Ronnie stepped forward at Melissa’s direction and entrusted her infant son to Eileen, who cuddled him close.
“I’m Melissa Smith,” Melissa said to the camera. “And we have the honor tonight of witnessing and recording a ceremony of the Pyr dragon shifters. I’ve been invited to a gathering of the Pyr, where they intend to heal the scales of one of their fellows. With me are a number of women who have pledged themselves to these men, although their identities have been disguised to protect their privacy.” She gestured to Ronnie. “This woman will see her partner’s armor repaired in this forest tonight. Welcome.”
Ronnie stepped forward and lifted her chin. “Thanks for coming, Melissa.”
“Why did you suggest the filming of this ritual?”
“I love a man who is Pyr. I am awed by his honor and his sense of duty and his loyalty to those he perceives to be beneath his care. He is a warrior and a valiant one, and I want the world to see his merit.”
“Maybe you can tell our audience what we’re going to see tonight.”
Ronnie nodded. “This will be a ceremony to repair or replace a missing scale. When a Pyr meets his destined mate—that is, the only woman who can bear his child—he and she experience what is called a firestorm. Heat flares between them and sparks fly, a sign of the promise of their union. It is a magical and powerful sensation, and one that fades once the Pyr’s son has been conceived.”
“So, you’ve had a firestorm.”
“I have. I knew him before and admired him before I knew the truth of his nature.”
“And the scale?”
Ronnie smiled. “The Pyr are fiercely protective of their families, their partners and their children, and to see them fight is impressive. But when a Pyr loves another person, as he often comes to love his mate, there’s a physical manifestation of his vulnerability.”
“Meaning?”
“He loses a scale from his coat of armor, usually in a location where a blow on that unprotected skin can kill him. Love makes him both stronger and more vulnerable.”
“But surely the scales grow back?”
Ronnie shook her head. “Not one lost for love. It has to be repaired, and it can only be repaired with a gift made out of love by the Pyr’s mate. In a way, this ceremony is the Pyr equivalent of the exchange of wedding vows.” She showed the string of pearls coiled on her palm. “The Pyr have a bond to the natural world—”
“As defenders of the four elements,” Melissa interjected.
Ronnie nodded. “So, the best gift is one that not only comes from the natural world, but also reflects the affinities in their partnership.”
“Affinities?” Melissa asked, prompting Ronnie even though she obviously already knew the answer. “What does that mean?”
“Each Pyr has an affinity or a connection to two of the four elements. This affinity colors his nature and even his personality. It’s the mark of the firestorm for a Pyr to be mated with a woman who has affinities to the other two elements. That means that their union brings all four elements together in harmony.”
“Making their partnership greater than the sum of the parts.”
Ronnie nodded, then smiled. “My Pyr is governed by earth and fire. He’s passionate, loyal, steadfast and practical. I am governed by air and water. I’m empathic and little more emotionally sensitive. I also have an affinity for ideas and dreams, which explains my bond to these pearls. Pearls are from the sea, which echoes the water of my affinities, but these were left to me by my grandmother. She inspired me and because of that, they’re the most precious thing I own.”
“And you’re offering them to your Pyr, to see him healed.”
“I am.”
“Will they fill the space left by the lost scale?”
“No. Unfortunately, the scale was lost, so it has to be replicated.” Ronnie picked up the cold piece of steel from the forge. “The Smith of the Pyr has made a new scale for my Pyr, and you can see that he’s already shaped it to hold the pearls in place. The combination of elements has to be done during the ceremony.”
“And we’re here to witness that. Thank you so much for sharing both your knowledge and this moment, which must be a very special one for you.”
“Thank you for giving me the chance to show the world how wonderful the Pyr are.”
“We’ll be silent observers now,” Melissa informed one camera. “If you hear a deep rumble, like thunder, it’s just the Pyr talking to each other in old-speak. There will be no rain tonight. Let’s watch.”
Ronnie took a deep breath, looking skyward as the first of the Pyr came over the tops of the trees. It was Rafferty, his opal and gold scales gleaming in the night as he gracefully descended to the clearing. He landed beside Melissa, fixed the camera with a steady glance, then folded his wings with an elegance that made Ronnie smile.
Sloane was next, his scales shining tourmaline and gold. Ronnie was awed by the way his scales shaded from green to purple and back again over the length of his body. He landed beside the forge, then looked up in anticipation.
Quinn landed next, his build even in dragon form more muscular from his time at the forge. He was sapphire and steel, his scales blindingly bright and the way he placed a talon on the forge revealed that it was his. He breathed fire and lit the forge, his eyes gleaming as he coaxed the fire to burn hot for his repair. One cameraman focused on him exclusively, filming the way that Quinn heated the scale in the forge, using his talons as tools.
Erik appeared next, Thorolf right beside him. Erik was ebony and pewter and still not fully recovered from Boris’s assault, although he insisted otherwise. Thorolf glittered like a gem in the night, all diamond and platinum, like a dragon made of moonlight. The Pyr formed a circle around Ronnie, then all tipped their heads back to watch the sky. She heard the thunder of their old-speak and smiled when Quinn’s son, Garrett, tried to respond in kind.
Drake and Theo were the last to join the group, Drake’s scales so dark against the night sky that it was easier to see his location by noting where the stars were blocked. Theo was carnelian and gold, like a shard of sunlight. He landed first, completing the circle of Pyr, and Ronnie was sure she felt a crackle of energy slip around the ring of dragons.
Then there was only Drake for Ronnie. She stood and awaited him, knowing the moment his gaze locked upon her. She watched how widely his wings spread, how he flew with elegant economy, and her heart thundered in welcome. He descended in complete silence, like the covert warrior he was, then landed beside her with easy grace. He swept his tail around them both, the gesture filled with the protectiveness and power that she associated with him.
He bent to touch his brow to hers and she was sure he was smiling at her. He inhaled deeply and she wondered if he was feeling their hearts beat as one, the way he’d told her they did. His eyes were dark but seemed to be filled with stars, and the way he offered his talon to her made her ferociously proud to be his mate.
Quinn blew into the forge and the fire burned hot. The flames leapt high, shooting white sparks into the night sky. The scale he’d made for Drake was heating steadily, now as bright as a strangely shaped coal of glowing yellow. He blew on the flames again, his eyes glinting with the intensity of his attention, and the scale turned white hot. He flicked a glance at Ronnie, and she understood. She stepped closer to the fire and offered the pearls.
Again she was struck by the gentleness these dragons could show. Quinn lifted the string of pearls from her hand with a kind of reverence. He heated the scale again, breathing directly on it this time, and the flames of his dragonfire licked its surface. It was lost to view for a moment in the torrent of fire, then Ronnie saw Quinn drop the pearls into the flame. He smiled a little, his satisfaction clear even in his dragon form, then blew fire on the scale again.
When he lifted it, the scale was brilliant silver, the pearls gleaming upon its surface. Quinn stepped forward and pressed the hot scale into the gap in Drake’s armor. Ronnie felt his heart jump at the pain. He
tipped his head back and roared a plume of flame that shot into the night sky like a geyser.
“Fire,” the Pyr said in unison, their voices a low rumble in which no individual voice could be clearly discerned.
“Air,” Ronnie said, knowing her part. She pursed her lips and blew on the repaired scale with all her might.
“Earth,” the Pyr said in unison again, referring to the steel used to make the scale.
“Water,” Ronnie whispered, tracing the circle of pearls that now glowed on Drake’s chest. He ducked his head to look at her, and she saw the tear he had shed in his pain. She lifted it from his jowl and placed it on the cooling scale. Even though the repaired scale was already silver, the tear sizzled on impact.
Drake considered Ronnie and she placed her hands flat over the pounding of his heart. “Let’s celebrate,” she whispered and he laughed aloud. He swept her up then and lunged into the sky, taking flight with a bound, then circling once over the group of Pyr in the clearing. He breathed a stream of dragonfire that could only be interpreted as joyous, then flew high into the night with Ronnie clasped against his chest. She heard Timmy shout in approval, his cry taken up by the other boys, and smiled.
It didn’t get any better than this.
Although, actually, it could. She reached up to whisper to Drake, though she knew he’d hear her no matter how quietly she spoke. “I thought dragons celebrated by enjoying the pleasures of the physical realm,” she said and Drake smiled down at her.
“I seldom drink,” he murmured. “And I am not hungry.”
“Good,” Ronnie said. “Because I had a different kind of celebration in mind.”
He laughed and she realized she hadn’t heard him laugh before. She would make her Pyr laugh often, Ronnie decided in that moment.
And she might just give him another son.
* * *
Sam was back in Atlanta, rolling out the clinical tests for the new antiviral. The nurse who had tended Ronnie had been the first to get it, and the first success story. The results were excellent and between managing the manufacture of the antidote, overseeing its distribution and speaking to the media, she’d been working long hours. She was back at her hotel for some much-overdue rest, wishing she wasn’t doing it alone. It was the kind of night that she would have liked to have shared with someone.
It was a triumph she wanted to share with Sloane. The antidote was more than half his doing, after all, and wouldn’t have been possible without the aid of the Pyr. That wasn’t the only reason she wanted to celebrate with him, though. She wasn’t feeling nearly so greedy about having him to herself forever either. Right now, just one night would work.
This night.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Sam sighed and took out the scale that Ronnie had given to her. She kept it hidden inside her emptied suitcase, sealed into the secret pocket in the interior, and invariably pulled it out in the evening. Just looking at the scale reminded her of the splendor of Sloane in his dragon form and made her mouth go dry in recollection of the way he’d raced to her rescue.
No obstacle could have stopped him. The scale reminded Sam that she didn’t understand everything in the world, that there were truths hidden from human perception and mysteries that remained unsolved. She thought of the Slayer in the fridge and hoped he hadn’t healed enough to injure Sloane.
She’d done a little research, trying to learn more about the Slayers hatched at Easter Island or Uluru. In the human world, details were few. Sloane had told her more than most people knew. She’d dug into the research that existed on cloning, but didn’t know enough about Pyr physiology to make any suggestions that might have been of help to Sloane. She guessed that the Elixir was one of the reasons that duplicating Slayers had been possible.
How many more of them would there be? It was impossible to say. Anyone with any sense would have done a test hatching, or two, before unleashing a major force. Would there be hundreds of Slayers hatched on the next eclipse? Sam didn’t even want to think about that.
What more could she do to improve the chances of her favorite Pyr surviving the Dragon’s Tail Wars? That final eclipse and the turning of the moon’s node was too close for Sam’s taste, only months away.
But she couldn’t think of a thing to do to help.
Sam rubbed her brow in exhaustion and put the scale back in its hiding spot. She turned on the television, only to find Melissa Smith broadcasting another special about the Pyr.
In California.
Sam couldn’t turn away from the screen. She perched on the end of the bed, her exhaustion forgotten, and watched the Pyr heal Drake’s scale. It was magical and awe-inspiring and made her believe that everything was possible. The night setting in the forest was perfect. She knew exactly where this was being filmed, behind Sloane’s house, and could practically smell the fields of his herbs.
She tried to identify the various Pyr in attendance. The one with the missing scale had to be Drake, and she recognized Ronnie. The Smith who was doing the repair? Sam bit her lip. That had to be the guy with the artisan blacksmith business. Quinn. Here Be Dragons, indeed. There was something about the diamond and silver one, maybe his sheer size, which made her think of the blond guy with the dragon tattoos.
Once she spotted Sloane—tourmaline and gold, shading from green to purple and back again over his length—she wanted the camera to focus on him exclusively. Of course, it didn’t, but she greedily watched for glimpses of him. The show ended all too soon, the camera showing the starlit night sky as Melissa made her concluding remarks about the Pyr and their legacy for humankind.
Sam was left hungry for something she couldn’t have. She’d been talking to Jac regularly, which was wonderful, although her sister’s happy romantic relationship made Sam more aware of her solitude. She was happy for Jac, though, and couldn’t wait to meet this Marco.
She showered and ordered some room service, picking at her meal before she put the tray back outside the door. It was funny that she felt so exhausted, yet was tingling with desire and anticipation. She turned out the lights and went to the window, thinking how the same stars that shone over California were shining here. The broadcast had been live, and she wondered what Sloane was doing now. His house was probably full of Pyr in celebratory moods, eating, drinking, and laughing. In a way, she envied him the camaraderie of his kind. He might be lonely waiting for his firestorm, but he’d never be as alone as she was.
She stood at the window and watched the stars slowly move, not wanting to go to bed. The lights of the city gradually went out, buildings fading into darkness and shadows growing deeper. That only made the stars look brighter and closer.
Sam felt as if she were waiting for something, but she didn’t know what it was.
It was almost dawn when she found out. She saw the silhouette of a dragon as he flew past the moon. The moon was in its last quarter and brilliant white in the clear sky. She thought for a second she’d imagined the sight, but then she spied the dragon’s silhouette against the night sky.
Her heart leapt to her throat with a conviction of who the dragon was.
He flew directly toward the hotel, coming steadily closer, and Sam watched him as anticipation grew within her. He was powerful and graceful, and she craned her neck as he flew directly over the hotel. The windows didn’t open, of course, and she was annoyed that she could only see in the one direction. She wondered whether she’d be able to see him from the roof of the building, if there was an exit she could use without setting off an alarm, if her room key would allow her to re-enter the building. She’d taken three steps toward the door, determined to find out, when someone knocked on it.
Sam froze. She swallowed.
Then she ran to the door and hauled it open.
Sloane stood there, smiling at her, a question in his eyes that melted her knees. That he could even doubt she wanted to see him made her want to kiss him senseless.
“How did you find me? I never gave you an address.”
>
He touched the side of his nose and she remembered what she’d been told about the keen senses of the Pyr.
“I saw the show.”
His smile widened. “Was it good?”
Sam nodded, feeling suddenly awkward. “I thought you’d have a houseful of guests after that.”
Sloane shook his head, a little bit rueful. “I do. There won’t be a crumb left in the place by the morning and probably a few sons born in nine months or so.”
“Why?”
“Because we celebrate by savoring earthly pleasures,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. He lowered his voice to a whisper and lifted one hand to brush his warm fingertips gently across her mouth. “That’s why I wanted to be with you.”
There was nothing to say then, nothing to do but draw Sloane into her room, lock the door, and surrender to his touch.
* * *
Sloane had sought out Sam on impulse, following his heart, and he was glad of it. They awakened together in the morning, their legs entangled and the sunlight streaming through the window. Sam nestled close to him, then kissed his shoulder. “I wish I didn’t have to go to work.”
“I have to head back anyway,” Sloane admitted, then bent to kiss her. He was never going to get enough of this woman and couldn’t imagine how even a firestorm could compete with this.
“Dragons to slay?” Sam teased and Sloane chuckled.
“Something like that.”
“I was thinking about the Slayer in the fridge.”
“I try not to think about him.”
Sam twisted to look at him. “What happened when you put the Dracontias into his blood? Did it purify his blood of the Elixir.”
Sloane frowned. “Theoretically, it wouldn’t make him Pyr again, because that’s a choice. The Elixir, though, does cause a physiological change.” Sloane realized that Sam was watching him closely.
“Theoretically?” she echoed, her disappointment clear.