Darkfire Kiss (17 page)

“What was?”

“You.” Rafferty looked straight into her eyes, unable to deny the power of his desire. “I could think only of you,” he added softly.

She swallowed but didn’t look away. “I wasn’t thinking about much other than you, either.” Time stood still as the heat built between them, the air seeming to sizzle in the small gap that separated them.

Melissa reached out a hand, fearless and confident, and Rafferty’s desire burned even hotter. The blue flames cavorted between her fingertips and his chest, licking and flicking against his clothes and driving him to distraction. “Is the firestorm what these flames are about?”

Rafferty swallowed. He was so hard and thick and ready that he could only nod.

Melissa pulled her hand back abruptly, then clicked her tongue. Her eyes sparkled, and he recognized that she was going to make a joke to lighten the moment. “So, you abandoned a rookie in the hot zone, and your boss is ticked.”

“That’s an understatement. We are supposed to remain unseen, to work for the good of humanity and the planet while mankind remains ignorant of our presence.” Rafferty frowned, well aware of the magnitude of his error. He had summoned an earthquake, without regard for the consequences. Had any humans been injured?

How could he have forgotten his responsibilities?

How much more would the darkfire make him forget?

Rafferty fought his rising tide of fear. He had to satisfy this firestorm and soon.

“Big mistake, then,” she said lightly, arching a brow. “And I’ve blown my chance for a job. Looks like we’re both in a corner.”

Rafferty nodded, wondering where she’d go with this. He knew where he wanted to go—back to his hotel room to sate the firestorm. Darkfire was causing chaos, just as foretold, and the only way to stop it was for him to impregnate Melissa. He had to change the order of his priorities, assigning Magnus second place.

Maybe third.

Rafferty didn’t need a lot of imagination to guess what this forthright and independent woman would think of such a plan.

Oblivious to his worries, Melissa squared her shoulders. “Look. I want Montmorency to go down, more than anything in the world, even more than I wanted that job. So, we might as well work together.”

“How so?”

“I’ll help you however I can to bring down Montmorency, even if it comes to killing him. And I won’t tattle to the police.”

“And you will do as I bid you to do, for your own safety.”

She smiled then, her amusement taking him off guard. “Is it smart for a damsel in distress to trust a dragon dude who calls her his
mate
?” Before he could reply, she answered her own question. “Maybe it’s smart to make allies, even in unexpected places.” She stuck out her right hand. “Deal, Powell.”

As soon as his hand closed over hers, Rafferty knew that a handshake wasn’t going to be enough to seal their bargain. The sizzling flames turned his thoughts in other directions, feeding more earthy impulses and reminding him of his mate’s allure. Was it possible the Great Wyvern had not chosen wrongly for him? Rafferty desperately wanted to believe it.

Either way, he had to answer the call of the flames. He wanted to try to make his firestorm work, even if the odds were long.

Maybe because the odds were long.

Rafferty closed the last step between them, watched Melissa’s eyes widen, and smiled at her as his fingers wrapped more tightly around her hand. He knew the instant their thoughts were as one. It was clear in the way she glanced at his lips, the gleam that lit her eyes, the blush that touched her cheeks. It was in her sharp intake of breath, the leap of her pulse, the increase in adrenaline. It was in the way his body matched its rhythms to hers.

She stepped closer, fearless—or maybe refusing to let him see her sweat—and put her other hand on his shoulder.

“Doesn’t hurt one bit that you’re irresistible,” she murmured. “I like that in a partner.” Then she stretched up and touched her lips to his.

Rafferty might have agreed, but their kiss was rudely interrupted.

A jade salamander spontaneously manifested between them. Rafferty felt it against his chest, then recoiled in horror from its slithering form.

“So, it
was
Daphne!” Magnus bellowed, his anger more than clear.

Melissa gasped as the salamander slid down Rafferty’s chest.

He yelled when it bit him, hard, in the chest.

Then Rafferty, intent on defending both himself and his mate, shifted shape. He shifted right beside the road in broad daylight and did not care. He’d wounded Magnus the night before—it was time to finish the old snake forever.

Then sate the firestorm.

For the moment, other consequences could be damned.

O
ne minute, Melissa’s blood had been heating in anticipation of the kiss she was going to share with Rafferty. Those blue-green flames seemed to be dancing in slow motion, sliding over her skin, outlining his shoulders in vivid light. They had a seductive rhythm of their own, those weird flames, but she liked them. She was starting to associate them with pleasure of the best kind.

The next minute, there was a green salamander slithering between them, one that shouted in Montmorency’s voice.

It said something for recent events in her life that Melissa was less startled than she might have been.

She had time to gasp before Rafferty shouted. His eyes blazed, and he shimmered a lighter blue around his perimeter. It wasn’t the same blue-green hue as the flames that lit where he touched her, and was more of a glow than a burning flame. She saw red blood on his chest, probably where the newt had chomped him.

One blink later, there were two dragons grappling for supremacy on the boulevard of frozen grass. Melissa stepped back and wished—one more time—for her camera. Car tires squealed, and there was a fender bender beside them as drivers were distracted by the sight of a dragon fight.

She couldn’t blame them for that. She, too, was riveted.

It was clear to her that Montmorency had made a mistake in initiating this fight. Even he appeared to be surprised by the vigor of Rafferty’s reaction. The sight of the four long scabs on his belly reminded Melissa that he had been wounded the night before, as well.

Why had he struck when he was weakened? What did he know that they didn’t?

The opal and gold dragon who had been her dream lover was vicious in his fury. Rafferty didn’t hesitate. He simply battled his foe with incredible strength.

Of course, there was still red blood running from a small bite mark on his chest. It looked deep, and Melissa could imagine it hurt.

Rafferty struck at Montmorency, opening the scabs on those wounds with four more deep cuts. Montmorency, a glittering jade green dragon with gold edging on his scales, fell backward in pain. Black blood flowed over the gilded splendor of his stomach.

Again she wondered why their blood was different colors.

Melissa thought Montmorency might be faking his pain. Rafferty pursued him hotly, breathing dragonfire until the orange flames completely obscured Montmorency’s form.

It didn’t hide his screams of pain, though.

Rafferty snatched at Montmorency, hauling him upward. He bit into the other dragon’s chest, ripping Montmorency open so that his chest was a raw mass of bleeding flesh. He slammed him into one of the cars damaged in the fender bender, denting its roof deeply.

The people were already out of the car, and they backed away in shock. Rafferty leapt on top of the vehicle, planted one foot on Montmorency’s neck, and shredded the wings from his opponent’s back. He flung them aside, the massive leathery appendages falling close to Melissa. A bystander reached out to touch the tip of one, his amazement clear.

Montmorency began to beg for mercy. Rafferty spit in his eye. Melissa heard that thunder again and knew they were speaking in their dragon way. Rafferty held the other dragon down, staring into his eyes as he lifted one sharp talon.

“This is for Maximilian’s son,” he said out loud, his words so resonant that Melissa’s bones vibrated along with the words.

“His
son
?” Montmorency echoed, his shock clear. “But Maximilian has no son!”

Rafferty smiled. It was a cold smile, a dragon smile, a knowing smile. It showed a great many sharp teeth.

Melissa saw Montmorency’s shock, and enjoyed watching his dismay. She didn’t know who Maximilian was, much less who his son was—never mind what the two of them had witnessed at Montmorency’s hand—but she really liked that Montmorency was discovering a detail left unattended in his last moment.

It was justice of a most basic kind.

“Now to ensure that you are gone forevermore.” Rafferty slowly glanced over the fallen dragon, even as Montmorency’s breath heaved. Montmorency tried to move away, but he was too broken to make much progress.

Melissa saw a little shimmer of gold, like a newt, appearing quickly beside Montmorency. By the time she’d looked again, it was gone and she thought she’d imagined it.

She watched Rafferty again. Melissa knew when he found what he sought on the other dragon’s body, because his eyes glittered with satisfaction. “Where’s that missing scale?” he mused. “Aha! Although it’s hard to believe there was ever anyone you loved, Magnus.”

“No!” Montmorency protested as Rafferty lifted his sharp talon high. “No. We can negotiate. We can find a solution. We can…”

“We will finally end this,” Rafferty said. “Did you love yourself best of all?”

The jade dragon hissed and breathed a feeble stream of fire. Rafferty decked him, and Montmorency’s head cracked against the ground. His eyes closed and didn’t open again.

Rafferty raised his claw to strike the telling blow, and she was ready to cheer. This was it! Justice, dragon-style. Melissa found it worked for her in a big way.

Those in the crowd behind her were silent and trans-fixed. She could feel their tension.

“And so it ends,” Rafferty whispered, then struck at his opponent with vicious force. The crowd gasped, but Melissa couldn’t look away. She wouldn’t even blink. She didn’t want to miss the killing blow.

Except there wasn’t one.

Before Rafferty’s blow could connect, there was a brilliant flash of gold. Melissa saw that salamander reappear, but it quickly became another dragon, a blindingly gold one. This dragon’s scales could have been made with topaz and edged with gold. He was so bright that he could have been the sun touching the earth.

He appeared suddenly, right between the two opponents.

Rafferty was clearly shocked, and the new arrival blocked his strike.

“Sorry to intervene,” he said, his accent Russian, “but this prize is mine.”

He raged fire at the surprised Rafferty, making him step backward. Then he snatched up the unconscious Montmorency and fled into the sky.

He flew so quickly that Melissa was astounded. Then suddenly, fifty feet above the ground, both the gold and the jade dragons disappeared.

As if they had never been.

“No!” Melissa shouted.

“Yes!” one of the onlookers roared. “He was saved from
murder
!” Those in the crowd began to mutter in agreement, their mood turning hostile.

“Vicious beast,” a woman cried, then spat at Rafferty. “You are
wicked
. No creature should kill its own so violently.”

Someone threw a soda can at Rafferty. It bounced off his back, presumably not hurting him in the least, but he looked up in surprise.

“No!” Melissa argued. “The other one was the bad one.”

“And what would you know about it?” bellowed the woman.

“A lot more than you do, clearly.”

“So, was the gold one good or bad?” taunted the woman. Melissa didn’t know, and her lack of reply made the woman smile.

Rafferty surveyed the crowd, clearly perplexed by the reaction. But when his jewel-bright gaze landed upon her, Melissa smiled at him. He was pumped and gorgeous, virile—and he would have been a triumphant champion if the gold dragon hadn’t cheated him of victory. She liked that he had pursued justice against Montmorency. The weight of his glance made her heart leap, made her desire burn, made her think of celebrating victory in a most basic way. She didn’t care what anybody else thought.

She lifted her arms toward him, in the same instant that he bounded toward her. Eyes flashing and wings beating, he scooped her up from the boulevard and soared into the sky. The crowd shouted in consternation, but Melissa didn’t care. She was right where she wanted to be.

The snow began to fall in earnest, icy pellets slashing against her face as they ascended, but Melissa savored the moment. She was flying and free—well, so long as Rafferty held her tightly. She felt the wind on her body, the strength of Rafferty at her back, and knew he’d never drop her. That flickering flame of blue danced over her skin, seemingly invigorated by Rafferty’s battle.

It certainly invigorated Melissa. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of flying, not knowing whether she’d ever feel it again.

She was alive.

Montmorency was seriously wounded.

And she was leaving the scene with the sexiest man she’d ever known. Melissa had a good idea what would happen next.

It didn’t get much better than this.

Rafferty was appalled by his own behavior.

He had become a monster. He had forgotten every single thing he had ever been taught about coexisting quietly in human society. He had abandoned the core principles of his kind and had endangered humans with his deeds. He had done so carelessly and recklessly, without regard for the consequences. He had been violent and vicious with Magnus, but had failed to complete their challenge.

Again.

The realization made him feel sick.

Plus, he had revealed the survival of Maximilian’s son to Magnus, thereby putting the Sleeper in peril. He had
gloated
, a choice as out of character as possible. Rafferty could not have been any more irresponsible to everyone who relied upon him.

The darkfire was changing him, making him into something he didn’t want to be. It was driving him farther and farther from his grandfather’s ideal of how a
Pyr
should live.

Had he erred all those centuries ago, in refusing to learn the songs of the Cantor from his grandfather? He had been sure that spell casting was wrong in its very essence, and that had been the only argument he’d ever had with Pwyll.

That argument had also been the last time he’d seen his grandfather alive.

Had that denial been the decision that had driven Rafferty from the true path? His grandfather would have said so. Was the darkfire feeding upon his mistake, or was it simply creating its own disorder?

It was terrifying to acknowledge how much he had enjoyed doing injury to Magnus. It had been more than a wager to be won, or justice to be meted out. He had reveled in the violence of it. The dragon within him had been ascendant as never before, deaf to any notion of temperance or fair play. He had wanted Magnus dead—wanted him dead at any price. He wanted him to suffer. He wanted to be vicious, regardless of who witnessed his deed.

Even his mate.

How much difference was there between him and his old adversary? Less than Rafferty would have liked.

His heightened reaction had probably been because of the presence of his mate and because she had been threatened by Magnus, but still…

Rafferty wasn’t proud of himself. He had spent his entire existence honoring others, particularly humans, safeguarding the secrets of the
Pyr
, facilitating firestorms, being the voice of reason and temperance.

In a day, he had utterly lost himself in the darkfire.

In a day, he had seen the shadow within himself, and the sight of his own truth appalled him.

Rafferty’s bloodlust had overwhelmed him, blinding him to simple practicalities. He should have anticipated that Jorge would be drawn to the firestorm, that the
Slayers
who had been given the Elixir from Magnus’s own hand might rally to that villain’s defense.

Worse, he had retaliated against Magnus in daylight, beside a busy thoroughfare. There would be another human record of the
Pyr
. Worse again, it would show his kind in an act of savagery. In
his
savagery. It was another mistake for which he would have to atone with Erik. He couldn’t blame Erik for being angry, but at the same time, the firestorm’s erratic burn convoluted his thinking, twisting his impulses in unexpected ways.

Rafferty had to retreat.

He had to seek out a refuge.

And he knew the only one that would do.

Maybe secured in his London lair, he could recover his senses.

Maybe secured in his London lair, he could seduce his mate and end the chaotic influence of this darkfire firestorm. It was the only way to regain his equilibrium. He’d already told Melissa far too much.

At least Rafferty knew that Donovan was keeping his old pledge and traveling to the hoard where the Sleeper was secured. Something had gone right. Was the Sleeper fully awake yet? Rafferty hoped it took time for him to return to consciousness, at least long enough for Donovan to arrive. He didn’t need another mistake to his credit. Rafferty did not dare to go to the Sleeper himself, not with Magnus still alive, lest he lead the old snake to a prize beyond all expectation.

“Where are we going?” Melissa asked as he flew over the ocean. Rafferty wasn’t fooled by the casual tone of her question.

“Home.”

As anticipated, she had no quibble setting him straight. “No. My home isn’t this way. It’s back down there.”

Rafferty was feeling somewhat less than his usual diplomatic self. He saw no reason to gloss the truth. “No. Your home is gone.”

“What?” She eyed him with consternation. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“It is destroyed,” Rafferty said flatly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. That had been another failure on his part. He would add it to the ever-growing list. He would atone for her loss before all was done between them.

Melissa faltered for a moment. It was something for her to be even momentarily speechless. “But, but,
how
?”

“I summoned an earthquake, in order to pass beneath the dragonsmoke and rescue you.” Rafferty knew he sounded stern, but he was irritated that he hadn’t thought beyond that moment to the consequences. “Your house was the epicenter. It was the only way out.”

“You trashed my house? On purpose?”

“It was a casualty of my actions, yes.” He spared himself any comment about flimsy new construction. He also refrained from noting that her home’s decor had less character than that of his hotel room. He had sensed that the town house was no more than a placeholder, an address to which she had mail sent, but he had no business accusing her of not having a true home.