In a way, he was oblivious to the chaos around them even as he listened to it. It felt separate from him. Irrelevant. He was more aware of Rox, sweetly pressed against him, of the cocoon of the firestorm surrounding them.
That was dangerous, but he couldn’t tame his errant thoughts.
He looked down at her and his desire surged. Her burgundy-stained lips were so close, so soft and full, and he was tempted to taste them, to take advantage of the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity.
He reminded himself that she wasn’t the kind of woman for him.
If nothing else, Niall Talbot had principles.
Could the firestorm be wrong? He’d never heard of such a thing, but there was no doubt that this woman was the wrong one for him.
Niall was tempted to sate the firestorm and worry about the details later.
The upheaval lasted less than two minutes, although it felt as if it would go on forever. When the shaking finally stopped, Niall felt Rox trembling a little bit. He didn’t doubt that she would try to hide her fear with bravado.
He shifted quickly, hoping she didn’t watch the change. Maybe she’d forget about it. Maybe he should beguile her, although Niall was not a fan of beguiling humans. It seemed particularly rude to consider the possibility of beguiling one’s mate.
He doubted that Rox was susceptible to suggestion. She seemed to be very much in touch with reality.
In human form, he angled over her, his fingers in her hair. Niall cupped her head and held her face against his chest, protecting her small figure from the last of the tumbling debris. Before looking into her eyes, he hoped for the best.
He lifted his head and looked down at her cautiously, startled by the knowing gleam in her eyes.
“You are the same as him.” Her lips twisted. “Who would have believed there could be another one?”
There was no question in her tone. She knew. Rox wasn’t just in touch with reality—she knew about his reality. Niall wasn’t sure what to say, but she was watching him, waiting for his agreement. It would have been wrong to lie during his firestorm, to deceive his mate or beguile her.
Niall nodded once.
“So, you are mentoring him, just as he said.” Rox licked her lips and looked away, then met Niall’s gaze again. Her eyes were a vivid blue, snapping with intelligence. “He didn’t lie about that.”
Niall shook his head. “If that’s what he said, it wasn’t a lie. I am supposed to be mentoring him.”
Her lips quirked. “You don’t sound very enthused.” “He’s not an attentive student.”
Rox laughed. “I guess that must mean you’re not as screwed up as he is.”
Niall struggled to be polite about Thorolf, although he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because Rox had tried to hide her dismay about Thorolf’s departure. “I like to think that I’m not.”
To his dismay, he ended up sounding exactly like his father. Stuff and inflexible.
Rox considered him. Niall wondered what she saw other than a guy in a T-shirt and jeans, covered in plaster and fallen wood. He wondered what she was thinking or feeling—he knew what he was feeling.
The firestorm wasn’t interested in being ignored. He knew it would be inappropriate to pursue it, yet he couldn’t seem to let go of Rox. His body had definite ideas about how things should proceed, ideas Niall had no intention of pursuing. Rox wasn’t the kind of woman for him, and he wasn’t one to just do the deed and leave. He’d never abandon a woman if she was pregnant with his child, and he’d never have a child with a woman like Rox.
Period.
The firestorm had it wrong.
Rox smiled suddenly, almost as if she’d heard his thoughts, and he blinked at the change in her. She looked softer when she smiled, less cynical, more alluring. “Then you know how he is,” she said in that husky, confidential tone, “ and you won’t be surprised that I thought he was lying to me.” She lifted one dark eyebrow, her eyes shining. “I thought he didn’t have the balls to tell me the truth.”
Niall smiled despite himself. “Yeah, I can see Thorolf doing that.” It was conceivable that the tall Pyr would be terrorized by an outspoken woman like Rox.
“I’ve seen him do it a lot in three years.” She heaved a sigh and brushed some debris off Niall’s shoulder, pausing to look him in the eye. Her lips looked soft and full. Inviting. She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry if I came across too strong. I was sure that someone was taking advantage of him. He’s not really good at assessing people’s motives, you know. He’s not stupid, but he’s too trusting.”
“He just doesn’t pay attention,” Niall said, hearing his father’s stern judgment in his own tone. “He thinks he can fight his way out of anything.”
Rox nodded ruefully. “Fighting’s not always the best answer.”
“Sometimes avoiding a fight is smarter.”
She met his gaze and nodded again, their agreement surprising Niall a bit. “But he’s not the sharpest tack. He needs someone to watch over him.”
“And that was you?” At her shrug, Niall grimaced and sighed. “So, I guess now it’s me.”
“And we have something in common, despite appearances,” Rox said, an enticing thread of laughter in her tone.
Niall was surprised to hear his own thought on her lips. He saw the glint of awareness in her expression and knew he should stand up. He was still angled over Rox, but the earthquake had ended. His body was just reluctant to move. He felt her breasts against his chest, her legs beneath his own, and he wanted something he knew he shouldn’t be tempted to take.
“Imagine—I thought you might be a woman,” Rox whispered, then laughed again. Her laughter sounded even better the second time. Niall felt his own lips twitch.
“Not many named Niall.”
“Oh, I assumed the whole business-card trick was bogus, that he’d found your card and was lying to me.”
“And you came after him, even so?”
She grimaced. “He’s not a bad guy—just suffers from a lack of focus. And I finally found him a job, too.”
“So you weren’t happy to hear that he’d found one on his own.”
Their gazes locked and held, her eyes so filled with stars that Niall couldn’t look away. Rox slid her hands across Niall’s shoulders and curved her fingers around the muscles there, then cast him a wicked smile. Her approval of what she saw was more than clear. Niall’s heart skipped a beat as she arched her back, bringing her breasts into collision with his chest.
“I’m pretty sure, though, that you are a guy,” she whispered.
“Pretty sure?” Niall teased.
Rox grinned. “You can’t be faking these biceps.” She ran her hands across his chest again, launching an array of little sparks and making Niall catch his breath. “And the usual suspects are absent and unaccounted for.”
“Excuse me?”
Rox’s smile turned coy as she slid her breasts across his chest. He glanced down into her cleavage, saw the creamy curves of her breasts, and his mouth went dry. He saw appreciation light her eyes and knew he should stand up, put some distance between them.
Before it was too late.
But Rox caught his neck in her hands. Niall froze, uncertain of what she would do but wanting to know. The firestorm was messing with his usual clear thinking, sending an insistent message through his body that was impossible to ignore.
“Thanks, Niall,” she whispered, eyes shining. “I would have been squished like a roach without you.”
Niall had no chance to answer because Rox kissed him. It wasn’t a sweet kiss or a shy kiss—it was a kiss that knew where it was going and why.
It was going exactly where the firestorm wanted to lead.
And that kiss shorted Niall’s circuits. It got right to where he lived, routed his doubts, and undermined his hesitation. It filled his body and his mind with an urge to consummate the firestorm, with a sense of urgency and demand.
It made him want.
It made him need.
&
nbsp; It made him forget the merit of duty and logic and deliberate choice. It made him appreciate the call of passion and impulse.
And one cheeky little brunette named Rox.
Author’s Note
In writing the Dragonfire novels, I’ve come to rely upon the Web sites provided by Fred Espenak of NASA, which offer comprehensive information about eclipses, past and present. Extrapolations regarding the Pyr and eclipses are, of course, my own, as are any errors made in interpreting the data provided.
If you are interested in learning more about eclipses and Saros cycles, visit http://eclipse.gsfc.nasa.gov.
About the Author
Deborah Cooke has always been fascinated by dragons, although she has never understood why they have to be the bad guys. She has an honors degree in history with a focus on medieval studies, and is an avid reader of medieval vernacular literature, fairy tales, and fantasy novels. Since 1992, Deborah has written more than thirty romance novels under the names Claire Cross and Claire Delacroix.
Deborah makes her home in Canada with her husband. When she isn’t writing, she can be found knitting, sewing, or hunting for vintage patterns. To learn more about the Dragonfire series and Deborah, please visit her Web site at www.deborahcooke.com and her blog, Alive & Knitting, at www.delacroix.net/blog.
Deborah Cooke, Winter Kiss
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