Ember's Kiss

  Brandon knew only that he had to conquer his dragon to have a chance with Liz. He watched the waves, studying their pattern. His dragon dared him, tempted him, nudged him toward the challenge of this surf without taking the time to prepare. When Brandon went, it would be by his choice.

  Some of the guys were on the beach, watching the water. Although they’d brought their boards, the boards remained on their roof racks. They were joking around and they’d greeted Brandon, but no one was in the water.

  The risk was too high.

  But Brandon knew this break. If anyone could ride it today, it would be him. He knew its hazards and quirks well, probably even better than Kira. As he watched the surf and noted the familiarity of the break, he became convinced that he could do it.

  Maybe Brandon could finish the dragon today with a bold move. If he was right, he could put the torment of his shifter nature behind him, for good.

  He could return to Liz immediately.

  At that realization, Brandon’s decision was made. He got his board out of the back of Kira’s Volkswagen. Liz’s company was all the incentive he needed to borrow Kira’s towel again and change into the new wet suit.

  “You’re joking,” Kira said, her shock clear as she watched him.

  “No.” Brandon cast her a smile. “I’m not joking.”

  He didn’t wait for her to argue with him. He walked onto the beach, heading directly for the waves crashing on the shore.

  Kira ran behind him. “But you can’t! It’s not safe.”

  Living with a dragon he couldn’t control wasn’t safe.

  Brandon kept walking.

  “Brandon, this is crazy!” Kira shouted. “You’ll die.”

  He looked back to see her more agitated than he’d ever seen her. The guys on the beach had turned to watch, their curiosity clear.

  She shook a finger at him. “It’ll be crap PR for me if you die in that wet suit!”

  “Then I won’t die,” Brandon said easily, turning back to the ocean.

  “Hey,” Dylan said, striding to his side. “Don’t go out there.”

  “I’m going.”

  “Look at those waves!” Dylan gestured to the sea, his concern clear. “You wipe out and you’ll be history. It’s merciless out there today.”

  Brandon watched the waves. The break was easing slightly to the right. Good. He liked it better there.

  “You’ve got your big chance this week,” Kira said from his other side. “Don’t go out there just to do something macho and stupid, and wreck it all.”

  “If you break only a board, you’ll be lucky,” Dylan added.

  “I thought you said I was the best at this break,” Brandon said to Kira. She nodded reluctantly, her gaze sliding to the pounding surf and back to him. “I can do it.”

  “You shouldn’t go out there alone,” Dylan began.

  Matt interrupted from behind them. “I’ll go out with you. Let me get my board.”

  Kira shoved a hand through her hair and bit her lip. “So you’re both either stupid or crazy.”

  Brandon touched her shoulder. “You know it’s all about what you believe,” he reminded her. “I know I can do this, and so I’m going to.”

  Kira swore and wrapped her arms around herself. She seemed to realize that she couldn’t change his mind. Matt came back then, having changed into his wet suit, carrying his shortboard. He and Brandon bumped fists, then charged into the surf.

  The other guys on the beach cheered and whistled, crowding closer to the water to watch. By the time Brandon put his board in the water and started to paddle, he couldn’t hear them anymore.

  There was just the pounding of the sea.

  The dragon made only a low growl.

  Brandon grinned. He paddled with all his might, lunging through the wave to the outside. Matt was right with him, his eyes filled with excitement. The ocean was dark and roiling on the outside, awesome in its power.

  He pointed to the left, indicating the break to Matt. Brandon was on the inside, so he’d take the first wave. He gave Matt a thumbs-up as the next wave reared high against the horizon, then turned and started to paddle toward the beach as fast as he could.

  “Go, go, go!” Matt shouted behind him.

  The wave swelled under Brandon, lifting him high as it surged toward the beach. He’d caught a massive one and, as always, this moment made his heart thunder with excitement. He was on his feet, balancing on his board, filled with the sense that he could touch the sky. He rode just below the crest on the green wave, the white wave breaking beside him exactly as he’d anticipated, racing toward the beach.

  Everything was perfect. His dragon was silent. He was completely in control, in his human form.

  This would be it.

  There was more parking at ‘Ehukai Beach, but then, that was probably because the waves were crashing on the shore so forcefully that the surfers had stayed home. Liz parked the Mercedes and got out, surprised to find anyone there.

  A group of about a dozen surfers stood close to the water, transfixed by something out at sea. The water was roiling and the surf was high. She could feel the fury of the ocean and wished her powers allowed her to pacify it. That was the task of Waterdaughters, but Liz wasn’t sure that even they could calm the waters on this day.

  To Liz’s shock, there were two guys on surfboards out in the angry waves. One was paddling toward the shore, apparently targeting the incoming wave.

  “Go, go, go!” shouted one of the guys on the beach, although Liz couldn’t imagine that the surfer could hear him. The wave rolled beneath the surfer, lifting him and his board high on its great, dark swell.

  He had a steady aura of indigo.

  Liz hurried to the beach, knowing who it had to be.

  “Get up, Brandon!” one of the guys shouted. “Get up!”

  There was one woman among the group of guys at the beach. She glanced at Liz, then back at the surfer. She looked worried.

  Brandon was on his feet, balancing perfectly. The wave crested beside him and he rode the dark curve of the wave. He wasn’t that far from the beach and she could see him grin in triumph.

  That cockiness made Liz mad.

  What the hell was he doing? It had to be suicide to surf when the ocean was this wild. She had come all this way to check that he was okay, only to discover that he was trying to kill himself. Liz’s temper flared, as hot and potent as it had once been.

  The reaction of the other surfers certainly indicated that Brandon’s choice was dangerous. Liz had the sense that they couldn’t bear to watch but couldn’t turn away.

  The woman folded her arms across her chest and watched fixedly, her lips tight. She made a sound of disgust, then pivoted to walk away.

  “Excuse me,” Liz said, hearing the anger in her own tone. “Is that Brandon?”

  “Yes,” she said hotly. “Stupid moron.”

  Liz had to agree. “It must be dangerous to surf when the sea is like this.”

  The woman’s eyes flashed. “This break kills at least one surfer a year. Today’s the kind of day that statistic could come true.” She nodded at the guys. “They all think he has balls, but I think he has shit for brains.”

  With that, she marched away. She got into a yellow Volkswagen bug, started it, and squealed the tires as she drove away.

  Liz didn’t blame her for being angry. She was probably one of Brandon’s friends.

  She stared back at him, both fascinated by his skill and terrified for him. As she might have expected, he was a graceful athlete, making something that had to be hard look effortless. The wave curled beside him, a froth of white spilling down to one side. The curl seemed to have an opening, like the end of a massive tube. She saw the flash of Brandon’s smile as he was almost surrounded by the wave.

  One of the guys on the beach gave a whistle.

  Brandon crouched lower. He stayed right at the front of the curl, and she knew he must be somehow doing it on purpose. One hand trailed in the wave be
hind him, his fingers buried in the water; the other was outstretched for balance. She could appreciate that it was exciting to be so close to such power, but it was treacherous, too.

  The wave propelled him toward the beach with incredible speed. The water churned right behind him, no more than an arm’s length away, smashing down into the reef with incredible force.

  He was a step away from disaster.

  On purpose.

  Liz fumed. She’d driven through a tunnel in the mountain when there were still aftershocks from the earthquake. She’d abandoned her colleagues and her friend Maureen because she was so worried about Brandon.

  And here he was, risking his life for fun.

  Liz could have spit sparks. She was so mad that she was tempted to just turn her back and walked away from him forever. But no. She’d spent hours getting here—she’d have the pleasure of telling him off before she drove back.

  She strode down the beach toward the surf, livid. The other surfers stepped back to make way for her and she heard them whisper as she marched to the lip of the water. She intended to meet Brandon when he rode to shore, but he must have sensed her presence.

  He glanced up from the wave and he was close enough that she could see his surprise.

  That didn’t improve her mood. So he hadn’t thought he’d see her again. All that talk of kismet and destiny and true love had been garbage, just garbage he’d spewed to get into bed with her. He was no different from his predatory friend. Liz’s anger boiled and she had even more to say.

  But Brandon miscalculated in that moment.

  She saw him lose that balance point.

  He disappeared under the curl of the wave and his friends swore. The wave smashed over Brandon, driving him down into the reef. His surfboard leapt for the sky, was submerged, then bounced up again. The wave rushed in to the beach and the surfboard bobbed on the surface in the wake of the wave.

  There was no sign of Brandon.

  “Shit,” one of the guys whispered.

  Liz couldn’t believe it. The sight of her had shocked him so much that he’d made a mistake. It couldn’t be her fault that he died in this crazy surf. She wouldn’t be responsible for two deaths! Her anger faded with record speed, only to be replaced by fear.

  Brandon didn’t come up. Another wave crashed over the place where he’d gone down and she held her breath. His friends clustered closer, their agitation clear. A third wave reared up, breaking on the lip of coral like a shadow of doom.

  “No one lasts three waves,” one guy murmured.

  “Come on, Brandon,” urged another. “Come on!”

  There was a roar of anger, not very different from the earthquake that morning. A brilliant shimmer of pale blue light lit the water like a flash of lightning, but one that came from the reef below.

  Liz was the least surprised of the entire group when a massive black dragon erupted from the surf. It leapt out of the ocean, raging and thrashing as the water ran off its wings and tail. It shook off the water and spread its wings wide, breathing a plume of fire at the waves that had nearly crushed it.

  Then it dove back into the ocean’s waves again.

  “What the…” murmured the guy beside her.

  “It can’t be,” said another.

  “What happened to Brandon?” asked a third. “Did the dragon take him down?”

  Liz knew where he was.

  Brandon was a dragon shape shifter.

  One of the Pyr.

  She had her irrefutable proof.

  Chapter 6

  Suddenly one of the guys shouted and pointed out to sea. “It’s Matt!” he cried.

  They turned as one and Liz couldn’t help but look, too. A second surfer had turned toward the shore and was paddling for a wave. This one seemed darker and faster. Angrier. Liz could feel its fury, which was saying something. She had only a slightly greater-than-normal connection to the element of water. The surfer had a green aura, a spiky one, and she guessed that it was the friend of Brandon’s who had tried to buy her a drink.

  “Fuck,” murmured one of the guys.

  “Leave it!” shouted one of the others. Matt kept paddling. She doubted that he had seen the dragon, given the intensity of his concentration. He would have been looking out to the horizon, watching the incoming waves swell.

  It was odd how much angrier the ocean had become. Even in front of the wave, where the dragon had disappeared into the water again, the sea was churning and dark. It could have been boiling. There was more agitation in the water than there had been—and it looked even more dangerous. Liz had the strange sense that the waves were responding to the dragon’s mood.

  Could the dragon control the sea?

  She remembered what the old Chinese man had said. Was the dragon demanding a toll from people who didn’t do as he desired? Would the dragon stir up the sea to injure people?

  The dragon was Brandon. Liz was sure Brandon wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone.

  But this Matt was the friend who had opened that silver vial against Brandon’s express command.

  Was Brandon vengeful?

  Liz had a hard time believing it. Why didn’t he shift back to human form? Why didn’t he come out of the water? She caught a glimpse of the end of his tail and the occasional talon flicking out of the water.

  What was he waiting for?

  The wave surged beneath Matt, just as it had beneath Brandon, all jade power.

  “Leave it,” murmured another of the guys. “It’s too fucking big.”

  But Matt didn’t leave it. He sprang to his feet on his board, but even Liz could tell that he wasn’t as in control as Brandon had been. The wave broke and curled, precisely as its predecessors had when striking the same spot on the reef. It spilled white foam down right beside Matt—he’d chosen his spot well. The wave was enormous, taller and more powerful than the last had been, and seemed to keep swelling bigger. She thought she could see the fear on Matt’s face, and that couldn’t be good.

  He wobbled on his board and she almost closed her eyes, dreading what would happen next.

  She was glad she didn’t. The dragon bellowed and leapt into the air, flying high over the waves. He swooped low over Matt, and Liz guessed that he was going to save the surfer. Matt was obviously less certain of his intent. He took one look at the dragon, closing fast with talons extended, and lost his balance.

  It was possible that he jumped.

  Either way, he fell into the raging dark wave, which frothed right over him. His board sprang into the air. Then both were churned down into the reef by the breaking wave. Matt’s board came to the surface in two parts. One half was washed toward the beach but the other bobbed like a buoy, staying in place.

  “It’s the leash,” one guy said.

  “What leash?” Liz asked.

  The guy glanced at her.

  “I know Brandon.”

  His gaze flicked over her, then he looked back at the bobbing board. His expression was grim. “You wear a leash from your ankle to your board so you don’t have to chase it all over the place. The board’s not moving because the leash is caught on the reef. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it sucks.”

  Because Matt was attached to the other end of the leash. Liz understood their fear. He must not be able to reach the surface.

  “He’s not coming up,” another guy said. “We can’t lose both of them in one day.”

  Liz realized that they thought Brandon had died.

  “Shit, look at the next wave!”

  “They’re getting bigger. It’s turning bad.”

  “They shouldn’t have gone out there.”

  The dragon dove into the surf, apparently targeting Matt.

  The looming wave crashed over the spot where the dragon had disappeared. The roar of the wave’s power was deafening and Liz couldn’t imagine how anyone could survive its impact. She folded her arms across herself, knowing the force of the water would drive anyone down into the coral reef and smash them
hard against it. She’d been caught once or twice on research trips by rogue waves and she’d never forget the pummeling they’d given her.

  And she never went onto a reef with surf like this. The waves had to be thirty feet high.

  Lab work was infinitely safer.

  The trough of the wave passed over the spot, and the broken yellow board came to the surface again.

  There was no sign of Brandon or the dragon. The water seethed, boiling like black ink. Another wave was rising high against the horizon.

  “It’s not easy to free the leash with the water pounding all around you,” the guy beside her explained. “It’s hard to even tell which way is up when you get slammed like that. It’s all dark until the wave passes.”

  “No one survives three waves,” Liz repeated, swallowing her fear.

  The guy winced and nodded. “And that’s if you don’t hit your head.”

  The next wave slammed down hard, turning the area to froth. When the wave had passed, they all took steps closer to the water, straining to spot either surfer. There was no sign of them or the dragon, just that broken yellow board tugging at its tether.

  The third wave crashed over the spot with ferocious strength. Liz felt the skepticism and uncertainty in the group, though none of them said anything more. The water seemed to agitate longer over the spot; then the part of the board that had been caught washed toward the beach. Had the leash broken?

  A dark head appeared so abruptly that the surfer might have been flung from the bottom of the sea.

  Liz had a pretty good idea what or who had tossed him to freedom.

  The dragon appeared next, leaping into the sky and snatching up Matt on the way. His enormous black wings beat loudly, water falling from him like a shower of jewels, and he carried a struggling Matt to the beach. He set down the surfer without landing, then soared into the sky.

  There was no sign of the cockiness Matt had shown the night before. He was shaking. There was blood on his temple, and his skin was pale beneath his tan.

  The guys ran to help him. Matt’s chest heaved, and suddenly he spewed forth a stream of ocean water. Then he sat down heavily in the last couple of inches of water and put his head in his hands. Liz could see that he was trembling from his ordeal.