Kiss of Fury

by Deborah Cooke

  “But the rest?” she prompted.

  Donovan couldn’t even think straight about the rest of her plan. He’d never heard of anyone thwarting the firestorm. It seemed as if it shouldn’t work.

  But he couldn’t think of a reason why.

  He parked in front of the bank and Alex hopped off, handing him his helmet. A spark danced between their fingertips and they both caught their breath at the same time. Their gazes met then, locking and holding, and Donovan felt tight.

  And hard.

  “See what I mean?” Alex said softly. “We can’t afford it.”

  “We can’t stop it. And it won’t pass until the next eclipse.”

  “Which is when?”

  Donovan grimaced. “February.”

  Alex shook her head. “Then we have to diffuse it. There’s too much at stake.”

  She made perfect sense.

  “But . . .”

  She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Don’t tell me you’re shy?”

  “No.”

  She arched a brow. “A virgin?”

  He laughed, surprised into it.

  “Me neither,” she admitted, her smile broadening. “Spoiler alert.”

  “Doesn’t spoil anything for me.” He liked how she smiled at that, but shook his head. “I’m just not sure it can be done.”

  Alex grinned. “Can’t hurt to try, can it?”

  Donovan stared into her eyes and felt his body respond in a predictable way. In her presence, it wasn’t easy to think of anything other than seducing her and protecting her.

  “Think about it,” she urged, and there was no doubt in Donovan’s mind that he would.

  Alex walked away and he watched, losing himself in the rhythm of her movement before he caught himself.

  “Wait,” he said. “You’re not going alone.”

  He got off the bike and turned off the ignition, carrying the helmet under one arm. He snagged her fingers with his free hand and gave her hand a squeeze.

  “You look happier,” she said.

  “I’m liking the way you think.” He spared her a grin, easily imagining that they could spend hours cheating the firestorm.

  His thoughts were cut short by the scent of the Slayer. He glanced back to find the sandy-haired man approaching his bike, and a primal fury joined the heat of the firestorm.

  “What is it?” she asked, then followed his gaze. “What’s he doing?”

  “Nothing good. Go, quickly.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll know if you’re in danger,” he said. “I’ve caught your scent and the firestorm has been awakened.” He smiled for her. “You can believe that I’ll come to you.”

  “Okay.” It was obvious that she still felt some trepidation.

  “Trust me, gorgeous.” He winked and Alex blushed a little. She smiled; then she did as he suggested.

  Which meant that she trusted him a bit.

  Donovan was too busy to think much about that. He hid in the shadows beside the automatic tellers at the entrance to the bank and summoned smoke from the deepest depths of his belly. It was cold, thick smoke and he exhaled it with force.

  Donovan didn’t breathe smoke often, because he didn’t tend to stay in any place for long, but he was good at it. Rafferty had taught him well. Donovan watched with pride as his smoke rolled across the pavement, watched it seethe toward his bike with frightening speed, and kept breathing more.

  The Slayer was as yet unaware of the smoke, so bent was he on damaging Donovan’s bike. He probably wanted to make sure that they had to walk, to make it easier for him to catch them.

  He could think again.

  Donovan pushed the smoke harder, urging it toward the Slayer. His smoke swirled around the bike and closed into a circle. The ring snapped shut like a trap. The smoke circle emitted a crystal clear ring when it did so, one that was audible only to the sharp hearing of Pyr and Slayers.

  In this case, it was hard to hear the ring of the perfect smoke circle, because the Slayer shouted in pain. Donovan had closed the loop so that the Slayer’s foot was trapped inside the ring. Donovan smiled, knowing that his smoke was burning the Slayer.

  Served him right.

  The Slayer pulled his foot free of the smoke with a bellow. A few tendrils followed him, the eddies of smoke trying to slide into his shoe and under the hem of his jeans.

  The Slayer stamped his foot on the ground, trying to stop the smoke from searing his flesh. His impromptu dance attracted looks from a number of passersby. That would teach this Slayer not to mess with anything—or anyone—belonging to Donovan.

  There was a flicker of the Slayer’s dragon guise, as the Slayer almost changed shape unwillingly in his anguish. It was a flicker that happened so quickly that no human would have noticed it. But with that glimpse of the Slayer’s malachite green and silver form, Donovan sobered. He recognized Alex’s stalker.

  It was Sigmund Guthrie.

  Sigmund was Erik’s son, who had turned to the Slayer side and compiled the only book about killing dragons.

  Sigmund glared directly at Donovan, then turned and fled down the street. There was viciousness in that stare and Donovan knew better than to let Alex be anywhere in the Slayer’s proximity.

  Now, Sigmund would take his vengeance for the smoke upon Alex.

  Donovan felt a bit sick. He’d inadvertently ensured that his mate would be tortured if the Slayers captured her. That was far worse than her simply being killed, and it guaranteed that he couldn’t leave her alone.

  Period.

  Alex returned then, her gaze darting over him in concern. “Everything all right?” she asked quietly.

  Donovan nodded. “You done?” At her nod, he indicated the bike. “Forget the drugstore. We need to get out of here now.”

  Alex scanned the street. “Where did he go?”

  “Away,” Donovan said grimly. “For now, but not for long.” He didn’t have to look to feel her fear.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to Erik’s place,” he said, knowing she’d be safe surrounded by other Pyr.

  “No,” she said to his surprise. “We need to do something unpredictable, and I need space to work. Get another helmet and let’s get out of town.”

  “You have a destination in mind?”

  “I know just the place.” She spoke with such confidence that Donovan nodded agreement. He thought her instincts were right. Being predictable made it too easy to be targeted.

  And he was certain that he could defend her alone. He was the greatest fighter of the Pyr, after all. Alex had a location in mind and once they were there, Donovan could breathe smoke to protect her in that place.

  He could ask for details but she’d trusted him; it was time to show some trust in return. He wasn’t going to even think about her plan to thwart the firestorm.

  That was too distracting an idea.

  Plan C it would be. Alex couldn’t defend herself against the dragons who were tracking her, and Donovan was determined to protect her.

  There was no denying that he was good at it.

  That must have been why she was so glad to see him again.

  Donovan stopped and bought another helmet, insisting that she come into the store with him. It was a quick purchase and they were back on the bike in record time.

  “Are we being followed?” she asked.

  “Not so far as I can tell.” Donovan was grim.

  “Why doesn’t that sound as reassuring as I think it should?”

  He shrugged, and Alex realized she wasn’t the only one with secrets. “We can all sense the presence of other Pyr. The problem is that some old Slayers are good at disguising their presence.”

  “Only the bad guys can do it?”

  “They’re not sharing the secret, oddly enough.” Donovan paused. “That Russian guy at the mall is Boris Vassily, the leader of the Slayers. He’s really good at hiding his presence.”

  “And he’s in the area.” Ale
x spared a worried glance to the road behind them. “So, they could be anywhere?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Tell me, then, what’s the best solution?”

  Donovan answered without hesitation. “A temporary lair. If we settle in one place, I can protect the perimeter with smoke.”

  “Smoke?”

  “Dragonsmoke. It’s a boundary mark that no other Pyr or Slayer can cross without the permission of the one who breathed it.”

  “Erik did that in his hotel room.”

  “We all did it in Erik’s hotel room. The place was a fortress.”

  “Then how did I leave so easily?”

  “Humans are unaffected by dragonsmoke. You might feel a chill when you pass through it, but that’s it and that will only happen if you’re particularly sensitive.” He glanced at her. “Do you have a spot in mind to work, or should we just find a hotel room?”

  “I can’t work in a hotel. I need a computer. . . .”

  “We could stop and buy one. . . .”

  “No. I know just the place.” Alex’s decision was made. “Get on the highway up here and head west.”

  “How far is it?” Donovan looked quickly at the gas gauge.

  “Maybe a hundred miles.”

  They roared out of the parking lot, both of them pulling down their visors. Alex hung on as Donovan turned onto the highway and eased the bike up to speed. She felt like she was running away from everything that had haunted her, racing toward the future. She was excited about getting back to work, but that wasn’t the only thing that made her heart skip.

  She was on the run with Donovan and she was honest enough to admit she liked that; she liked it a lot.

  It wasn’t just because she knew he would protect her, either.

  She was thinking about thwarting the firestorm.

  Donovan stopped about an hour later at a diner and gas station at the side of the highway. He would have preferred to keep going, but the bike wasn’t the only one in need of fuel. He filled the bike’s tank, watching the road for signs of pursuit. Alex stood beside him, right where he wanted her to be.

  “Your senses are sharper than mine, aren’t they?” she asked in an undertone, and he nodded. “Then you can be sentry.”

  Donovan smiled briefly, pleased that she was so observant. The road was empty in both directions and only two other cars were parked at the diner. He couldn’t sense any Pyr. He still didn’t like it and he didn’t trust Boris, but they needed to eat.

  “I think we’re good,” he murmured, then paid cash for the gas. “Let’s get something to eat, while we have the chance.”

  The diner was quiet, and he assumed it was in between the breakfast and lunch traffic. He chose a booth in the back and sat in the corner, where he could watch the door and his bike.

  “Strategic,” Alex said as she slid into the bench opposite him.

  “Alive,” he corrected. They ordered coffee and the all-day breakfast special from a bored waitress.

  Not a single car pulled in as they waited for their meals. Donovan was edgy all the same. It couldn’t have been that easy to lose the Slayers. He didn’t want to frighten Alex, but the hum of electricity between them would draw Slayers like moths to a flame.

  He drummed his fingers and scanned the road outside, watching and waiting.

  “If you could put that restless energy in a bottle, we could eliminate our dependence on fossil fuels,” Alex said.

  He glanced up to find her smiling.

  “Never mind that spark,” she added with a frown. “I’d love to know how that works.”

  “Destiny?” he suggested playfully, and Alex shook her head.

  “No. It’s energy of some kind. Energy is never destroyed or created—it just changes form.” She watched his restless fingers and he could see that she was thinking about it. She reached out and tentatively touched a fingertip to his hands.

  The spark lit but she didn’t pull her hand away.

  “I thought you were afraid,” Donovan said quietly, watching her.

  “I am.” Alex met his gaze with a smile, then studied their fingers again. “But fear doesn’t solve anything. It’s just energy pointed in the wrong direction.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Like anger, or jealousy.” Alex focused on their hands. He watched as she experimented to determine how close their hands had to be for the sparks to light. “Negative emotions carry a charge or a power. It’s a force you can turn around and put to work. You can harness it to solve the problem, whatever it is, instead of dwelling on the issue and achieving nothing.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Well, I can fuel courage with fear—I can investigate what terrifies me, learn something about its nature, and maybe move past my fear with that new information.”

  The waitress brought their meals then and Alex pulled her hand away. The waitress slid the plates of eggs, bacon, and hash browns onto the table, plunked down plates of toast, and refilled their coffees. She rummaged in her apron pocket for packs of jam and creamer, then left them to it.

  Donovan was surprised by how hungry he was. The food smelled good to him, and he dug in quickly. He supposed that Alex’s comment was the best intro he was going to get.

  “Can you tell me about Gilchrist Enterprises?”

  Alex flicked him a glance. “What about it?”

  “Tell me about the Green Machine. It’s an environmentally friendly vehicle, right?”

  Alex nodded. “The Green Machine developed from the issue of fossil fuels. What are we going to do without them? There are less and less all the time.” She pushed her plate aside, her meal only half eaten, and leaned forward. He loved her intensity and passion for her work. “Imagine if we didn’t need so much oil on a daily basis. We could be self-sufficient in energy. . . .”

  “But we love our cars too much to ditch them.” Donovan played devil’s advocate. “People can’t walk everywhere or always take public transit. And electric cars aren’t always practical, because there’s not always a place to charge them.”

  “I’m talking about a more radical solution. I’m talking about changing the fuel we burn.” Alex took a bite of toast, but Donovan could tell she wasn’t really interested in it. “The problem is that with the tooling required to build car engines, there’s an enormous vested interest in continuing to use gasoline to propel cars. Never mind the investments in building refineries.”

  “Which means there’s a resistance to change, even though supplies of oil are running out.”

  Alex smiled. “People dislike change. We need to find a way to allow people to continue to drive the way they do, but make it more sustainable.”

  “By changing the fuel.” Donovan nodded. “But to what?”

  “The Green Machine is a car with an engine that runs on”—Alex glanced to either side, then leaned over the table to whisper—“water.” Her eyes were shining with sincerity.

  Donovan dropped his fork. “Be serious.”

  “I am. Salt water can be made to burn. You need a radio frequency generator, which splits the molecule so that the hydrogen can burn.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Donovan was astounded. “But there’s salt water everywhere. We’ve got oceans of it.”

  “And we can make more,” Alex said. “It’s completely renewable as a resource. Burns clean, too.”

  “What about the engine?”

  “Modifications are required. The radio frequency needs to be sustained for the burn to continue. So, you need to factor the energy needed to create the radio frequency into the equation, and you want to come out with a net gain in power in order to propel a vehicle. It makes a lot of energy and you need to control the volume at an even level.”

  “So?”

  “We had a prototype car at the lab, which we reworked and tested. Mark was the best mechanic you ever saw. It was one hot machine.” She caught her breath and looked away.

  �
�What happened to him?” Donovan asked softly.

  “I don’t want to talk about it yet.” Alex’s throat worked and her voice was more husky than usual. She stabbed her fork into her cold hash browns.

  “You saw?”

  She nodded and frowned, but didn’t say anything. The power of her reaction made Donovan wonder again what her relationship with Mark had been.

  It was not his business.

  He drained his coffee cup, irritated by the direction of his thoughts. “You were close to revealing your invention?”

  She leaned forward, her manner intent, as she held her finger and thumb slightly apart. “We’re this close. We’ve had an angel—”

  “Angels are involved in this, too?” Donovan teased, wanting to see her smile.

  She did, briefly. “That’s what they call early investors, the venture capitalists who fund projects well before there’s anything to see. I have an appointment with ours on Thursday. He’s got the facilities lined up for production and a whole team of experts in place to make this happen. There’s a big car show in two weeks where he wants to unveil the Green Machine. If it works. I need a working prototype for that meeting to make everything come together. All the other work is done.”

  “I can’t blame him for wanting to see it work.”

  “No. It’ll take a lot of money to begin production.”

  “But there’s a lot more money to be made.”

  “And the planet to be saved,” Alex said. She shoved a hand through her hair with some frustration. “There are other people working on similar schemes, but the Green Machine is the cleanest and the best. If we miss this opportunity, some hybrid will be introduced instead. We heard about three, which still rely partly on fossil fuels, that are going to be introduced at that show.”

  “Compromise is easier than change.”

  “Exactly.” Alex’s manner turned urgent and her conviction made Donovan’s heart skip a beat. “There’s a window of opportunity here to really make a difference—”

  “To save the world.”

  “Don’t make fun of me!”

  “I’m perfectly serious.”

  She spoke with quiet force. “I don’t want to miss this chance. I don’t think we can mess around with compromise anymore. We need to make a big technological change and we need to make it now.” She met his gaze warily. “It sounds flaky but there was a convergence that pulled the Green Machine together more quickly than either of us expected. The universe was moving in support of the idea. I feel like I was given a responsibility and that it’s my job to make it happen.”