Fire Maidens: Paris

by Anna Lowe

  “Tristan,” she whispered.

  Yes, she’d seen him in dragon form once. And yes, she’d even touched his smooth, leathery skin. But the dragon she beheld at that moment had a whole different aura. It was like seeing a friendly dog wag its tail then witnessing the same animal snarling through teeth that dripped with saliva. That, times a hundred, because Tristan was racing, snapping, and roaring at Marcel. The roar didn’t register as a sound — only the rush of air did — but she could hear it in her mind.

  The dragons circled the Eiffel Tower, keeping far enough away to avoid the floodlights, but close enough to show the outline of their wings. They were soaring. Darting. Fighting?

  Natalie stared. Wait a minute. Weren’t they on the same side?

  Then she yelped and spun as someone grabbed her arm.

  “Whoa, there,” a familiar voice cried. The man held up his hands. “It’s me.”

  “Liam?” She’d nearly pulled her one-two-three move on him. Then she huffed and marched away.

  Liam was Tristan’s buddy, and he took orders from Alaric. Was he there to force her into a barbaric arrangement with Marcel, too?

  “Leave me alone,” she barked when he hurried to catch up.

  “Can’t. Vampires, remember?”

  She scowled, gesturing upward. “I’m starting to think dragons are a bigger problem.” Glaring at him, she added, “Or lions.”

  When Liam grinned shamelessly, his teeth showed. His canines extended before her eyes, and the stubble on his chin thickened. Natalie jumped, and he thrust his hands up.

  “Sorry, sorry. Lions have feelings too, you know.”

  “Don’t do that to me,” she yelled. Then she gathered her nerve and shoved him. “Go away. Go back to Alaric and tell him I’m out of here. I don’t want anything to do with your crazy shifter world.”

  But Liam, damn him, kept hurrying along at her side. “I hate to point this out, but you’re already part of it. Fire Maiden, remember?”

  “What if I don’t want to be a Fire Maiden?”

  “Tell that to the vampires.”

  Natalie slumped.

  “Listen,” Liam said in a softer voice. “I’m not here for Alaric or any of the other Guardians. I’m here for Tristan.”

  He gestured upward. The dragons were so high, she could barely tell them apart, but there was no mistaking the fighting. One stretched out its neck, reaching for the other’s wing. The second dodged and clawed at him. Natalie winced, picturing Tristan plummeting to the ground with shredded wings.

  Still, none of it made sense. They were supposed to be on the same side. Unless…

  Unless you misjudged Tristan completely? said a little voice in the back of her mind.

  She bit her lip. It sure didn’t look like Tristan was cooperating with Marcel. On the contrary, he was fighting the arrogant dragon away. Wait. Were they fighting over her?

  Disturbing as the idea was, it was flattering too. But not if Tristan was purely interested in her Fire Maiden blood. Then again, he had come to her aid in the alley, back before either of them knew about that.

  “Over here,” Liam urged, pulling her toward the shadow of a tree. “Don’t draw attention to them.”

  Natalie looked around. It was dark, and most visitors had drifted toward the jazz quartet. But how could anyone fail to notice two warring dragons?

  Liam shook his head. “There’s a veil that conceals our animal shapes — a holdover from the magic of old. It’s faded over the centuries, but enough has held up that humans overlook us most of the time. But if they look directly at us and concentrate…” He trailed off, glancing around.

  Natalie did the same, suddenly worried. What would happen if Tristan were spotted?

  “That’s another reason they’re so desperate for a Fire Maiden,” Liam whispered. “Her presence would stoke the magic and make the city safer.”

  She hugged herself, wishing she could go back to being the plain old Natalie no one took notice of. “Safer for shifters, you mean.”

  Liam shook his head. “Safer for everyone. A strong core of honest shifters helps stabilize the entire city. But even they need help. If the spell fades entirely, the city could revert back to the kind of fighting it saw in the Dark Ages. All those wars, all those diseases… They weren’t kidding about needing you, Natalie.”

  She took a deep breath. Could she really help?

  Then she looked back up at the dragons. “And they’re fighting over…”

  Liam snorted. “Over you, woman. Don’t you get it?”

  She went very still. It was one thing to flatter herself with such ideas. But for them to be true…

  Glancing up, Liam muttered, “Let’s hope they have the sense not to breathe fire.”

  Natalie’s eyes went wide as she followed the aerial dogfight. The dragons dove, bit, and raked each other with their claws. But no fire — yet. Within a few steps, she and Liam were in the shadows at the edge of the park where they could watch more openly.

  “Come on, Tristan,” Liam muttered. “Show the bastard.”

  Shielding her eyes from the Eiffel Tower’s floodlights, Natalie watched, sick yet fascinated. How could creatures that big be so nimble? With a snap of its tail, one of the dragons spun to face the other, and for a moment, they hovered in place, defying gravity — and each other.

  “No fire, lads,” Liam whispered. “Remember, no fire.” A moment later, he cursed. “Bugger.”

  “Tristan,” Natalie yelped as Marcel released a thin line of fire.

  But Tristan rolled to one side and hammered Marcel’s snout with his tail. The air crackled, but no one seemed to notice, especially with that storm brewing. A happy couple strolled by hand in hand, and the woman giggled at something the man said. Three young men walked in the opposite direction, noting that they’d better get moving before it rained. But no one noticed the battle raging overhead.

  Liam leaned closer. “You can see them, right? Do you hear them too?”

  Natalie gulped. Yes, she could. All too well.

  Liam grinned. “Attagirl. It’s the dragon blood in you. You see things humans miss.”

  The thing was, she didn’t want to see — or hear — the furious roars. Tristan feinted to one side then twisted in midair to slash at Marcel. When he spun, he curled his wings with a flourish, like a bullfighter taunting a charging bull.

  “Come on, Tristan.” Natalie found herself echoing Liam.

  But Marcel whipped his tail, smacking Tristan across the chest and sending him reeling through the air. A moment later, Tristan roared and counterattacked. Both dragons sped through the light of the quarter moon, then wheeled around and raced back toward the Eiffel Tower.

  Natalie motioned upward. “Do something. Help him.”

  Liam stuck up his hands. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  Liam grimaced. “Lion, remember? Besides, Tristan would kill me if I did. He’ll want to win this fight fairly.”

  She wrung her hands. “He will win, right?”

  Clouds drifted closer, inching over the moon.

  Liam frowned. “He’d better. Though his ass is toast either way.”

  She whipped around. “Why?”

  Liam wore one of those You really don’t get it, do you? expressions that made Natalie’s gut sink. Then he explained, motioning with his hands. “For going against orders — again. He’s supposed to keep you safe, not fall in love with you.” A split second later, Liam winced. “Oops. Forget I said that.”

  Natalie’s jaw dropped. She stood there, gaping, her heart thumping wildly as she looked up. Deep inside, she knew the past days had been about more than taking refuge in his apartment, no matter how much she’d told herself otherwise. But to hear Liam say it…

  “Anyway,” Liam continued. “Tristan is supposed to guard you, not kick Marcel’s ass.”

  Natalie scowled. “I’d kick Marcel’s ass if I could.”

  Liam chuckled. “Who wouldn’t? The thing is, Ma
rcel’s lineage makes him the perfect mate for a Fire Maiden. According to Alaric, that is.”

  “Mate.” She’d stumbled across the word in Alaric’s books, but the concept still wasn’t clear in her mind. “Marcel was talking about mating. He wanted me as his.”

  Liam nodded as if that were obvious.

  “It’s barbaric,” she half shouted.

  “True,” Liam admitted. “But then again, if the woman feels the same…” His eyes went distant, and for the briefest of seconds, his sunny expression dimmed with some sad memory.

  Natalie studied him. What secrets hid behind that cheery facade?

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  Liam let out a pained snort. “Then you’re not as lucky as you thought you were.”

  An uncomfortable silence ticked by before Liam gave himself a little shake. “Anyway, Marcel is a selfish bastard. Tristan is different.”

  She hugged herself, looking up. “Is he?”

  Liam frowned. “After a week with him, you still have to ask?”

  Natalie hung her head, ashamed. No, she didn’t.

  “Marcel covets power,” Liam said bitterly. “Oh, and wealth. All Tristan wants is…is…” His eyes roved for a moment before coming to rest on Natalie. You, his eyes said. He wants you. But when Liam spoke, it was to whisper, “Honor.”

  He uttered the word like it was holy, and his jaunty expression became grave. His eyes flickered, and for a moment, Natalie glimpsed another side of Liam. The warrior who’d do anything to help others.

  Like Tristan, Natalie realized, though Liam kept that side hidden away. Why?

  Liam sighed and looked up. “He’s more honorable than any man I know. And he likes you, Natalie. You know he does. But he’s forcing himself to give you space, because he wants you to have a choice. He wants you to be safe.” Liam paused, then whispered, “He would die for you.”

  Five quiet seconds ticked by — seconds in which Natalie’s throat felt drier than ever before, and the word Honor echoed through her mind. Tristan had risked his life for her from the very start. He’d been nothing but gracious as a host, and now, he was defending her at great risk.

  “Dammit,” Liam muttered. “Cut the fire.”

  Natalie looked up as another burst of flames split the sky. Then sparks broke out everywhere, and she nearly yelped. But then she realized that it wasn’t dragon fire or lightning — just the hourly sparkle show at the Eiffel Tower.

  Liam exhaled. “Well, that should help.”

  But the dragons only fought more fiercely, spitting huge plumes of fire. Natalie watched, terrified yet fascinated. She found herself leaning right or left as Tristan banked and even curling her fingers, imagining wingtips sensitive to the slightest change in pressure.

  “Um, Nat?” Liam murmured.

  She blinked, wondering why he was staring. Then she realized she’d raised her arms high, mimicking flight.

  Liam raised an eyebrow. “Maybe that dragon blood is thicker than you thought.”

  Natalie dropped her arms back to her sides. Who was she kidding? Imagining was one thing. Truly flying was another.

  “Oh!” She pointed. One of the dragons — Tristan? — released the biggest stream of fire yet. For a moment, his enemy was completely engulfed, a living outline in fire, and Natalie clutched at her sleeves. “Oh God.”

  It was one thing to want to be rid of Marcel, but seeing him burned alive?

  “Don’t worry,” Liam murmured. “Dragons are pretty fire-resistant. If Tristan wanted Marcel dead, he’d be dead.”

  Indeed, a moment later, Marcel shook like a wet dog, dispelling the flames. Then he turned tail and beat a hasty retreat across the sky.

  “Yes!” Liam cheered as Tristan nipped at Marcel’s heels, harrying him into ever thicker clouds. “That’s my man.”

  First Marcel, then Tristan, crossed in front of the quarter moon — two torpedo-like shadows, one fleeing, the other in hot pursuit. Eventually, Tristan broke off and hung back, watching Marcel flee.

  Take that, Natalie imagined him shouting. And don’t you dare cross me again.

  She fought away the urge to jump in glee, but Liam sighed.

  “Much as I’d like for Tristan to kill that ass, it’s better he didn’t. Things will be bad enough as it is.”

  Natalie glanced between Liam and Tristan, who was soaring back toward the Eiffel Tower with long, steady wingbeats. “Bad? How?”

  Liam motioned upward. “I’ll let him explain. Or try to, at least.”

  Natalie backed away as Tristan approached. He circled the area once then came in for a landing. His wings curved, catching the air, and his claws extended. But rather than the precision landing he’d executed on the rooftop, this was a long, jogged-in affair, graceful but weary at the same time. With every step, his dragon shape morphed, returning to human form, and Natalie found herself dashing alongside Liam to meet him. Then they both slowed, and Liam stuck an arm out, holding her back.

  “Give him a second.”

  Natalie halted in her tracks. Oops. If she got any nearer, she’d be treated to another full monty view of the most heavenly body she’d ever seen. But much as the thought appealed…

  Her cheeks heated, and she stepped back, summoning what dignity she could. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Roger,” Liam said, military-style, before trotting out to Tristan.

  Natalie counted to ten, then twenty, secretly wishing Tristan hadn’t come to a stop in such a shadowy location. She could see him in silhouette, lifting one foot then the other as he pulled on his pants — but that was all. Damn.

  She could see Liam’s mouth moving too — no surprise — along with little wisps of condensation in the fresh night air. Then Liam tipped his head in her direction, and Tristan turned.

  When their eyes locked, Natalie’s breath caught. Her heart thumped, and a deep voice murmured in her mind.

  Mate. That man is your mate.

  Was that destiny, speaking to her? Was it a trick?

  Whatever it was, she found herself rooted to the spot, forgetting Liam, the Eiffel Tower, even Paris. Peering past the shadows, she focused on Tristan, picking out the hard lines of his face. His eyes had been an angry red when he landed, but now, they glowed a soft amber hue.

  Mate, a higher, female voice deep inside her murmured. That is my mate.

  Natalie shivered, partly in fear, and partly in…elation?

  Time stood still, and her mind felt blurry. Blissfully so, like nothing mattered as long as Tristan was all right.

  Then he crumpled to the ground, and she rushed forward. “Tristan!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tristan struggled to his feet, which was hard, even with Liam’s help. For one thing, Marcel had landed a deep, ripping bite to his leg — the only real damage that bastard had managed to pull off, but still. On top of that was the momentary imbalance that always set in after a flight with lots of twists and turns. But most of all, what threw him was Natalie, looking so scared. Not scared of him — scared for him. Worried he might not make it back alive.

  His dragon snorted. As if Marcel can best me.

  The confrontation had only taken as long as it had because Tristan had been holding back. He’d learned the hard way about injuring arrogant sons of the ruling dragon classes. In the end, he would be the one in trouble, not Marcel. As it was, Marcel was probably rushing to Alaric at that very moment, spinning a story about Tristan challenging him rather than admitting it was the other way around.

  And that was the problem. Tristan’s dragon rage had burned high, but he couldn’t vent much of it without his primary weapons. The claw marks he’d left on Marcel’s sides were purposely shallow, and the tiny hiccups of fire he’d limited himself to were barely enough to singe the bastard’s hide. He could have broken Marcel’s ribs with a single whip of his tail, but all he’d left were bruises. No wonder his dragon was still raging inside.

  But when Natalie rushed up, pale and worried, that rage softened t
o love.

  “Are you all right?” She touched his arm, sending little bolts of lightning through his veins.

  Oh, he was fine, other than the fact that his whole body was on fire.

  She’s our mate. Deep inside, she knows it, his dragon insisted. We must claim her before some other bastard does.

  He grimaced. Now was not the time to approach Natalie with more talk of mates and forever.

  At the very least, mark her, the beast insisted.

  He trembled, fighting back the urge to hold her. To kiss her. To rub his chin along her cheek and mark her there. Better yet, to take her to bed and mark her all over.

  Liam cleared his throat sharply and reassured Natalie. “I think he’s fine.”

  “Are you?” Her voice was trembling, like her hands.

  Tristan savored the moment. As a soldier, it had been better not to have anyone fret over him. But boy, was it nice to know Natalie cared.

  Nice, his dragon agreed.

  Briefly, he realized that was what the homeless in the soup kitchen might experience. That feeling of pain and problems vanishing, giving way to a flood of hope. Natalie had a way of making you believe everything would be all right, even if the odds said otherwise.

  He straightened, croaking, “I’m fine. Merci.”

  The word felt totally inadequate, because Natalie could have run screaming at what she’d just witnessed or laid into him about the outdatedness of dragon ways. But she didn’t. She just stroked his arm gently and helped him up. And when he looked into her eyes—

  “Whoa, there,” Liam murmured as Tristan swayed for the second time.

  Her eyes were aglow with dragon fire. The kind that stemmed from love, not anger.

  She loved him?

  Of course she does, his dragon said. We are mates, destined for each other.

  “What?” Natalie asked, caught off guard by his reaction.

  I love you, and you love me, he wanted to say. Oh, and you might have more dragon blood than you thought. Noble blood.