Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel (10 page)

It was also evocative of his father’s warning, murmured so long ago.

He found himself a little troubled that Sam had spied one of his secrets. “You think dragons are more worrisome than snakes, maybe even more of a problem than thieves and the dead.”

“Definitely.” Sam was scurrying backward, slipping out of his embrace. She snatched her bikini bottom and pulled it on, her amorous mood clearly dispelled.

By the dragons in his tattoo.

Or the suggestion that he had a secret.

It was intriguing, given that she had plenty of them herself.

Sloane knew better than to pursue her. He remained where he was and watched her dress. “Why?”

“Don’t you watch the news?” Sam’s tone was hard, and she turned her back on him as she reached for her bikini top.

“Which news?” Sloane’s kind had been in the news repeatedly over the past few years, not least because Rafferty’s mate Melissa had aired a television special about the
Pyr
. There was another journalist named Maeve O’Neill who had also taken an interest in the
Pyr
, although her reports were far less favorable than Melissa’s. Even Sloane, who wasn’t that interested in public opinion, knew that Maeve had some rabid followers.

Was Sam one of them?

“The Seattle virus, of course! Dragons are responsible for that.” Sam gestured wildly to his tattoo, her hands shaking. “To choose to have a tattoo like that on your body is an
abomination
.” She was furious.

Clearly, he’d struck a nerve, without meaning to do so.

“You feel really strongly about this,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “But many people think dragons are just myths.”

“They’re
not
myths! They’re destructive killers, bent on exterminating the human race.” Sam dressed with savage gestures, pausing to glare at him. “And making good progress with it, too.” She pointed to his tattoo. “That
thing
on your arm is
not
cool.” She turned and marched toward the gate, outrage in her every step. “And if you think it is, then we’re finished forever.”

Sloane wished he hadn’t upset Sam, but he was intrigued by the vehemence of her reaction. “It’s just a tattoo,” he protested.

She spun at the gate to glare at him. “It’s a permanent mark on your skin, a design that you chose and that was put there with considerable time, pain and expense. There’s no
just
about it!”

“You can’t leave already,” he protested, keeping his tone low and calm.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re angry.” Sloane got to his feet slowly, noting how she surveyed him. Her stance softened slightly, and he knew she was as attracted to him as he was to her. He smiled a little and felt her heart skip. “It would be bad luck.”

Sam laughed then, though the sound wasn’t light-hearted. “Then I guess we’re in for some bad luck, because I can’t stay.”

“Not even if I cover it?” Sloane put one hand over the tattoo, perfectly willing to put on a shirt if it appeased her.

Sam shuddered violently again and shook her head. “Not even if you have it surgically removed. The fact that you have it means we have nothing more to say to each other.”

“I thought you didn’t want us to talk anyway.”

Sam glared at him, then pivoted and strode out the gate. “Let’s forget this night ever happened.”

Dragons were a problem for her.

Sloane watched her go, trying to be philosophical about it instead of disappointed. Maybe it was better that anything between them ended before it really began, given the truth of his nature. Sam wasn’t going to take well to learning that he was
Pyr
—though he had no intention of confiding in her quickly, he was inherently honest. It would only have been a matter of time before he trusted a partner with such a secret.

Especially if he fell in love.

Could he fall in love with a woman who wasn’t his destined mate? Sloane had never thought it possible, but there was something about Sam that touched him deeply. He leaned on the fence, watching her, more than his curiosity aroused.

Only when Sam was safely back in her own house, and after she turned out the kitchen lights, did he lock his gate and turn back to the house.

Maybe it was time he dug a little deeper into Sam’s history.

Sloane might have done just that if his cell phone hadn’t rung. In five minutes, he was booking a commercial flight to Chicago and throwing every unguent in his arsenal as the Apothecary of the
Pyr
into his bag.

Erik was seriously wounded, Boris Vassily was returned from the dead, and there was too much to do to ponder the contradictions of Samantha Wilcox.

Chapter Four

Sam was furious. Dragons! How could the one man who made her feel alive again admire dragons? How could the one intimate interval in her recent life have gone so incredibly wrong? She stomped back to her house and slammed the kitchen door behind herself, the lovely luxurious sense of well-being that had come from great sex completely dispelled.

She propped her hands on her hips and glared around her empty kitchen. The executed divorce agreement, the one that had arrived earlier in the day, taunted her from the end of the counter. Even though she’d known it was coming, even though she’d negotiated and agreed to the terms, seeing it all in black and white had been discouraging. Another failure to add to the growing list. Another reason to be glad her father wasn’t alive to see what a mess she’d made of the promise of her life. Another reminder that she was alone, and maybe she deserved it.

She’d needed some reassurance, some human contact, some pleasure. She’d thought sex would be a simple solution. She’d thought that following impulse instead of planning every decision years in advance would be a positive change.

Simple sex, no complications, emotions or promises.

Ha.

Sloane Forbes was supposed to be candy.

He was supposed to feel good.

He was supposed to be
fun
.

He was supposed to ask no questions, make no emotional demands, and have no ability to make Sam remember what she’d come to California to forget. Sloane was supposed to be a gorgeous jock, who made love like a god and convinced her to forget all the stuff that was making her miserable. He was supposed to want nothing from her but sex.

He wasn’t supposed to have tattoos that hinted at secrets.

He wasn’t supposed to be curious about
her
secrets.

And he wasn’t supposed to be so delicious that she slipped up. He wasn’t supposed to
get
to her, much less to tempt her to lay open her life like a book just so he’d make love to her again.

And he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to think anything positive about dragons.
Dragons
. That tattoo made Sam want to break something. It was disgusting that he had such an image on his body. She wasn’t a fan of tattoos in the first place, but one with dragons was even worse. Two dragons! They weren’t creatures that deserved to be venerated in any way.

But he thought the symbol was
cool
.

Sam seethed. He probably was one of those people who thought the caduceus was a symbol of healing, although the idea of dragons healing anything or anyone was more than ridiculous.

But wait. Sam took a steadying breath. Sloane was awfully perceptive for a man she’d expected to be all about muscles and good looks. After all, he’d seen right through the excuse that everyone else had accepted at face value about her occupation and her plans for the future. He’d even guessed that she was a scientist.

He didn’t strike her as being impulsive, much less the kind of person who would go to the expense and pain of getting a large tattoo without being certain of its meaning. He seemed, in fact, to be very deliberate about his choices.

Thoughtful.

Not a dumb jock at all.

Just to be sure she was remembering the details correctly, Sam looked up the symbol. To her relief, she
was
right. The caduceus, with twin serpents twined around a staff—or dragons, in the case of Sloane’s tattoo—was a symbol of the Greek god Hermes or his Roman counterpart Mercury, and thus the emblem of messengers of the gods.

She nearly scoffed aloud at the idea of dragons bearing messages from the divine.

She did nod at the note that the caduceus was confused with the Rod of Asclepius by many people, which was a symbol of healing and featured only one snake wrapped around a staff. Mercury was also the guide of the dead, and the protector of thieves, liars, gamblers and merchants. It could be used as a symbol for the planet Mercury or the element itself.

Sam frowned at the book, fighting her sense that Sloane’s choice tattoo wasn’t a mistake.

What exactly did he
do
, other than grow herbs and give advice to gardeners? This hinted that there could be a dark side to his life.

Sam bit her lip. That could explain his affection for privacy.

Never mind his habit of checking out his neighbors and their history, before they moved in. Did he do something illegal?

No. She didn’t believe it. She had a strong sense that he was honorable and honest. Maybe he liked to appear dangerous. Some men did.

Sam fought the urge to look out the window. She was more intrigued by her neighbor than she knew was healthy. The fact was that Sloane Forbes wasn’t at all what she’d anticipated. The dragon tattoo was the last surprise, but it hadn’t been the first one. Winston Churchill had said that Russia was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, but he could have been talking about Sloane Forbes.

No wonder she was fascinated by him.

Could she figure him out? Guess some of his secrets the way he’d guessed some of hers? Something about Sloane made Sam want to try.

Solving riddles had always been her best trick, after all.

She checked the house and locked up, knowing she was too agitated to sleep. She returned to the kitchen to make herself a hot mug of milk. In the middle of filling the mug, she froze at the memory: she’d always made hot milk for Nathaniel when he couldn’t sleep.

She’d never have the chance again. Sam put down the milk, blinked back her tears and fought to catch her breath.

Nathaniel
. Just thinking his name hurt.

How would Sloane respond if she told him about her lost son? He’d feel sorry for her, that was for sure, but she wouldn’t be able to bear his compassion any more than anyone else’s. Not when she’d failed so very badly. Not when Nathaniel’s death was all her fault. She put the mug in the microwave, turned it on and put the jug of milk away. She felt raw and bruised all over again, and couldn’t decide whether it was better or worse than feeling as numb as she had for the past year.

Her gaze rose to the house several hundred yards away. Would Sloane discern Sam’s secret conviction that she’d been a bad mother? She had a feeling that he might.

She thought he might try to console her, even so.

Or was she just seeing him as more of a hero than he was?

The microwave beeped and Sam stirred the milk. How sad was it that she couldn’t even have simple impulsive sex, with no strings attached, without messing everything up? Their interval had been great and she’d felt wonderful—until she’d made an issue about Sloane’s tattoo.

Which really was none of her business.

Especially given her terms for their relationship. She had no right to make judgments or demands of him, by her own stipulation. A magical night had been ruined by her reaction, and the best feeling she’d had in years had been dispelled for no good reason.

Sam owed Sloane an apology.

She sighed, recognizing a truth when she heard it, and wondered whether she should walk back immediately. Would he still be awake? She had to think so.

Maybe they could pick up where they’d left off.

Maybe she could make it up to him.

Sam was halfway across the kitchen when she saw headlights swing across the darkness. Sloane was backing out of his driveway and heading toward the road.

Leaving.

It was four in the morning. Where could he possibly be going?

Sam wanted to know, more than she’d wanted to know anything in quite a while. Surely, he didn’t have another lover he was going to visit? The idea was more troubling than it had any business being.

For man candy and mindless amusement, Sloane was sure shaking her up.

She watched until the lights of his truck disappeared around the bend of the road. He didn’t come back, not even by the time she’d finished her milk.

It had been a long time since Sam had gotten to the bottom of any mystery, but here was one that demanded her attention. She was going to find out more about Sloane while he was gone, however long he might be gone.

After all, he thought it was reasonable for a person to research their neighbors.

Fair was fair.

* * *

Drake had no doubt of the moment that Veronica’s mind returned to practical matters. He had pleasured her three times and had two orgasms himself. The second time, he’d taken her in the bathroom, where the light of the candles and the heat of the bath water were reminiscent of the firestorm’s touch.