“Because of the Elixir?”
Rafferty shrugged. “Apparently so.” He hesitated, flicking a glance at a watchful Eileen. “I have told you too much already.” Was he personally reluctant to confide in her, or was he afraid of Erik’s reaction?
Melissa didn’t really care. It made sense to her that they work together. “The way I see it, we have a mutual problem named Magnus Montmorency. If we pool our information and work together, we could nail him.”
Rafferty glanced again at Eileen. “You must recognize that I have an obligation to my kind and must not further jeopardize their security.”
“And I’ve already spilled the beans.” Melissa nodded in understanding. “Okay, let’s make a deal. I won’t tell anyone else anything about the Pyr without your explicit approval.”
Rafferty arched a brow, but she sensed that he wasn’t truly surprised. “I thought the story—and that job—was tantamount.”
“I think nailing Montmorency is more important.” Melissa shrugged. “And I suspect you’re the only one who can really do it.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
Rafferty smiled. The curve claimed his lips slowly, pleasure lighting his eyes. The transformation made Melissa’s heart pound.
And it made the darkfire flames burn more intensely green.
He leaned forward, all muscled power, and extended his hand. Melissa’s fingers were lost in his grip, the heat of his touch making her as dizzy as the approval in his eyes. She could have fallen into his lap; she could have twined herself around him, but he gave her hand a single pump, then released it.
She saw the effect of that contact upon him when he sat back, took a deep breath, and pushed a hand through his hair.
She liked that the firestorm tormented them both.
She sat back in her chair and curled her feet beneath her, smiling at the way he watched her legs. There was hunger in his expression, a desire that she liked to believe wasn’t purely because of the firestorm’s heat.
She shivered in anticipation of sating it.
Would that mean his departure? The notion burst Melissa’s bubble, no doubt about it.
Rafferty pursed his lips, choosing his words. “There is another Slayer, one who only recently revealed himself. His name is Chen, and it appears that he can take six forms.”
“Six?”
Rafferty counted off on his fingers. “I have seen him as a dragon, as a salamander, as a snake, as a beautiful woman, as a young man, and as an elderly man.”
“Wow.” Because the concept obviously troubled Rafferty, Melissa made a joke. “That seems excessive.”
Rafferty’s smile was fleeting.
“So, this Chen must have had a lot of that Elixir, then.”
“I’m not sure,” he acknowledged. “Magnus restricts himself to three forms, and he drank most of it. By far. It was created by him, and its source was under his control.”
“So, is that because it isn’t possible for him to take more forms, or because he chooses not to?”
Rafferty shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“So, maybe there’s another factor than the Elixir.” Melissa smelled an answer close at hand. She flipped through her notes again, seeking it.
There it was, right in front of her.
“How did your grandfather get into the convent?” she asked, barely able to hide her excitement. “And how did he visit your grandmother in her village, without being seen even once? My experience of small towns is that everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
Eileen sat down heavily then, her eyes round. “Merlin is said to have been a shape shifter,” she murmured.
“What form did he take?” Rafferty demanded.
“A stag,” Eileen said, then began to sound like a teacher. “That’s assumed by some scholars to be an example of a pagan story revised to a Christian one. Shamans often dressed as stags for specific rituals in nature religions. We even have images of them in such disguise on the walls of Lascaux. And Merlin is often considered as a shaman figure in the Arthurian cycle.”
“Could your grandfather become a salamander?” Melissa asked. “Or spontaneously manifest in other places?” She leaned forward, sure she was right. “Was that how he did it?”
Rafferty’s eyes brightened. “Maybe. Maybe!”
“What if those powers have nothing to do with the Elixir?” Eileen asked.
Rafferty was clearly deep in thought. “Magnus always collected old lore,” he mused.
“What if he discovered a lost truth?” Eileen asked.
“More importantly, what if you can do it, too?” Melissa asked.
“What if reclaiming this old power is another legacy of the darkfire? What if knowing something is possible is the key to doing it?” Rafferty whispered, then smiled.
He laughed out loud and scooped Melissa up into his arms, swinging her around as her pencil slid across the table. He kissed her, then held her in his embrace. “What a gift you bring me,” he murmured, his gaze so warm that Melissa blushed. “My grandfather always said the richest treasure in his hoard was his mate.”
He then glanced pointedly at Eileen.
Melissa meanwhile caught her breath. It had been a long time since anyone had thought of her as being key to anything, and she savored the satisfaction of making a contribution.
Of making a difference.
It was good stuff.
Eileen stood up. “I feel a strange compulsion to get some sleep, right this minute,” she said, winking at Melissa. She hefted Zoë higher with a grunt, then left the pair together.
Rafferty smiled down at Melissa. “I am feeling celebratory.”
“Sounds as if that word has a specific connotation.”
His smile broadened. “The dragon celebrates with physical pleasures of all kinds.” He kissed her knuckles, sending a torrent of desire through Melissa’s body. Her mouth went dry. The firestorm turned Melissa’s thoughts in the same direction, but she fought its appeal.
Sex wasn’t good enough—even though this was the best she’d ever had. She had to prove to Rafferty that she was worth having around, even though she couldn’t give him a son.
She had to help him destroy Montmorency.
She had to help him extinguish the darkfire, before everything he cared about was lost. The firestorm’s allure would wait—and even if it didn’t, she knew she’d be wanting Rafferty for a long time.
Maybe there could be a future for the two of them. The trick would be securing it.
Donovan stood on the wharf and eyed the island on the other side of the choppy stretch of water.
“No ferry today, sir—that much is for certain.”
“No. I can see that.” Donovan checked his watch for the hundredth time. He was tired and frustrated, and that went double for Alex and Nick. The wind was violent, tossing dark clouds across the sky and making the water churn into dangerous waves.
Keeping him from the Sleeper.
He’d made a mistake, revealing himself here on the dock. He’d assumed they’d be able to cross on the ferry quickly, saving him from any explanation about how they had arrived. Islands with small populations were tricky in that, and he was determined to blend in as much as possible. This far out of the tourist season, it wouldn’t be easy.
Bardsey Island might be home to ten thousand saints, but they were all dead. The living counted only two dozen or so, particularly in winter, so three Americans couldn’t arrive without being noticed. Still, as he watched the water, he wished he’d just flown them all there under cover of night.
What would he find when he arrived?
“In a hurry are you, then?” the burly man asked.
“Impatient, yes,” Donovan agreed, trying to keep his toe from tapping. “And it has been a long day of travel, as well.”
“Almost off the edge of the world here,” the man agreed amiably.
“It’s always good to reach the destination and be able to relax,” Donovan said.
The man
’s gaze sharpened as he surveyed Donovan, then Alex and Nick. Alex had remained in their rental car and was reading to Nick from a book they had brought. The boy leaned against her, sleepy but not wanting to miss anything. He could see the exhaustion in both of their faces.
“We don’t see many visitors this time of year.”
“Not so much of a visitor, as one returned,” Donovan said.
The man’s interest sharpened. “How so?”
“I came to Bardsey Island as a young man, although it’s been a long time.” It had been longer even than this man anticipated, but Donovan didn’t say that. “My distant cousin owned a house on the island.”
“And who would that be?”
“Donovan Shea.”
“Oh, he’s been gone a long while.” The man’s manner warmed at the mention of the name. “Seems I heard he had passed away.”
“Yes.” Donovan shook his head, as if to marvel. In fact, he had started the rumor, as he did every sixty or seventy years, concurrent with another round of legalities to pass his own property to himself. It had gotten more difficult in the last century, and he wondered absently how rich the Pyr were making lawyers everywhere. “I guess it amused him that we had the same name, for he left the house to me. Quite a surprise, after all this time.”
“That would be the old white house, then.”
“It would.” Donovan wasn’t surprised the man knew it. “I’m eager to see it again, and to show my own son the island. I’m sure it’s as magical as I recall.”
The man nodded. “It’s a place you don’t shake out of your bones; that’s for certain.” He eyed the sky. “I might have taken you alone, but I’ll not take your boy before the sea is more favorable.”
“That’s fair. Any idea when it might be?”
The man inhaled and scanned the horizon, his gaze dancing over the clouds. Donovan trusted his judgment, for he likely knew this stretch of water as well as his own hand. “Before sunset,” he said.
Sunset would have to do.
The Sleeper would have to wait a little longer to be defended.
Donovan thanked the man and rejoined Alex and Nick, hoping he arrived soon enough to keep his old vow.
Rafferty was jubilant. Trusting Melissa had revealed a side of his grandfather’s story that he’d never seen. He had no doubt their working together could only bear more fruit.
The Great Wyvern had been right. His firestorm was a gift, and he would build a partnership with his mate.
“We need to finish Montmorency before we celebrate anything,” she said with a resolve he’d already come to associate with her.
“Why don’t you believe in the future anymore?” he asked, watching the play of emotions on her face. He raised a hand before she could speak. “No platitudes. You’re a logical woman, and there’s a specific incident at root. I would be honored if you would trust me with that truth.”
Melissa closed her mouth. She looked at him, then down to her notes and the crystal that still rested on the table. “It seems only fair,” she said, her words tight. “Given how much you’ve confided in me.”
She didn’t hesitate then, just lifting her chin and holding his gaze. She didn’t flinch, either. “I came home from my post, only to learn that I had cancer.”
“I thought I read that you had left the Middle East to get married.”
Melissa smiled. “I did. He was adamant that he wouldn’t live abroad. Of course, he had an anchor post already.” She sighed. “I met him when he came to do some spotlights for the network in the region, when there were treaty agreements. Love at first sight, we were in sync, everything was perfect. Moving back stateside seemed like the better plan, especially when he put in a word for me to get a transfer.”
“You were giving up a lot.”
“Didn’t seem like it at the time. A tiny sacrifice for the greater good. And what did I need a hotshot career for? Or those journalism awards? We were going to start a family.” Melissa frowned, her gaze dancing over the kitchen. Rafferty saw that the story wasn’t an easy one for her to tell. “I went for my first physical exam in years, never imagining they’d find anything. I was healthy.” She met Rafferty’s gaze. “Who would have guessed that while I was dodging explosives, the real bomb was silently growing inside me?”
Rafferty shook his head. There were no words for such horrific news. “How did you find out?” he asked.
“I had an abnormal Pap smear, although no one was overly concerned. It was supposed to be routine. But the second showed similar results, which got people’s attention. Then the biopsy—they knew even before the test results came back.” She tapped her fingers on the kitchen table. “Come to think of it, it was the day those results were made official that he packed.”
“He left you, in the midst of such a crisis?” Rafferty was outraged.
She eyed him. “Don’t you think he was right to do so? That there was no point in staying?”
Rafferty sputtered in fury. “No! Love should run deeper than that, and vows are a commitment. He should have been beside you. He should have helped you.”
Melissa swallowed and tried to speak lightly. “I wouldn’t be able to give him the kids he wanted, would I? I couldn’t keep the terms of the deal.”
“He should have loved you better than that,” Rafferty said hotly.
Melissa considered him, and he saw the spark of hope within her. He knew he had to nurture that spark and feed it, coax it to burn steadily and brightly.
He took her hand in his. “No one should endure such a test alone.”
“That’s not what everyone said. Well, everyone except my brother.” She averted her gaze unable to completely hide her pain. Rafferty saw that she tried. “So much for the job I’d barely started—turned out I was downsized within the week. So much for my friends—the real ones were on the other side of the world, and the others just evaporated when they heard my news. So much for the fairy-tale wedding, the one for which the bills were still coming in. So much for ‘forever.’ So much for the dream house and the promise of ‘until death us do part.’” She grimaced. “Who knew I’d get to face that bit alone?”
“He was wrong,” Rafferty said with force.
“Was he? He knew what he wanted. Turned out that didn’t include me.”
“But Melissa…”
“You’re the one who believes in destiny, Rafferty. My marriage was doomed from the outset, even though I had no idea at the time.” She made an impatient gesture. “Someone pulled back the veil, and that was the end of everything. Like a magic show, where the conjuror makes everything disappear with a snap of his fingers.”
She looked at him, her gaze steady. “I respect and understand your dream of the firestorm, but you need to recognize that I’m not the mate you’ve been waiting for. This relationship is just as doomed. We can have great sex, but even that’s going to fade. I can’t ever give you that son, and if that’s what you want, maybe we should call it quits now.”
With those words, Melissa convinced Rafferty of exactly the opposite. He knew that mere words wouldn’t change her mind, though, or convince her to share his perspective.
No, Rafferty Powell knew exactly what he had to do to win the heart of his wounded mate. He had never believed that any treasure worth possessing would be easily gained, and in a way, he welcomed that gaining Melissa’s love and trust would test him. He had to sacrifice everything to the darkfire, in order to gain the reward of the firestorm. There would be no half measures.
He was ready.
Rafferty reached out and captured her hand, tugging her toward his office. They would celebrate, but in an entirely different way than he’d first imagined.
The end result would be just as good, though. He was sure of it.
Melissa didn’t know what Rafferty was up to.
He was up to something; that was clear. There was a determined glint in his eyes, and his lips were curved in a secretive smile. He looked sexy enough to eat. “Bring your notes,�
�� he instructed, interlacing his fingers with hers.
He pulled her into his office and urged her toward the chair behind the desk. Was it her imagination that the blue light of the darkfire flames between them were burning higher and hotter? Rafferty made no indication that he’d noticed. He moved with purpose, bent on his task. He set a laptop in front of her and booted it up, connecting the modem cable at one side.
“What are you doing?” Melissa asked, although she had an idea.
“You must remember your passwords,” he said, logging on to the Internet and leaving the browser running. Melissa gaped at him. He opened a drawer and put a digital camera on the desk, then connected it to the computer with a USB cable. He produced Montmorency’s blue leather-bound book with a flourish, then set it on the desk before her.
He stood back and smiled. “Do what you do,” he invited. “Expose Magnus’s truth to the world.”
Melissa’s heart began to thunder. “You’re serious.”
He nodded, no doubt in his posture. “Your brother said the world was waiting for your update. Why don’t you give it to them?”
Melissa scanned the tools he’d given her, glancing at her notes and the book even as she formulated a plan. She needed to present the story in a coherent manner, with facts that could be verified.
But Montmorency could turn up at any moment.
Literally in front of her.
“Why are you doing this? I thought you didn’t want to betray your kind?”
Rafferty smiled. “But if the choice lies in revealing my kind further, or refusing to trust in the firestorm, then my decision is an easy one. I believe we have a firestorm for a reason. I believe we can be a team together. I believe there is another point than the conception of a child. There must be. And so I choose the firestorm. I choose you.”
Melissa was astounded. This man was becoming more irresistible by the moment.
“What can I do to help?” Rafferty asked.
Darkfire Kiss Page 23