It was quick, too. She just had one more box of new titles to add to the inventory, then she’d get Thierry ready to go.
She admired the cover on the next book, then opened it to the copyright page. Instead of typing in the title, author and publication date, though, she found herself typing something else.
“A union of five will tip the scale
When the moon aligns in Dragon’s Tail;
This Pyr alliance can defeat the scheme
And cheat the Slayer of his dream.
Fulfilling a pledge long been made
Will put darkness in its grave.
Know Pyr and Slayer can share one curse:
A vulnerability wrought of their birth.
Keep the pledge and defeat the foe,
So the Dragon’s Tail brings triumph not woe.”
Sara stared at the words on the screen, knowing they hadn’t come from her mind. Once again, she was being a conduit for messages to the Pyr. It was a bit spooky how her role as Seer manifested itself, but she knew well enough to take notes when she could. She copied the text and pasted it into another empty document, then printed it out. When she looked back at the screen, the field on her inventory form was as blank as if she hadn’t typed anything.
She shivered, then glanced around the bookstore, knowing her Aunt Magda would have no troubles believing in the turn Sara’s life had taken after inheriting her New Age book shop. Her stomach twisted with the nausea that was increasingly familiar.
Trust her to get morning sickness in the afternoon.
Sara was lifting the sheet out of the printer when Quinn came into the shop. He was early and she knew that combined with the message could only mean one thing.
Another firestorm.
“Whose?” she asked, handing him the printed sheet of paper.
“I’m not sure. It’s far away.” He frowned at the prophecy, then met her gaze. Quinn was quiet and intense, fiercely protective of her and their sons. She’d learned to read the varying levels of his silence and sensed that he was agitated.
Probably about this firestorm.
Probably about them going to it. He was always torn between helping his fellow Pyr and exposing his own family to danger. A firestorm attracted Slayers and the Pyr in question often needed assistance in defending his mate, but taking his loved ones into the proximity of Slayers and dragonfights never appealed to Quinn
If he didn’t know already, she’d have to tell him.
“It was like automatic writing.” Sara flexed her fingers, trying to coax his smile. “Kind of interesting, actually. It’s never been like that before.”
Quinn flicked her a very intent look, then sat on the edge of her desk. Thierry was stirring, but not quite awake yet.
They had about thirty seconds, in Sara’s view. She opened her mouth to tell Quinn that she was a few weeks along, but Quinn beat her to it.
“Are you pregnant?” he asked softly.
She smiled, wanting him to know that she was pleased. “I can’t figure out how it keeps happening,” she teased. His eyes turned a deeper hue of sapphire, his gaze locking on her in the way that made her shiver with desire.
“Maybe because I find you irresistible,” he murmured, giving her a kiss that would have been more satisfying if it had been longer.
“Maybe the problem is that the feeling’s mutual,” she replied. “Maybe we should do something about that.”
“Maybe not.” His eyes glittered and he kissed her again, more slowly this time. Sara felt that old heat begin to simmer, the one that been lit by the firestorm and never extinguished. When he lifted his head, Quinn surveyed her with a lazy satisfaction that always made her think of his dragon powers. “Unless you think otherwise.”
Sara shook her head, then found herself as breathless and shaken as she always was after Quinn’s kisses. “No, this suits me just fine, actually.” She smiled at him. “Although I might draw the line after five sons.”
“Fair enough,” Quinn agreed. “It’s up to you.” He perched on the edge of her desk to read the message once more. Sara put her hand on his thigh, liking both its muscled strength and how he covered her hand with the warmth of his own. He frowned slightly, then shook his head. “We’re not going to this firestorm then,” he said. “I’ll tell Erik about this prophecy right away, though.”
“Old-speak?” Sara asked.
“I’m thinking email,” Quinn replied, giving her a wink as he pulled out his phone. There was a shimmer of blue-green light between the bookshelves at the back of the store.
Sara caught her breath, but Quinn had already moved to stand between the light and his family. She saw the telltale shimmer of blue that indicated he was on the cusp of change.
Then Marco, the Sleeper of the Pyr and the one with the greatest connection to darkfire, stepped out of the shadow. “I’ll take care of it,” he said quietly as he plucked the sheet of paper from Quinn’s hand.
Before either of them could reply, Marco smiled, the darkfire glittered, and they were alone in the shop again.
They had time to exchange a glance before Thierry awakened.
* * *
Chandra followed the light of the firestorm, amazed by how far Thorolf had traveled. At least he was safe in this place. She’d never seen anyone else within Myth, other than the ghosts and the visions they summoned. It had always been a place of solitude for her, just her and Snow, until she’d brought Thorolf along.
Which was strange, now that she thought about it. There were so many mythical entities. This space should have been crowded. Maybe they each had their own personal sphere, the layers of the realm of Myth divided from each other with a neatness that wasn’t echoed in the world of men.
Chandra shouldn’t have been surprised at Thorolf’s destination, that he’d found his way back into the stories of his boyhood. She’d never been to this part of Myth, although she’d visited the real place, and wondered if she was venturing into his corner of the realm.
If so, she was glad she was being permitted to do so.
Maybe the firestorm was responsible for that.
The wind was icy and the mountains high in the world he had once known. She’d always liked the pine forests of the north and the clear blue of the lakes and fjords. Snow flew behind her, silent and watchful. Chandra walked with one hand held out before herself, the firestorm’s sparks brightening with every step. The shape of the land reminded her of the old stories, of Thor and his hammer, of Loki the wolf, of the Jormungand lurking for the end days. She remembered that the Vanir had been defeated by the Aesir, that she and Freyr and Njord were only hostages in Asgard.
She wondered how the loyalties would fall when it all ended.
It was snowing higher in the mountains, their peaks obscured by flying white, and she thought of the three endless winters that were to come before the end of the world.
Fimbulvetr.
When the silver sparks were leaping from her fingertips with blinding light, Chandra knew she was close to Thorolf. She was in the midst of a cedar grove, one so sheltered and silent that it felt outside of time. There was no wind, the stillness of the space feeling expectant.
As if all of Myth knew she was going to take a chance.
As if the world held its breath in anticipation.
It wasn’t uncertainty that made Chandra’s own heart pound, or even a fear of the unknown. She realized she was filled with an excitement and anticipation herself, and one that wasn’t tinged with any fear at all.
She wanted to know more about being with a man.
No, she wanted to know more about being with Thorolf.
When the lake appeared in a clearing ahead of her, Chandra smiled in recognition of the perfect spot. The lake was round and dark, as if it had no bottom at all. Steam rose from its surface and she knew without touching the water that it would be warm. There were volcanic vents in these mountains, vents that heated water in certain pools. The snow fell thickly all around her, melting on cont
act with the surface of the water. She straightened and turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, her pulse fluttering.
The firestorm’s radiance told her who it had to be. Snow flew into the cedar forest and seated herself on a limb, silent and watchful as always.
Chandra watched until she saw a man’s silhouette in the trees, her mouth dry. Thorolf strode toward her, that first glimpse of him making her heart skip. In either dragon or human form, he stole her breath away. He marched through the forest, a muscled man without a shirt, and Chandra’s mouth went dry. Thorolf moved with purpose and frustration, and she feared in that moment that he might never be persuaded to fulfill his destiny.
She wouldn’t even think of a world without the Pyr.
Never mind a world without Thorolf.
That woman who had died, she’d been no one in particular. She hadn’t been his mate. She hadn’t been his destiny. She might have been a pleasant girl, but it had been unthinkable that she should distract Thorolf from his training for the task ahead. His father had thought it expedient to draw the attention of marauding dragons to her village, and Chandra had played a role in that as well. She’d been convinced of Thorvald’s logic once and the merit of his choice. Now, she watched Thorolf, tasted his anguish, and wondered if his father had been wrong.
She’d never understood the power of love before.
She knew she still didn’t fully understand it, but she knew that she would destroy anyone who took Thorolf from her.
Never mind one who called him a distraction.
Even though, Chandra knew he was. She should have been hunting Viv Jason, that was her primary mission in this moment. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that it wasn’t even that old choice of him as champion that had her pursuing him through Myth.
She’d hurt his feelings. She’d destroyed his trust. She’d infuriated him. And against all odds, Chandra had wanted to make amends.
She hoped that Thorolf never learned the part she’d played in that girl’s death.
Maybe she could make everything up to Thorolf with this firestorm. He had such hopes for the firestorm’s promise. She never would have expected him to be idealistic or romantic, but he was, and that side of him made her want to see his dreams fulfilled.
With every step he took toward her, the firestorm heated her skin an increment more. She took a deep breath and savored the rare and wondrous desire that filled her, a sensation she’d never experienced before the firestorm’s spark had lit. Chandra straightened as Thorolf walked closer and tried to memorize this feeling. She understood with painful certainty that there was a whole realm of experience that she’d avoided, and for the first time, she wanted to sample it all. She knew in that instant that there was an easy way to tempt Thorolf, and it wasn’t with words. She made her decision with an impulsiveness that would have shocked her just days earlier.
Chandra dropped her quiver and unfastened her belt with shaking hands. She pulled her tunic over her head and tossed it onto a cedar branch, well aware that she knew nothing about seducing a man. She chose to remain in this form, the dark-haired and tattooed huntress. She liked it and thought Thorolf had, as well. She also liked that she’d first seen him in this guise.
No sooner had she stripped off her shirt than Thorolf stepped into the glade. She caught her breath as the cold beaded her nipples, as the firestorm touched her with its silvery heat.
Thorolf stopped and stared. His eyes brightened in a way that she found gratifying.
She paused in the act of unfastening her breeches and swallowed. “I thought you liked this form,” she said, hearing her own uncertainty.
“I thought you refused to fulfill the firestorm,” he said, and his words were hard. “Is this just a tease?”
“I don’t tease. I don’t know how. I thought the firestorm was a force that couldn’t be denied.” Chandra tugged off her boots, then wriggled out of her breeches, baring herself completely to his view. “Maybe I’m surrendering.”
“But maybe you’re not.” He was understandably wary. “Maybe it’s a game.”
Chandra shook her head. “No game.”
“Maybe you’re trying to kill me.”
She smiled despite herself. “Don’t tempt me.”
“You couldn’t.”
“Sure about that?”
An answering smile tugged the corner of his mouth as their gazes locked and held. Thorolf’s eyes blazed blue, then he surveyed her. His gaze fell to her bare breasts, her tight nipples, her bare thighs and his eyes glittered. The firestorm seemed to heat, warming Chandra so that a trickle of perspiration ran down her back.
She saw the snow melting away from them as he took another step closer. Once she had been insulted whenever a man was so bold as to look upon her, but she liked the admiration in Thorolf’s gaze. She’d chosen to show herself to him, and she was proud of how thoroughly he surveyed her. When he came closer again, almost stalking her, as if he expected her to disappear, she stayed put. Her heart began to race with trepidation of what would happen next, how it would feel, whether it would be enough to win him over.
It was only when Chandra heard the drip of water that she noticed how quickly winter was driven back by the heat of the firestorm. The cedar boughs and branches underfoot had been revealed and were steaming slightly. The fine mist that resulted only made the encounter more magical. The light of the firestorm was refracted, turning each drop of airborne water into a crystal. They could have been surrounded by glittering stars.
Thorolf paused right before her, so powerful and masculine that Chandra couldn’t take a breath. If she was going to be touched by a man, let it be one like him, a dragon shifter, an honorable man, a loyal man, a champion and a fighter. A man who knew what he wanted and reached for it.
A man well aware of the enticement of pleasure.
Who better to introduce her to it? She didn’t have to surrender everything. She could sample.
Chandra’s gaze dropped to his mouth and the memory of his kiss made the heat inside her redouble. She felt hot and cold at the same time, simmering with desire but shivery, too. She felt an unfamiliar dampness between her thighs, indicating that her body knew what to expect even more than she did.
She knew the theory. It was the experience that was a mystery to her. She’d never felt the omission until now.
It was a bit late to realize that she didn’t know the price of breaking her vow.
The amazing thing was that in this moment, faced with Thorolf and the awe in his gaze, Chandra didn’t care what toll the firestorm took from her.
That was what made the firestorm so dangerous. She had to keep her objective in mind, and be sure she didn’t offer too much.
Funny that it didn’t seem so easy anymore.
“In the vision, they said you were Vanir, a goddess,” Thorolf said, holding her gaze steadily. “Is it true?”
“Don’t you trust in dreams and visions?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t usually have them. I’m black-and-white, believe-in-what-I-can-hold-in-my-talons kind of guy.” His crooked smile showed his ease with his own nature and tempted her to be charmed in her turn. That dimple invited her caress.
Chandra was charmed, her fingertips rising to his chin seemingly of their own volition. He had a little bit of stubble and she liked its rough masculinity. “Then you must not believe in me.”
He chuckled in a way that sent a shiver through her. “But I’ve held you in my talons.” He caught her around the waist and drew her close, his move making the firestorm burn so hot that Chandra thought she’d burst into flames. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, his height such that she was drawn up to her toes. She had to tip her head back to hold his gaze. “And you’re definitely real,” he murmured, and she could feel the rumble of his words against her own chest.
Thorolf’s hand rose to cup her bare breast, his expression both hungry and awed. His touch was gentle, a slow caress that left Chand
ra tingling. She found her back arching as he teased the nipple to an aching tight peak. His hands were large and strong, a bit rough. The dragon tattooed on the back of his left hand seemed darker and more alive.
As if she would ever forget what he was.
Thorolf smiled down into her eyes, then bent to take her nipple in his mouth.
Chandra gasped at the sweet heat of his mouth on her breast. White fire seemed to emanate from that point and race through her body, filling her with a yearning that she knew only Thorolf could satisfy.
“Go on,” he murmured against her skin. “Tell me what you can do.”
Chandra stared at him, so overwhelmed with pleasure that she didn’t even understand the question. Her hands were on his shoulders, her fingers digging into his muscled strength.
“You’re Vanir. You have powers,” Thorolf reminded her. His teeth grazed her taut nipple and she moaned as she had never moaned before. She felt the breath of his laughter before his mouth closed over her again.
When he lifted his head this time, her nipple was tight and hard. His eyes were darkest blue, his gaze intent. She was wet and filled with a need beyond her experience. He surveyed her with satisfaction, then ran his hand over her other breast. His touch made her shiver.
“Maybe an easier question,” he teased. “Which one of them are you?”
“Freya,” she managed to admit before he worked his magic on her other breast. Who could have believed that such pleasure could come from one small erogenous zone? Who could have believed she’d spill the truth so readily? Thorolf closed the warmth of his hand over her other breast, working that nipple with his finger and tongue at the same time. Chandra wasn’t sure her knees could continue to support her.
But she didn’t want him to stop.
And it wasn’t just because she hadn’t won his cooperation yet.
“Depending who you ask, of course.” Her words fell quickly, as they seldom did. “Gerd, Godiva, Selena, Demeter, Diana, Isis; all facets of the same divine truth.”
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