Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel

by Deborah Cooke

  That distant firestorm burned hotter, sending fire through Sloane’s veins.

  It wasn’t his firestorm.

  It might have been a thousand miles away.

  But the funny thing was, Sloane no longer cared.

  * * *

  Virginia

  She’d always known that he’d come.

  Yet when she turned and saw Drake watching her, Veronica Maitland couldn’t believe her eyes.

  It had been more than four years since she’d last seen Drake, more than four years since he’d brought her the news she’d dreaded but had needed to hear. A thousand times, she’d remembered the flicker of compassion in the depths of Drake’s dark eyes, felt the crinkle of the photograph he’d brought to her from Mark’s corpse, remembered the firmness of his cheek beneath her lips as she impulsively granted him a kiss of thanks.

  Drake had been both strong and gentle, tough and kind. He was a warrior, just as Mark had been, and she’d recognized that on sight. He had a family, she’d guessed that immediately, because he’d known just how to talk to Timmy. Drake had been a rock for her, when she’d most needed something to cling to.

  He had delivered the most devastating news with respect and understanding. Ronnie would never forget him, or that.

  Those first years without Mark had been challenging. She’d had to adjust to raising her son alone, which had never been part of her plan and was a change she deeply resented. It had been lonely, as well as difficult. She’d had to go back to school and finish the degree she’d abandoned when Timmy had been conceived, but do it when she was older and had more responsibilities. She’d started a new job and a new career, beginning at the bottom with more bills than her co-workers. She’d had to find a place for them to live and get Timmy settled in a new school, as well as figure out how to be a working mom on her own.

  She’d had to stop crying herself to sleep at night.

  There was something about triumphing against adversity that had made Ronnie feel strong again. She had built them a new life and Timmy was thriving. At eleven, he looked more like his father every day. He was hardworking and a good kid, the kind of son who would make any mother proud. She’d stopped worrying about him quite so obsessively and dared to think that there might be a future for her, as well.

  That had led her thoughts back to Drake. She’d known that she’d never be able to find him on her own, though she had asked both the embassy and Mark’s commanding officer about him four years before. It seemed that no one knew anything about him, but Ronnie was sure that was just proof that he was also in covert operations. She hoped that Drake’s fate was better than Mark’s and began to include him in her nightly prayers.

  It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise when Drake showed up in her dreams.

  It should have been less of one when he started to star in her fantasies. He was a ruggedly handsome man, unabashedly masculine, but it had been the gentleness that tempered his strength that captivated Ronnie.

  She’d added Drake’s family to her prayers, remembering her conviction that he was also a father, but also recalling the shadow that had touched his eyes when she’d asked him about it. Had he lost them? Was that why he’d understood her grief so well?

  It seemed Ronnie would never know.

  Until the evening she hefted a bag of groceries out of the trunk of her car, turned around, and Drake was there.

  She nearly dropped the bag in her shock.

  Yet, it felt absolutely right to see him again.

  There had been a lunar eclipse earlier and Ronnie had felt shivery all day. Timmy was staying at a friend’s before they departed on a school trip to the capital the next morning, and she’d assumed she was on edge because she always worried about him when they were apart.

  But that unsettled feeling intensified as Ronnie stared back at Drake, and she realized it was rooted in a much more earthy response than fear for her son.

  She wanted to be touched.

  By this very man.

  Joy had teased her about having a hot date tonight, and Ronnie had rolled her eyes, unable to even imagine herself having sex again. That part of her life had died along with Mark. She hadn’t been able to even think of bringing another man home when Timmy might discover them, and in all honesty, she hadn’t been sure she’d be able to survive falling in love again.

  In this moment, though, many things seemed possible again.

  Drake stood, eyes narrowed slightly, watching her from the shadows surrounding the entrance to her townhouse. He studied her so closely that Ronnie wondered whether he could read her thoughts. He was completely motionless, still dressed in olive drab though these were casual clothes instead of a uniform. She surveyed him, hungry for details of how his life had changed these past four years.

  He was still muscled and stern, still tanned and resolute. His hair had a little bit more salt than pepper now and was still cut short. His gaze was just as unwavering, his attention absolute. He still looked coiled to strike and ready for anything, and she again had no doubt that he could kill with his bare hands.

  Ronnie’s heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. She told herself it was just that she’d had a start, but she knew better.

  Drake was back.

  And she was glad.

  Ronnie tried to act as if she weren’t surprised and probably failed completely. This man missed nothing.

  It would have been part of his training.

  “Hello, Drake,” she managed to say. She took a step closer and felt the dampness on her hands. “How are you?” It was a lame question, but she couldn’t think of what else to say.

  “Well enough,” Drake said, his gaze sweeping over her. A glint of appreciation lit his dark eyes, and she felt both flustered and pleased. “You look well, Veronica.”

  She liked how he said her name, how deep his voice was and how slowly he spoke. Had he ever called her by name before? She was sure she would have remembered it if he had. There was that foreign inflection to his words that she remembered, and he still spoke with a formality that made her think English wasn’t his native tongue.

  That glimmer of admiration in his eyes was unmistakable as she stepped closer. “How is Timmy?”

  Of course, he would think of her son. He had seemed to have such an intuitive connection with him.

  Ronnie smiled, unable to hide her pride. “Taller! He looks so much like his father now.” She faltered and licked her lips, wondering whether she’d said the wrong thing, but Drake simply waited. He didn’t look offended. “This week, he wants to be an astronaut.”

  A ghost of a smile touched Drake’s mouth, lifting one corner an increment before disappearing from view again. “Good. A boy needs confidence to have dreams. You’ve given him that.”

  “I’ve tried.”

  They stared at each other for a moment that seemed too long to Ronnie. She felt flustered and warm and knew she was blushing. Maybe that was because of her fantasies, and her fear that Drake knew what she was thinking.

  Well, if he knew that and was like most men, he’d push his advantage.

  But Drake didn’t move.

  Ronnie knew he wasn’t like most men. He was waiting for her to decide what would happen. The fact that he was standing in front of her probably said it all, as far as he was concerned. Nothing like a man of few words.

  Ronnie was aware that they were standing fifteen feet apart in the parking lot and that it was only a matter of time before one of her neighbors came home.

  She should invite him in for dinner.

  Yes. She should.

  Ronnie took a deep breath and strode toward Drake with purpose. “Look, you never let me really thank you for what you did…”

  He raised his fingertips to touch his cheek, and Ronnie could have sworn that was the exact place she’d kissed him. “Your expression of gratitude was more than sufficient.” He swallowed and his voice dropped low. “Indeed, I owe you my thanks.”

  “Really?”

 
“You gave me new purpose, Veronica,” he said solemnly, his gaze clinging to hers with such intensity that she couldn’t look away. “That has no price and leaves me forever in your debt.”

  It was impossible to believe that she had given this man any more resolve than he already possessed, but Ronnie wanted to believe it was true. “How can that be? What do you mean?”

  “I had lost faith in the battle,” Drake confessed quietly. “I was no longer certain that there was a reason to fight.”

  Ronnie had a lump in her throat. “Finding Mark can’t have helped with that.”

  “Giving you the answer you needed did help.” His eyes glittered. “I understood then that the battle was about the people who don’t fight, about defending them, that you, and others like you, were the reason to fight for good.”

  His focus upon her made Ronnie shiver. It was remarkably warm for this time in the early evening, and there seemed to be a golden radiance in the parking lot, one that hovered between her and Drake. She hugged her groceries, forgetting the carton of eggs. “But you’re here. After all this time. Why?”

  “To give you a choice,” Drake said with soft heat. “I can stay or I can leave.”

  She knew exactly what he meant, and the prospect made her mouth go dry. “But…”

  Drake lifted a hand either to silence her or reach for her. Ronnie wasn’t sure which because a brilliant orange spark leapt from his fingertip. She stared at it, not believing her eyes, but the spark flew directly toward her. She flinched when it exploded against her shoulder and gasped at the wave of heat that rolled through her body from that point. She rubbed her shoulder reflexively but there wasn’t a burn mark on the fabric.

  Just a simmering heat beneath her skin.

  No, the heat was simmering lower than that, making Ronnie keenly aware of how long she’d been alone.

  And wanting to do something about it.

  Had she imagined the spark? There was no question that she felt she’d been touched by fire. She was hot, and she was shivery.

  She was also more aroused than she’d been in years.

  She stared at Drake, recalling all those fantasies and adding another few. She caught her breath and took a step closer, knowing with complete clarity what she wanted from him. His gaze sharpened and it seemed that there was a halo of flame around his body. She reached for him and he caught her hand in his, his touch sending a jolt of heat surging through her veins. There was brilliant orange light around their joined hands, so bright that she couldn’t see their fingers but she could feel the strength of his hand holding hers.

  Ronnie sensed that Drake was tempering his strength, that he was being gentle with her by choice.

  She looked up at him, mystified by the light, and was awed to see him smile again.

  “You decide,” he whispered, and she heard the tremor in his voice.

  He wanted her.

  He’d returned to her.

  Which meant there was no choice to be made. Ronnie didn’t understand the sparks and she didn’t care. The man she’d been waiting for, the man she’d been dreaming about, the man she’d yearned to see again was standing right in front of her.

  Ronnie had learned that you could never count on having a second chance.

  “Come and have dinner with me,” she invited, feeling both bold and shy. “I’d like to cook for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She stretched up to kiss Drake for the second time in her life, but this time, Ronnie touched her lips to his, answering him with her touch. His arm locked around her immediately, lifting her to her toes and drawing her against his chest, surrounding them both in a blaze of brilliant yellow light. Ronnie opened her mouth to his kiss, hungry for all he had to give, letting him taste her deeply.

  He felt so good.

  Her bag of groceries was crushed between them, but Ronnie wasn’t worried about the eggs any more.

  In fact, this hunger would only be satisfied by Drake’s touch.

  * * *

  Seattle

  Jacelyn settled deeper into the couch to watch the video for the millionth time. Her throat was tight with unshed tears, but she’d cried enough. This time, she watched the video with a hardened heart, greedy for details about those bastard dragons called the Pyr.

  It was their fault that she’d been cheated.

  Now Jac was going to make them pay.

  The video showed a golden dragon suddenly appearing in the middle of a throng of people in downtown Seattle. There was blood on the dragon’s scales and a severed human arm in its mouth. People screamed and started to run, but not fast enough. The dragon shook the arm and blood flew through the air.

  The virus was transmitted by the exchange of body fluids. Sam had told her that.

  The person whose arm was in the dragon’s mouth clearly had been infected.

  The dragon gnawed on the arm with savage glee, making it bleed more profusely. Then he took flight, dripping the infected blood over as many people as possible. There was a lot of screaming and panic in the streets, and even though it was just a video, when the golden dragon turned his glare upon the camera, Jac shivered to the bottom of her feet.

  She’d better get used to that look, if she was going to hunt these vermin.

  Jac stopped the video before the worst part. She played the beginning again, fighting her instinctive response. She had to learn about her opponent. This Pyr was huge, easily twice the height of every person in his vicinity. He was all muscled power, raw strength and agility. He was a fighting machine, or a weapon of war in his own right. He breathed fire and slashed at people with his powerful tail, snatched and tore with his claws. He looked invincible but that couldn’t be the case.

  Every creature had a weakness. Clearly, these dragons weren’t susceptible to this disease, because the gold dragon had the infectious blood all over it. But they had to have another vulnerability.

  Even it this dragon looked as if he were armored in gold.

  He had to sleep sometime.

  Didn’t he?

  There were more of them. Maybe there was one he cared about. Maybe he had an emotional vulnerability.

  Although he didn’t look like he cared about much other than slaughtering humans. He shimmered blue and disappeared in the blink of an eye at the end of the video, which made Jac play it again. What exactly were his powers? How could he appear and disappear so quickly?

  Or had he shifted shape, becoming human, then blended into the crowd, like the other one had done? Jac navigated to Maeve O’Neill’s website, the one called Dragons Bite, and went through the list of other amateur videos. Maeve’s broadcasts, calling for people to exterminate the Pyr, were all there, too. Jac chose the older video that showed a big blond guy changing into a moonstone and silver dragon in Washington. He’d changed into a human, proof of his shifter nature. The other reporter who had a fascination with the Pyr, Melissa Smith, said they were dragon shape shifters. As skeptical as Jac had been, this video made it look so real.

  She had her doubts about the photographs taken by Cassie Redmond, the ones that supposedly showed a man becoming a dragon in the desert. It defied belief that they could be real, but she couldn’t find a flaw.

  They did say that truth was stranger than fiction.

  Jac went back to the first video and slowed it down, trying to see whether the gold dragon had changed into a human. He didn’t. He just shimmered and disappeared. She sat back and drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch. She couldn’t exactly learn every detail of her opponents from YouTube videos, even such a long list of them as on Maeve’s site. They were glimpses of the fiends, no more than that, and Melissa Smith’s broadcasts were clearly just pro-Pyr propaganda.

  But where else would she find more information?

  She wrote an email to Maeve, using the contact link on the reporter’s website. That woman might know more, but Jac was skeptical she’d get a reply.

  If she documented what she did know, some patterns might a
ppear. She took a new notebook and printed out the best shot of each dragon from each video. She gave each one a page of his own and noted every detail she could—where the video had been filmed and when, the color of his scales, his human appearance if it had been visible. She even guessed at their alliances and antagonisms, since they sometimes were filmed fighting.

  There wasn’t nearly enough information to make a plan, but Jac had moved to Seattle to hunt dragons, and she had to find a way.

  She was going to succeed at something before she died.

  Even if she died doing it, it would be a noble way to go.

  At least embarking on this quest made her feel less numb and less alone.

  The light was weird on this day, and Jac had heard there was supposed to be a blood moon. She shivered and reviewed her notes, seeing that she’d included everything she knew. It wasn’t nearly enough. She grabbed her jacket, deciding to go to the gym again and work out some of her frustration. There was a kickboxing class at ten and she could use every bit of exercise and fighting experience she could get.

  She opened the door to find a dark-haired guy standing there with a package in his hand, his other hand lifted to knock at her door. He was the hunk who had moved into the apartment above her the month before. That in itself was interesting—people were moving out of Seattle to get away from the plague, and the apartment building had been getting progressively more empty. Jac thought there were only three or four apartments rented now.

  But this guy had moved to Seattle.

  She had also moved to Seattle, and it was intriguing to have that in common.

  It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous. Jac had seen him at the gym a couple of times—they evidently had a membership there in common, too—but didn’t know his name.

  He smiled slowly at her, as if he liked what he saw, and offered her the package. “I think this is yours.” His voice was low and husky enough to give her shivers.

  Good shivers.

  Jac looked down, seeing that the parcel had her name but his apartment number. There was no return address, and it was wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string.