Whisper Kiss

  "I avoid red meat," Niall said. "Organically raised chicken or farmed fish are easier on the planet when I need that kind of protein. Matching amino acids and eating vegan is better."

  Rox's eyes narrowed. "Be serious."

  "I am. No leather. Minimal plastic. Nothing from sweatshops or countries where people are taken advantage of. Vintage over new. Reduce, reuse, and recycle. We dragon dudes are in the business of taking care of the planet." Niall looked into her astonished gaze, saw her approval, then filled the two bowls. He fought the urge to whistle.

  Everything was coming together perfectly.

  "It's true," Thorolf complained, and Niall could have hugged the big dope. "Niall eats exactly like you. It's like you two are meant for each other. No matter which one of you I live with, I have to eat like a rabbit."

  "Rabbits don't eat organic yogurt," Niall observed, pleased that Rox fought a smile.

  "There's an advertisement for getting your own place, maybe a reliable job," Rox countered.

  "It's depressing," Thorolf continued, ignoring her. "Give me a big old four-egg omelet, with ham and cheese, instead. Or get three orders of steak and eggs, and I'll eat yours."

  "Always helpful," Niall said under his breath.

  "Always a bottomless pit," Rox agreed with a wary smile.

  "Always a lean, mean, fighting machine," Thorolf corrected.

  Rox made more tea while Niall popped a couple of slices of multigrain bread into the toaster. He remarked on her unpasteurized buckwheat honey and asked where she'd gotten it. They had started to compare farmers' markets and organic grocery stores, and she was just warming up again when Thorolf yawned like a lion.

  "All right, all right, it's like fucking kismet," he said. "Now, what's really to eat?"

  Niall heard Sloane's arrival, heard Rafferty greeting the Apothecary, heard Sloane admiring Rox's work.

  Rox took a step back, her wariness restored, just as Rafferty and Sloane appeared in the doorway. He made introductions smoothly, and Sloane expressed gratitude for the cup of tea Rox poured for him.

  "I'll go out to get coffee and bacon, if necessary," Rafferty said, amusement in his tone. As usual, the older Pyr smoothed over the moment.

  "And white bread, please," Thorolf said. "This multigrain stuff is like a loaf of bird seed. One day I've been gone and I see it's reverted to nature central around here."

  "Nothing changed," Rox said. "It's not as if you ever bought any groceries. You just complained about the ones I bought."

  "Sure I bought groceries!"

  To Niall's amusement, Rox turned on Thorolf, determined to set him straight. "Bringing home a two-pound steak from the store, grilling it, and devouring it in five minutes or less does not constitute buying groceries or cooking."

  Niall laughed, but Thorolf looked insulted. "Why not? I go to the store, buy food, cook it, and eat it."

  "Why don't I go for groceries?" Rafferty suggested.

  "Bonus!" Thorolf said, nodding approval. "Bring something wicked bad for us. Donuts, maybe. Iced ones."

  "That stuff will kill you," Rox began hotly, but Thorolf straightened up and tapped his chest with pride.

  "Eight hundred years and counting, getting better every day," he said.

  "That is a matter of perspective," Rox countered.

  Thorolf laughed. Sloane shook his head. Rafferty and Niall exchanged a smile; then the older Pyr left.

  "I think he might not have been the best candidate to make deliveries for the organic store," Niall noted.

  Rox grimaced. "I thought they might teach him something."

  "You didn't. That proves he's immune to good lessons." Niall ate a spoonful of granola and yogurt.

  "Except from you," Rox ceded.

  "So maybe there's hope, after all." Niall smiled at her and saw her eyes widen. "I still say you softened him up."

  She smiled back and Niall dared to be encouraged. He winked and she flushed crimson. The firestorm was right, contrary to his initial perceptions.

  This could work out beautifully.

  It would have been easier to hold tough if Niall hadn't been bitably sexy, half naked in her kitchen, and interesting, too.

  Who would have guessed they ate the same way, and tried to live the same way? Who would have guessed he worried about his ecological footprint, too?

  Still, Rox tried to ignore both him and his effect on her equilibrium. Sex was all good, but this was about bigger stakes. She had to play it right.

  Even if her punker look didn't seem to bother Niall.

  In contrast, having Niall standing barefoot in her kitchen, wearing only his jeans--which fit very well, thank you--and advocating a locally sourced vegan diet had completely messed with her own convictions.

  Never mind that he spoke to her as if she had a brain and he respected her opinion. Never mind that he listened. Never mind that he looked good enough to eat.

  Rox had to get a grip.

  The new Pyr arrival, Sloane, was dark haired, tall, and slim, clearly a thoughtful type. He wore jeans and Blundstone boots, a red T-shirt, and a faded chambray shirt over top.

  Sloane's handshake had been firm, and Rox had already decided he must be the strong silent type. He looked a bit tired, actually.

  He smiled at Rox and saluted her with the tea she'd poured for him. "Long flight. This is perfect."

  Niall ate his granola and yogurt in silence, then moved to put the bowl in the sink.

  His chest was tanned a rich gold and Rox could tell he spent a lot of time working out. He was exactly as muscled as she'd expect a dragon dude to be, and Rox caught herself ogling.

  She thought Sloane caught her, as well, because she saw his quick smile.

  The firestorm, with its constant flickering heat, didn't help, either. Rox wished her life had been different, that she could have been the kind of person to not think so much about these kinds of decisions. She wished she could just go with the flow. Rox could do that with the little stuff, but not with something like this.

  The big one.

  She needed to stop thinking about sex--sex with Niall, Niall's fabulous kisses, and the heat of the firestorm.

  "So, did you guys sleep well last night?" she asked, needing the distraction of conversation.

  "We hardly got any zzz's after we breathed enough smoke to make His Highness happy," Thorolf complained, jerking a thumb toward Niall.

  "Excuse me?" Rox said. "I don't see any smoke."

  "You can't see dragonsmoke," Thorolf said. "Humans can't."

  "Some feel a chill when they pass through it," Sloane said.

  "Dragonsmoke is a boundary mark," Niall explained.

  Rafferty returned then, entering the kitchen with a bag of groceries. Rox started because she hadn't heard the older Pyr come into the apartment. The Pyr weren't surprised, though, courtesy of their sharper senses.

  "I assumed you wouldn't have a coffeepot," he said, setting down two large cups of take-out coffee. "And Sloane always prefers tea." The new arrival nodded in agreement and topped off his mug. Thorolf took the lid off one coffee cup and poured nearly half a cup of sugar into it before taking an appreciative swig. Rafferty shook his head, then began to unpack his purchases as Thorolf watched with interest.

  Niall continued. "We exhale dragonsmoke and weave it around a specific area to mark its perimeter. Another Pyr or Slayer cannot cross the dragonsmoke without the permission of the one who breathed it." He grimaced. "At least that's how it used to work."

  "Before the Elixir," Sloane said.

  Thorolf hooted with joy when he saw the box of donuts Rafferty had bought. The Pyr smiled and Rox rolled her eyes.

  "But what's the difference between Pyr and Slayer?"

  Niall turned, as attentive as always to her questions. Rox liked that he didn't ignore her, or dismiss the notion that she could help. "We're all born Pyr. Only the Pyr have firestorms, so only the Pyr have the chance to conceive a son."

  There was that word again. Rox refused
to get seduced by interesting dragon lore. She finished her yogurt as quickly as she could.

  Niall turned to Sloane. "That's what I wanted to ask you. I need to know if Phelan can be healed, rather than destroyed."

  Sloane grimaced. "That he turned Slayer in his lifetime makes it a serious long shot."

  Niall was resolute. "Even given what happened to Delaney?"

  "Delaney hadn't turned Slayer," Sloane noted.

  "But he was cured," Niall insisted.

  "How?" Rox asked, unable to help herself.

  "It was because of the firestorm he was having with Ginger." Niall eyed Sloane. "Can my firestorm heal Phelan?"

  Rafferty clicked his teeth. "So risky."

  "He's changed, too, regressed back to how he was when he was alive. He's not a mindless shadow dragon anymore."

  Sloane frowned. "That's weird. I wonder what happened to him."

  "Maybe he just needed another chance." Niall turned and smiled at Rox so quickly that she couldn't evade his gaze. "Some people need a hundred second chances, right?"

  That Niall was giving his twin another chance was a noble choice. It was possibly foolish, but his choice made Rox's heart squeeze so tightly that she could hardly breathe. It put Niall at risk of a surprise attack, but he was determined to do the right thing despite the potential cost.

  That was a perspective that Rox could understand.

  And it was one she respected.

  He stood in her kitchen, looking grim and golden and determined, and Rox couldn't decide if he was more appealing in dragon or human form. As much as she'd loved the amethyst and silver splendor of him coiled across her bedroom floor, there was a lot to be said for his human form. He looked like a surfer dude, just in from the beach, his hair tousled and his eyes vividly blue.

  But he looked a lot more resolute than surfers usually did.

  Oh, she was in serious trouble.

  "I don't think so," Sloane said. "I think you're going to have to do the deed."

  "I need to be sure," Niall insisted. "Especially since he asked for my help. Especially now that he seems more like his old self."

  "Sneaky," Sloane murmured.

  "Animated," Niall corrected.

  "Maybe it's the firestorm," Rafferty suggested.

  Niall turned an intent look on Rox and she knew she had to do something before she surrendered to temptation.

  It was time for some fire walls.

  She straightened up from the counter. "Hey, look at the time. I promised Neo I'd open today and I have sketches to do." Thorolf left the kitchen while Rafferty and Sloane quietly conferred.

  "I'll be coming with you," Niall said, stepping away from the counter.

  "You'll only be in the way," Rox argued, knowing she'd lose.

  Neo would probably salivate a puddle onto the floor of the shop.

  "You're not going alone, not with Phelan out there and all the shadow dragons attracted to the firestorm," Niall said, and his uncompromising tone made it clear that there was no room for argument. "I'll be in conspicuous."

  "I don't think so," Rox argued.

  "I do," Niall countered.

  Thorolf returned with a lime green T-shirt. "This will make it easier," he said.

  "Hardly." Niall rolled his eyes at the skull logo on the front.

  "Well, you can't go without a shirt," Thorolf said with a wink at Rox. "Some tattoo artist will get ideas about the blank canvas."

  And how. Rox didn't even want to start thinking about applying a stencil to Niall's skin, about leaning close to him for hour after hour. . . .

  "Besides, it's kind of cute," Thorolf said with a grin. "The shirt matches Rox's hair, like you're a couple."

  Niall gave Rox a mischievous glance, then ducked into the bathroom before she could protest. He was back so quickly that Rox had no time to evade him. He'd tugged the shirt on, then grabbed his laptop bag. He leveled a very blue glance in Rox's direction. "Whenever you're ready."

  Inconspicuous.

  Rox had never heard anything so ridiculous in her life. Niall might be many things, but "inconspicuous" would never make the list. It had nothing to do with the way he dressed--even though he obviously tended to be conservative in his taste--but it was the way he moved.

  Niall was decisive. Confident. Controlled. Powerful. He wasn't as tall as some men, but he was muscular--not only was his body a balanced machine, but he knew its abilities with a precision beyond that of most people.

  Inconspicuous. Hah. Walking beside Niall under her huge black umbrella proved to her that it wasn't as big as she'd previously thought. Her shoulder brushed his arm, lighting a continuous sizzle of tiny sparks, sparks that sent a frisson of excitement through her body.

  Rox was aware not only of her own response to Niall but that of other people. There weren't that many out on the streets, given the driving rain, but more than one woman came to a window to watch them pass. Rox saw her own admiration echoed in more than one expression.

  She realized that Niall could never blend in, no matter how conservatively he dressed, that human gazes would always be drawn to his confident stride. People, she thought, instinctively understood that there was something special about him.

  If Rox had seen him on the street, she would have assumed he was a commando. In a way, he was. She understood that he worked out because his strength, and his responsiveness, could make the difference between life and death in a fight with a shadow dragon or Slayer. She respected that he took his body and his abilities seriously, and that he tried to be the best he could be.

  But inconspicuous? The very idea made her laugh.

  When Rox and Niall got to the shop, there was a lump in front of the door. Only when she stepped closer did Rox realize it was a person.

  Not just any person. It was the kid she'd given her card to the night before. He was soaked to the skin and shivering when Rox nudged him awake. He kept his face turned away, as if ashamed that he had to ask for help.

  Rox was really glad to see him, but she understood that showing as much would probably spook him into disappearing again.

  "Hey!" Rox said. "Crappy place to sleep." She reached over him and unlocked the door.

  "Hey," the kid said, getting to his feet. There was uncertainty in every line of his body, a lack of confidence that became only more pronounced when he glanced sidelong at Niall. "Guess I got here past closing time." He shuffled his feet.

  "And?" Rox prompted.

  The kid pulled her card from his pocket, waved it at her, and stuffed it away again. All without looking straight at her. "Your offer still stand?"

  "You bet. But you have to work, stay out of trouble, and stay clean."

  "No worries," the kid assured her. He ducked his head so his hair hung in his eyes, his wariness noticeable. Rox had time to wonder what had changed his mind when Niall moved quickly to touch the kid's chin.

  He had a shiner rising on the eye he'd tried to hide from her.

  He blushed and Niall lifted his hand away.

  The kid exhaled then, and looked straight at Rox. "Sometimes something happens to change your mind."

  Rox was sorry he'd been hurt, but a black eye wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to him on the street. "I hear you. Come on in and get warm."

  His smile was fleeting but honest. "Thanks. I won't let you down, you know."

  "I know," Rox said with breezy confidence. "You got a name?"

  "Barry."

  She turned in the open doorway and shook his hand. "Hi, Barry. Welcome to Imagination Ink. There's a shower in the employee restroom at the back, and I'll see if I can find you some clean clothes while you're in there."

  "Thanks!"

  A hundred second chances. Niall thought of Rox's philosophy as she directed Barry to the shower and found him some jeans and a T-shirt. He had a feeling Barry would willingly lay down his life for Rox.

  There was very little risk in helping him. Niall saw that now. Barry was just a scared kid. And part of why
he trusted Rox was that Rox understood what Barry was facing.

  Maybe she even guessed why.

  He wondered again at her own history.

  Niall had never been in a tattoo shop, and he hadn't known what to expect. If pressed, he would have said it would be a dirty little hovel, the walls covered with Gothic text and satanic symbols, the logos of motorcycle manufacturers and Americana. Convicts had tattoos, as did sailors and hobos. Tattoos were not ladylike and they were not beautiful.

  Except for the one Rox had done for Thorolf. That dragon was something else.

  Imagination Ink surprised him even more than Thorolf's tattoo.

  "It looks like a hair salon," he said, staring as Rox returned to the reception area.

  "Maybe a Goth one," Rox agreed with a smile.

  Niall was having a good look around. The decor was intended to look best at night, but it wasn't grubby at all. In fact, it had a kind of elegance to it, given the plaster work on the ceiling and the candelabra mounted on the gold walls. Niall liked the black and white checkerboard floor--it was just like the stone-tiled foyer of his father's London town house.

  That building was probably long gone--or converted to condos. Niall had sold it when his father died, without ever going back for another look. He hadn't thought about it since and realized the transaction had been more than a hundred years ago.

  There was a reception area with several chairs and a pile of tattoo magazines, presumably to give customers ideas. There was a cash desk with a wall of images behind it. Niall was surprised by the diversity and quality of much of the artwork. The stock images he'd expected were there, the anchors and hearts and astrological signs, but there was other work of much better caliber.

  "Those are called flash," Rox said. "They're stock designs. Customers can pick a design and have it colored in however they like."

  "I don't see anything like the tattoo you gave Thorolf."

  Rox laughed. "That was a custom piece. A one-off. I just drew it on his skin with a marker and made it up as I went along."

  "It's a beautiful piece of work," Niall said, and he wasn't joking. He was impressed to think she had just drawn it freehand. He smiled and felt the room become warmer as Rox stared at him. "A good reminder for him, too."