Whisper Kiss

  Or more accurately, something he needed to say, something that might make a difference to her perspective.

  This was his chance.

  Chapter 11

  "Laurie looks taller," Niall said as Rox cleaned up her work area. "Happier."

  He leaned in the doorway, his eyes bright as he watched her. Rox had the definite sense that he was barricading her into the room, that he wanted to say something and was going to be sure she listened.

  She was tired, as she always was after doing a memorial tattoo, and was pretty sure Niall had noticed. She turned her back on him, trying to compose herself before he saw too much.

  She dropped the used needles into a hygienic trash container, fighting her awareness of Niall. "It's a kind of therapy," she said lightly. "Chynna always says the physical pain helps heal the emotional pain."

  "You don't sound as if you believe that."

  Rox frowned but still didn't glance up. "There's an exchange, but I don't think that's quite it."

  "The transaction is the passing of grief," Niall said, no equivocation in his tone. "In talking about her pain, she left its energy here. The tattoo is a souvenir of that surrender, but not the exchange itself."

  Rox glanced up at him in surprise. She'd suspected as much for a long time but would never have expected anyone to come up with the same conclusion.

  Much less someone practical like Niall.

  "I'll bet you feel tired after you do a memorial tattoo," Niall said with conviction. "I'll bet it wears you out."

  Rox nodded, then sat down heavily. "I told Chynna and Neo years ago that one a shift is my max."

  "Because you took on the burden of her grief. She passed that negative energy to you." Niall shrugged. "It's not that different from bartenders listening, or priests hearing confessions. Putting the pain into words cuts it loose."

  "Hairdressers," Rox said with a nod. "They listen, too."

  "But a tattoo takes longer than any of those things. Maybe that's why it works so well."

  Niall smiled, the connection between them as hot and strong as ever. Rox felt dizzy just looking into his eyes, and he was on the other side of the room.

  The firestorm tingled and teased, reminding her just how fabulous Niall's kisses were. She found herself watching his lips as he spoke.

  Wanting.

  "Just because you can't see the transaction doesn't mean it isn't happening," Niall insisted. "We pass energy to one another all the time, good and bad, and how we feel is shaped by that. Talk to a friend who's sad, and you'll feel blue. Talk to a friend who's busy and happy, and you'll feel energized."

  He was right.

  His ability to see so clearly behind her barricades was a bit spooky.

  "Hey, Rox," Neo said, leaning around the door. A familiar figure lurked behind him, looking much cleaner than before. "I'm taking Barry to Mickey D's. Kid's going to faint wiping the floor if he doesn't get something to eat."

  "Okay, great."

  "It's dead quiet today," Neo continued, casting a mischievous smile at Niall. "Why don't you lock up when you're done and go play with your friends for a while?"

  Rox threw a towel at him. Neo laughed and ran, Barry fast behind him. When they were gone, Rox got to her feet and turned to put her inks away. Her thoughts were stuck on Niall's comment, and he seemed to be waiting for her reply. "That sounds pretty flaky for a practical problem-solving guy like you."

  "Not that flaky. I have an affinity with the element of air," Niall said.

  Rox turned to look at him, surprised one more time. "What does that mean?"

  His gaze was steady and vibrantly blue. Rox was aware that the shop was empty except for the two of them. "Because we guard the elements, some of us have affinities for a specific one. Actually, it's usually two elements."

  "Isn't fire a gimme?"

  He smiled. "Pretty much, although there are exceptions."

  Rox was fascinated, one more time. "So what does an affinity with air get you?"

  "The ability to speak to the wind, to ask it for news, or send messages on it. The power to summon the wind . . ."

  "Like calling up a storm?"

  "Something like that. There are variations. Erik's affinity with air manifests as foresight, because the element is associated with ideas and intellectual activity and energy."

  Rox understood then why he had understood the transaction so well. It was right up his elemental alley.

  Niall stepped closer and she felt the firestorm heat the room a notch. She put her paints away more quickly.

  "Rafferty says that a successful firestorm brings two halves together to make a whole that is more than the sum of the parts." Niall was close, his voice dropping to an intimate tone that turned Rox's knees to butter. "We each have an affinity to one element, but it's really for two because we're pretty much all empowered by fire. It's common for a mate to have an affinity for the other two elements, so that the union indicated by the firestorm is complete with all four."

  Rox saw her own fingers tremble just a little as she put the last jar of ink away. "Which would make me water and earth."

  Niall smiled, well aware that she was listening. "Empathy and pragmatism. I think the firestorm has it exactly right."

  Okay. It was time to set him straight.

  Or maybe herself.

  Rox turned to face Niall, defiance in her eyes. He was closer than she'd expected, which made her talk tougher. "I told you that I don't do long term," she said. "I don't do forever. I don't do permanence or lasting bonds or marriage or kids, and neither you nor the firestorm will change that."

  Niall folded his arms across his chest, unpersuaded. "Who are you trying to convince?"

  "You!"

  He arched a brow. "For how long was Thorolf your project again?"

  "Three years. Accident, not design."

  "Who ended it again?"

  Rox tightened her lips. "He did. Accident, not design."

  "How is giving someone a hundred second chances not long term?"

  "That's different. You're talking about something a lot bigger, a much longer commitment . . . ," Rox began, but Niall shook his head and strolled closer.

  "I don't think so. How long have you lived in that apartment? You look pretty well settled there."

  "It has rent control," she said through her teeth. "And a great location. I'd be insane to move. I'd get a closet for twice the price."

  "That's not the issue, Rox." Niall looked all too confident of his conclusions. "The lady protests too much."

  Rox wished he weren't so right. "The Pyr is seeing things from his own perspective."

  "Really?" Niall smiled. "What about tattoos? Aren't they permanent?"

  Rox smiled and turned her back on him again. Anything to ignore how close he was. "You're right. Only ink is forever."

  He halted right behind her. Rox was sure she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She could feel the firestorm's persistent tingle and smell the clean scent of his skin.

  She was sure she knew what he was going to do.

  But Niall surprised her. "I'm sorry that I misjudged you at first," he said softly, and Rox blinked in astonishment. "I'm sorry that I assumed I knew the kind of person you were because of the way you dress."

  Rox glanced over her shoulder, wary. "No harm done."

  Niall held her gaze. He was close, too close, impossible to ignore. "That's the point, isn't it? You dress punk and talk tough to keep people at a distance."

  "You don't know anything about me," Rox began to argue, but Niall didn't stop.

  "It's your barbed wire fence and you need it, because once you come in here, you take on the grief of your clients and all the boundary lines dissolve." He was confident even though Rox was shaken that he had seen through her so well. "Like dragonsmoke before Slayers. It doesn't work against serious opposition, when the stakes are high."

  "You sound even more flaky," Rox said, hoping to make him stop.

  "But I'm only jus
t getting to the heart of it," Niall said, his eyes brightening. "You have to have defenses to protect yourself, because you're a giving person, more giving than most. You give right here in this room. You give to any stranger who walks into this shop with a wound in need of healing. It's your nature to heal."

  Rox straightened. "So what if it is?"

  "What about the imbalance?"

  "What imbalance?"

  "What about you, Rox?" Niall's tone softened. "Who gives healing energy to you?"

  Rox spun away from him then. "I don't need to be healed."

  "Then tell me what taught you to build those protective walls in the first place."

  Rox caught her breath and eyed him, her heart in her throat. "I don't have to tell you anything about that."

  "No, you don't," Niall said quietly. "But think, Rox. What if the firestorm is your second chance?"

  Rox knew she should run. She knew she should hide. She knew she should do everything she could to escape this man who was so determined to turn her world upside down and make her forget everything she knew.

  He leaned closer. "It's not about babies, is it? It's not about permanence and it's not about commitment. Is it about trust, Rox?"

  Niall was just too perceptive. In a day, he was seeing her truth, working his way into her heart, burning her barricades, ensuring that she'd never forget him.

  And Rox was snared by his gaze. His eyes were so bright, his manner so intent, his concern almost tangible. He took the only step between them and caught her shoulders in his hands. Rox should have run, but she closed her eyes against the sweet heat of the firestorm, surrendering to its power.

  When Niall bent to capture her lips beneath his own, she just waited for his touch.

  Kissing Rox got better every time. Niall couldn't have believed it; he wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't experienced the truth. This kiss scorched him, touched him, stirred him; it made him burn for her. She was sweet and vulnerable and utterly exposed.

  And he wanted to defend her forever.

  Her kiss even took Niall to the cusp of change. She was always so responsive, and her passion made him feel each time as if they came closer to a perfect union. He felt his heartbeat match hers, felt his breathing resonate with hers. He swore he could feel her desire build, his own keeping perfect time. The tumult to shift grew within him, overwhelming him, and he had to step away to regain control.

  Niall broke the kiss with an effort and leaned on the absent tattoo artist's station with both hands, trying to control his response. He was well aware of Rox's gaze upon him. Even with distance, he was keenly aware of her, yet he could make some effort to think clearly.

  Rox leaned against her own station, visibly catching her breath. "Those are some kisses," she murmured, his own wonder echoed in her tone. She fanned herself and made a joke. "Dragons are dangerous for more reasons than I might have imagined."

  Niall could only nod. He risked a glance her way and his heart clenched. Her eyes were filled with starlight and her cheeks were flushed, her lips rosy and inviting. He wanted as he had never wanted before, even though he knew he shouldn't. And each time he touched Rox and each conversation they had only heightened his response. He wasn't fooled by her light response. She felt exactly the same way as he did.

  The firestorm had it right.

  But Rox had to surrender to the firestorm willingly. Niall was never going to force her, and he was never going to compromise her right to decide her own future.

  Even if his body demanded otherwise. He looked down at the floor, fighting the tide of desire, striving for control.

  "You're shimmering blue," she whispered. "I can't tell where you end and the shimmer begins."

  "It's the cusp of change," Niall admitted, clenching his hands. "Just give me a minute to get it under control."

  Rox tilted her head to watch him. "Why now?"

  "It must be because of the firestorm."

  "I thought it was a defensive posture."

  Niall nodded, breathing deeply as he fought the urge to change. The tide was growing within him, gaining ascendancy, driving his body to act against his will. He could smell Rox's skin, remember the feel of her under his fingertips, hear the accelerated pace of her heart. His keen Pyr senses betrayed him, providing him an array of detail that made it harder to do what he knew to be right. "It is a defensive posture. We fight in dragon form, or protect others."

  "Then why would the firestorm make you start to shift?"

  Niall looked up, his thinking clarified by her question. It wasn't Rox's kiss making him begin to shift; it was danger he had sensed.

  "Because I must sense a threat to you," he said, scanning the room.

  Rox started to ask, but Niall raised a hand. He sought the threat, the clue that had put him on the cusp of change. It had to be present, but it must be subtle. He narrowed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking the scent of the wind and the air of Rox's shop. The firestorm hummed in his veins, tempting him to indulge in pleasure, but his body hovered on the threshold of change.

  Niall concentrated. He smelled ink and the antiseptic Rox had used to clean Laurie's skin before applying the stencil. He smelled latex gloves and Rox's floral shower gel. He smelled the rain on the pavement outside the shop and the storm riding on the wind. He heard the discordant note of the earth's song, and had a heartbeat to be surprised that he could hear it so clearly.

  Then the floor rippled and bucked.

  Another earthquake.

  Targeting him one more time.

  No, it targeted the firestorm.

  He had to save Rox!

  Niall shifted shape in the same moment that he reached for Rox. It was his worst nightmare all over again. The building broke in half, ceiling plaster falling all around him as the rain began to slant through the cracked roof. Linoleum tiles flew in every direction as the foundation of the building cracked wide-open. Rox toppled on the edge of the crevasse in her stilettos, but Niall caught her close.

  Rox swore and hung on tightly. "Barry and Neo?"

  "Long gone," Niall said, checking for their scents. "They're fine." He felt her relief, noted his own surprise that she understood what she could expect of him, and was amazed.

  In the same instant, he made to leap into the air, but the earth rumbled with sudden vigor. The crack in the floor gaped wide, then abruptly snapped shut.

  His tail was caught in the floor.

  Niall tugged but couldn't pull free.

  The earth rumbled some more and the building fell around them. He pulled his tail again, thrashing, but it made no difference. The floor began to vibrate and he suspected the building would fall. They had to get away.

  But he couldn't move. In fact, it felt as if the foundation of the building pulled him deeper.

  "Rip free!"

  "I can't!" Niall spoke through gritted teeth. "It's holding me too tightly."

  Rox reached to tug at his tail, as futile as that effort was. Niall struggled, but he was trapped.

  The earth was sucking him down into its maw.

  He thought that fanciful, until he felt the rough edges of the floor scrape over his hide. He was being pulled deeper! He roared and fought, using all of his strength. He held Rox high above his head, knowing that she was the target of this attack.

  Just as she had been at his apartment.

  A Slayer was targeting his firestorm, choosing moments to attack his mate when he and Rox embraced and the flames burned brightest.

  The earth devoured another increment of his tail.

  Someone was commanding the earth to terminate his firestorm. The earth would stop only when it had destroyed Rox. What Slayers had an affinity for earth? Niall couldn't think of any, except Magnus.

  The earth chewed down on his tail, crushing him in its grip. Niall felt his bones grinding and his scales being crushed. The pain was tremendous.

  But it would be nothing compared to the loss of Rox. How could he ensure her safety, when he was trapped? If he sent
her running through the building, he had no doubt that another crack would open.

  Niall fought and bit; he roared and breathed dragonfire. Frustration filled him, followed quickly by fury. The earth sucked back another increment of him. Niall had time to panic before Rafferty soared through the gap in the roof.

  "Take Rox!" he roared in old-speak. He cast his mate toward the ancient Pyr, knowing that having Rox out of harm's way would help him gain his freedom.

  He felt cold without Rox in his grasp, chilled without the steady burn of the firestorm against his skin. He bellowed again and struggled, believing the earth would release him.

  It didn't.

  It drew down another increment of his tail.

  In fact, there was a definite tug from beneath the building's foundations. Niall felt himself sliding inexorably into the earth's grip. He thought of being crushed by Gaia. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a fate. Was this the vengeance of Magnus, for Niall taking on the quest to eliminate the shadow dragons? The broken concrete ripped at his scales, but Niall couldn't stop the course. He was being pulled into the earth.

  At least he knew that he'd been right all along--he was being targeted.

  He just didn't know why.

  And it looked as if he wouldn't have the chance to figure it out. He raged against the hungry earth, to absolutely no avail.

  Then Rafferty began to sing.

  Rox watched in horror. The floor might have been quick-sand, the way it was pulling Niall down. His struggles to release himself only seemed to make him disappear more quickly.

  "Help him!" she cried to Rafferty, who had already started to hum.

  Thorolf appeared against the silvery sky, as ethereal as a moonbeam. Another dragon was right behind him and Rox guessed that it was Sloane. His scales were like tourmalines edged in gold, shading from green to purple and back again. He was large and sleek, and he moved with the thoughtful intent that she already associated with Sloane.

  Sloane and Thorolf dove to the shattered floor, each of them seizing one of Niall's arms. They bared their teeth and pulled with all their might, trying to take flight with the other Pyr held fast, but Niall was still being pulled down.