Winter Kiss

by Deborah Cooke

And he enjoyed Magnus’s defeat. Delaney felt a savage glee as Magnus fell, as his guts spilled and his blood flowed. He could have shredded the Slayer. He could have tormented him with pain, just as Magnus had tortured him. It would have been justified.

  It would also have made him just like them.

  Delaney saw the hatred in himself and was horrified. He could have surrendered to it completely, to its call for brutality under the false banner of justice.

  But he became aware of a radiance in his claw. The firestorm burned hotter and more insistent, its light searing his heart. Its brilliance filled him, banishing the beast within and his thirst for destruction. It reminded Delaney of the value of temperance, of the need not to act in vengeance.

  Ginger was captive in Delaney’s claw, frightened but alive. Her presence clarified the situation for Delaney, made him keenly aware of the stakes. He felt his own heart synchronize with the frantic pace of her own, felt his breathing match her frightened huffing. The connection strengthened him, filled him with light and power.

  It made it easy to deny Magnus, the Slayers, and the Elixir.

  It made it easy to step back from his anger.

  Delaney chose not to let the beast win. He wouldn’t become a mindless and heartless killing machine. He wouldn’t let Magnus do that to him.

  That was the true triumph.

  When Delaney backed away from Magnus’s bleeding body, the allure of the Elixir dimmed. His body didn’t yearn for it as vehemently.

  His body yearned for Ginger, instead. His true nature was drawn to the light of the firestorm and its promise for the future.

  Magnus writhed, bracing himself on his front claws and breathing dragonfire mingled with smoke. He couldn’t fly anymore, couldn’t rouse himself from the floor, but he spewed his venom as far as he could. He again tried to dispatch his command into Delaney’s thoughts, but he was easier to ignore each time.

  The air became thick with dragonsmoke and smoke from Magnus’s dragonfire. The Elixir seemed to churn with greater agitation in the crystal vial, as if it responded to Magnus’s distress.

  Magnus began to shift between forms, almost certainly against his will, flicking between human and dragon. Delaney was surprised to glimpse a green salamander periodically appearing as a transition phase.

  So, Magnus had mastered that ability of the Wyvern as well.

  Delaney knew that Ginger wouldn’t be able to breathe much more of the foul air Magnus was creating, the dragonfire stealing the oxygen from the cavern. He had to make this visit count.

  Plus he sensed other Slayers coming to Magnus’s aid.

  Ginger had brought him the gift of denying Magnus’s subliminal commands and the key to banishing the beast fed by the Elixir. Ginger had to survive.

  Even if it meant that the Elixir did, too.

  Delaney mustered all of his strength and dove one last time at the massive vial. He thundered into it with all the force he could muster, driving his shoulder into the rock crystal. The entire cavern vibrated with the impact.

  A single hairline crack appeared in the vial.

  Silver beads formed on the crack and dripped toward the floor. They were odd, like liquid silver, and Delaney couldn’t understand what they were.

  He might have collected one, but Ginger moaned and stirred.

  As close as victory might be, Delaney had to ensure her safety first and foremost.

  The Elixir would wait.

  He realized abruptly that shattering the vial now would send its balm cascading over Magnus. Let Magnus drag himself up those many stairs for his restorative sip instead.

  Delaney left the cavern and Magnus, shifting back to human form in the last minute to slip through the small portal. He carried Ginger with care, scooping up her rifle en route, and made his way hurriedly through the labyrinthine passage.

  He’d figure out how they’d get up that last chute to the riverside when he had to. At least the air was clearing. The warmth of the firestorm settled around them, lighting his way with its golden glow.

  Delaney couldn’t understand its presence, but it was undeniable.

  Why hadn’t it been sated? What did the firestorm’s persistence mean? And what was he going to do about it? He couldn’t leave Ginger without creating a son, not without abandoning his duty to his fellow Pyr.

  First things first—they had to get out of the cave alive.

  And if he had to frighten Ginger into not following him again to ensure her own safety, so be it.

  Ginger awakened to a persistent and gentle tapping of fingertips against her cheek. She heard sparks crackling and saw bright light through her lashes. She felt warm, even though her jeans were still wet. The languid heat rolling through her body told her who was holding her against his broad chest.

  “Come on, Ginger,” Delaney said, and she felt like purring at the sound of his voice. “You’ve got to wake up so we can get out of here.”

  His urgency was clear.

  Ginger opened her eyes, half expecting to find dragons in the vicinity. Instead, she was in what looked like the first cavern at the foot of the chute where part of the creek went underground. She sat up, aware of Delaney’s watchful presence but not quite ready to meet his gaze.

  She reached toward his hand, then jumped at the spark that arced between them. She wasn’t drunk anymore. What was going on?

  Where had he been?

  “That’s better,” Delaney said with satisfaction, as if the spark hadn’t happened. He pulled her to her feet, clearly not inclined to talk. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Ginger didn’t move, because she realized that she had heard his voice emanate from the emerald and copper dragon.

  Except that that was impossible.

  She might have thought she had dreamed the whole thing, but the front of her coat was burned black. Her face felt flushed, as if she had a sunburn rising.

  And the barrel of her rifle, close at hand, was warm. “What’s going on? Where were you?” Ginger wasn’t the kind of person to have hallucinations. She wasn’t possessed of a vivid imagination. She was, in fact, known for her sharp observational skills and her ability to call things as she saw them.

  Which was usually how they were.

  That didn’t explain the sparks.

  Or the dragons fighting.

  “Later,” Delaney said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  How could Delaney’s voice have come from one of them?

  “Now works for me,” Ginger insisted. She thought of Jonah and the whale, then met Delaney’s gaze. She saw concern in his eyes as well as a bit of wariness. There was no point in beating around the bush. “Where were you? Did he spit you up whole?”

  She knew she didn’t imagine that Delaney eased away from her slightly. “Who?”

  She heard in his tone that he knew exactly whom she meant but was pretending otherwise. Indignation made her rise quickly to her feet and jab a finger in his direction.

  “You know who! The emerald and copper dragon. I heard your voice come from him. Did he swallow you whole and then spit you up?”

  “No.” Delaney’s tone was flat and he headed for the chute. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it further.

  Ginger didn’t move. “Then what the hell happened back there?”

  “We’ll talk about it later.” His expression was grim. “Let’s get out of here first.”

  Ginger folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not going anywhere without an explanation. If you think I find this whole mystery man thing attractive, you can think again.”

  “Now,” Delaney said, the single word low and forceful.

  Ginger would have argued, but there was something odd about him. He turned to face her, his intensity stopping the question that rose to her lips. He seemed suddenly larger, more dangerous and determined. More predatory and powerful.

  For the first time, she was a little bit frightened of him.

  Delaney’s body shimmered blue around the edges, as if he were
n’t entirely there. The hair prickled on the back of Ginger’s neck, her body more wary than the rest of her. He took a step toward her and she backed up, afraid of what he might do.

  Delaney’s eyes, though, were the really strange part of him. They shone a brilliant green, shone as if lit from within.

  But his pupils were vertical slits, like the eyes of a reptile.

  Like the eyes of a dragon.

  Time to go.

  Ginger didn’t wait to see anything more. She clutched her rifle against her chest and scrambled up the slope, using only one hand. It wasn’t easy but she wasn’t going to leave her weapon behind.

  Ginger climbled up the slope with record speed, never looking back. She heard Delaney behind her and that only made her move faster. She tore her palm on the stone and got soaked to the skin on the way.

  She felt heat on her cold butt, as if Delaney were a bonfire racing right behind her. She felt that stupid lust again, untimely and unwelcome as it was, and ground her teeth in irritation at her own weakness.

  He might be the sexiest man she’d ever known, but there were issues that demanded review.

  “Faster,” Delaney murmured from right behind her, his voice low enough to make her shiver. “They’re too close.”

  She didn’t ask who.

  She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know.

  Ginger emerged into daylight, blinking at the bright whiteness of the snow. She had time to see two dragons descending out of the sky, and two unfamiliar men on the riverbank close at hand. Then Delaney pushed her aside, jumped over her, and leapt into the air.

  By the time Ginger looked up, a dragon was ascending quickly.

  A copper and emerald one.

  And, once again, there was no sign of Delaney.

  Ginger heard the rush of wind and the flap of wings. The two men on the riverbank were gone when she glanced their way, the sound coming from two dragons gaining altitude right behind the emerald one.

  Five dragons.

  One of the dragons following the emerald one could have been made of amethyst and silver. The other appeared to be scaled in all the colors of tourmaline, shading from green to purple and back over his length, each scale edged in silver.

  Ginger stared. She was wet and cold, but too astonished to care. She felt suddenly light-headed and sat down in the snow, telling herself it was a choice but knowing her knees would have given out on their own.

  She cradled the rifle in her hands and savored its familiar weight. It felt good to hold something solid, something that was precisely as she had always known it to be and showed no signs of changing. The rifle was reassuring and real.

  Even if it had been useless against dragons so far. One dragon that approached was agate, his russet and gold and green scales lined like ancient stone, and accented with gold. The other was remarkable, as red as garnets, with gold and what looked like embedded pearls.

  The dragons looked even more like fabulous jeweled beasts in the light, but they were far from ornamental. The copper and emerald dragon attacked the agate one with a vengeance. Ginger had the odd sense that he was defending her. The pair locked claws, then tumbled through the air, slashing and thrashing.

  Did dragons take sides? Or did the emerald one just want her for his own lunch?

  The amethyst dragon took on the garnet dragon, breathing fire so that the garnet dragon recoiled. Meanwhile the tourmaline dragon had flown behind him and attacked from the other side. The garnet dragon screeched and spun, caught between two opponents. It was a violent and rough fight, but Ginger couldn’t tear her gaze away.

  “This’ll be short and sweet.”

  The sound of a man’s voice behind her made Ginger jump to her feet again and pivot, rifle at the ready.

  Chapter 5

  Ginger was afraid of him. Delaney told himself that was good.

  He hadn’t started to shift on purpose, but his body had been responding to the presence of a threat to his mate. He hadn’t intended for Ginger to see his truth, but now that she had, he told himself to be glad of it.

  It would be easier to leave her if she feared—or even despised—him. Delaney knew she was smart and resilient, and the heat of the firestorm made him want her in a very basic way.

  But she was afraid of him.

  And he could ensure that she became more afraid of him.

  Maybe after she witnessed the fullness of his truth, she wouldn’t mind him abandoning her.

  It would then be easier to do what he needed to do.

  Even if Ginger’s fear did prove that his mother had been right.

  Even if he did regret that he had frightened her. Ginger was too giving, too stubborn, too damn attractive. If he couldn’t defend himself against the promise of the firestorm, he’d frighten her and make her the one who declined him.

  Delaney had been an outcast for a long time, long enough that he knew the shadows were where he belonged.

  Still he resented his truth as he never had before. He raged at the injustice of his birthright as he lunged at Mallory. The only kind of creature less worthy of respect than Delaney was a Slayer. That defeating the Slayers was essential to protecting his mate was just an added bonus.

  They gave him a release for his anger.

  A tall man stood before Ginger on the edge of the scrub, his hands braced on his hips as he avidly watched the battle overhead. Ginger guessed that his indifference to her was an act, and that he was completely aware of what she did.

  He obviously had been the one who had spoken.

  His long, dark blond hair was tied back in a ponytail, his tight jeans revealed that he was buff. The black down-filled vest only made him look bigger, and his grim manner convinced Ginger that he, too, had seen a number of bar fights.

  Even participated in them.

  Without looking directly at her, he reached to push the muzzle of the rifle with his fingertip, directing it away from himself. The dragon tattoo on the back of his left hand snared Ginger’s eye, made her think.

  Persuaded her to shut up for the moment.

  It was impossible for men to become dragons, wasn’t it?

  Then where had Delaney gone?

  And where had the copper and emerald dragon come from?

  Ginger eased away from the stranger, keeping the muzzle momentarily averted. It didn’t make a lot of sense to tick off this guy, whoever he was. He had to be three feet taller than she and looked as if he could take her on with one hand.

  Overhead, the garnet dragon screamed as the tourmaline one slashed his claws across that pearl-embellished face. Black blood spattered down and the tall man pulled Ginger out of the way. The blood sizzled where it fell in the snow and loosed a little bit of steam.

  “I’m only here to protect you,” he drawled, not taking his gaze from the battle overhead.

  “Not if I say otherwise.”

  He flicked her a look. “It’s Delaney’s call whether you need to be beguiled, but don’t imagine that you’ll just walk away.”

  Ginger didn’t know what he was talking about, although she had to admit that Delaney had charmed her the night before.

  “I’ll run,” she said vehemently, and she meant it.

  “Delaney will find you.” He spoke with such confidence that Ginger believed him.

  Where was Delaney? Ginger watched the copper and emerald dragon overhead, fighting the obvious answer as determinedly as the emerald dragon battled the agate one.

  Surely he hadn’t become the dragon? She thought about his pupil being a vertical slit and shivered.

  Impossible.

  Meanwhile, the fight continued. The garnet dragon might have retreated, but the amethyst one leapt on his back. He buried his teeth into the garnet dragon’s shoulder as the tourmaline one breathed fire at the garnet dragon. The garnet dragon screamed in pain and struggled, but seemed unable to break out of the pair’s deadly grip.

  The copper and emerald dragon was thumping the agate dragon, landing blow after blow on
him with his tail. He fought more viciously than the others, clearly seeing every battle as being to the death. The pair spiraled around each other, the agate dragon trying to scorch the emerald one or tear his wings.

  The emerald one was faster and more agile, maybe more motivated. He attacked the agate dragon, one talon catching the agate dragon’s eye. That dragon bellowed in rage and pain, then launched himself at the emerald one.

  It was a bloody, dirty fight, so vicious that Ginger understood the losers could die.

  “Where is Delaney?” she asked, finding herself unable to look away from the carnage overhead. She suspected the answer, even though it was crazy.

  Let someone else say it out loud.

  The tall man did. “He’s the copper and emerald dragon.” His gaze was amused as he looked at Ginger. “We’re dragon shape shifters. Didn’t he mention it?”

  “No. Oddly enough, it didn’t come up in conversation.”

  The tall man chuckled.

  Ginger didn’t say anything more. What other rational explanation could there be for Delaney’s voice coming from that dragon in the cave below?

  Although “rational” could be considered a stretch.

  “You might notice that he’s defending you from Mallory and Balthasar,” the tall man noted.

  “He might be defending you.”

  Her companion laughed again. “I can take care of myself.”

  “So can I.” Ginger gripped her rifle a little more tightly. Could she duck past this guy and run? He was a formidable obstacle and seemed to think it his responsibility to keep her right where she was. He’d be faster than her, too, given his height.

  She stayed put, waiting for her moment, and looked skyward again at the sound of distant thunder.

  It was an odd time for thunder.

  The emerald dragon roared as he flung the agate one through the sky at his fellow. The tourmaline and amethyst dragons must have guessed his intention, because they spun the garnet dragon, who was bleeding profusely, and cast him at the agate one.

  The two dragons collided with a heavy thud, their heads clunking together. Ginger winced, even though she wasn’t cheering for those two.