Serpent's Kiss: A Dragonfire Novel

by Deborah Cooke

  * * *

  In the city of Bangkok, near the antiquities market, an Asian man suddenly appeared amidst the market stalls. A parrot in a cage squawked in surprise, but no one else seemed to notice. The man’s clothing was unusual, in that it was in the fashion of centuries past. He was pale and looked weak, as if he’d suffered from a long illness. His hair was even white, although his face was unlined. He shook a little as he straightened, but he stood on his feet. There was determination in his eyes.

  His gaze dropped to the ground and he bent to carefully pick up a dragon scale. It was the color of moonstone and silver, with a black spiral of a tattoo on it.

  “He’ll need this,” he said to no one in particular.

  A dark-haired Caucasian man came to stand beside him, his smile so serene that the new arrival found himself smiling back.

  After all, they were both Pyr.

  “Yes, Lee, he will,” that man agreed quietly. He put out his hand. “Let me take you to meet the others.”

  * * *

  Thorolf burned the spiral surrounding Lorenzo with dragonfire, freeing the other Pyr exactly the same way he’d been freed. They exchanged a nod and took flight.

  “I’m guessing that wasn’t your plan,” Thorolf said in old-speak. He was wondering what kind of idiot Lorenzo was to trust Jorge, but the other Pyr laughed.

  “It was exactly what I knew would happen,” Lorenzo said. He lifted a talon, even as chunks of stone bounced off his shoulder. “A perfectly choreographed performance accommodates every eventuality.”

  “I’m ready for Plan B anytime,” Thorolf said, sparing a glance at the falling rock. How were they going to fly out of this place?

  There was another of those flickering lights, then an opal salamander gleamed in the dust. He was sitting on the hilt of a sword, his front claw on the Helm of Awe in its pommel.

  Thorolf gave a hoot of joy and claimed the sword. Lorenzo snatched at Rafferty as he leapt from the hilt and clutched Thorolf’s claw. The blue shimmer enveloped them as Thorolf told Chandra to hang on.

  They were immediately flung through space and time once more.

  Thorolf landed with a splash in water that was knee-deep. He could feel the heat of the firestorm behind him. He glanced down at the Avenger of the Aesir in his hand, then back at his mate in her Valkyrie form. She grinned at him as he tested the weight of the sword in his hand.

  He remembered the balance of it well and recognized how right it felt in his grip.

  There was no sign of Lorenzo and Rafferty, much less of human civilization. They were on a beach somewhere cold, a beach rimmed with snow and ice, a cold blue sky arching overhead.

  Thorolf locked hands with Chandra, holding the blade high. He’d been made for this, and he was going to do it right. They exchanged a look, then strode into the water together.

  The firestorm lit the surface of the water with golden radiance and filled Thorolf with a welcome heat. He was glad to have Chandra by his side. He hoped she remembered that he couldn’t swim.

  The water stretched endlessly in every direction and they were steadily walking in deeper. It wasn’t exactly Thorolf’s idea of fun, but he supposed responsibilities were like that. The seas were far from calm, though, the water churning in the distance.

  No, it wasn’t the water churning.

  It was the Midgard Serpent approaching. It swam toward them with such purpose that they could have had a date.

  Or maybe a destiny.

  It was one big snake.

  Thorolf was tempted to shift shape, but then, this sword was supposed to be the key to triumph. He couldn’t wield the blade in his dragon form, he wouldn’t even be able to hold it properly.

  Human form it would be, even if he felt too small and weak. He flicked a glance toward Chandra and she nodded. He told himself that wasn’t fear in her eyes. She led the Valkyries, after all.

  At least she used to.

  He had to hope no one would be collecting his corpse anytime soon.

  He thought there were probably a few thousand things he should tell her, just in case.

  But Jormungand reached them all too soon. The serpent rode the tide toward them, rearing up high overhead. It was covered in silvery blue scales, twice as thick as he was tall, and too long to see completely. Thorolf remembered that it was supposed to wrap all the way around the middle of the earth, holding its tail in its mouth to make a circle. It had clearly given up that job, just to come and trash his butt.

  Its mouth had to be fifty feet wide. Even in dragon form, he would have been puny compared to it, and the sword seemed ridiculously small against such a foe. The incoming wave smashed over them and Thorolf only kept his footing with an effort. He refused to freak when he was surrounded by the ocean water, although losing touch with Chandra didn’t help. He struggled upright, dripping wet, and had time to see that Chandra was safely on her feet.

  The serpent was focused on him. Jormungand flicked a fin, twisting so that the water swirled around Thorolf and the next wave did pull him off his feet. He heard Chandra shout, but forced his eyes open in the water. He could see the scaled side of the monster and struggled toward it, still holding to the sword.

  Why hadn’t he ever learned to swim?

  The beast heaved, and Thorolf thought it would slam him into the bottom of the ocean. That might have been its plan. He managed to get out of the way, broke the surface and took a gulp of air. It roared and turned on him, but he deliberately dove into the water.

  He had to be nuts. He kicked his feet, heading straight for the bottom. He kept his eyes open even in the murky water. Jormungand has stirred up the sand, making him feel that he was lost in a cup of mud. He saw the flash of scales and these ones were paler.

  Could he be so lucky that it was Jormungand’s belly?

  Maybe it was softer.

  His lungs were screaming for air, his chest aching, but Thorolf was getting used to pain. He kicked again, was right up against the monster’s side, and took his chance.

  Thorolf drove the blade into Jormungand. He buried it as deeply as he could, pushing it so that even the hilt was jamming into the flesh.

  Jormungand screamed and thrashed. The monster reared back out of the water, carrying Thorolf into the air as he hung on to the sword desperately. He took a deep breath of air, before he was slammed back into the water again. Jormungand fought, like a fish on a line, but Thorolf twisted the blade. He worked the blade in the beast’s side, opening the wound and shoved the sword in farther. Could it go deep enough to kill this beast? His entire arm was inside the monster when he was hauled out of the water again, his skin burning.

  This time, Jormungand flopped onto the water, blood running from his wound. It was deep crimson this blood, redder than any Thorolf had ever seen before. It was thicker, too, and ran more like honey than blood. Jormungand thrashed again, twisting so hard that Thorolf’s arm were expelled from the wound in a rush of blood.

  He tried to grab for the blade, but it was out of the question. The monster rolled, Thorolf’s hands sliding over his scaled flesh, now covered with blood.

  The sword was lost.

  Thorolf was flung down so hard that he was left dizzy. To his relief, when the wave receded, he was on his hands and knees in shallow water. Chandra wasn’t far away, judging by the firestorm’s light. He took a couple of quick breaths, then turned, hoping the monster was dead.

  Jormungand was covered in blood but still alive. The monster screamed then snatched at Chandra. Thorolf roared and shifted shape, leaping at the serpent in his dragon form. He breathed fire at the beast, then tore at it with his talons. He kicked the beast in the mouth until it spat out Chandra. He snatched her up, then breathed fire again.

  Jormungand roared at Thorolf, the might of his breath and the stench of it sending Thorolf tumbling to the beach. He shoved Chandra behind himself as the monster bore down on him. He’d expected to be bitten, but Jormungand spewed venom at him.

  It was vile. The ven
om was green and so acidic that it burned. It sprayed all over Thorolf, drenching him, and putting him in agonies of pain. That new tattoo could have been sucking it up, drawing it into his body. He shook, trying to get it off his hide, but it eased beneath the scales to his skin.

  Then it burned even more. He bit back a scream, determined to defend Chandra to the last. He stumbled and fell to one knee, his wings dropping. Chandra came to him, wiping the venom away with her hands. He stopped her, seeing how red it turned her skin.

  To his relief, spewing the venom was the beast’s last act. Jormungand fell to the ocean with a splash, then moved no more. That crimson blood stained the water, spreading in every direction, even as the waves lapped at the fallen body.

  Thorolf had a heartbeat to feel relief, then the venom reached the spot where he’d lost his scale. The pain was so intense that he thought he was being cooked to death. He thought of Astrid’s last moments, hoped he’d set the balance right, then knew no more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It couldn’t be.

  Chandra couldn’t lose Thorolf, not now.

  But it was just as the old story foretold. Chandra saw the venom wash over Thorolf. She felt his pain when it slid over his scales. When she saw the bare flesh where he was missing a scale, she feared the worst. She tried to cup her hand over the spot, but the venom burned so badly that it could have been dissolving her flesh.

  She’d never felt such pain.

  She’d never felt such nausea.

  And then the toxin was beneath her hands, running into the chink in his armor, driving straight to the heart of him. Thorolf could have been dipped in tar, he turned so black, then the blackness was running out of his pores like viscous ink. It poured from his body, so much more venom than she realized had even washed over him.

  Was it the Slayer blood?

  Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop it. When the flow slowed to a trickle, Thorolf was as pale as ice.

  And just as still.

  Chandra wasn’t sure what had happened. His scales looked brilliant and clear, cut from ice or diamonds. She could hardly look straight at the bright splendor of him. There were no spirals on his scales, and nothing resembling a tattoo. The holes in his forearm from the serpent’s bite were still ringed with red, but looked dry. They weren’t pulsing anymore. Had the serpent’s venom undone Chen’s spell?

  Chandra might have hoped, but she felt the firestorm fade and feared the worst. Thorolf began to shift between forms without regaining consciousness, shifting from man to dragon and back again with convulsive speed. They were engulfed in a shimmer of pale blue, but even that light was fading steadily.

  “No!” Chandra roared. Her protest made no difference.

  She tried to summon magic, but felt that there was no response to her appeal.

  There was only the dim golden glimmer of the firestorm, but it was diminishing fast. She had to do something, but there weren’t many choices.

  The firestorm! On impulse, Chandra kissed Thorolf, sealing her mouth to his. She coaxed his reaction, echoing every caress he’d ever given her, feeling the inadequacy of her amorous experience. To her relief, the firestorm’s light brightened.

  She felt his heartbeat quicken.

  She stripped him naked, running her hands over the muscled strength of his body, her lips following her fingers as she caressed him from head to toe.

  “Come on, firestorm,” she whispered, willing it to grow in power.

  Moments later, she saw its silvery gleam flicker between her palms and his body, lighting to a bolder radiance. She repeated her caress, sliding her hands over every inch of him, slowly coaxing the firestorm. His skin warmed. His color improved. His breathing became deeper and more regular, and his heart beat with greater strength. She felt her own body respond, a sexy heat unfurling in her belly, a desire that made her survey him with pleasure. She caressed him ceaselessly and whispered to him, unable to imagine her world without him.

  “I love you,” she admitted.

  Thorolf sighed and turned his head, his hand landing on her shoulder.

  He had to have heard her.

  Chandra ran her hands across his chest once again, then quickly cast off her own clothes. Even losing that contact for a moment made her worry that she’d lose the progress she’d made, but Thorolf looked to be asleep. His breathing remained the same. She ran her hands over him once more, making sure she guided the firestorm over all of his skin.

  He murmured something, a word under his breath. Chandra leaned over him, her hand on his chest, and kissed him again.

  The firestorm heated to a silvery blaze, encouraging her as nothing else could have done.

  Thorolf’s eyes opened the barest slit, but enough that she could see their vivid blue hue. “Firestorm,” he murmured, his voice a little louder this time. His hand fell on her shoulder, the weight of his palm sliding up her neck to cup her nape. There was satisfaction in his slow smile, and something about his expression that left her very aware of his dragon nature. His quick downward glance prompted his smile to widen even more and lit a sensual gleam in his eye.

  He liked that she was naked.

  Chandra liked that they were both naked.

  “We did it,” he said, a bit of a question in his tone.

  “You did it,” Chandra corrected, bending to brush her lips across his. The firestorm launched a volley of tantalizing sparks, leaving her dizzy.

  Thorolf caught his breath. “Surprised?”

  “Not at all.” Chandra braced herself on his chest. He closed his eyes, clearly savoring the way her hair trailed across his lips. “I always pick champions.”

  Thorolf grinned, prompting that dimple to make an appearance. Chandra felt her heart thump, even before his hands locked around her waist in a possessive way. “And what do you do with your champions after they’ve proven themselves?”

  Chandra felt herself blush, because she knew exactly what he wanted to do. “Historically, I’ve given them some token and moved on.” She bent and kissed him again, unable to resist the allure of that dimple. She heard him catch his breath and ran her hands over his shoulders, then kissed his earlobe. He practically purred.

  “Then you’ve taken another quest,” he guessed and she nodded.

  “Always.” She kissed him again. “But not anymore.”

  Thorolf pulled back to look her in the eye. “You’re not just messing with me?” he asked, his teasing tone telling her that he knew she wasn’t.

  Chandra smiled. “Is it so hard to believe that you changed my mind? You can be pretty persuasive.”

  “You’re no slouch there, either.” His eyes narrowed as he thought. “Your quest was done when you killed Tisiphone, but you’re still here.”

  “I couldn’t leave the firestorm unsatisfied, could I? I have it on very good authority that that’s a bad idea.”

  His eyes twinkled and she loved that he teased her. “How many Pyr give you advice?”

  “Just one.” Chandra took a breath and looked into his eyes. “My destined mate. If I can’t trust him, who should I trust?”

  He smiled, then sobered, looking at her with wonder. “Did I dream that you said that?” he whispered, his intensity telling her just what he meant.

  Chandra felt herself blush. “I think I chose you because I loved you, even then.”

  Thorolf grinned, the sight of that dimple making her heart skip all over again. “Good thing it’s mutual, then,” he whispered, running a finger down her cheek. “I love you, Chandra.”

  She nestled against him, savoring the heat of the firestorm. “Want to do something about it?” she invited, running her toe down his leg. By the speed of his response, she had to be learning a bit more about the art of seduction.

  Thorolf gave a hoot of delight and rolled her to her back, his eyes shining as his hand swept down the length of her. “The firestorm,” he murmured, his voice low and hot. “It’s always right.”

  Then his mouth locked over hers, his
kiss sending fire through her veins. Chandra arched to meet him, knowing that even when the firestorm was satisfied, her need to have this dragon in her life would continue to burn bright.

  * * *

  Thorolf couldn’t believe his luck.

  Chandra was his mate, chosen for him by the firestorm and the Great Wyvern. She’d decided to remain in his realm just to heal him, even surrendering immortality to be his destined mate. They’d fought together as a team. They’d triumphed over Chen and fulfilled the quest she’d entrusted to him at his birth. He could return to the Pyr proudly and serve with them, Chandra’s hand held tightly in his own.

  The firestorm had delivered on its promise.

  He wanted to be tender with her and take it slow, because he knew that this intimacy was new to her and because he wanted to make it last. She was in her Valkyrie form, her long fair braid hanging over her shoulder, and it was a keen reminder of her identity.

  Despite his yearning to go slowly, the firestorm was burning furiously hot, making him want as he never had before. Chandra seemed to feel the same fire, because she returned his kisses with an exciting hunger. He was amazed that she gave him this gift, using the firestorm to make him whole. With every stroke, he felt stronger and healthier, more invincible. The venom seemed to be incinerated within him, destroyed by the healing power of the firestorm.

  He unfastened her braid, running his fingers through the golden splendor of her hair. He wanted to remember this moment forever. He teased her nipples again, loving the fullness of her breasts and how perfectly each nestled into his palm. The scent of her arousal was as intoxicating as the most potent drink he’d ever had. He remembered the sweetness of mead and its heady influence, then remembered that honey was sacred to Freya. He fitted his hands around her waist and would have pleasured her with his mouth again, but she stopped him with a touch.

  “There has to be more,” she whispered, need in her tone. Her hair was strewn beneath her in a blond tangle and her eyes were steely blue. He smiled that she looked both disheveled and ready for battle. He slid up the lean length of her, settling himself between her thighs as he did so. He pushed his fingers into her hair, awed that she had chosen to do this.