They were on the cusp of another adventure, as well. Sara had had a blood test in the past few days that had confirmed what she and Quinn had suspected for a while. She was going to have his child. Something about having a medical report made it seem all the more real to Sara. Something about having Quinn become a fixture in her life made everything seem worthwhile to her.
She took her time, enjoying the drive. She had the window open and the stereo on, and was singing along with the oldies station. There would be changes to make with the baby coming, but Magda had gotten right to the point: she’d left the Yellow Pages open to the ad for a real estate agent in Traverse City, one who specialized in retail property. Sara had an appointment the next day to look at potential locations.
She had a feeling Quinn would go with her. He’d look at the foundation, the furnace, the bones of the building. She’d look at the traffic, the sunlight, and take the vibe of the location. It was funny how they had intuitively realized their areas of specialty, how they contributed information and worked together. It was so easy.
It was perfect.
She was excited as well about the eclipse they were going to see later this day. Quinn had invited her to go with him and the Pyr, to see the forecast of the firestorm to come. He’d been enigmatic about the location where they’d view it, and Sara wondered whether he knew or whether he was being protective of Pyr secrets. She was curious to know more about Quinn’s world, and honored to have been invited.
Seeing a full lunar eclipse would be exciting, too.
A motorcycle roared behind her and Sara slowed down, content to let the biker zoom past her. The rider must have been serious as he was wearing black biker leathers even under the summer sun.
Instead of passing, he slowed down to drive alongside her and raised his visor.
She recognized his cocky grin right away. “Donovan! It’s not safe to drive like that!”
He laughed. “Safe is for accountants,” he teased.
“Safe is for those who want to live.”
“Being immortal has its perks.”
“You just like to show off.”
He laughed. “See you up there,” he shouted, then gunned the bike and roared ahead.
Moments later, Sara turned into the drive that led to Quinn’s shop. She loved his parcel of land because it seemed to be away from everything else. The hills rose behind his studio and were crested with a pine forest. There was a hardwood forest to the east of that and cedars where the land was lower. A sparkling stream cut through the property and Sara had awakened on more than one night to find deer outside Quinn’s bedroom window.
There were more stars than she’d ever imagined seeing at one time. The sky here was thick with them.
Quinn’s cabin was simple and he’d told her it was temporary. His intention was to build a larger house with his partner, and he’d taken her one day to see the spot. Sara had been enchanted by the wind in the trees that surrounded the site, the view of the countryside, and the sheer tranquility. They’d made love in the grass there and she’d hoped with all her heart that they’d be making love there for the rest of her life.
She had fallen hard and fast for Quinn Tyrrell and Sara had a pretty good idea that the feeling was mutual.
Even though their firestorm was over.
A curl of smoke rose from the chimney of the workshop when she parked the car beside Donovan’s gleaming bike. Sara could hear Quinn’s hammer. She didn’t doubt that Donovan was commenting on everything Quinn did. She left her bag in the cabin and went to the workshop. She loved to see him work.
The shop was dark, as always, and warm. The forge glowed red hot, and the clang of Quinn’s hammer echoed through the building. He was before the fire in his leather apron and heavy boots, leather gloves up to his elbows, and a guard over his eyes. He looked as if he was concentrating and Sara moved closer to see what he was working on.
It was a small flat item, almost shield-shaped, glowing red. He held it with tongs and hammered it thinner on the anvil, then shoved it into the fire of the forge one last time.
He spared her a glance and smiled a welcome that heated Sara to her toes. He held up a warning finger and she knew to approach no closer without safety gear. She waited and watched. Donovan cast her a grin and she felt his anticipation.
Quinn pulled the piece from the fire one last time and held it up in the tongs to examine it. He frowned, gave it a couple more blows, then tapped the edges with a smaller mallet. He returned it to the fire and wiped the sweat from his brow.
The next time he pulled the piece from the fire, he nodded with satisfaction and left it to cool. He turned the forge off and stepped toward Sara, shedding his gloves and gear as he came.
“You’re earlier than I expected,” he said with obvious pleasure. “Did you drive too fast?”
“Not me. I’m just an accountant, taking it safe.”
Donovan laughed at that.
Quinn’s kiss was welcoming and warm, and it left Sara breathing quickly.
“Keep it clean, people,” Donovan complained.
“I left work earlier than I’d planned,” Sara admitted, very aware of Donovan’s presence.
“Slow day?” Quinn asked, his gaze searching hers.
She shook her head quickly. “Different reason.”
“Oh, lover talk,” Donovan complained amiably. “Should I go ahead without you?”
“Don’t leave before you get what you came for,” Quinn said.
“Presents?” Donovan asked with obvious excitement. “There are presents involved? Is this a new Pyr tradition?”
“Let’s just say that Christmas came early.” Quinn retrieved a box from the far side of the shop and offered it to Donovan. “I guess you were good this year. Who would have believed it?”
“Oh, I’m very good. Ask any of the ladies.” Donovan grinned. “I knew you asked me here first for a reason.” He ripped open the box and pulled out what looked like a pair of gloves. They were made of very fine leather but odd-looking.
“Do they have nails?” Sara asked as Donovan pulled them on.
There was no mistaking the Pyr’s glee. He flicked his hand open abruptly and knives opened on each of his fingertips. He danced around the shop, pretending he was fighting with someone. He looked menacing in his biker leathers with those knives on his fingertips, and Sara kept her distance.
“I’m loving it,” he said to Quinn. “But what about when I shift?”
“Fold the gloves away with your clothes. It takes some practice, but if I can do it…”
Donovan snorted. “Then I’m all over it.”
“Maybe you should retract the knives the first time you try,” Quinn suggested, arching a brow.
Donovan laughed and folded each blade away with care. He granted Sara a wicked glance. “It’s the same old story. Give the kids new toys so the lovers can play their own games in privacy.”
“So shouldn’t you go play already?” Sara teased and Donovan took the hint.
“I’ll let you know how it works out,” he told Quinn.
“I’ve got 911 on speed dial. If you get into trouble, just try to be human when the paramedics come.”
“Picky, picky, picky,” Donovan complained. He gave them a jaunty wave from the door to the studio, then left. Sara saw him striding toward the forest.
“Don’t worry. He’ll conquer it in one,” Quinn said. “Besides, it’s better he not see this just yet.” He held Sara close against his side and as always, the gleam in his eyes made her very aware of her femininity. “The Pyr can’t be witness to all my secrets. Smithing is an ancient and magical craft, after all.”
“Smithing isn’t what’s ancient and magical about you.”
“It’s not what’s magical about you, either,” he said, kissing her soundly. “Want to see?”
He was so proud of what he’d done that Sara guessed it was something to do with the Pyr. “What are you making?”
“I had this idea, but I
can’t finish the process alone. I suppose that’s fitting.” Quinn took her hand in his and led her to the anvil, where his work was cooling.
“It’s already black,” Sara said.
“Wrought iron,” Quinn spoke with satisfaction. He picked up the piece and turned it in his hands, nodding at its slightly curved shape. “It came out exactly as I wanted it to.”
Sara thought of the mermaid door knocker and Quinn’s story of how she had come to be so perfect. “As if it shaped itself?”
He smiled that slow smile. “Pretty much.”
He handed it to Sara and she studied it, mystified. It was a puzzle of some kind, one that he was challenging her to solve.
“Is it a commissioned piece?”
“No. It’s for us.”
Sara blinked. “Is it part of a larger project?”
Quinn grinned. “You could say that.”
“You’re being evasive again,” she said, putting a hand on her hip. “I need another clue to figure this out.”
Quinn folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the anvil, enjoying himself a little too much to be entirely trustworthy. His eyes sparkled as if they were filled with starlight. “What if I tell you that I’ve been thinking about your question, the one you asked about the elements being able to destroy the Pyr but not heal us?”
“I still wouldn’t get it.”
“And that I asked Erik for his thoughts.”
Sara caught her breath and looked at the piece of wrought iron in her hands. It was the shape of a Pyr scale.
“And Erik, being Erik, said he had to ask the Wyvern.”
“And the Wyvern, being the Wyvern, said something incomprehensible and possibly irrelevant,” Sara guessed and Quinn laughed.
“Smith, heal thyself, was what she said.” He sobered as he looked at her. “Maybe it’s not that incomprehensible, or irrelevant.”
Sara looked up at him, liking the glint in his eyes. She knew exactly what he intended to heal and she agreed. “Will it work?”
“Let’s find out.” Quinn took a deep breath and flexed his muscles. When Sara heard his breathing slow, she knew to take a step back. She watched again, fascinated as always by his transformation to Pyr form.
It was so quick. No matter how intently she watched, she was always surprised by the speed of his transformation. It wasn’t her imagination that he was getting faster at it, either.
Donovan was a bad influence that way.
Quinn’s scales glittered like jewels in the light cast by the forge, as if he were a hidden treasure discovered by Sara. He reared up immediately and revealed his chest to her.
Sara looked immediately for the damaged scale, the one that was evidence of his love for Elizabeth. To her astonishment, it was growing back all by itself.
But a little farther down and to the left, an entire scale was missing. The lost scale was directly over his heart, and a large section of flesh was left unprotected. Sara caught her breath and met the knowingness in Quinn’s gaze, not daring to believe the implication of what she saw.
He had lost the scale because he had lost his heart.
He was vulnerable because he loved her.
Sara was both frightened and happy about this revelation. She wanted Quinn to be strong and invincible. She wanted his love, but she didn’t want to ever be the reason he lost a battle. She stepped closer and reached up to the tender spot. Quinn bent down so that she could reach. She ran her fingers over it gently, feeling how he shivered at her touch. The skin was sensitive, having been shielded for so very long.
What had she done by falling in love with him?
Sara was afraid; then she understood what he had made. He was trying to restore his armor, so that he could better defend them both. She tested the fit of the wrought-iron scale, not surprised to find that it was perfectly sized and shaped to fit the space.
It was made of iron, which came from the earth.
It had been shaped in the fire.
There were two elements to go.
“But how will we attach it?” she asked. “I can’t breathe dragonfire. I don’t want to make you vulnerable, Quinn.”
“My father believed that his love for my mother made him stronger,” Quinn said. “Or maybe it was her love for him that was the charm.”
“But how can that be? If you’re vulnerable like this…” Sara choked on her words and looked down at the scale, feeling powerless and not knowing what to do. The pregnancy hormones took over, making her eyes fill with tears.
“I’m stronger, because of you.”
She looked up and the first tear fell. To her surprise, Quinn touched her cheek with infinite tenderness. That first tear fell on his talon. He transferred the glistening bead to the scale she held.
It sizzled and Sara saw the edge of the iron waver and glow, exactly the way that Quinn glowed before he transformed from man to dragon.
Was it instinct or intuition or plain old logic that told her what to do next? Sara would never really be sure, but she reached up and put that makeshift scale in place. She heard the sizzle of her tear against Quinn’s skin and saw him draw up, as if he felt a pang.
The scale looked black and wrong, even though it was attached.
But they had only allowed for three elements.
Air was left.
Sara reached up and kissed the scale, letting her love for Quinn flow through her touch. Then she whispered the words, fanning the scale with her breath. “I love you, Quinn Tyrrell,” she said, then said it again. She touched her lips to the scale once more.
The scale shimmered as she lifted her head, as if it were lit by an inner fire or as if it had just come from the forge. Its light became brighter and brighter, until Sara had to close her eyes.
When she looked again, that one scale might have been made of polished sterling. It shone brilliantly, like a badge of honor upon Quinn’s chest.
Four elements, present and accounted for.
Four elements, healing a Pyr as readily as they could destroy him. By working together, she and Quinn had done it!
Quinn threw back his head and bellowed, a sound of jubilation and pride that made Sara’s heart sing and the floor of the shop vibrate.
She laughed as he shifted back to human form before her eyes. Then he caught her in his arms and swung her around, as happy as she had ever seen him. She pushed away his shirt and examined his chest. He had a freckle there that he hadn’t had before, but when Sara looked closely at it, it had a silvery gleam.
Sara pressed her lips to it as Quinn held her close. “I love you,” he said and she smiled up at him.
“I know. And I’m pregnant.”
Joy lit his eyes, turning them an even more brilliant hue of sapphire. Quinn bent to kiss her but just before his lips touched hers, Donovan knocked loudly on the door of the shop.
“These are fine pieces of equipment,” he announced, waving the gloves at Quinn. “You’re going to be busy, Quinn: once everyone sees these babies at the eclipse, they’re going to want their own set.” Donovan pulled on the gloves and shadow-fought in the shop. “I’ll be showing them how it’s done.”
“Maybe you’ll be busy with your own firestorm,” Quinn said and Donovan snorted.
“Be serious. I’m never going to have a firestorm and that’s just fine by me. It should be Rafferty. He’s been waiting long enough.”
But Sara met Quinn’s gaze. She had a feeling that Donovan was wrong, and she was the Seer. Quinn obviously read her thoughts because he smiled that languorous smile, the one that was far more powerful than a firestorm.
“No secret jokes,” Donovan complained. “Let’s go: we’re going to be late for the big moon show.”
“One more thing,” Quinn said quietly. “There’s another present to share.”
“For me?” Donovan asked.
“No.” Quinn’s tone was dismissive. “Wait for us outside.”
“More lovers’ secrets,” Donovan groused, but he did what he
was told.
Sara was more interested in the gleam in Quinn’s eyes. He got another box from the shelf and handed it to her. “So in the course of these discussions with the Wyvern, I asked her a question,” he said, his voice so low that it gave Sara shivers. “And she sent me a dream.”
Sara opened the box and caught her breath. There was an acorn inside, all by itself. She remembered what she had told the Wyvern about her own dreams, and met the conviction in Quinn’s gaze.
“Want to plant it here?”
“I know just the spot,” Sara said, and Quinn laughed.
“Of course you do,” he teased. “It’s your job as the Seer to know things like that.”
But what Sara saw when Quinn kissed her was a future together, years that were never dull, given the comings and goings of the Pyr. She saw appliances that seemed to start themselves and a ghost that shared her opinions and books on impossible things that proved to be possible in the end. She saw Quinn, with silver in his hair, and a son, tall and strong, with dark hair and very blue eyes.
It was a vision of her own future that was a perfect fit.
Just perfect.
About the Author
Deborah Cooke has always been fascinated by dragons, although she has never understood why they have to be the bad guys. She has an honors degree in history with a focus on medieval studies and is an avid reader of medieval vernacular literature, fairy tales, and fantasy novels. Since 1992, Deborah has written more than thirty romance novels under the names Claire Cross and Claire Delacroix.
Deborah makes her home in Canada with her husband. When she isn’t writing, she can be found knitting, sewing, or hunting for vintage patterns. To learn more about the Dragonfire series and Deborah, please visit her Web site, www.deborahcooke.com; to access her blog, Alive & Knitting, go to www.delacroix.net/blog.
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