But eventually he’d weakened, and he couldn’t pass up this opportunity.
She stood and his mouth went dry. Completely naked, her body shone silver in the moonlight, her long hair unbound, flowing over one shoulder and covering one breast. It made the exposure of the other all the more erotic.
Pressure grew in his chest, his desire fighting his integrity. She was not his, could never be his, but he felt driven to brand her so.
She stopped halfway up the sand and stared into the darkness that surrounded him. Her stance was combative, ready, despite her lack of weapon—or clothing. She looked like a comic book heroine but so much more.
After a moment she relaxed, walked the few feet to her clothes, and picked up her tank top. “Come on out, Ryc,” she called after she’d yanked the shirt over her head. “I know it’s you.”
He moved out of the shadows but kept his distance while she pulled on her shorts. The knit clothing clung to her wet body and was more sexual than her nakedness had been. “How did you know?” he asked.
“I just did.” She shook sand out of her undergarments and tucked them into a fanny pack. Her matter-of-fact movements belied the tension coming off her in waves. “What are you doing here?”
He folded his arms to keep from reaching for her and had to clear his throat three times. “I don’t know.”
She looked up at him, and he read the same emotions in her eyes that he’d been fighting. “I can’t keep doing this,” she said. She palmed something from the pack and zipped it shut, then let it fall to the sand. When she slid her hands over her head he realized it was a hair elastic. Regret pricked him as she tied up her glorious hair.
“I’m sorry, Alexa.” It was inadequate, but all he had.
“Yeah, you’re sorry. And Tarsuinn’s sorry, and I’m sorry, but all it gets us is more pain.” She covered her face with her hands. “We’ll live forever in pain.”
When she started to cry Ryc couldn’t hold back. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and tucked her close to his chest.
She kept talking, the words muffled against his shoulder. “I still can’t figure out how to do this. Every day I’m with Cyrgyn he seems more and more resigned. My magic isn’t gaining strength. Tars isn’t making any moves, and I hate waiting.” She stomped her foot and Ryc swallowed a chuckle. Then she looked up at him. “To make it worse, I can’t stop thinking about you.” Her hand clenched in his shirt. His heart quickened at her words.
“At night, I dream about you. Sometimes even during the day. I want you, Ryc, I want you so much.”
“God, Alexa,” he groaned, dropping his head until his mouth hovered over hers. Only an inch separated them. An inch, and a thousand years. He felt every muscle in his body quiver as he attempted to hold back.
“Please.”
The single word undid all his efforts. His neck relaxed and his mouth fell, ready to devour. She arched against him and he wrapped one arm across her back, holding her head still so he could plunder her mouth. His other hand pressed against the small of her back, then lower, as his body did its best to engulf her.
It had been so damn long. She would never believe how long. There was not and had never been another woman for him.
Her body was perfect, strong yet soft enough to cushion his hardness. Her chest gave against his. Her pelvis formed a cradle around him. He thrust against her and swallowed her moans, reveled in her clutching hands and seeking mouth. Desperation made him pull her even tighter to his body. He had to do it. She had to be his.
But she’s not.
The voice wouldn’t give up. Instead of getting buried under his passion, it grew louder and more insistent, pounding on the door of his honor. Shit.
He broke off the kiss, breathing hard. Alexa flattened her palms on his chest but didn’t push him away. Her own labored breathing caused her breasts to heave. They moved under the clinging cotton shirt and he allowed temptation to wrap his hand over one.
Alexa moaned in his ear and pushed herself deeper into his hand. He pressed his lips to her neck, nipping and sucking. She gasped when he bit down.
He was about to sink to his knees, the future and Cyrgyn be damned, when she jerked away from him. She stepped back, staring into the woods. “I heard something,” she whispered. “I think Cyrgyn’s coming back.”
Ryc knew a nocturnal animal much smaller than Cyrgyn had snapped a twig. She knew it, too. No one played spy games without being knowledgeable about their environment. But she was looking for an escape, and he would be smart to give it to her.
Without a word, he faded back into the shadows.
* * *
Alexa gathered her stuff and sat on a tree trunk that had washed onto the beach. She was torn between disappointment that Ryc hadn’t called her on her little ploy and fury that they’d gone so far in the first place.
Her body burned from head to toe. Nerve endings that had been dormant her entire life hummed. She’d never felt so desperate for fulfillment.
She dropped her head to her knees. “We can’t,” she whispered. The insistent voice in her head demanded why not.
“He’s not mine.”
He sure as hell is, the devil scoffed. I ain’t never seen a man more yours.
“I’m committed to Cyrgyn,” she countered.
Sure. And he’s committed to you. Until the day you die, which will probably be soon. Do you really want to die with so much loneliness in your heart? Would Cyrgyn want you to?
“Argh!” She bounced to her feet. A movement to her left made her freeze, until she saw moonlight glint on scales and Cyrgyn came into view.
“It took a long time for you to dry,” she commented, trying to be cool but sounding curt, instead. If he hadn’t been such a wuss, it wouldn’t have happened.
“Apparently,” Cyrgyn responded. He scrutinized her face, then examined the rest of her. Alexa licked her tingling lips and strapped on her fanny pack. “I’m ready when you are,” she said, preparing to climb onto his back.
“Good swim?” the dragon asked.
Alexa paused, one foot in the air. “Invigorating. Wanna give it another try?”
The dragon shuddered and almost knocked her off. “No, thank you. Maybe when I’m smaller and can heat my own blood.”
Alexa chuckled and swung up. Cyrgyn leaped, and soon they were winging their way back to the hangar. Home sweet home—or prison sweet prison, as it was beginning to feel to Alexa.
“I still don’t understand how you know things like that,” Alexa said, leaning over Cyrgyn’s neck to get closer to his ear and to see the terrain below more clearly.
“Like what?”
“Cold vs. warm-blooded. Science. Politics. Geography.”
“Much came from books, some from television and movies I have been able to view while cloaked. Still more I absorbed via observation of society.”
“And how did you get the books and TV shows? How did you observe society without being observed?”
“One becomes resourceful when faced with hundreds of bleak years,” he responded. “The last century has been the least tedious. Technology has alleviated much boredom.”
“So how did you get resourceful?”
Cyrgyn kept his sigh to himself. He knew Alexa was combating her own boredom. “Allow one to have some secrets, Alexa.” He winced before the words were completely out of his mouth. Alexa didn’t ask anything after that.
They returned to the hangar and prepared for the evening. Cyrgyn hadn’t hunted while Alexa was swimming, so he told her he was going out again.
“Wait a minute.” She came down the stairs in clean clothes, drawstring pants and a short t-shirt. “I was thinking about something. My command of magic isn’t gaining strength, is it?”
He shuffled his feet. He did not want to hurt her feelings.
“It’s not.” She answered for him. “And it’s because I don’t have anyone to spar with.”
“Spar?”
“Yeah. Fight. Practice attacking
and defending. You can’t get better at something if you don’t practice it.”
“So what do you propose, Alexa?” Uneasiness roiled the fire in his gut.
“I want to find Tars, and attack him.”
“Absolutely not,” he roared, thunderstruck that she would suggest such a thing. “Are you mad, woman?”
Alexa didn’t seem at all perturbed by his reaction, which told him she hadn’t meant it. Still, he found it hard to calm down.
“There’s an alternative,” she suggested.
“Yes. Ryc.” Cyrgyn relaxed as he thought about that. “The man is a skilled mage. Not like Tarsuinn, but enough to ‘spar’ with you, if that is what you want.”
“No!” Alexa protested so heartily Cyrgyn backed up a step.
“Why not? He assisted you before.”
“I don’t like him. I don’t want to be near him.”
Stunned, Cyrgyn turned away. Alexa had no idea how that rejection harmed him, and he could not let her know. His relationship with Ryc was complex, important—and impossible to explain.
“Blow fire at me,” Alexa said.
“What?” He curved his neck around to look at her again. “You are mad!”
“No, I want to practice blocking it. Come on.” She widened her stance, knees bent, one foot braced behind her, and held up her arms. “Blow fire.”
“In here?” He looked around at the vehicles, the cabinets holding her spy equipment, the furniture, and the shredded mattresses. “We cannot.”
“You’re right.” She headed outside. “We can do it out here. It’s still dark.”
Cyrgyn grumbled as he followed her out. Still dark, but not for long. He was starving. But he felt compelled to work with her as long as it took, doing whatever it took to win this battle. If it was winnable. He was beginning to doubt again.
He looked around, then up, making sure no one was nearby to witness their “sparring.” Alexa set her stance again, palms facing him.
“Come on. Blast me.”
He hesitated again. “I cannot.”
“Come on. It’s an easy block. I know how I did it. I can do it again.”
“Alexa, if you do not block it—”
“I’ll be fried. I know. So start small.” She made a “come on” motion with her fingers, then held her palms out again.
Cyrgyn inhaled deeply and allowed the air to curl into the furnace in his gut. It gathered heat, then fire. He coughed out a small flame.
Alexa didn’t move, but the flame bounced away and petered out about six feet to their left.
“Again,” she said, neither her gaze nor her stance wavering.
Cyrgyn let out a larger blast this time. Still, it bounced away before it neared her. He didn’t wait, but let fly a stream of fire. Alexa stared at the point where it hit an invisible wall, spreading and sparking where it encountered obstruction, easily extinguished.
Before Cyrgyn could say anything, a swirl of blue formed around Alexa’s open hand. She still hadn’t moved, but now her gaze was on him. It was so fierce he backed up a few steps. Suddenly she pulled her arm back and hurled the ball at him. He opened his mouth and tried to catch it with a curl of flame, but it burst over his head and cascaded water on him.
Alexa burst into laughter. Cyrgyn felt the water run down his scales and into his ears and mouth. It tasted like normal water.
“Well,” he said. “At least we know it doesn’t burn me.”
Alexa sobered. “And we know that it bursts like a balloon when flame touches it. No doubt by now Tars can block and dodge it, too. I need something less direct. More subtle. Something he won’t suspect.”
A cramp tightened in Cyrgyn’s abdomen. “You think about it. I must find food.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She came over and hugged his neck. “Thank you for working with me a little bit.”
He rested his chin on her back. “Get some sleep. You need to recharge.”
“I know.” She kissed his neck and he felt the power of it through the scale to the blood beneath, which spread it throughout his body. The doubts fled and were replaced once again by hope.
Chapter Sixteen
Alexa sat at her desk, surfing the Internet and looking for information on magic. Everyone seemed to view it differently, to command it in a unique way. That didn’t help her.
It had been nearly a week since she’d seen Ryc at the lake. His effect on her was undiminished, as evidenced by her full-body flush whenever she thought of him. He hadn’t reappeared, even when Cyrgyn went on his nightly hunt. She’d spent every moment she wasn’t practicing or sparring with Cyrgyn searching for information and trying to keep her mind off the object of her lust. Her mind, however, seemed perfectly capable of multitasking.
The phone rang. She popped the last bite of Danish into her mouth and checked the number. Washington.
“Ranger,” she mumbled around the pastry.
“Did I catch you at breakfast?”
“Kurt!” She pulled her attention away from the computer and swiveled the chair to put her feet up on a table. “How the hell are ya? How are Marilee and the babies?”
“Everyone’s fine. I went back to work a week ago, though, and I think Marilee is going a bit stir crazy.”
“I bet.” Alexa felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t called her friend again. “Any problems?”
“No, just the usual twin stuff. Can’t synch their schedules. But they’re sweet kids. No colic or anything, and Savannah is sleeping through the night. Luke still likes his two a.m. feeding.”
They chatted some more about the babies and how relieved Kurt was to be working again. He invited Alexa to the christening the following weekend, and she promised to go.
“Hey, before you hang up, I learned something interesting you might want to hear,” Kurt told her.
“What’s that?”
“Tars Suinn is apparently looking to sell Dragonsoul Enterprises.”
“What?” She dropped her feet and sat forward. “How do you know?”
“His representative has put the word out. However he can sell it, he will. One piece at a time or the whole damn thing. He put it in his guy’s hands and ran off to Scotland.”
Alexa found the last piece of information even more interesting. Had he headed for a certain Scottish tower? “How did you find this out?”
“We have a team that watches people like Suinn for suspicious activity. He was never under investigation, but this is a big red flag.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” Alexa didn’t tell him she doubted there were any criminal motivations for Tars’ sudden decision, that he was likely focusing his energy on their inevitable showdown. But she didn’t know for sure he wasn’t breaking any laws, and it would seem a bit egotistical to claim responsibility for the high-powered mogul’s actions.
Alexa again promised to be at the christening, then hung up, pleased to finally know something.
She swung back to the computer. They were getting closer.
* * *
Alexa flew alone to D.C. that weekend. Cyrgyn had stayed in St. Paul, saying Washington was too densely populated for him to hide easily. She had a feeling she wouldn’t remain alone, but Ryc didn’t appear in the terminal, at the rental car stand, or at her hotel. He was still unaccounted for when she drove to the church the next day.
She met Marilee and Kurt in the vestibule. They looked smashing in their Sunday finery, and the babies wore adorable white lacey gowns. The only way to tell them apart was the pink and blue sashes they wore.
“How can you put this guy in a dress?” Alexa asked, taking him from his father. She cooed and tickled until he giggled at her.
“Alexa.” Kurt’s expression was solemn when she looked up at him. Marilee looked expectant. Alexa’s body tensed automatically. Luke quieted in response and stared at her, as if aware something important was about to happen.
“We wanted to ask this sooner, but not on the phone, and you got in so late yesterday we didn’t get to
see you…”
He curled his hand around Marilee’s, and Alexa relaxed a little. It couldn’t be anything huge. They probably wanted a babysitter or something. “Just ask it, Kurt.” She let Luke grip her finger, and silently cooed at him.
“We’d like you to be the babies’ godmother.”
Alexa froze. As soon as she processed the words, her breath caught and her eyes stung. Honored beyond belief, she cuddled Luke closer to her and watched Savannah suck on her tiny fist. How could she say yes? Being a godmother meant responsibility. It meant being available whenever they had questions or fears they couldn’t express to their parents. It meant being counted on for the rest of their lives.
She might not even be around next week.
But Kurt and Marilee looked so hopeful. She couldn’t tell them why she had reservations. They didn’t need the worry—and she didn’t need them to institutionalize her if she told them everything.
“I can’t believe you’d ask me,” she said huskily.
Marilee gave her a one-armed hug. “There’s no one else we’d want.”
“What about a godfather?”
Kurt motioned to a young man near the front of the church. “My brother.”
“You guys understand my job.” She swiped a finger under each eye. “You know my life expectancy is a bit shorter than the average.”
“We know,” Kurt assured her. “Will you do it?”
What else could she say? “Of course.”
After thank-yous and more hugs, Alexa began to follow them to the front of the church. A long, low whistle from behind stopped her. She began to turn, a witty put-down on her lips, but halfway around the tingle in her nerve endings alerted her.
Ryc had arrived.
* * *
Ryc was surprised he’d been able to whistle, his mouth had gone so dry. He’d walked into the church and spotted Alexa immediately. She was wearing a long, floaty white dress that swirled as she walked. It made the sway of her hips less cocky, more feminine. More enticing. The whistle had been out before he knew he was going to do it. It wasn’t something he made a habit of.
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