Darkfire Kiss

  What he could become.

  What kind of a woman defied a dragon of unknown intentions? No. She knew his intentions. She’d read them in his eyes. And she knew exactly what he was. Rafferty was intrigued again by her confidence, just when he didn’t want to be.

  “So inhospitable, after I saved your hide,” he whispered.

  She eyed him for an endless moment, then stepped back, letting him into the foyer. “That’s fair. But not one step farther.”

  Rafferty smiled but played by her rules. He knew he could destroy the house if necessary, follow her anywhere, hunt down the camera himself, if she tried to trick him.

  He was content—more or less—to wait.

  And simmer. He heard her catch her breath, felt her heart leap, and knew she was as aware of him as he was of her.

  Even knowing what he was.

  Interesting.

  She returned almost instantly and handed him a digital camera. Rafferty turned it on and saw that the memory card was full. Something was wrong, though. Her mood and her scent didn’t match up. He considered her again, but she held his regard steadily.

  “You’re giving this up pretty easily,” he noted, letting his gaze slide over her.

  She blushed a little, much to his surprise, then shrugged. “I know when to not push my luck.” Rafferty arched a brow and she continued. “Seeing what I’m up against here.”

  “And you still have what you wanted in the first place, anyway,” Rafferty guessed. “His book.”

  Her gaze hardened instantly. “Are you friends with Montmorency?”

  “No!” Rafferty couldn’t hide his disgust at the idea, even though he was aware that she was watching him closely. “We have been adversaries longer than we ever were allies.” He met her gaze. “I have no interest in defending Magnus or his property.”

  “But you’re both dragons, deep down inside.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You must be the same.”

  She wasn’t convinced. She wanted to hear his explanation.

  “No. We are as different as two souls can be. In my kind, there is good and bad, just as in all kinds.”

  “You bleed red.”

  Rafferty was startled that she’d noticed. He was wary then, concerned that she would learn too much about him and the Pyr.

  She was observant. He stepped back and inclined his head slightly. “That is none of your concern.” He held up the camera. “I thank you for not making this more difficult than it needed to be.”

  As she watched, he popped out the memory card and crushed it to oblivion in his hand. He opened his fist, and the pieces fell to the floor, no more than a handful of black glittering dust.

  She blinked in surprise. “You shouldn’t be able to do that.”

  “I do many things I shouldn’t be able to do,” Rafferty murmured. She caught her breath and eyed him warily, his desire sparking at the look in her eyes.

  Was it admiration?

  Was it an answering heat?

  Or did he see the invitation he wanted to see?

  Rafferty handed the camera back to her, letting their fingers brush in the transaction. Her skin was soft, and she didn’t recoil from his touch. He was certain that she let her fingers linger against his. “With our business completed, I bid you good evening.”

  “That’s it?” she said, a challenge in her tone.

  Or was it disappointment?

  Rafferty met her gaze, and she lifted her chin.

  Then she smiled a smile that could only have been called seductive. Her perfume seemed stronger then, as if it would ensnare him completely. Rafferty’s blood roared right on cue, and he found himself lifting his hand from the doorknob.

  He could not resist. “Is that an invitation?”

  Her smile warmed. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

  His heart leapt at the welcome in her eyes.

  She pivoted then and strolled into the house, shedding her coat on the way. Rafferty watched avidly. She put the camera down on a table in the foyer and glanced toward him.

  He’d been right—it was a dare. He could tell by the light in her eyes. And the curve of her lips was an invitation he wasn’t inclined to refuse. He surveyed her, letting his appreciation of her beauty show, and his smile broadened when she flushed slightly.

  She didn’t flinch.

  Even though she knew his truth.

  A bold beauty, then. Forthright. Decisive. Attractive and intelligent. Not averse to risk. Rafferty liked that, liked that it was a different tendency than his own. Desire stirred deep within him one more time, more vigorous and demanding than it had been in a long, long time.

  This was a rare and possibly treacherous impulse. He wasn’t entirely certain that they adhered to the same moral code, that they would draw the line between good and evil in the same place. His attraction to a woman he knew so little—and about whom he had so many questions—had to be due to the pending eclipse. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t know her allegiances. He didn’t know her intent.

  And Rafferty didn’t care.

  He wanted her, and that was all that mattered. He surrendered to his desire, despite the danger.

  He’d take this risk, and take it willingly.

  “Maybe that’s not quite it, then,” he murmured, and stepped into the house. He flicked the door shut with his fingertips, then closed the distance between them. The dragon within roared in anticipation, and his heart skipped a beat.

  She held her ground as she watched his approach, a choice that excited him even more. He heard her catch her breath, saw the anticipation light her eyes. That she could want him, even knowing what he was, and that she would lift her hand to his shoulder and part her lips in welcome were more than he expected.

  It was all he needed. Rafferty bent his head and caught those full soft lips beneath his own, his heart pounding when she touched her tongue to his.

  Then he caught her against him, spreading his hand across the small of her back, and lost himself in the passion of her kiss.

  Unbelievable.

  He kissed like a god. Melissa knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. He was both tender and demanding, an intoxicating combination that left her hungry for more. She hadn’t kissed a man in half of forever, but this man’s kiss had definitely been worth the wait.

  His mouth closed over hers with a surety; yet at the same time, Melissa knew she could have pushed him aside with a fingertip. He was so powerful, so confident—so sexy—but she instinctively understood that he wouldn’t take more than she offered.

  That made her want to offer him everything.

  Immediately.

  It made her want to shake him, stir him, drive him wild, and wring him dry. He was vibrant and alive, whereas she had been marking time, going through the motions. If this was a dream, she wanted to experience every facet of its splendor before she woke up.

  Melissa locked her fingers into his hair, loving the luxuriant thickness of it, and hauled him closer. This was no time to be shy, or coy. She wanted him, and she wanted him to know it.

  She closed her eyes, slipped her tongue between his teeth, and felt the jolt of his surprise. His pulse pounded beneath her palm, evidence that he was flesh and blood, just like her, independent of his other powers. She felt bold and daring, and his kiss awakened that impetuousness she thought she’d lost forever.

  She was alive, and he was here. What else did she need?

  Not one thing. Melissa angled her head and tugged him closer, feasting on his mouth. His one hand was spread across the small of her back, under her shirt. His fingers were fanned out, his hand warm and still against her flesh. They were pressed together, the heat of his erection between them, her nipples taut against his chest.

  Melissa liked that he was as aroused as she was. He slipped his other hand around her nape, a possessive move that made her feel feminine and fragile; one that made her keenly aware of his power and heat.

  Her blood simmered.

  Other parts of h
er hummed.

  Then he made a little growl, deep in his throat, and lifted her off the floor, trapping her between his hips and the wall. He felt good—hard and ready—and Melissa purred in response to his ardor. She stole a glimpse of him through her lashes as she wound one leg around his thigh. She’d never been so bold, but he seemed to like it. His eyes glimmered, dark and dangerous; then he pinned her there, both of his hands in her hair. He deepened his kiss until Melissa thought he’d taste her very soul.

  He slid his hands down her throat, pushing her crisp white shirt over her shoulders with impatience. It caught against the wall, behind her waist, but Melissa didn’t care. His fingers wandered over her curves, caressing her breast, sliding over the indent of her waist, all without breaking his feverish kiss.

  He lifted his head, then, and looked her in the eye, almost willing her to deny him as his hands slid around her collarbone. His fingertips traced eight lines, then halted at the top button of her blouse. He surveyed her, looking very pleased with what he saw, and smiled. Melissa’s heart leapt at his intensity, and her mouth went dry.

  “No questions?” he asked, his breath as soft as a summer wind.

  There was that knowingness in his eyes, along with the challenge in his words, and Melissa understood what he was asking. The very fact that he asked told her she had nothing to worry about.

  At least not immediately.

  But still. “Do you ever change without choosing to?”

  He shook his head once, so resolute that she knew there was no chance.

  She had to know for sure. “During sex?”

  Again, he shook his head. “It’s a fighting posture.” He turned his hand and slid his knuckles up her throat, the proprietary gesture and the heat in his dark eyes making Melissa tremble with desire. “We change to defend what matters to us.”

  “There are even more of you?”

  He smiled, looking a little more dangerous than he had before. “It’s not important now,” he murmured, and Melissa understood.

  He was claiming her, for a night at least. If any others chose to attack, he would defend her.

  It was more than she had expected him to tell her.

  And it pleased her more than she could have anticipated. She wasn’t a woman who needed someone to protect her on a regular basis, but when there were dragons around, it wouldn’t be all bad to have one on her side.

  She let her hands dance over his shoulders, then opened his jacket to her own scrutiny. “Maybe I imagined the fights,” she whispered.

  “You don’t seem the type to be uncertain of what you’ve witnessed,” he purred.

  Melissa slipped her hands into the heat under his jacket and slid them over the hardness of his muscles. She met his gaze and smiled as she caressed him. “No dragons here.”

  “Maybe just one,” he said softly.

  “Maybe I have to see more to be sure,” Melissa replied.

  His eyes glittered; then he smiled. There was a hint of dragon in that look, but then it was gone. She didn’t care—she wanted him anyway. He must have seen as much in her eyes, because he kissed her again. This kiss was rougher, more demanding, more exciting.

  More vital. How could there be half measures with a dragon? Melissa closed her eyes and arched her back, catching her breath when the warmth of his hand closed over her breast.

  He slid his thumb over one nipple, urging it to a peak, then bent to take the nipple in his mouth, nudging the edge of her lace bra aside. Melissa gasped in pleasure, feeling the constraint of the lace and the persistence of his seductive tongue. She locked her fingers into his hair and heard herself moan.

  She didn’t even know his name.

  She didn’t care.

  She’d never been impulsive about sex, had never had a one-night stand, but she knew that if she turned him away now, she’d regret the choice for the rest of her life. This was her celebration of survival, and she would take it, without reservation. She would let loose, for the first time ever, and doubted she’d regret it.

  Her lover seemed to understand as much. He pushed her shirt away, then flicked the front clasp of her bra. She saw his smile before his hands closed over her breasts. His thumb teased the first nipple while he kissed the other. Melissa closed her eyes and savored his touch.

  She squirmed against him, and he inhaled sharply. Before Melissa could blink, he lifted her into his arms and headed for the living room. He laid her on the leather couch with reverence, stepping back to look at her as he peeled off his jacket.

  She watched him, unashamed of her attraction. His dark gaze locked with hers as he shed his jacket and put it on the opposite chair. He crossed his arms before himself and pulled his long-sleeved amber T-shirt over his head, revealing a tight white undershirt.

  And one heck of a six-pack. Melissa propped herself up on one elbow to watch. The light from the streetlamps filtered through the blinds on her living room window, painting his form in alternating stripes of light and shadow. Had she ever seen such a powerful male specimen? His shoulders were so wide, every muscle pumped, and his skin an evenly tanned gold all over.

  The white T-shirt was removed with similar methodical haste; then he bent to unfasten his boots. His attention was fixed upon her all the while, and again she had the sense that he would stop with a single gesture from her.

  Melissa’s mouth was dry, but she had no intention of making that gesture. This was a night for second chances, for making up for lost time, and for fresh starts. She knew she wasn’t going to regret whatever happened in this room in the next hour.

  He set his boots, socks tucked inside, neatly at the foot of that chair and faced her again, his hands on the waistband of his jeans.

  Melissa smiled encouragement.

  His slow, responding smile made her heart thump against her ribs. He unzipped the fly of his jeans and eased them over his hips, utterly confident in his own body. The sight of him made Melissa’s heart gallop in anticipation. He paused, and she took advantage of that instant to rise to her feet.

  Aware of his hungry gaze upon her, she shed her clothes, many of which were already unfastened. She didn’t have his grace and patience, and certainly wasn’t as neat. Melissa peeled the garments off and cast them aside, unafraid if he knew just how much she wanted him.

  And how soon.

  She hesitated when she was wearing only her panties.

  His eyes were bright in the darkness, his gaze locked on her. That this man could find her appealing was all the aphrodisiac Melissa needed. She knew she wasn’t unattractive—she also knew that her body had been through the proverbial war. It had been years since a man had looked at her with anything but pity.

  Melissa crooked one finger in invitation and didn’t manage to complete the gesture before he was right in front of her. “Beautiful,” he whispered, that smile putting a lump in her throat; then his arms were around her again.

  One minute, they were kissing and she was running her hands over his strength; the next, she was on the couch, his hands locked around her waist and his kiss on the inside of her thigh. His hands slid over her hips, taking her underwear with them.

  Melissa saw those panties fly across the room, then closed her eyes and moaned at his caress. She could find underwear later. She wasn’t going to miss one second of this interlude worrying about such details.

  Then his tongue touched her hidden softness with gentle persuasion, and she parted her thighs, wanting only more. Melissa surrendered to the moment, to passion, and to the man with the amazing eyes.

  She almost dissolved beneath his touch, lost to more pleasure than she’d felt in years. Her body tingled in places that had slept for too long, places she’d forgotten she possessed.

  And it felt so good. In a trio of heartbeats, Melissa forgot everything except the seductive power of this man.

  A man with at least one dangerous secret.

  But he made it worth her while.

  Rafferty awakened with an effort. He wanted to
sleep, to lose himself in the softness of this woman’s embrace, but he knew it would be foolish to do so.

  In fact, his lingering in her home only endangered her. Now that his desire had been partly satisfied, he was thinking with slightly more clarity.

  And he was alarmed by the risk he had taken. Would Magnus and Balthasar come after him? Rafferty expected at least Magnus would—the challenge between them still stood.

  But the woman’s perfume, now mingled with the distinctive scent of her own body and her pleasure, seemed to surround him, making it difficult to leave the warmth of her embrace. She had met him touch for touch, unafraid of either him or her own passion.

  She was a woman unlike any other he’d met.

  He knew so little about her, except that she had evidently stolen a book from Magnus.

  That recollection galvanized Rafferty. Magnus had no sense of humor about the loss of his property. He’d come after that book, and the only way to defend this woman from the Slayer’s vengeance was to give the book back to Magnus.

  Even then, Magnus might demand retribution from her.

  Rafferty would finish his own blood feud with the Slayer instead. If that went well, maybe he’d bring back the book the woman wanted and find out then what it was about. For the moment, he had to ensure that Magnus had no reason to pursue her.

  Where had she put the book? The bookshelf at the far end of the room was loaded with volumes, but Rafferty suspected it wasn’t a published book. What did Magnus’s book look like?

  Rafferty checked the pockets of her coat and smiled at the weight in one pocket. It proved to be a book bound in blue leather, like a Day-Timer or a diary. He opened it at a random page and found a list of appointments. They meant nothing to him, and he didn’t recognize the handwriting—had he ever seen Magnus’s handwriting?—so he scanned the text to be sure he had the right book.

  Find Jorge ASAP was one note from several weeks before.

  Mention of the Slayer who had been Magnus’s most loyal henchman was all the confirmation Rafferty had time to seek. There was no time to linger. He could feel the eclipse beginning and shivered at the chill of the moon as it slid into shadow. The darkness of the night seemed to become deeper and more filled with threats.