Dragon's Kiss (The DragonFate Novels Book 2)

by Deborah Cooke

  The music stopped. The lights on the booth went out and it seemed to Alasdair that a wind stirred. There were goose pimples on the back of his neck. Kade was reading the card over his shoulder.

  “Where did that come from?” he whispered, scanning the empty circus grounds again.

  Drake was eying a shadow at the opening to the tent. The flaps could be pulled back to make an entry point, but they were closed.

  Alasdair handed the card to Drake who read it quickly. “It’s similar to the prophecies the Pyr used to receive during a firestorm,” he said, turning the card over to eye Madame Zola’s logo on the back. “Didn’t you say that Kristofer followed the light of his firestorm into Fae?”

  “Yes,” Alasdair agreed. “But he also said his mate insisted it wasn’t real.”

  “It had to have been a spell,” someone with a deep voice said. “And as a result, the perfect lure for a Pyr.”

  The tent flap moved and a man stepped out of the interior. He had grey hair and a limp, but otherwise was trim. His eyes were different colors, one blue and one grey. Drake clearly wasn’t surprised by his appearance, although Alasdair and Kade were.

  Why hadn’t Alasdair sensed the man’s presence?

  More importantly, who was he and why had he been watching them?

  Bree opened her eyes to find pale daylight slipping around the edge of the curtains. She’d slept hard, but she wasn’t sure for how long. The Pyr salve had worked, too. While her back ached, it wasn’t as sore as it had been.

  She smelled coffee and heard the patter of rain against the windows. There was a low murmur of conversation somewhere in the house and she recognized Rafferty’s deep voice. The house was blissfully quiet, not humming with electricity like her apartment. She stretched, feeling how the healing wounds tugged but didn’t smart, then realized that Kris was leaning in the doorway.

  Bree’s heart took a leap for her throat and their gazes locked. The intensity was familiar, but she was surprised to be so aware of him even without the insistent heat of the firestorm. She felt flustered and a little warm, sexually aware of him, and glad of his company, too.

  He could stand so still. She wondered if he could slow down his metabolism, too, because she hadn’t even heard him breathing.

  Kris was holding a steaming mug of coffee, and for once, that wasn’t the best thing about the view. She noticed that he looked tired, but he smiled crookedly at her all the same. He was thoughtful in so many ways. She’d never known another being who cared about anyone else. Immortals were fundamentally selfish and Bree knew she had been, too.

  Being with Kris didn’t just make her aware of that: it made her want to change. She remembered Melissa’s words. Was it true that her own convictions were the obstacle to them having a future? Bree had never wanted a future with anyone until now. Her romantic entanglements in the mortal realm had been one-nighters, even they’d even lasted that long. They’d been purely about physical satisfaction, but now she found that option a lot less interesting.

  Maybe the Pyrs’ romantic view of the firestorm was infectious.

  “I thought you might need a hit,” Kris said and lifted the mug. His hair was wet and he was wearing a different T-shirt. He must have borrowed clothes from Rafferty. She thought she heard a dryer running. It looked like her cleaned clothes were folded on the dresser opposite the bed.

  “How did you know I was waking up?”

  “I heard your breathing change.”

  “How long have you been standing there, listening?”

  “Not that long. I heard you from downstairs.” He came into the room as if that wasn’t remarkable and gave her the coffee. Their hands brushed and Bree was aware of how gorgeous he was, in either form. He’d challenged every one of her beliefs about dragons and she was pretty sure he wasn’t done shaking up her expectations.

  She was surprised to realize how much she was looking forward to that.

  “Did you sleep?” she asked, suddenly aware that she was naked beneath the sheets. Melissa had left a nightgown on the bed, but Bree always slept in the buff. She kept the sheet over her breasts when she sat up. The gleam of interest in Kris’s eyes indicated that he’d noticed and she made a silent bet that he’d be a gentleman.

  He was. He sat down in the one chair in the room and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. It was a cozy room, probably intended to make a guest feel welcome. Bree did, even though she’d noticed this guest room had more personality than her whole apartment. The room also seemed a lot smaller when it was occupied by a watchful dragon shifter.

  The bed, after all, was broad enough for two. The sheets were smooth and the pillows plump. There was a duvet on the bed and a quilt folded over the footboard. The chair Kris occupied was generously proportioned and upholstered in dark leather: it looked comfortable enough for someone to sleep there. It certainly would be a good place to read, with the lamp right beside it. The other furniture was of wood and substantial. Bree thought the style might have been called Arts and Crafts. The floors were wide planks of oak, polished to a gleam.

  “No time,” Kris said and yawned. “I had to tell Rafferty and Erik everything that happened.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything.” He held her gaze steadily.

  Bree winced. “So, they know I tricked you about the firestorm.”

  He nodded slowly and leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his gaze fixed on her. “They know you were trying to save Kara, too. For what it’s worth, Rafferty agrees with me about the firestorm.”

  “You can’t still believe we’re destined mates.” There was no heat in Bree’s protest because she knew he did.

  “I do.” Kris shrugged, then rubbed his forehead. He yawned again. He had to be exhausted after all the fighting and flying.

  “I’m going to get up, if that’s allowed.”

  “You can do whatever you want. Are you feeling better?”

  “A lot better. Thank you. You could catch some sleep here.”

  Their gazes clung for an electric moment as they both considered the obvious possibility. Clearly they didn’t need the firestorm to be so aware of each other because the room seemed to heat. If Kris had heard her breathing change, though, could Rafferty hear everything?

  Did Bree care? She’d never been shy and didn’t see a reason to start now.

  Kris obviously thought she was hesitating over her choice and gracefully changed the subject. “Melissa said you can borrow whatever you want from her closet. Next door to the right. And there’s food in the fridge.”

  “I’m not sure I want to face Rafferty.”

  “You don’t have to. He’s gone out to beguile anyone who might have seen me in the cemetery.” Kris stood up. “Do you want me to make breakfast for you, or lunch?”

  “No,” Bree said on impulse. “Talk to me instead.” He hesitated and she smiled. “I’m not ready to share you.”

  Kris moved to sit down again.

  “Not so far away,” Bree said and moved over. She patted the bed beside her. “Come here.”

  Kris didn’t need a second invitation. He crossed the room in two steps, then sank down onto the bed beside her. He stretched out his legs again, leaning back against the headboard with satisfaction. “Oh, this bed is great.”

  “It is.”

  He gave her one of those dragon looks, his eyes only open enough to reveal a slit of glittering blue. “Don’t even think you’re going to kick me out now.”

  Bree smiled. “I have no intention of doing that.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed with contentment. “I just might go to sleep.”

  “You wouldn’t. Not with me naked right beside you.”

  Kris turned to face her. “Is that an invitation?” he murmured and Bree lifted the sheet, inviting him into the bed beside her. His gaze roved over her, his eyes brightening, but then he shook his head. “You’re hurt.”

  “I’m healing, thanks to your Pyr remedies.” Bree rol
led to her stomach to prove it. She pulled her hair over her shoulder to bare her back and pushed down the sheet.

  She heard Kris catch his breath.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed.

  “Beauty is as beauty does,” Bree said, hiding how much that single word affected her.

  “Beautiful inside and out,” he insisted. “Even if you do try to hide it.” He ran one fingertip down her spine, his touch both gentle and electrifying. Bree wanted to purr. “It’s healing, but you should still convalesce,” he murmured, regret in his tone.

  “I’m tougher than I look.”

  Kris chuckled. “No kidding.”

  “I can be on top,” she suggested and that seemed to tempt him. His hands curved around her shoulders, warm and strong, and she smiled with satisfaction. He bent and touched his lips to the back of her neck, launching an army of delicious shivers.

  “Who needs a firestorm to heighten the mood?” he whispered against her nape. “Some things are just meant to be.” He kissed her again, nuzzling her ear, trailing his lips across her skin. He was both strong and gentle, the most enticing combination possible. He seemed to revel in kissing her, touching her, caressing her, and Bree didn’t want him to stop. She’d never felt so appreciated. She moved backward, lifting her hips and rubbing against him, arching her back. His warm hands slid down the length of her, pausing to cup her breasts, and Bree gasped with pleasure when he pinched her nipples.

  Kris made a little growl of desire, then abruptly released her. “I thought you weren’t interested in dragon babies.”

  “There won’t be any. I’m still a Valkyrie, Kris.”

  He moved away.

  Bree turned as she sat up, noting that his expression was thoughtful. “Men don’t usually turn me down,” she said and her tone revealed how his choice stung.

  He frowned. “I think we need to talk.”

  She put her hand over his, squeezed his fingers, then stroked his arm. “I told you I like sex. That’s still true. And I think you’re hot.”

  “Ha ha,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. That slow smile curved his lips and she was encouraged. “Compliment returned.” He didn’t move closer, though, and Bree felt chilled.

  She sat up, replaced the sheet and wrapped her arms around her knees. He didn’t seem to be able to avert his gaze, which she hoped was a good sign. “As long as you don’t have romantic expectations and ideas about long term relationships, we could just have fun.” It was her usual offer and it invariably worked.

  Not this time.

  Kris stood up and returned to the chair. He was still watching her, his eyes bright and his manner intense, but he’d deliberately put himself at a distance and Bree knew what that meant. “So, you think that because it’s not the firestorm, we should just have a fling?” His tone revealed what he thought of that.

  Bree didn’t see why it was a problem. “Why not? We’re attracted to each other. We could enjoy that. No obligations. No babies. No future demands. Just great sex.” It sounded ideal to her, but Kris frowned. “Even friends with benefits works for me,” she conceded. Had she ever been with anyone twice? Never, but she’d make an exception for Kris.

  It still wasn’t enough. He shook his head. “I want more than that.”

  “Are we really going to argue about sex?”

  “No, but it sounds like we’re going to argue about expectations.” He sounded resolute again and she wished he would just come back to the bed.

  “Nobody can make a promise about the future...”

  “But everyone can decide about emotional availability,” Kris said with resolve. “You’re not. I am. It’s a bad combination.”

  “It wasn’t a firestorm!”

  “But it was still a sign. I’d like to try to make it work.” He gave her an appealing look, one that made her heart squeeze tightly.

  And wonder.

  “I don’t do commitment,” she whispered.

  “Maybe it’s time to mix it up a bit.”

  Bree grabbed the mug and sipped her coffee, unprepared to promise more than she had any interest in delivering, but wanting him all the same. She thought about Melissa’s words and wondered. Why should she commit to someone? Why would she fall in love with a mortal Pyr, knowing that he’d die one day and leave her alone—just as Siegfried had done? She never wanted to experience that sense of loss again.

  And she had a feeling it would be a lot worse with Kris. In just days, he’d gotten under her skin more than anyone else ever had, and had figured out so many of her secrets. Plus he accepted her as she was—he didn’t try to change her.

  Although he did try to change her mind.

  “You could at least admit that you’re still in love with Siegfried,” Kris added quietly. “That your heart, once lost, isn’t available to be given again.”

  His words startled Bree, even though she knew she should have expected his perceptiveness. “Some people would say I didn’t have a heart.”

  He shook his head, certain of his view. “I think you have a huge heart. I think you care a lot, and that sometimes—or even often—you’re disappointed. I think you don’t want to lose someone again, and that’s why you’re so determined to save Kara, no matter what the price.”

  Once again, Bree felt exposed. She should be getting used to that by now. Would she miss that when she and Kris parted?

  She had a funny feeling that she would. “You really do like riddles,” she said instead of admitting anything.

  His smile flashed. “And you’re full of them. No wonder you intrigue me.” And then he waited in silence, expectant but patient.

  Bree had to consider whether she still did love Siegfried. She’d been sure centuries before. She’d been sure when they’d hunted that dragon together. She’d felt vital in his presence, powerful and beautiful, and she’d known that he was completely in her thrall. She’d been hurt when he’d married someone else, but maybe that had been pride. She’d also been devastated when he’d died and she’d arrived too late to claim his soul.

  But it had been a long, long time.

  And the truth was that she hadn’t missed him that much. She’d missed the idea of him. She missed the power of being adored, and the envy of her sisters, and maybe that was shallow. She actually couldn’t remember very much specific about Siegfried.

  She’d felt a lot more powerful and beautiful with Kris.

  And a lot more alive.

  Treasured. That was potent stuff.

  Maybe she’d thought she loved Siegfried because she hadn’t really known what love was. Maybe Kris was teaching her that.

  Bree stared into her coffee and acknowledged that she’d miss Kris a whole lot more than she’d ever missed Siegfried. She’d feel like something was missing in her life when they parted ways, and she knew she’d look for him. She might even go up to Vermont and see if she could find his farm—just out of curiosity to see where he lived.

  She couldn’t tell him any of that, though. It sounded romantic. It sounded needy, like she had expectations of him, like she would stalk him. It sounded weak and fearful. Bree hated women who clutched at their partners, because she knew it was impossible to hold a man against his will. If she and Kris tried to make a relationship, would she spend the rest of eternity fearful of losing him? It would happen eventually: she was immortal and he wasn’t.

  Bree was too used to being independent to find that possibility appealing.

  She’d never told Siegfried about her feelings, even though she’d been sure she loved him. Now, having been injured, feeling less than her invulnerable self, she couldn’t confess something tender to Kris, not without being sure of what exactly she felt.

  Maybe not even then.

  He sat back in the chair, his attention still fixed upon her. He must have guessed the turmoil within her because, one more time, he gave her an escape. “Tell me about being a Valkyrie,” he invited.

  Bree was torn. Kristofer could see it. He considered that to be progress and
was ready to give her time to work through it. He could guess that she wouldn’t change her thinking in a hurry—after all, her life had been the same for thousands of years. He respected that she even considered new views.

  He could see interesting shadows beneath the sheet and was still awed by his first glimpse of her body. That tattoo between her shoulders spoke volumes and meant he’d never forget what she was—it was of Huginn and Muginn, the two ravens dispatched each morning by Odin who returned each night to tell him all the news. She had one on each shoulder, each tattoo a mirror image of the other, just the way the ravens were supposed to come to Odin each night.

  The tattoo he’d seen on her forearm was gone, just as she’d said. That was a potent reminder that she’d used up the charm to save him. That hadn’t been an accident. She’d acted on impulse, and in his favor. Kristofer knew that was important—and he was prepared to work and wait for success.

  Bree glanced up at his question, her eyes wide. “What about it?”

  She was so beautiful and seemed to take it for granted. He wanted her as he’d never wanted a woman before, but having shared expectations was important. He tried to sound casual. “Well, how many sisters do you have?”

  “You said you knew.”

  He laughed that she saw through him. “My dad might have been wrong. Tell me.”

  Her expression turned dreamy and she smiled slightly as she remembered. “Once there were twenty-seven of us, nine times three. Now there’s just Kara and me.”

  “What happened to the others?”

  “Nothing really. They just don’t leave Valhalla anymore. I guess I should say we’re the last two active Valkyries.”

  “Who knew you had a retirement plan?” he teased.

  “Not me. It was always the same.”

  “Always?”

  “One minute we didn’t exist and the next we were riding to the old man’s bidding.”

  “Wait. You were never a child?”

  Bree shook her head, then gestured to herself. “I’ve been just like this for as long as I can remember. No tears. No sweat. No blood. Just war and the collection of souls.” There was sadness in her voice and she swirled the last of her coffee in the mug, as if needing something to watch. “It was easier in the old times. Busier. You must think that, too.”