"A tattoo artist?" Niall couldn't imagine that the two words belonged together. "But tattoos look dirty. . . ."
"Right! Who do you think did mine?" Thorolf stretched out his left hand, displaying the blue dragon that embellished his skin there. Niall had always been impressed by that tattoo.
He had a good look at it in the cafe. The dragon was in flight on the back of Thorolf's hand, majestic and powerful, his tail coiled around Thorolf's wrist and forearm. The scales were carefully delineated, and the dragon looked fierce. Thorolf had other tattoos, as well, but that one was outstanding.
Art.
Challenging his expectations and assumptions.
Just like Rox.
"She did that?"
Thorolf nodded and smiled at it, then reached for the second bagel. "You know, she's like you. She said I've got to use my powers for good. Gotta make something of myself. Gotta make a difference. Blah blah blah."
"It's not a bad idea."
Thorolf took another big bite. "She took me in, tried to clean me up. I kept partying and coming home wrecked." He nodded at his left hand. "She did this when I was still passed out one morning--she said it was a gift from her, one to remind me of what I am and what I could do. Hurt like the bejabbers, but she said the best lessons do."
That sounded familiar to Niall--and this time, he wasn't surprised to find himself and Rox making the same argument. He started to wonder whether he really should have walked away from her when he should have been thinking about his tours coming home.
Thorolf cleared his throat and looked worried. "I could have really messed her up by not beguiling her, couldn't I?"
Niall nodded grimly. His heart clenched at the risk Thorolf had unwittingly taken. He thought of his mother and recognized that some women were more resilient to the Pyr's truth.
But no Pyr should count on that.
"Okay, time to get serious," Thorolf said, squaring his shoulders. Niall looked up in surprise. "It's more than trying harder. I gotta help you take care of Rox."
To Niall's astonishment, Thorolf put down the bagel, took a deep breath, and stared unblinkingly at Niall. He conjured a flame in the depths of his eyes, one that flickered as if it burned in the middle of the pupil.
"Good start," Niall said, wanting to encourage him.
Thorolf managed to make the beguiling flame brighter and larger, as Niall counseled him in old-speak. Niall reminded him to compose his thoughts and to focus, and to Niall's astonishment, Thorolf made rapid progress.
"That's great," Niall said, impressed.
"That's nothing. Check this out." Thorolf stood and went to the counter. Niall heard him start to chat up the serving girl and assumed he was getting more food. Niall pulled out his laptop to start through his e-mail.
When he put it on the table, he realized the big Pyr had left his wallet there.
Niall glanced up in time to see Thorolf return with another cinnamon roll, a triumphant smile on his face. "I told her she forgot to give it to me," he said, as delighted as a kid with a new toy. "She believed me." He took a big bite of the cinnamon roll, his eyes shining.
Uh-oh.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Niall chided. "Beguiling isn't supposed to be used for theft. You have to pay for that."
"Come on, I done good," Thorolf complained, giving Niall a cocky grin. "I'm learning, aren't I?"
"You're trying and that's a good start." Niall smiled at Thorolf, then shrugged. "Maybe the hundredth second chance was the one you needed, after all."
Maybe Rox had been right.
Thorolf grinned happily and inhaled the cinnamon roll. He went back to the counter and put a couple of bucks in the tip jar, then checked out a woman at the other end of the cafe.
Niall shook his head.
Some things would never change.
Would he ever get Rox out of his thoughts? Niall tried to stop reliving Rox's kiss, the sparkle of intellect in her blue eyes, that impish smile that made her look clever and mischievous and completely alluring. He wasn't sure he wanted to forget Rox, and that was a big part of the problem.
He opened the e- mail message from Ginger, Delaney's mate. Niall's heart sank at the length of the revised list she'd sent him. With Erik's help, Ginger had been tracking the genealogies of the Pyr, trying to identify missing Pyr who could be recruited to fight against the Slayers.
The result of that spreadsheet was a list of dead Pyr, with asterisks beside those who might not have been exposed to all four elements within twelve hours of death. Any or all of them could have been roused by Magnus with his Dragon's Blood Elixir and made into shadow dragons.
Niall hated how long the list had become.
In a year and a half, he'd killed twenty shadow dragons; then he and Thorolf had destroyed another the night before. It was exhausting work, given that the shadow dragons fought on even once they were injured. They had to be dismembered and incinerated--Niall was starting to believe he'd never get that smell out of his nostrils.
Niall hadn't yet managed to locate the refuge of the shadow dragons, even though he knew there had to be one. It made sense, given their staggered attacks. The wind had led him underground countless times, but he always came to dead ends. He quit the software application and shut down, discontent, only to find Thorolf watching him closely.
"What about you?" Thorolf challenged. He glanced around the nearly empty cafe, then leaned over the table, dropping his voice. "What about the firestorm?"
"I have other responsibilities," Niall murmured, knowing Thorolf could hear him.
"Bullshit!" Thorolf bellowed in old-speak, the echo of his anger in Niall's own thoughts making Niall blink.
"I have a lot of obligations," Niall said, hearing his father's inflexibility in his tone again.
That list of potential shadow dragons was long, too long. What would happen to a son he conceived, if Niall couldn't be around when that boy was growing up? He was in no way convinced that he'd survive this quest. Niall had only to look at what had happened to his own twin in their father's absence, how his brother Phelan had been persuaded to join the ranks of the Slayers, for an example.
He couldn't risk adding to the Slayers' ranks.
Thorolf jabbed his finger through the air at Niall. "Bullshit. Your primary duty is to the Pyr, and your main responsibility to the Pyr is to consummate your firestorm, no matter what you think of the options available."
"Suddenly you sound like Erik."
"What can I say? He's made an impression on me. Rafferty, too. Maybe I have learned something, but it's not something that's convenient to you." Thorolf laughed at his own stroke of brilliance, then polished off the last bite of bagel.
Niall ignored him.
Thorolf leaned closer, his eyes gleaming. "Come on. You can't judge a person on appearances. Sure, no one would imagine you and Rox together, but I saw the sparks, man. I saw the firestorm and I felt it. You can't just pretend that didn't happen."
Niall felt his lips tighten and heard his father again in his summary of reasons why he couldn't surrender to the firestorm. "We're too different. I can't just consummate the firestorm and leave."
"So get married. Whatever."
It was impressive how the big Pyr could work his way through a cinnamon roll so quickly. "It's not that simple."
"Come on, it's sex. Rox is cute. How bad can it be?"
Niall eyed his companion as he had a troubling thought. "You haven't."
Thorolf straightened and held up his hands in surrender. "Absolutely platonic, right from the get-go. Rox and me, never, man."
"Why not?"
Thorolf shrugged and took another bite of cinnamon roll. He gestured with the remainder. "She's not my type." But he fidgeted as he tried to lie.
"She's female," Niall felt compelled to observe. "She's your type."
"Okay, okay." Thorolf cast a glance down the cafe, then leaned across the table. "Rox has this whole thing about making the world a better place and using your abi
lities to the max. She was pretty disappointed that I just passed out in her apartment after that fight and didn't know any more dragon stuff. I might have gone for it--you know, with a little encouragement--but she shut me down the first morning."
Niall was pleased that Rox showed some discretion. "Why?"
"Well, you know, they have this joke at the shop. They call her Sister Rox, because she never takes anyone home. She's, like, chaste." Thorolf grimaced at this unfortunate choice.
"Maybe she's waiting for the right guy," Niall said, respecting the choice. It was a lot like his own code.
Maybe she wasn't as cavalier about her own safety as he'd assumed. He thought again of her assertion that she had been there and done that, and he wondered about her own history.
Was there a reason she dressed to keep everyone at a distance?
That wasn't too dissimilar a policy to his own inclination to keep the world at arm's length.
"I guess. She's not someone I'd expect to be a romantic, but there you go." Thorolf dismissed the issue as he ate.
Was there more to Rox than met the eye? That certainly hadn't been the kiss of a woman committed to celibacy.
Had she been waiting for him?
"Why didn't you answer her?" Thorolf asked. "You know, about the point of being Pyr."
"I can't just tell anyone who asks about us," Niall retorted. "We have to have some discretion. We have to protect our truth."
Thorolf raised his brows. "If you can't tell your destined mate, dude, who are you going to tell?" And he licked icing from his fingertips as Niall thought about that.
The scary thing was that Thorolf was making sense.
Niall relived Rox's kiss at the worst possible moment, and he knew sex with Rox wouldn't be bad at all. But the timing was terrible, and the risks were high. He could be distracted at the worst possible moment and put them both in danger.
After the mistakes his father had made with his brother, Niall was determined to do better. He wanted to provide the best environment possible for his son.
If he ever had one.
If he didn't consummate the firestorm with Rox, he never would have a son. He told himself it might be better that way, but he didn't believe it.
"I'm not going to be irresponsible," he argued, his heart not really in the protest.
Thorolf was characteristically dismissive of any reservation. "Tell you what--you go to Rox. You try to work it out. You consummate the firestorm. And if it all goes to hell, if you two can't stand each other or you get fried, I'll be sure your son knows everything he needs to know to be Pyr."
Niall eyed the big Pyr, surprised by the offer. "Except that you don't know much about being Pyr."
"I'm determined to learn now," Thorolf insisted. "So, you can teach me more and I can be motivated to learn more, and we'll both know that Rox is okay. Hey, it could work for everybody." He wiped cinnamon and sugar from his fingers and offered his hand over the table.
"So now you're a matchmaker."
"I'm playing for the team." Thorolf stretched his hand out a bit farther and gave Niall a challenging look.
Niall had never seen Thorolf commit himself to anything beyond fighting and pleasure, and he was touched, in a way, that the Pyr's newest recruit was so determined to see Niall's firestorm negotiated with success.
Still, his gut warned caution, and he was going to trust his instincts.
"What?" Thorolf demanded, evidently seeing Niall's doubts.
"It worries me when yours is the voice of reason," Niall admitted, and Thorolf laughed.
"Limited time offer, you know," Thorolf said, then sighed with mock dismay as he opened the Gatorade. "I just think you shouldn't mess up your firestorm. I got an exclusive going on being the only fuckup in the Pyr, you know."
Niall laughed despite himself. "Don't want to cut into that."
"Better," Thorolf said, and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. "You're a whole hell of a lot better looking when you lighten up." He raised his hands. "Not that you're my type or anything."
"Great Wyvern forbid," Niall growled, and the pair of them chuckled together.
Then Niall's laughter was cut short. He caught a whiff of a chill as cold as the grave, the smell of rot and mold. As previously, it was wet, and he wondered again where the shadow dragons hid.
"What?" Thorolf demanded, proving that he was paying attention.
Niall was already on his feet, his bag slung over his shoulder, without uttering a word. Thorolf got up in a hurry, sending the cheap chair flying backward. When Niall looked back, the big Pyr's eyes were round.
"Another one!" Thorolf declared.
That was progress--Thorolf had smelled the shadow dragon without even being told to try.
Things were looking up.
Once on the street, Niall saw the indistinct silhouette high overhead, like a deeper shadow against the evening sky. His heart clenched, then raced. If the shadow dragons kept coming to him, he might never have to find their lair. It would be nice if the battle didn't drag on forever, though. He could use some sleep--and needed to be done by December. He hated that the shadow dragons, mindless zombies that they were, were setting the schedule.
But he'd worry about that later. Niall raced into an alley and shifted shape, tearing into the sky, primed to fight.
"Bring 'em on," Thorolf muttered as he flew right behind Niall. "I'm ready for a good fight."
Now that Thorolf was committed to making a difference, Niall was pleased to have the latest recruit by his side. They reached the roof line only to discover that another shadow dragon was lying in wait for them. Niall and Thorolf roared as one, breathed dragonfire, and the fight was on.
One way or the other, Niall was going to cross these two off Ginger's list before the night was done.
It would have been nice for Rox to not be obsessed with a certain blond hunk, a tanned Adonis with muscles to spare, a guy with snapping blue eyes and the ability to turn into a dragon at will.
Never mind a dragon determined to protect her.
But she was. It wasn't supposed to work this way. She was supposed to be patient, cool, and composed while she gave him an increment of time to come to his senses.
This way, she'd be jumping his bones the next time she saw him.
As an amorous approach, that lacked some finesse, and she guessed that Niall liked finesse.
But that heat seemed to linger in Rox's body, coaxing her mind in earthy directions, filling her imagination with fantasies of doing it with Niall.
It was more than distracting.
She might have to hunt him down sooner than anticipated. Maybe tonight. The prospect made Rox catch her breath and fantasize a little more.
She had been angry with Niall for judging her by her appearance, for making assumptions about her character based on the way she looked, but as Rox thought things through, she knew she couldn't hold that against him.
That was the point, after all.
Her way of dressing was a deliberate choice to present a certain side of herself to the world. Rox had chosen the look because of its implications, because people would assume that she didn't care about convention or anything else, that she was a rebel and maybe even a troublemaker. They'd stay away from her and leave her alone. They'd know she didn't want all the conventional trappings of love, romance, marriage, and babies.
Her appearance kept others from asking questions, from being curious about her, from making demands.
It was her armor.
And it was working like a charm on Niall. For the first time in years, Rox was impatient with the results of her own choices. The look had been her protective shell for so long that it was second nature. Niall's reaction made her aware of its power.
Rox didn't want to keep Niall at bay, but his reaction--and the obstacle it placed between them--was her own fault.
That was the real root of her restlessness.
She checked the news and discovered that the earthquake's damage h
ad been very localized. Her impression had been right, and she could think of a couple of good reasons why Niall could have been targeted by someone or something. It was Rox's tendency to defend those she cared about, and even though Niall wasn't (yet) in that company, she worried.
She was honest enough to admit--to herself at least--that it wasn't just because Thorolf was with him. The world could do with more dragon shape shifters, in Rox's view, not fewer of them. She liked the idea of their being in the world.
She liked the idea of what they could accomplish.
Rox had a sense that Niall was a good teacher, and maybe just stubborn enough to get through the concrete that Thorolf seemed to have for a skull. She respected that he had lost it without being verbally abusive in his frustration. She knew Thorolf could try the patience of a saint, but Niall had kept his criticisms to specific examples. It seemed to be working. It was possible that one of Rox's projects would get the direction he needed, if not from her.
Maybe that was why she was restless. The possibility niggled at her that her own life might be the one that needed some tweaking.
No one at the tattoo shop seemed to notice she was a bit out of sorts, but then, it was a place where people came in all moods. Chynna, the lead of the three partners, had taken the night off, and she was the most perceptive of them all.
Rox persuaded Neo's apprentice to take on the delivery job at the organic grocery, reasoning that it would keep him from partying too much at night. Rox's other partner, Neo, was pretty much a lost cause in that department, but he was old enough to take care of himself. Rox figured they'd argued for the last time about his leading his apprentice astray. Jimmy was responsible and he'd keep his hours with Gary.
She gave herself points for a deed well-done.
Then she thought some more about Niall's kiss.
The shop was comparatively quiet for a Saturday evening. Three of the other artists were in, Neo and Tom having scheduled appointments, and the music was blaring. If nothing else, it was a noisy and familiar routine.
Rox settled at her table to work on the sketches for more of Chynna's roses, but she wasn't entirely satisfied with them. Chynna was Rox's oldest friend, as well as the tattoo artist who had started Imagination Ink. She'd found Rox on the streets all those years ago and had taken Rox in. Chynna had taught Rox everything she knew once she'd seen Rox's drawings, and in recent years had made Rox and Neo her partners. She was outrageous and outspoken, fiercely talented and an unabashed romantic.