Kiss of Fire (18 page)

“But you don't want to.”

“I don't trust him.”

“He saved me yesterday,” Sara continued.

“Sort of. You're forgetting the bit about him tossing you out of the tower.”

“I think you're too suspicious of him.” Sara couldn't stop herself from challenging Quinn. “Is it because you saw him kill Ambrose, or because you saw him when your parents died?”

Quinn wasn't going to tell her that the third time was the charm. It was too close for comfort. “Does it matter?”

“I think it does. Erik said last night he killed Ambrose to protect you.”

“There's no one to verify that,” Quinn said grimly.

“But what if he did?” Sara demanded. “What if he's been looking out for you? They said Ambrose was a
Slayer
—what if Erik
was
protecting you?”

“Now, you're making stuff up.” Quinn got out of the truck with impatience, but when he got to Sara's door, he saw that she wasn't ready to let it go.

“If Erik had wanted to kill me, he could have done it yesterday morning in my shop,” she said when Quinn opened her door. “There was no one to stop him. Instead he gave me books to read. Does that sound like something a
Slayer
would do?”

“Just because he's sneaky doesn't mean I should trust him,” Quinn insisted, even as he realized she was right.

“You'd just rather work alone,” Sara accused as she slid out of the truck.

“It's worked pretty well so far.”

“No. Working alone never works for the duration.” Sara tapped a fingertip on Quinn's chest, sending little jolts of electricity over his skin. “You get better results working as a team. You should share information with Erik and strategize with him.”

The very idea made everything in Quinn tighten with dread. He looked down at his coffee, knowing he wasn't getting anywhere fast.

“Will you try?” Sara asked. “Will you talk to him?”

He looked at her, letting her see the depths of his animosity for the other
Pyr
.

She didn't flinch. “Maybe he knows more than you do.”

Quinn felt his eyes narrow. “Maybe I'm having a hard time letting the past go.”

Sara studied him, then turned away. The street was becoming busy but he knew she wasn't really looking at the pedestrians. He followed her gaze to the bell tower and could have done without the reminder of the night before. The last thing he wanted to do was set up his booth and try to be charming to potential customers, let alone leave Sara alone in her shop all day.

“How many
Pyr
friends have you had?” she asked quietly.

Quinn was startled. “One. Why?”

She turned to face him. “The
Slayer
who tried to kill me yesterday, the golden one, he acted as if he knew you.”

Quinn's heart clenched, but Sara was going to tell him what she thought he needed to hear.

“He said he had taught you, that you had always been a good fighter but that you had learned to be calculating from him. He said you two had history.”

Quinn looked away and his throat clenched.

It was true. Ambrose was alive and intent on killing Sara.

Quinn had been foolish and trusted the enemy once. There was no reason to make the same mistake twice—and Erik Sorensson was the last
Pyr
Quinn would let cross his smoke to be alone with Sara.

If he told her that, of course, she'd want to know why. Quinn was tired of meddling details. The most important thing was that his firestorm was here. He had to move fast, or risk being cheated again.

It was time to kindle the flame.

Sara knew she'd hit a nerve. She suspected that Quinn knew who her assailant was, but she didn't think he was going to tell her.

Yet.

“I'd prefer to walk you to your store,” he said grimly.

Sara smiled to lighten the mood. “Lair to lair delivery?”

Quinn was obviously reassured that she wasn't going to argue with him. A wary twinkle lit in his eyes. “Something like that. Indulge me?”

“I think you're indulging me,” she said. “Thanks for the ride and the coffee, too. I'm feeling quite spoiled this morning.”

Quinn caught her hand in his. “Aren't princesses supposed to be spoiled?” he murmured, in that low voice she found so seductive.

She looked up as a sizzle danced over her skin, emanating from their interlaced fingers. Quinn studied her as if she were the most gorgeous woman in the world. His eyes darkened to indigo as his smile slowly faded. Sara could only stare back as her mouth went dry.

He touched her jaw with his other hand, a line of fire following the gentle caress of his fingertip. Sara's knees weakened as he cupped her chin in his hand. She knew what he was going to do, right in the middle of State Street, and couldn't decide whether she wanted him to hurry to the kiss or be leisurely about it.

He was watching her, seeking some hint that she didn't want him to kiss her. Sara held his gaze and smiled up at him. There was no one in her world but Quinn, nothing but the blaze of desire in his eyes. His thumb eased across her lips, a slow, steady caress that set her aflame. Sara felt hot and she couldn't quite catch her breath.

Quinn leaned closer, giving her time to evade him if she wanted, but Sara didn't move. She waited. He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. He had the longest and darkest lashes imaginable, but they made him look only more masculine. His lips were firm with a sensuous curve, one that curved an increment more as he studied her.

“I want you safe,” he murmured. “First and foremost.”

“Ditto,” she whispered. Sara pushed back his straw fedora with a playful fingertip and curved one hand around his face. She could feel the slight stubble of his whiskers even though he'd shaved, and could feel the determination in his jaw. His throat was muscled and tanned and she liked that he was both taller and stronger than she. “You make me feel safe,” she admitted.

He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand, sending fire through her veins with that fleeting touch.

“More,” Sara whispered and he smiled.

It was the only encouragement he needed. He inclined his head and his lips brushed across hers once, tantalizing and teasing; then his mouth closed over hers with resolve.

Sara closed her eyes with satisfaction. His was a slow and powerful kiss, a leisurely kiss that explored and tempted and teased. Sara leaned against his chest and let her fingers tangle in his hair, closed her eyes, and surrendered to sensation. There were only Quinn and his fiery touch, only Quinn and his caress.

It was a kiss that melted the barriers between them. She tasted his fear and his desire, understood that his reluctance to seek the Wyvern was out of concern for her safety. She felt the mingling of strength and gentleness that she already appreciated in him; she savored the certainty that he was content to spend half a day on a single kiss.

If that was what it took to make it right. His kiss was by turns gentle and demanding. It was hot and sweet and powerful. It was a first kiss to eliminate all other kisses from Sara's thoughts. It was thorough and languorous and altogether fabulous.

She didn't want it to end, and neither, apparently, did Quinn.

Quinn's kiss was a more effective way to jump-start her system than a cup of strong coffee and a whole lot more pleasurable. Sara could have kissed Quinn all morning long. She knew that she was being savored, and appreciated, and admired—just for being who she was.

If that wasn't seductive, she didn't know what was.

No one had ever made Sara forget where she was. No one had ever made her burn and yearn. No man had ever persuaded Sara with one kiss to slide her tongue between his teeth, much less to make her want to drag him home and have her way with him.

Immediately.

With chocolate sauce.

No one had ever kissed Sara the way Quinn did.

Someone honked impatiently and both Quinn and Sara jumped. The other driver wanted to park in the next spot, but couldn't because they were standing there, necking like teenagers. Sara eased away from Quinn with reluctance, her breath coming fast. He let her go, but not far. His eyes gleamed brightly when he joined her on the sidewalk.

“The firestorm,” she whispered, unable to stop from touching her burning lips with her fingertips. Was the firestorm about more than physical attraction? Sara wanted to know but didn't know how to ask.

Quinn swallowed and nodded as they turned toward her shop. “The start of it, anyway.”

Sara stared at him. “You mean it gets stronger?”

“From what I understand.”

“You've never felt it before?”

He smiled that slow smile, the one that melted her bones and made her want to do things with him that weren't particularly sensible. “I've never met you before, Sara.”

“No, I think I'd remember if we had.”

Quinn chuckled, and she found herself laughing with him. He knotted their fingers together with purpose, the strength of his hand around hers making Sara feel sexy and safe.

She could feel his pulse, hammering against her own palm, and liked the evidence of his arousal. At least she wasn't the only one whose universe had been shaken by that kiss.

She wanted to do more than rattle Quinn, though, or at least she wanted to shake his world on an ongoing basis. She turned her morning newspaper as they walked into the arcade, halfway expecting to see headlines about Ann Arbor having been invaded by dragons. Instead, the front cover story was about the art fair. She eyeballed the index in confusion.

“What's the matter?” he asked.

“How can it be that no one saw that dragon fight last night? I thought it would be in the paper.”

Quinn smiled. “They saw it but they don't remember.”

“Why not?”

“Because they were beguiled.”

Sara thought about that for a minute. “Erik said something like that. When he wanted us to come to his hotel room.”

“Yes. They had to do the beguiling first.”

Sara waited but Quinn didn't say anything more. “And?” she prompted when he didn't say more. For the first time, she sensed that he was evading one of her questions and she wondered why.

“And what?”

“What's beguiling?”

Quinn frowned. “It's a way of making humans believe things that aren't true.”

“Like casting a spell?” Sara didn't like the sound of that, and it probably showed in her tone. Why didn't Quinn want to tell her about this power?

He wasn't using it on her, was he?

“More like hypnosis,” Quinn said, his tone terse. “I don't like it. I don't do it. That doesn't mean that other
Pyr
don't find it useful sometimes.”

“Like with controlling crowds or public sightings.”

“That's not what I do. I run a solo game.”

“Wouldn't you have beguiled people last night?”

Quinn shook his head without hesitation. “I'd leave them to create their own explanations. People aren't prepared to believe that they've actually seen a dragon, let alone half a dozen of us. They'll come up with a rationalization quickly enough.” His frown deepened. “I'd rather just be careful about showing myself publicly, and deal with any consequences when I do.”

“It's more honest that way,” Sara guessed. They reached the shop and she eyed the mermaid door knocker, relieved to see it cold and black.

“I am what I am, and
Pyr
is what I am.” Quinn said with pride. “I'm not going to hide from the truth.”

Sara understood what he didn't say. “You mean you're not really afraid of humans.”

“Why should I be? The major threats to our survival are other
Pyr
.” Quinn seemed to be checking his territory mark, then gave her a simmering glance that made her heart jump. He looked so intense that she was half-afraid of what he would say. His words surprised her all the same. “I'd appreciate it if you'd call me when you want to leave the shop.”

Sara unlocked the shop door. “I can't bother you every time I go for a coffee.”

“Yes, you can,” Quinn insisted, his eyes blazing. “It's not safe for you to leave a protected area.”

Sara took one look at him and surrendered the fight. She was never going to persuade him that she was safe alone, no matter how much she doubted the threat to her person in broad daylight.

Once he had seen her safely inside the store and gone back to his booth, Sara looked around with dissatisfaction. She couldn't live her life, only able to move around in Quinn's presence. Every problem had a solution: she just had to find it.