And there was only one way to do it. She had to take a calculated risk and satisfy the firestorm. She had to conceive his son and believe in the future. She had to trust in a higher power, in the wisdom of their Great Wyvern maybe, and follow her own instinct to trust Delaney.
Ginger was sure that Delaney wouldn’t be able to abandon his son, that he wouldn’t condemn another Pyr to grow up without a father as he had done. She was sure not only that he would be a wonderful father, but that she could have the kind of love with him that her parents had shared.
They had an instinctive connection, one that Ginger had sensed immediately. The firestorm heightened it, but wasn’t the root of it. Ginger, like Delaney’s mother, chose to believe that she’d been given the chance to meet Delaney for a reason. She chose to believe she would be the light that pulled him back from the shadows.
And if she lost Delaney, somehow in some way, and was compelled to raise his child alone, well, she’d do her best to tell the boy about his father and his legacy. She had a feeling that the other Pyr wouldn’t abandon her or the child, that she wouldn’t be left alone to face this challenge.
She believed that Delaney was her destined mate, in every possible way, no matter how things might shake out after she surrendered to the firestorm. Had her parents regretted having so little time together? Ginger couldn’t believe they would have chosen differently, even knowing their marriage would be cut short by tragedy.
She was in. She had to take a chance. She was going to make the most of opportunity, and she was going to do that immediately.
Ginger decided all of this in a heartbeat after Delaney’s departure. The door had barely shut behind him when she was on her feet.
“Where are you going?” Niall asked. “We need to make a plan. Delaney isn’t going to change his mind. . . .”
“I have to talk to him,” Ginger said, grabbing her coat.
“I don’t think talking is going to make any difference,” Niall noted.
“You never know.” Eileen smiled, hiding her expression as she bent to kiss her baby. Ginger knew that the other woman understood that Ginger’s plan didn’t just include talking.
“We should all talk to him,” Erik said as he rose to his feet, but Eileen nudged his foot with her own.
Sit, she mouthed to him.
Ginger was amused as the leader of the Pyr glanced between Ginger and his own partner, his inclination clear. “But—”
“Sit,” Eileen said aloud, and raised her eyebrows to emphasize her command. Erik sat, his manner cautious and watchful as he tried to understand.
Eileen smiled approval, which only seemed to mystify him. “I thought you were the one with foresight,” she teased.
Erik frowned.
“And the one who believed every firestorm should be satisfied,” she murmured, and Erik’s features lit with understanding.
“I’ll go with Ginger,” Niall said.
“No, you won’t,” Eileen said sternly.
“Sit,” Erik commanded. “Leave this to Ginger.”
Niall looked at Erik, then at Ginger as he rose to his feet. “But two of us together—”
“Will just be in the way,” Eileen said firmly. “Men,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Go ahead, Ginger. I’ll make sure you have your privacy.”
“Oh!” Niall said, and sat down heavily.
“Why don’t you Pyr do something useful and breathe some smoke?” Eileen asked brightly.
Ginger flushed that they all knew her intention, but she didn’t care. She practically flew out the door, her coat open in the cold, and followed Delaney’s tracks.
He’d chosen the old barn, which made her smile. It was her favorite place and the loft was full of fresh hay.
Perfect.
Delaney felt raw.
He’d never told anyone about his mother’s death. On one hand, he felt as if he’d exposed something sacred and left it undefended; on the other, he knew that he’d had to share the story to make the Pyr understand the depth of his conviction.
He hadn’t anticipated how powerfully Ginger would respond, much less how her response had affected him. That connection between them kept getting stronger, independent of the firestorm’s increased heat. He still wanted her, but he wanted more than sex.
He wanted to be partners.
He wanted to conceive that son, and stay with Ginger to raise him. He wanted to build a life together with her, learn precisely what made her laugh, hear her stories and tell her more of his own. He wanted to help her convert the farm to an organic operation and watch her persuade people to make changes with her own passion for local produce.
He wanted a future, more than he had ever wanted one before.
Was this a dangerous temptation? Ginger was the only one who threatened the strength of his resolve. She was the only one who tempted him to find another solution.
But there wasn’t one. Delaney knew it. He knew what he had to do, but he realized that he had to collect his thoughts first.
He went into the old barn, needing more of a link to the past than the new efficient barn offered. There were no animals in this structure, which had to be more than one hundred years old. The foundation was fieldstone and the roof was steel, the barn itself built of wood that had weathered to a silvery patina. The doors were painted dark red. It was precisely as a barn should be, in Delaney’s estimation.
He forced open the door against the drifted snow and took a deep breath once he stood in the darkened interior. The barn smelled of manure and earth, but mostly of fresh hay. Light came through the walls like slivers of white, the old wood planks having shrunk as they aged.
He’d entered in the basement, where livestock had once been kept and the walls were of exposed fieldstone. It was clean, but had a welcome organic smell. Delaney ignored the few lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, preferring to move in the darkness. He climbed the stairs to the main floor, and found an old red tractor parked in the middle. There were double doors opposite and he knew that the earth must be mounded into a ramp on the side away from the house.
There was a loft and the scent of fresh hay was stronger. Delaney climbed the ladder and smiled at the neatly stacked bundles of golden hay. The loft was only half full, but redolent of that sweet scent of late summer. The wind whistled a little through the cracks, and the air was chilly. He thought he could hear the snow falling ceaselessly outside, blanketing the building in pristine white.
He stood and simply listened, loving this place.
Delaney glanced over his shoulder at a slight sound in the barn below. He heard someone walk closer, following his footsteps. The glow of the firestorm told him who it was, even as he recognized the sound of Ginger’s steps.
She’d come to console him. He’d already guessed at the strength of her compassion and couldn’t deny himself one last taste of it. He waited, still and silent, guessing that she’d find him easily.
Because of the firestorm?
Or because she’d instinctively guessed where he’d gone?
Ginger appeared at the top of the ladder, her hair framing her face like a golden halo. She smiled and something melted within Delaney, something that spelled disaster for his plan.
“You can’t change my mind,” he said, not nearly as convinced of that as he wanted to be.
Her eyes danced. “Don’t be so sure of that, hotshot.” Her confidence shook him, but he couldn’t turn away from her.
The firestorm’s spark danced in her eyes, flushed her cheeks, and was reflected in the amber of her earrings. She was so alluring that he knew he’d never be able to resist her.
She reached the top of the ladder and swung her leg around—he instinctively stepped closer to offer his hand to help her. She clasped his fingers, her own icily cold, and they gasped in unison at the hot spark of the firestorm’s demand. It sizzled through Delaney, sending a white heat through his veins that was matched only by the intensity of his desire.
Their gazes caught
and held, the firestorm electric in its intensity. He knew he should step away. He knew he couldn’t risk even one kiss. He knew that sating the firestorm would be unfair to her.
But Ginger undermined his every conviction. She was warm under her coat, warm and soft and inviting. She leaned against him, her breasts crushed against his chest. They fit together as perfectly as they had the first night, the sparks of the firestorm dancing from their entwined bodies with glittering intensity. The heat took Delaney’s breath away.
“I came to offer you a deal,” Ginger whispered, and Delaney ached to give her whatever she wanted of him.
“What kind of deal?” His voice was husky, the sizzle of heat between them making his throat tight.
Ginger licked her lips and took a breath. “I know what you believe you have to do and why you believe it. I’m not nearly so sure you’re right about the price you’ll have to pay.”
Delaney frowned, but she reached up and touched a fingertip to his lips to silence him. His lips warmed beneath her touch. “Rafferty left a verse on the kitchen table. I saw him writing it, but I thought it was just notes.” She pulled a sheet of paper out of her pocket and showed it to him. “I read it before and didn’t understand, but I think it’s about you.”
The Outcast patrols shadows deep,
Defending the Pyr while they sleep.
When darkness becomes his domain,
He risks losing his path back again.
Vigilant in the endless night
Yet drawn by the firestorm’s light.
But can one so at ease in dark
Surrender fully to love’s spark?
Will he dare to leave his task,
Choose himself first instead of last?
Delaney read it twice, surprised at how accurately it told of his struggle. His heart began to pound with the promise offered by the verse—if he trusted his instincts, if he allowed himself the chance to be with Ginger, he might have a different fate than the one he’d envisioned.
He might have a future.
They might have a future.
“I think you have a choice,” Ginger said, then her voice hardened. “I have to believe that you have a choice. It’s just the way I am.”
Delaney found himself smiling. He couldn’t think of anyone more inclined to make her own choices and make them work than Ginger.
She smiled at him. “Did you ever think,” she said softly, “that there was a reason why you didn’t die and why the Elixir didn’t turn you bad?”
“All the time,” Delaney said. “It’s so I can destroy the Elixir.”
“Maybe.” She looked him in the eye. “Or maybe it’s because you were given a second chance.”
“What does that mean?”
“That most people who cheat death try to make the most of life, not to figure out how best to commit suicide.”
He stared at her in surprise.
“You’re thinking you need to die to make everything come right, but I’m thinking you were given the chance to live again in order to make a difference by living.”
It was a tempting possibility.
“So my offer is that if you’ll choose to try to come back, to try to give us a chance, then I’ll surrender to the firestorm right now.” Ginger swallowed and squared her shoulders. “I’ll have your son and raise him as well as I can, no matter how it works out with the Elixir.”
Delaney was awed by the magnitude of her gift. “But what about you? You grew up without your parents and you said—”
“I was thinking of only half the story. I was conceived in love, and I was raised with love, and that really is what matters.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I think I came out all right, all things considered.”
“You certainly did.”
“So, what do you say, hotshot? Want to make a deal?”
“It’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Delaney said, surprised at the way hope surged through him at his agreement. He felt lighter and stronger, tempered into something greater than he had been.
Because of his choice.
Delaney pulled Ginger closer before he could stop himself. She came willingly, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Delaney heard her heart pound against his own, felt her breath on his cheek, and was surrounded by her sweet perfume. He felt her stretch to her toes, then his lips were on hers and he was lost.
Lost and—for the moment—unwilling to be found. The firestorm shot through him like a beam of white light, cauterizing, cleansing, purifying. He felt the Elixir’s grasp upon him weaken. He felt the shadow of his nightmares shrink from that brilliant light and disperse. He felt the spark of the divine within him kindle to new brightness and burn brighter and hotter than it had ever before.
And he knew that even after the firestorm was sated, its heat would sustain him forever.
Because of Ginger.
Something changed the moment that Delaney accepted Ginger’s offer. In fact, it changed when he read the verse. She saw the spark leap in his eyes and wondered what had happened to those shadows of pain.
They were gone.
Then he kissed her with such ardor that every coherent thought was driven from her head. The sheet of paper with the verse fell to the floor of the loft and Ginger didn’t care. Ginger didn’t want to think; she wanted to feel. She’d made her choice and she wanted to remember this moment forever.
Regardless of what happened next.
Delaney’s kiss was hot yet reverent, and she sensed that he was amazed by her choice. Ginger didn’t want him to think about it too much, didn’t want him to stop as he had the night before. She pushed him back toward the piled hay bales. He shrugged off his jacket and spread it across the hay, then Ginger flung hers beside it. Delaney fell backward, taking her with him but bracing her against the fall with his body.
He was protective.
He was honorable.
He had promised to try to come back.
Ginger fell across his chest, framed his face in her hands, and kissed him as if this would be the last kiss ever. His hands locked around her waist and he held her on top of him, even as their tongues danced. Sparks were flying, leaping from her fingertips, emanating from their lips. Every point their bodies touched was radiant and warm, dispelling the chill of the barn and ensuring there was nothing in Ginger’s world but Delaney.
She had her hands beneath his shirt in a heartbeat, pulling the hem loose from his jeans. She ran her hands over his ribs and up his chest, watching at the sizzle of golden light that followed her caress. His nipples were taut and Ginger bent to kiss one, teasing the peak with her teeth and tongue until he squirmed. He was all muscle, solid strength, and she thought about his power to change into a fearsome and beautiful dragon. His body was a marvel to her, alien and beautiful even in human form.
She wanted to see all of it.
She tugged his shirt over his shoulders, smiling as the silver cross bounced against his tanned skin. He lay back against the hay at one push from her fingertip and let her look. There wasn’t a spare ounce of flesh, every inch of him tanned and powerful. His eyes gleamed as he watched her climb astride him.
He was magnificent, especially as he was determined to use his power for good. She liked his story, liked his love for his mother, liked that he had not only tried to reconcile but that he had succeeded. It was no wonder his mother had seen the good in him—Ginger could see it, too.
“Now I have you right where I want you,” Ginger growled, bracing her hands on either side of his shoulders. Delaney’s smile flashed with sudden brilliance. His eyes shone a clear green, filled with purpose and reverence.
“Is that right?” he teased, and Ginger knew he intended to turn the tables on her. Before he could move, she put her hands on the front of his jeans, his erection large and hard beneath her hands. He gasped at her sure touch and froze for a moment.
That was all the time Ginger needed to peel open his jeans and take him in her mouth.
&nb
sp; She loved his groan of surrender.
She had Delaney naked and ready, and right where she wanted him. Ginger teased and tormented him, using the firestorm’s sparks to drive him to distraction. He got larger and harder and less coherent, the sheer power of his body amazing her. When she thought he couldn’t take any more, she knelt over him and pulled off her own shirt.
She let him look at her lacy bra and lifted his hands so that he caressed her breasts. They shared an incendiary kiss, then she removed the bra and flung it away. She was treated again to his smile.
“It’s what’s inside that counts,” he murmured, his words sending a low rumble through Ginger.
“You’ve got that right,” she agreed, seeing that she’d surprised him again. She lay down beside him and wriggled out of her jeans, kicking them aside. She reached for her underwear, but he moved quickly to catch her hands in his.
“Let me,” he whispered, his eyes glowing with intent.
Ginger’s mouth went dry and she nodded mutely, unable to summon a word of protest. She knew what he was going to do, and arched her back as his mouth closed over her. She saw her panties fly across the loft as he flung them aside and couldn’t have cared less. There was nothing beyond the intoxicating caress of Delaney’s tongue and the magic he made with his hands.
She’d never forget this, no matter how long she lived.
And she’d never regret this choice.
She saw the radiance of the firestorm change hue, becoming whiter as Delaney roused her passion to a fever pitch. Her blood simmered, turning to molten lava in her veins. She tingled and shimmered, desire escalating moment by moment until she was sure she’d explode. She tasted the salt of sweat on her upper lip and felt the sheen of perspiration on her skin. Delaney was relentless, his sure touch inciting her desire as nothing else could have done. Ginger heard herself moan. She felt herself writhe. She ached to have him inside her, stretching and filling her. She didn’t want to find her own release alone, but only with him.
Together.
“Delaney,” she gasped. “Together,” she managed to say, and felt him move immediately. He held himself over her, running his tongue over the length of her body. The contact point sizzled, shooting brilliant yellow sparks as he eased his length atop hers. He braced his elbows on either side of her shoulders and bent to kiss her deeply. Ginger welcomed his kiss, then locked her knees around his waist, urging him to make their union complete.
Winter Kiss Page 29