Ember's Kiss

by Deborah Cooke

  This guy and his kiss were right.

  In fact, this was the first thing that had been right in a long, long time.

  His kiss awakened parts of her that had been slumbering and fueled them with new heat. Liz felt languid and sexy and absolutely certain of what was right. Just the way he’d looked at her made her feel sexy. The way he smiled was mischievous, seductive, and had tempted her to taste him. The way he walked and moved, his powerful grace, made her want to jump his bones.

  His kiss was all that and more.

  She just wanted more.

  Liz’s breasts were crushed against the rock-solid muscle of his chest, and his arms were wrapped around her tightly. Her lei was pressed between them, the perfume released by the flowers almost making her dizzy with its sweet scent. His touch was the perfect combination of gentleness and demand. She felt immersed in the true blue of his aura, and her conviction that he was exactly the kind of man she’d guessed him to be. One thing about auras: they had no ability to deceive.

  His mouth was locked on hers, coaxing her and claiming her. His lips were both firm and soft, cajoling and demanding. His kiss was simultaneously passionate and sweet, so persuasive and enticing that Liz was sure she’d never get enough.

  She twined her fingers into his hair, loving that it felt as silky and curly as she’d guessed it would. She ran her hands over his shoulders, liking that he was broad and tall—taller even than her—and strong. His skin was warm and his embrace seemed protective. She loved that he was all muscle but that he was gentle with her. He pulled her to her toes and deepened his kiss, the touch of his tongue against hers making her so hot that she thought she’d explode.

  As if to prove how magical this embrace was, that strange firelight danced around their bodies and between them. It seemed to light the desire within Liz. Maybe it was some kind of illusion caused by the eclipse or maybe it was a new facet of her power. Liz didn’t care. As the flames danced and slid over her skin, Liz’s lust simmered and burned.

  Like embers coaxed to burn again, stirred from ashes and coals.

  Rob had never kissed her like this.

  Maybe she would have fallen for him if he had. She opened her mouth to the sexy surfer, liking the way he caught his breath when she flicked her tongue across the tip of his. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, locking her against his strength, and she felt his erection against her stomach. Liz was thrilled that he was as excited by their kiss as she was.

  “Full eclipse in an hour and a half,” one of the grad students from the research lab said, sounding as if he was a thousand miles away. “Let’s get back to the Institute in time to see it.”

  “Just a few more minutes,” protested another guest.

  Their voices pulled Liz back to reality. Hard. That was her life now, a life among scientists and maybe a future at the Institute. It was logical and dispassionate and she had chosen it deliberately.

  Liz the marine biologist didn’t make out with strangers in parking lots—regardless of how gorgeous they were or how well they kissed. What if Maureen saw her? Could it jeopardize her chance at a job here?

  Liz ended their sizzling kiss with an effort.

  She planted her hand on his chest and pushed the surfer slightly away. It was like pushing a brick wall. He let her break the kiss, but he didn’t move very far away and his arms stayed around her waist. The night was velvety dark but lit with an odd luminosity. Those flames danced around the surfer’s body, silhouetting him in a halo of golden light.

  How did her gift illuminate him?

  Or did he have powers of his own? It was an intriguing idea, one that tempted her to linger in his embrace.

  “I don’t even know your name,” she said quietly, as if that was the problem.

  He smiled crookedly, looking both devilish and sexy. He leaned down to murmur in her ear, the feel of his warm breath against her earlobe making her shiver. “I don’t know yours, so fair’s fair.” His lips touched her throat, a sweet kiss that made her knees weaken. “Brandon,” he whispered against her skin, then pulled her closer.

  Brandon. He had an accent, but hadn’t said enough that she could identify it. It made him seem even more exotic and alluring. She found her hands sliding over his shoulders again, moving of their own volition, stroking as if she’d memorize the feel of him.

  He pulled back and smiled that sexy smile at her, indulgent. There wasn’t nearly enough air in the universe for her to take a breath. That golden glow filled the space between them, radiating and flickering, heating her body at every point of contact.

  Brandon arched a brow, inviting her to confess her name.

  “I’m Liz,” she admitted.

  He repeated her name, as if trying it out, and she liked the rumble of his voice in his chest. She could feel it against her breasts, which made it impossible to ignore her desire for him.

  And just one more kiss.

  The Firedaughter in her welcomed the flame he kindled.

  Liz smiled at Brandon, leaning against him, and saw his eyes gleam with anticipation. She stretched to kiss him again, but there was an interruption.

  “Hey, Brandon!” a guy shouted. Liz turned, still in Brandon’s embrace, and saw his friends standing beside a Jeep. Something flashed in the hand of the dark-haired guy, maybe a small container. “What is this stuff?”

  She felt Brandon’s alarm like an electric shock. “Don’t touch that!” he called out, stepping away from her with purpose. “Don’t open it!”

  What was it?

  The guy who had tried to buy her a drink laughed. “It must be pretty special.” He opened the container with an effort.

  “Hey! Leave that!” Brandon shouted.

  But his friend ripped open the container and flung its contents into the sky. Something glittered in the air, as if the vial had been filled with stardust.

  Liz took a step back, instinctively distrusting that sparkle.

  It reminded her too much of magic.

  “No!” Brandon roared.

  Liz felt the collision of something falling over her body, like ash touching her skin. Everywhere it landed, it sparked for a second.

  Stardust.

  No. It was magic, and not white magic.

  Liz recoiled in horror. She tried to brush the dust off her, her revulsion strong. It made her body burn with a hunger that couldn’t be natural. It was similar to the golden light that sparked between her and Brandon, but hotter, darker, and more primal. Violent.

  This was old magic and it was strong. No matter how much of her gift she gave away, she’d recognize the power of this.

  Why did Brandon have this stuff?

  What was he?

  She looked up only to find him staring at her. He was glittering, that same ash lighting his body with golden pricks of light. A pale blue shimmer of light danced around his body, outlining his figure against the darkness. She felt an electrical charge in the air, as if a storm was mustering. It was different from his aura, more powerful, and she sensed that it was unpredictable.

  And his eye—his eye had turned brilliant red. The pupil had become a vertical slit. She caught only a glimpse of it; then he pivoted to race toward his laughing friend. His silhouette looked to Liz as if it were tinged with red fire.

  Like the simmering lip of a volcano.

  Hear no evil, her mother whispered in her thoughts.

  After the auras came the spirits. Liz remembered the sequence well—even though it hadn’t proceeded this quickly when she had been a kid.

  “Come on, Liz!” Maureen shouted, and Liz turned toward the cars.

  With distance, the golden glow between her and Brandon dimmed so much that she might have imagined it. The blue shimmer around his figure disappeared. Everything looked normal.

  But Liz was shaken. What was going on?

  Brandon and his friends were bickering around their Jeep. Brandon was obviously trying to get that shiny container back from his buddy. Liz couldn’t help noticing tha
t the argument didn’t seem so amiable after all.

  It also seemed like he’d forgotten her already.

  She touched her hand to her forehead, thinking about the flames, that kiss, Brandon’s eye changing, and the blue shimmer of light. Liz was still itching with desire, wanting to do more than kiss Brandon. She wanted to run after him and leap into the back of their Jeep, go with him wherever he went, and satisfy all her sexual fantasies in one night.

  But he had a strange power, one that should make her run.

  Maybe it was better that he’d turned away.

  Maybe he was saving her from herself. Maybe he was on logical Liz’s side.

  Brandon and his pals drove out of the lot, still arguing. Liz could feel Brandon looking toward her, her skin prickling with awareness, but she deliberately didn’t look at him. She’d never see him again, which was probably a good thing.

  Even if her lips still burned from his powerful kiss.

  Erik Sorensson, leader of the Pyr, stood on the roof of his loft in Chicago, watching the sky. The clouds overhead obscured any portion of the eclipse he might have seen, but Erik could still feel its power.

  He felt the spark of the firestorm and knew its location. It was hot and bright, unusually so, and Erik wondered why. What was different about this firestorm? Was darkfire modifying it? Or something else?

  Erik followed the conduit of ley lines that led his thoughts to every living Pyr and understood which dragon was feeling the firestorm’s burn.

  It was the mate. She was different, although Erik couldn’t discern how. Perhaps the darkfire had beckoned to her or maybe it fed her powers, whatever they were, but she was the reason the flame burned so brilliantly.

  Was that bad? Good? Erik wasn’t sure.

  He used the overcast sky as a scrying glass, trying to see the future and best navigate the threat to his kind. Instead of a dark mirror, the future could have been a dark opal touched with shimmering blue and green light. Erik recognized the effect of the darkfire but still could not guess what would result from its influence. Its light swirled in a vortex, looking both unpredictable and dangerous.

  Erik stood and he pondered and, finally, he chose.

  He sent two messages. The first, in old-speak, the language of the Pyr, was to Sloane in California, the Apothecary. Not only was Sloane closest to Hawai‘i, but Erik sensed his skill would be needed.

  “Go” was all Erik said to Sloane, knowing his command would be followed.

  The second, a text message, was to Brandt in Australia. “Stay away,” he instructed the distant Pyr, having no expectation that this particular dragon would do as commanded. Brandt was passionate, volatile, and unpredictable.

  Like darkfire.

  And the Pyr experiencing the firestorm was Brandt’s only son.

  That the pair was estranged gave Erik the conviction that Brandt’s presence wouldn’t help. He hoped Brandt listened to him, but he wouldn’t count on that.

  Erik scanned the sky one last time, still sensing that a great deal was hidden from him. There was uncertainty in the air. He—and all the Pyr—would have to be vigilant.

  No. They would have to be prepared. Erik was going to assume that his presence was needed. He’d go with Quinn, the Smith of the Pyr.

  Assuming he could persuade Quinn to accompany him.

  “Stay away.”

  Brandt Merrick ordered another double. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling up the message on his cell phone to stare at it. He knew why Erik had given that instruction, and he knew that Erik was right. Brandt had messed up every part of his relationship with his son, and he trusted Erik to help Brandon get his firestorm right.

  Anyone had to do better than Brandt had done.

  But still. He felt the burn of his son’s firestorm. He experienced that surge of optimism again, as bright as it had been twenty-seven years before for him.

  Him and Kay.

  The firestorm’s heat made Brandt burn for a second chance and yearn to reclaim everything he had lost.

  He was looking at the message again when the bartender put his drink in front of him. He could smell the familiar tang of the rum straight up, but for the first time in a long time, he had no taste for it.

  He had to see Kay. He had to know for sure that she wanted no part of him.

  Even if she told him so all over again.

  Brandt paid for the drink, left it on the bar, and strode to his truck. He had a long drive ahead of him, one that probably would be a futile journey.

  But he had to know for sure.

  Brandon was raging. He’d never felt anything like the violence that filled his body. It was terrifying in its power. His dragon was screaming, demanding blood. He fought the shift with all his might, perspiration on his brow as he just barely kept his human form.

  How could the dragon command the shift?

  How could the dragon be in charge?

  The transformation should be a voluntary one, a choice that he made. But this urge came from the depths of his guts and it was almost impossible to fight back. He ignored Matt’s bragging and Dylan’s erratic driving as he huddled in the back of the Jeep and fought to remain in human form.

  He wasn’t sure what would happen if he let himself shift shape, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good. Would he be able to change back? Or would the monster inside own him forever?

  It was going to ruin everything!

  What had changed? Was it the eclipse? The firestorm? The exposed spots on his skin, where he had removed scales to compensate Chen, burned as if they were on fire.

  What had happened to him? Why was his dragon so strong?

  Matt had flung the Dragon Bone Powder into the wind, making trouble in response to Brandon’s winning of Liz’s attention. He could be childish like that, but this time Matt hadn’t had any clue what he was doing. Brandon’s body had responded with unexpected vehemence to Matt’s actions. It had taken everything he had to keep from shifting on the spot. He knew he hadn’t been able to stop his eye from changing.

  It was horrifying for his dragon to suddenly become so powerful and challenge him for control. He’d wanted to rip Matt’s head off for being so stupid. He’d wanted to slam his buddy hard against the Jeep and hurt him, maybe rip open his throat. He’d wanted to breathe fire, make the Jeep explode, and ensure that everyone fled the scene.

  Then he wanted to seize Liz and make love to her all night long.

  Independent of what she thought of the matter.

  That wasn’t like Brandon. It was completely at odds with his own character and he didn’t like the change one bit. His base desires had the upper hand. Brandon was glad he’d only had the one beer or he wouldn’t have had a chance at controlling himself. He already knew that alcohol or drugs only diminished his ability to keep the dragon contained.

  But if it remained this powerful, it was only a matter of time before he lost the battle—and the war. Even now, even as they drove away from Kane‘ohe, his grip on his human form was tenuous. He was angry, angrier than he’d been in a long while, but he knew the focus of his anger wasn’t really Matt.

  It was the burden of being a dragon shape shifter.

  It was the knowledge that he was a monster and that there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

  It was the legacy of his father, and he hated his father even more than usual as they drove back to the north shore of the island. The guys probably thought he was drunk as he writhed in the backseat. Brandon was content to let them think what they wanted. It was more important that he assert his control.

  But even as he fought, he resented this change. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair! He would have his chance this week to make his name in the surfing world. He didn’t need any distractions.

  The only distraction he’d accept was the firestorm. There had been a few moments with Liz when he’d thought there might be something good about this dragon-shifter shit. There had been that electric kiss, the caress of the firestorm, the se
nse of optimism and hope. He’d had that sense of union with her, the kind of connection he’d always dreamed of having.

  But it had all been trashed by his dragon’s base urges.

  Brandon couldn’t escape what he was. He couldn’t change what he was. And he wasn’t sure he could live with what he was. That old familiar shadow engulfed him, almost burying him beneath an oppressive weight of despair. Once he’d been almost paralyzed by his hatred of his own truth, but Chen had helped him to manage his dragon. He’d almost forgotten how awful it could be.

  Or maybe the dragon had been gathering strength while he focused on other things.

  Brandon knew for sure that it was worse to taste hope, then have it snatched away, than it was to never have had hope at all.

  At least he had retrieved the silver vial from Matt. He rolled it between his fingers, his hands jammed into his pockets, as he struggled for control. Maybe it would help.

  Although it didn’t seem to.

  It seemed like hours had passed before his dragon finally retreated with a snarl to the deep shadows of his mind. It couldn’t have been that long, because they weren’t in Hale‘iwa yet. Brandon closed his eyes, exhausted. There was no telling how long it would stay there or when it would resume the battle.

  For the moment, Brandon would take the reprieve. He rolled to his back and stared at the starlit sky. His muscles were taut, his gut was churning, and his shirt was damp. He ached all over. His hands were clenched into fists.

  He was angry, wanting to carve the dragon out of him and roast it slowly to death over a blazing fire.

  But that was the violence of the dragon.

  Brandon deliberately thought about Liz. He thought about her smile. He thought about her being his destined mate and his mouth went dry. It was strange to have anything in common with his father, but he knew that his dad must have felt this once for his mom. And that gave him a revelation.

  After the divorce, his father had stepped away from the dragon side of his nature. He’d been living as a normal human man and working as a firefighter. The time that Brandt had inadvertently revealed himself to Kay had been one of the last times that Brandon knew of his dad shifting shape.