by Jory Strong
Chapter 1
The scent of burning rubber and scorched paint burned Taine’s nostrils. He locked his jaw, as much in frustration as to avoid having his tongue coated with the taste of the yellow Maserati going up in flames. He’d yet to claim her and he already knew one thing for certain when it came to Saffron Greene. She was going to be a troublesome kind of mate.
Sirens grew louder, as did the crowd of humans gathered to watch an expensive sports car meet its end. They held their cellphones at arm’s length, recording his loss and no doubt posting images of it to a mind-boggling number of places.
He grimaced. With his luck, this would go viral and end up on the San Diego news channels, there for fellow IRE agents—and worse, his boss Maksim—to see. Then again, maybe it was a toss-up whether that would be worse than having word of his loss of control be carried back to his family in the dragon realm.
They’d worry for him, might pool their treasure to buy a charm that’d shore up his magic. He was their pride, the first of his family to have enough personal magic to be able to enter this realm on his own, without incurring a debt.
Watching as those closest to him tap-tap-tapped away on their phones, launching evidence of his loss of control into cyberspace, had Taine longing for the days when news traveled by messenger. Back then if a dragon wanted to prevent the spread of information, the problem was resolved by swooping down and eating the messenger.
Those were the good old days. Not that he’d actually lived in those glory times when dragons dared to show themselves to ordinary humans. He was a hundred and fifty as measured in this realm, but had been here a mere twenty-five years, no time at all when compared to many of his coworkers.
Taine huffed out a breath—carefully, very carefully, controlling his fire.
The female attention that had been ping-ponging between him and the burning Maserati shifted to something behind him and to the right.
That kind of reaction usually signaled the presence of a supernatural male. He unlocked his jaw, did the same to spine and hips, affecting a slouch and feigning nonchalance, as if it were every day he destroyed a new treasure in such a public fashion.
True to his prediction of worsening luck, one of the agents he most often partnered with stopped next to him. The dark-haired, gem-rich golden dragon said, “My curiosity is ablaze.”
Steps away from them, a human female with unnaturally large breasts swooned, overcome by proximity to the scion of one of the most powerful families in his and Crew’s native realm. Luckily for her, friends caught her before she crashed to the pavement.
“Ha ha,” Taine said to Crew, a growl in his voice thanks to the loudening sound of the approaching fire engine.
Crew flashed a smile, undeterred. “Isn’t this the very car you won four days ago from Gaige?”
“It is.”
The fire consuming the Maserati flared, sending a wave of heat outward, though it was no doubt Crew’s laugh that caused another human female’s heart to flutter and weaken so she sagged and had to be held upright by her companions.
“At least this one didn’t cost you anything,” Crew said. “Though I’m not sure Gaige will be amused. He had a fondness for this particular car, something to do with twins and the beach. How many does this make in the past month?”
Taine refrained from looking at his sometime partner. “Three.”
Crew’s laughter rippled through the gathered humans, causing several women to sway and clutch their hands above their hearts.
“Well, this is a clever attempt at avoiding the All Things Supernatural Fair, I’ll give you that, but it’s only delaying the inevitable.” Crew looked around, brows lifting at noting the cluster of boutique shops close to the beach. “Not your usual kind of haunt.”
Dragons weren’t known for buying finished pieces of jewelry marked up by ridiculous amounts and offered to humans who couldn’t ferret out treasure where it was buried beneath earth or water.
Taine resisted the urge to plow his hand into his pocket and fist the small velvet box that was further evidence of his loss of control. While in this area on IRE business he’d seen the ring, diamonds and sapphires set in a white gold band engraved with swirls that made him think of ocean waves.
He hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. For a week he’d fought off the compulsion to purchase it, had lain in bed, hand locked on his cock, imagining the ring on Saffron’s finger. And now…
Sirens neared, would have been deafening if he hadn’t tamped down his dragon hearing. He covered his nose and mouth, hiding flames the size of those generated by cigarette lighters and buying time for the tendrils of smoke to dissipate. His chest tightened and frustrated fire—very like the fire that had resulted in the torching of the Maserati—became the burn of fierce possessiveness.
Dragon nature asserted itself. He willed Crew to leave. One wrong glance, one wrong scent or word and they’d brawl.
Leave. And though the word itself did not escape, its meaning did in the low rumbled threat that worked its way up his throat and out through clenched teeth.
He felt the full force of Crew’s attention. A soft whistle followed and then a magical word that would ensure their conversation wasn’t heard by the humans around them. “I’m not sure whether to offer condolences or congratulations. Your troubles are obviously something other than bad luck with cars. You’ve stumbled upon your mate.”
“Yes.”
“And this happened a month ago, around the time that first Porsche met its unfortunate, and until this moment, inexplicable end?”
“Yes.”
“I see the problem. No doubt you’ve missed it as a result of all the smoke.”
“Ha ha.”
Crew sighed. “Reminder to self. A sense of humor is the first casualty when a dragon stumbles upon a mate. But the solution is simple enough. If you don’t want to return home to wait out the attraction period, have Maksim transfer you to another city, another country even. Stay away, pass on this mate and you’ll be home free for a century.”
“No.”
“No? You intend to claim her?”
“Yes.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.”
Taine gnashed his teeth. “You’re channeling Alice in Wonderland now?”
“Ouch.” But Crew grinned. “It doesn’t escape me that you’re making me work for answers. For some reason she’s rejected you?”
“We haven’t met.” Heat crawled up Taine’s neck with the admission.
At Crew’s exaggerated, goggled expression, Taine’s embarrassment became defensiveness and he added, “It hasn’t been the right time to claim a mate. That business with the rogue sorcerer did keep us busy.”
Apprehending the sorcerer had been the easy part. It was the task of hunting down dozens and dozens of lesser demons and sending them back where they belonged that had consumed most of his time for the past month.
“We’re always going to be kept busy by sorcerers. This is their native habitat after all. And as the truth slowly comes out, that this is a portal world touching all the other realms, the problems they cause will get worse. So…” Crew shook his head. “The time hasn’t been right… I’m not buying that excuse. If I were a betting man, which I am of course, I’d say you’re suffering under the delusion that you can control the course of true love. You can’t by the way.”
“I can.” Taine shoved his hand into his pocket and fisted the velvet box.
The fire engine rounded the corner.
“Leave,” Taine said with a menacing growl.
Flames from the Maserati leapt sideways and an umbrella shielding an outdoor bistro table caught fire.
“Truly?” The amusement was back in Crew’s voice. “A firefighter?”
“
Yes.”
Crew laughed. “Oh this is good. But unless your unclaimed mate is going to offer you a ride back to headquarters, or you’re going to risk her seeing you drive off with another woman…” He waved his hand to indicate the women around them, many with expressions holding bold invitation. “You need me to remain. But, since I’m a believer in cosmic payback, I’ll wait for you in the car.”
He sauntered away and the tightness in Taine’s chest eased, allowing for the unrestricted swell of his heart when the fire engine came to a stop and she emerged from the cab.
His soon-to-be-mate was dressed to do battle with fire, but he easily imagined her flawless caramel-toned skin, the green eyes he hadn’t gotten close enough to stare into directly, the silky locks of brown hair he could hardly wait to drag his hands through, to feel sweeping across his chest, his abs, his thighs.
Saffron Greene belonged to him. She just didn’t know it—yet.
* * * *
“Move it, people! Move it!” Saffron shouted. What was with all these women? And where the hell were the cops?
They should be policing this scene because one thing was for sure, a fire crew shouldn’t have to shoulder and elbow its way to a blaze!
“Make way! Make way!” she said, pushing through a crowd that smelled like suntan oil and expensive perfume.
In front of her, over the sea of heads, embers from a flaming umbrella lit a neighboring umbrella on fire.
“Move it, people! Move it!”
Enough of them cleared the path for her to get to the bistro patio, aim the handheld extinguisher and let loose—though why the hell someone from inside the bistro hadn’t raced out and already done it was a mystery.
Maybe they wanted to see their tax dollars at work. Or they were too busy aiming their cellphone cameras and uploading content.
Yeah. That sounded right.
She killed the umbrella fires then checked the area for embers and potential new fire sources while Jesus, Kayvan and Bates worked at extinguishing the car fire.
No disrespect of her talents, just the way they’d divvied the work on this call, and besides, the car fire was close to out when they pulled up. Thing must have burned really hot and really fast, or it’d taken a while for someone to call it in.
The guys in blue arrived, backing people away from a show that was pretty much over, for which she was grateful. By the time she got back to the station, the twenty-four-hour shift would be at its end and she’d be off for forty-eight.
She turned away from the bistro and the instantaneous, incendiary heat at seeing the man standing near the destroyed Maserati was like getting caught in a flashover. Holy hell, now she understood the crowd of women.
Broad shoulders. Thick dark hair left long enough for a woman to sink her fingers into and hold onto while he gave her the ride of her life. A smoldering expression.
Her eyes met his and her damn mouth went dry. Did she just think smoldering?
Oh no. Oh hell no. This guy could burn the clothes right off a woman’s body with a glance. Any thought of resistance would disappear with a pop and sizzle.
He was way, way too hot for his own good, and probably for the good of any woman he encountered, though he would be good, very, very good.
Working her gaze down to a gray T-shirt stretched over a muscled chest, she paused at the red dragon and lettering that said, Got Fire?
Oh boy.
And below that, tight abs and a serious hard-on.
Oh yeah, she totally got why burning umbrellas and a torched car hadn’t sent the women running, at least not away from the scene.
Blonde, dark-haired, dark-skinned, light-skinned, half of them packing plenty of silicone in their breasts—Hollywood it wasn’t, but on this section of beachfront San Diego, there was a lot of gorgeous on display, him included.
And damn. She wasn’t immune though she reined it in. She was a professional, damn it!
Tall, dark and mouthwatering headed her way. Brushed against a blonde with a double D bra size, his bare arm touching hers, and the woman went down with a moan.
Seriously? Have some pride woman!
One of the cops and Jesus were on it instantaneously. Saffron mentally rolled her eyes.
If the blonde needed resuscitation, there was going to be a battle as to who got mouth-to-mouth and who got chest compressions. Guys were total suckers when it came to breasts.
She suppressed a snicker. And then tall, dark and drool-worthy stopped in front of her, sucking all the air from her personal space and threatening to become her own personal backdraft.
“Thanks for coming to my aid,” he said in a voice that totally matched the body.
Heat flared from her pussy into her stomach, then climbed into her breasts and face, reminding her of sparks that flew upward when wood was prodded with a poker.
Oh Jesus, was she really going there mentally? Using euphemisms that involved thrusting with long, hard objects?
“No problem,” she said. “All part of the job.” And no way in hell was she going to fan herself.
“I’m Taine.”
“Saffron.” Not that she was in the habit of introducing herself.
Was that common sense disappearing with a pop and sizzle?
Yeah. Probably.
“You might want to carry an extinguisher in your next ride,” she told him.
His smile held far too much masculine satisfaction. “True.”
He took her hand, stoking the heat between her legs. And good god, in her thoughts she was peeling off her clothes, preening at the way his gaze turned scorching hot as his eyes traveled over her body.
Keep it professional, Greene.
Trying, she answered herself, pulling her hand from Taine’s.
Breaking the contact was like popping a bubble. She was once again surrounded by people talking, but instead of perfume and suntan oil all she could smell was him—and the scent reminded her of Santa Ana winds full of dangerous potential.
“So what happened with the car?” she asked, congratulating herself on not sounding breathless.
“Faulty wiring.”
Amusement glinted in his eyes and his smile sent a flutter through her chest. There was a private joke in his answer, and damned if she didn’t want to stick around to investigate.
“Hey Greene,” Bates yelled. “Come on!”
Back to the job.
“Better luck with the next car,” she told Taine then turned and headed toward the engine.
She felt his gaze on her and her nipples pebbled. It was getting pretty obvious that it’d been way too long since she’d been in the sack with a guy.
It wasn’t like her to go into libido overdrive over a pretty face. Okay, a drop-dead, panty-wetting, fantasy-inspiring specimen of masculine eye-candy—but the point remained, she was on the job and she didn’t get distracted by men when she was on the job. Ever.
She was better than that. Which meant, as the guys would say, it was time to get laid.
Saffron grimaced at the prospect of jumping back into the dating pool. After years of having a great track-record at picking lovers who morphed easily into just friends, the last two attempts had wiped out some of her confidence when it came to judging men.
Okay a lot of her confidence.
Her read on Eric had been completely off. He’d said he was looking for casual, and he’d been a blast to go surfing with, but after a half dozen rounds of great sex, it’d felt like he was unpacking the shackles.
And Gavin…
She’d let that go on too long, hadn’t seen the warning signs soon enough. She hoped that rebounding hadn’t landed him in a marriage he’d regret.
Third time’s the charm. She’d put on the shark-repellant, do her best to avoid jellyfish and sharp coral and dive back into the dating pool. She might do casual, but she didn’t do pick-up-a-stranger sex.
Reaching the engine, she put away her gear then pulled open the door and got into the cab next to Bates.
“Some tough competition out there,” Bates said. “But you’re the one. Guy driving a Maserati, not a bad catch.”
“It was friendly conversation. Didn’t get his number. Didn’t give him mine.”
“Doesn’t make him unreachable. Look up the report that’s going to get filed on this and, like magic, there are his details. Get those particulars and you’ve got access to a shit load more information, including marital status and current involvements.”
“Not happening.”
Bates laughed. “Yeah, well, you know I got the sight, inherited it from my granny, and I’m saying you haven’t seen the last of him.”
She glanced at the side mirror. Taine was talking to a cop holding a clipboard. Damn he was gorgeous. And…
Seeing him in profile, recognition shimmered through her. Deep and low in her belly, things tightened and rippled, triggering the where she’d seen Taine.
The beach. More than once but at a distance, walking a reddish-brown dog that was so big it’d made her think Irish Wolfhound on steroids.
If he had a girlfriend or wife, wouldn’t she be with him on the beach? Saffron squeezed her thighs together. Maybe she’d hold off on putting the word out to friends that she was up for a date.
Jesus and Kayvan got into the fire engine cab, with Kayvan behind her. He said, “Thought I was going to have to turn the hose on you, girl. You standing there talking to that guy, about to start up a whole bunch of new fires.”
“Me?” She turned. “You see how quick Jesus was on his knees next to the blonde?”
“Him too.” Kayvan leaned forward. “Gig with Homeland sure pays a hell of a lot better than the San Diego Fire Department. Either that or the dude was taking a seized car for a spin when he lit it up.”
Bates shot Saffron a look. “Guess he’s got access to a shit load of information too. No need to ask for a phone number. So he’s Homeland?”
“Supernatural Ops. IRE. Saw him flash his creds.”
“What the hell does any of that mean?” Jesus asked.
Kayvan shook his head. “Don’t know. But for my money, I’m betting on weird science. I’m even good with aliens from above and alien tech, cause jurisdiction over supernatural matters just sounds crazy.”