light of the candles and the heat of the bath water were reminiscent of the firestorm’s touch.
They’d loved more slowly each time, yet desire still ran like molten honey in his veins. He was marveling at the power of the firestorm and the allure of his mate as he rinsed the bubbles from the tub and watched her brush her hair. He felt fortunate beyond all that he’d not only had a firestorm but been able to satisfy it without the intervention of Slayers.
He was thinking about having her again in her own bed, maybe about waking her up with pleasure in the morning. There was no question of him leaving his mate alone, not now.
Veronica had put on a voluminous terrycloth bathroom, though her feet were bare. Drake found it alluring how tiny her waist looked with the belt tugged tight, and the rest of her curves lost in the cloth. He was thinking of unknotting that belt and…
She put down her toothbrush so abruptly that Drake felt the change in her mood like the crack of lightning. She spun to face him, and he realized her mood was not nearly as amorous as his own.
What was wrong? Drake braced himself for the questions that hadn’t yet been asked.
“We didn’t use a condom,” she said, her consternation clear. “I didn’t think of it. I don’t even have any!”
When Drake didn’t reply, she flicked open the medicine cabinet and rummaged in its contents, then closed it. She went through the drawers in the vanity with the same haste, her expression revealing that she knew she wouldn’t find what she sought.
She licked her lips and took a breath, as if trying to remain calm. She looked him in the eye and he knew she wasn’t calm in the least. “I’m not taking any birth control, not any more.”
“It does not matter,” Drake said quietly.
Veronica exhaled, somewhat reassured. “I guess you can’t have any diseases if you haven’t been with anyone since Cassandra.” There was a question in her tone, and Drake could well understand that this might trouble her.
“I have none,” he admitted, seeing her instant relief.
“Neither do I.” She smiled, and Drake had a moment to believe that all was well, then she bit her lip. “I’m not quite in the middle of my cycle, but it would be better to be sure. Maybe I can get one of those morning-after pills…”
Drake was confused by this. “There will be a child,” he said, seeing no reason to deny the truth. Surely she knew this?
Cassandra had known from first spark what the firestorm’s result would be.
Veronica hadn’t asked about the firestorm. He’d assumed that she understood what was happening between them.
She had to be considering the repercussions and the impact on their lives, that was all. He would give her a moment.
Drake wrapped a towel around his hips and rubbed his jaw. He considered his reflection and frowned at the stubble on his jaw. He should shave and ensure he was smooth before he pleasured his mate with his tongue. He wondered if she had a razor.
He found Veronica staring at him, her displeasure clear.
“Excuse me?” she said, her tone a little more strident than it had been.
“There will be a son,” Drake repeated calmly. “It is the result of the firestorm. Do not worry: I will not leave you undefended.”
Veronica folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes snapped, and it was clear that she wasn’t as reassured as he might have expected. Nor had she anticipated this development.
It was perhaps a bad time to ask her for a sharp implement like a razor.
“What’s the firestorm?”
Drake frowned, a sick feeling dawning in his stomach.
He’d been wrong.
Veronica, it was clear, did not fully understand the import of the firestorm, or of what they had done.
Drake hoped he had the necessary diplomacy to explain it well. Talking was not his best skill.
“You will be the mother of my son,” he said, turning to hold her gaze. “We have conceived a
child this night.”
Instead of reassuring Veronica, this seemed to alarm her. “That can’t be true,” she whispered, all the color leaving her face. She sat down on the lid of the toilet, as if her legs couldn’t support her. “You can’t know that.” She shook her head, then glared at Drake. “Why are you saying this?”
Drake ran a hand over his hair, considering where to begin, then swallowed as he faced her again. “I am not like other men,” he began.
Veronica’s gaze dropped, then she looked into his eyes again. “I’m guessing you mean in a different way than that.” He was relieved that she seemed to be recovering from the shock, though there was still wariness in her eyes.
“I am Pyr,” he said, holding her gaze.
“Pyr? What’s that?” Her lips parted in sudden realization before he could answer. “Those guys in the YouTube videos that Timmy watches all the time? Those dragon men?” She stood up, once again alarmed, and began to pace the length of the bathroom like a caged tiger. “But that’s not real!” she protested as he watched her solemnly. “Men can’t really change into fire-breathing dragons! Why would you lie to me about this?”
“I assure you, Veronica, that my nature is no lie.” Drake nodded solemnly. “You saw the sparks of the firestorm.”
“Those sparks! I thought that was an illusion.”
“It is a truth and a hallmark. It means that one of my kind has found his destined mate.”
“Oh.” Veronica was slightly mollified by that. “That sounds romantic.”
Drake shrugged. “It is our nature.”
She was wary again, doubt in her eyes, and he knew he’d missed an opportunity to win her support. “Does that mean you’ll be staying around?”
“It means that now the firestorm has been satisfied, you will bear my son,” Drake said, sticking with the facts. He couldn’t promise to remain with her, not when he knew that he would have to choose between his duties to the Pyr and his mate. They were in the last year of the Dragon’s Tail Wars, after all. He had already vowed to defend her.
But that clearly wasn’t enough.
Veronica scrambled to her feet. “You’re sure of this.”
Drake nodded. “The conception of a son is always the result of satisfying the firestorm.” He lifted a hand toward her. “The sparks are gone. The firestorm is sated. You will bear my son.”
Veronica was aghast. “Now? I’m thirty-five, Drake. I’ve just gotten my life sorted out. I have a good job and this townhouse and a car, and I’m building a future for Timmy.”
Drake didn’t know what to say. It had never occurred to him that she would be less than thrilled with this news. “But you have a son already.”
“Yes, and he’s growing up. I need to save enough money for him to go to college. I don’t have time to be pregnant, Drake!”
“Yet you will be so.”
“And you knew this when you came here.” There wasn’t really a question in her tone but Drake nodded agreement anyway. Veronica shook her head with exasperation. “You don’t think we should have talked about this beforehand?”
“Destiny cannot be evaded.”
She glared at him, lost for words for a moment, then she found plenty. She propped her hands on her hips, and her eyes flashed in a most beguiling manner. “So, you’re telling me that you’re a dragon shifter, that you’ve impregnated me without our discussing it first, and that now I’m going to have a little dragon son? Drake! I thought you were a man of honor! I thought you would treat me with dignity!”
“It is my intention to do exactly that.”
“Then what happens next?” She marched toward him, shaking a finger in his face. “You just fly off and disappear for another four years or maybe forever, leaving me with this child to bear and raise? What if I refuse to have it?”
“Veronica!” Drake was shocked by the suggestion. “You could not deny me this son!”
She studied him again, clearly taking note of his horrified reaction. Her lips set. “But I don’t recall being asked about my participation.”
“I thought you knew already.” Drake rubbed his brow, knowing he had failed to fulfill this duty well. “I believed you understood the import of the flames, as Cassandra had done.”
“I am not Cassandra,” she snapped and he knew he had said the wrong thing again.
Drake dared to appeal to her. “I confess, Veronica, that our firestorm overwhelmed me with its power. I could not have dreamed for such good fortune, especially as it was with you.”
She smiled a little and he dared to reach for her hand. “It was pretty awesome.”
“Indeed.” Drake held her hand and her gaze and hoped for the best.
“Wait a minute. Did this happen with Cassandra? Did you have a firestorm with her? Was Theo another of your kind?”
Drake bowed his head. “Cassandra knew of my kind. She understood the import of the firestorm’s spark when she welcomed me. And yes, she bore my son, and yes, Theo was of my kind.” He was impatient with these details of the ancient past. He was more concerned with the future, and with the son Veronica would bear. “What is of import is that they are lost to me forever.” He could see that Veronica wanted to trust him, but that she also had doubts. This was the price of his failing to tell her of the firestorm in advance of satisfying it.
Drake couldn’t imagine how they could have resisted its power long enough for such a conversation.
“I will tell you all,” he vowed again. “Let us talk first of our son.”
“Our son.” Veronica looked around the bathroom as if not really seeing it and exhaled. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered as she marched into the bedroom. “A son. Now! After one night together.” She was tugging on jeans and a sweatshirt when Drake followed her, that towel still slung around his hips. “I can’t believe this. I won’t believe this.” She shoved her feet into soft boots, then spun to confront him. There was a light of challenge in her eyes and an enticing flush to her cheeks. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning. If you’re really like those guys in the videos, then prove it. Change into a dragon, right here and right now.”
Drake considered the dimensions of the hallway and reasoned that there just might be space. He regarded Veronica warily. “There is a suggestion that humans may become insane if they witness the change.”
Veronica folded her arms across her chest and scoffed, her spirit encouraging Drake. “Insanity might be an improvement over the last five minutes.”
Drake debated the merit of doing what she asked, then there was no choice. There was a sliding glass door in the bedroom behind Veronica, with a small balcony beyond it. He saw a ruby and brass dragon on the other side of the glass. That dragon swung his tail and the glass panel of the door vibrated before it broke. Veronica spun and screamed as the Slayer erupted into her bedroom.
She, of course, only knew that the intruder was a dragon, but Drake could smell the toxicity of his black blood.
Drake shifted shape in a heartbeat and thrust Veronica behind him as he leaped forward to fight. He heard another intruder on floor below and knew it had been a mistake to command the Dragon Legion to leave him alone for his firestorm.
He hoped it would not be a fatal one.
* * *
It all happened so fast.
One minute, Ronnie was arguing with Drake, who seemed unmoved by her protests. His story made a treacherous kind of sense, but also seemed too far-fetched. It had taken her and Mark six months to get pregnant, and the doctor had said that was perfectly normal. He had, though, said that a second conception might happen more quickly. They’d used protection every time after that.
Demanding proof from Drake seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.
Ronnie wasn’t expecting the proof she got.
There was a crash and she’d spun to find a red and gold dragon raging into her bedroom. He was breathing fire and tall enough that his wings brushed the cathedral ceiling. Ronnie might have doubted her eyes, but her bed
erupted into flames and the dragon laughed.
Another dragon seized her from behind and pushed her into the corner. He was all shades of grey and black, like dark pearls, his scales far less elaborate and colorful than those of the intruder. For a moment, he shimmered pale blue around his perimeter, just the way the one guy in the video had shimmered before he became a dragon.
There was no sign of Drake.
Ronnie understood that this dragon was Drake, both by the level glance he granted her and the way he moved with the same deliberation Drake showed. He was protective of her, putting her out of the path of the intruder’s breath of flame.
What had Drake said? That he would not leave her undefended? Maybe that wasn’t such a small thing.
Ronnie willed her heart to slow its wild pace and backed herself into the wall. She was both afraid to watch and unwilling to close her eyes, lest she miss anything. She’d wanted proof and here it was in living Technicolor.
It defied belief, but it was real.
The two dragons roared at each other. There was a rumble like thunder, then they locked claws and breathed fire simultaneously.
The drapes caught fire, then the carpet. The red dragon swung his tail and broke the mirror on the far wall. The grey dragon bellowed and slashed at the intruder, ripping into his chest with sharp talons. The red dragon screamed as black blood flowed from the wound. It burned a hole in the floor, as if it were acid. The dragons battled each other, tossing each other into the walls and making the whole townhouse shake, even as the bedroom filled with flames and smoke. Ronnie coughed and backed toward the door.
A man with a cold smile stood there, blocking her exit. His eyes were very pale and his manner was menacing. Ronnie gasped and the dragon that she thought was Drake spun at the minute sound. He roared then spun back to destroy the first assailant in a flurry of blows. He burned that dragon and tore off his arm, moving so fast that his motions blurred. Then he cast the red dragon’s body out the broken window and lunged at the second intruder.
That man shimmered blue and became another red and gold dragon before Ronnie’s eyes, one that could have been the twin of the first. Drake snatched up Ronnie and held her against his chest, even as he fought this second dragon. He was both gentle and strong, protective as she knew Drake to be. She was surprised to realize that she was glad he was a dragon shape shifter.