Stroke of Fire

by Kira Nyte

  “You started your day hung over, but that’s beside the point. I want to make one thing exceptionally clear to you, Briella.” The seriousness in his tone held her still. “I am not your enemy. That sorcerer was, and there are many more where he came from. They’re hunting you, hunting me, and will not stop until they have what they want most.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “Dare or not, this is your life. A life they want to steal from you.”

  “And you’re protecting me. I find that hard to believe.” Though the idea of having Syn as her bodyguard was far from distasteful. “I’m twenty-nine years old. I’ve never been in danger in my life. This was a fluke.”

  “It doesn’t get more premeditated. Your apartment was broken into. They were searching for something. Perhaps a stone or a jewel.” He paused and Briella had a suspicion he was waiting for her to react. Well, she had no idea what jewel he was talking about. “You are the icing on the cake, so to speak, and they want you as much as the next female.”

  “Great, go from chivalric to chauvinistic.” She scowled. “There are plenty of females for them to choose from. I’m off limits. I’m not weak. I can protect myself.”

  Syn’s expression hardened. He leaned toward her, thrusting an arm toward the door. “You were as good as dead the moment you opened that door.”

  “But I’m not,” she snapped.

  “Because of me.”

  Briella snorted, then laughed. “Man.” She shook her head. “Apparently, I’m in this because of you.” The cold laughter died on her lips and she pierced Syn with her frustration. “Look at my place. Look at what you’ve brought in here. Just look, Syn, and tell me what the hell I’m supposed to believe.”

  “I did not bring that slayer into your home, Briella. I tailed him. He found you and, luckily, I wasn’t far behind. It’s evident you have no idea what pursues you, or the dangers that follow who and what you are.”

  Briella jammed her fists on her hips and glowered. “Tell me, Syn. What exactly am I?”

  Syn stared at her, unblinking. But in those few breaths, she watched the hardened man soften. It was barely discernable, but his shoulders relaxed a fraction, and the residual glow of his eyes faded. His jaw stopped grinding.

  At last, he tilted his head a little. “You’re in line to be my Keeper. But most importantly, you’re my lifemate.”

  Briella tried her hardest to muster another disbelieving laugh, but something in his words hit an unknown target within her memory. That he spoke directly into her mind didn’t upset her as much as that niggling feeling she had heard that term used before. She sought the truth of his claim. Keeper. Didn’t the light wielder call her that? And now a dragon man insisted she was this Keeper person.

  No, she had heard the term used before. Not recently, but somewhere in her past.

  The dangerous turn of Syn’s demeanor began to ease. He brushed a hand over his hair, sending another fresh coat of powder and plaster chips plinking to the floor. He dusted off his shoulders. Briella could do nothing more than watch his fluid motions while she desperately tried to make sense of the last ten minutes.

  Try the last two days.

  “I can help you pack—”

  “Like hell you will. I’m not going anywhere.” There was no fight behind her words. Syn sighed, his eyes turning up to the ruined ceiling. As if she was the unreasonable one. She scowled. “And now I should probably get on the phone with the landlord and a handyman to fix this mess.”

  “Briella, I’ll fix it. It’s not on you. But right now I need you to come with me.”

  She should have swatted his hand away, but the second his fingers touched her face, she lost the drive to fight him. The strong woman inside her groused and grumbled, but the tender motion, the gentle sweep of his fingertips over her brow and along her cheek, turned her into a pansy fool.

  His touch calmed her.

  “Bring all the weapons you want. Bring anything you want. I’ll help you pack, but we need to get out of here.”

  “And go where?”

  “Taryn, the man who took the sorcerer, has a place on Esplanade. Not far from here. Plenty of bedrooms. You can have one to yourself.” His thumb caressed the corner of her mouth before he lowered his arm to his side. “I’m sorry if what I thought of as protecting you was misinterpreted as something malicious. I’m not entirely in sync with the do’s and don’ts of this world. My concern is you, and whatever I need to do to keep you safe.”

  Briella promised herself a really good ass-kicking when her brain emerged from the fog. She was taking a practical stranger at his word. Didn’t matter how right it felt. For now, Syn’s promises were everything she wanted to hear from a man, and it was somewhat lowering to realize how quickly he’d won her over. The sincerity in his voice and expression was genuine. There was not a nudge of doubt anywhere in her intuition to say otherwise. If anything, her damn mind was practically throwing her at him.

  Moistening her lips, she nodded once. “Okay.” Her shoulders dropped. “Okay. I’ll come with you, but I can’t leave any of my paintings. And I don’t have a car.”

  “I borrowed Taryn’s pickup. We have plenty of room.”

  She lifted her arms slightly and sighed. “I need to shower first.”

  “Tell me what I can start packing, and I’ll get moving on that while you shower.”

  She lifted her eyes to his again. Her body yearned to weaken a little more, just enough to allow herself to step forward and lean into Syn’s warmth and strength. She was all about excitement, but this was stretching her boundaries.

  Syn’s mouth curled in a sympathetic half-grin. “I know this is hard. You’re not going to go it alone, sweet. I promise you.”

  “Aaaand you can speak to me telepathically,” she muttered.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you hear thoughts, too?”

  “Yes. But I haven’t invaded your privacy.” Syn pressed his lips together. “Your gift is the gift of Keepers. A survival mechanism. But I’ll get into all of that when I get you settled at Taryn’s place.” He held out his hand. She didn’t hesitate to take it. The spirits knew she needed some sort of support right about now. Why not from Syn? “Come on. I don’t trust we’ll be safe for long.”

  Briella followed Syn up the stairs. There was a feeling of disconnect for the first time since she moved to New Orleans. Her apartment, a place she fell instantly in love with, no longer held the comfort and energy it did a half-hour ago. It felt strange, cold, remote.

  “If you want, you can pack my paintings. I have boxes folded away in the closet over there.” Briella pointed to an accordion door. “There’re sheets in there as well to protect each canvas. I have two storage containers for the paints and brushes. Most are kept in there, but I have a few out from last night that need to be stored. I’ll pack up my clothes after my shower.”

  She released her hand from Syn’s and started toward her partitioned-off room. “Can you give me your friend’s address?”

  Syn obliged. She picked up her clutch from the nightstand where Syn must have placed it earlier, a fresh set of clothes, and tucked herself behind the closed and locked door of the bathroom.

  Whatever new world she’d tumbled into between last night and now, she wasn’t going alone. She sent a quick group message to her friends, informing them she had to go to a new place while issues were tended to at her apartment. She promised to fill everyone in later.

  After she turned on the shower, she found one primary contact on her phone who she both dreaded and missed. She was about to open a whole can of worms, but she had no choice. There were only two people in the world she trusted one hundred percent.

  Taking a deep breath, she typed in a short text, address and all, and hit Send.

  The universe had seams that could tear open, and she was about to watch that event unfold, front and center.

  Chapter Eight

  Briella’s tension didn’t escape him. He choked on the density of her nervousn
ess the entire ride to Taryn’s place a few blocks away. Not even the sweet jasmine from her body wash or the lavender essence wafting from her hair could cut through the thickening tension.

  Syn turned the truck down a crossroad and slowed. “Do you want something to eat? You haven’t had much.”

  Briella shook her head, the motion stiff. His gaze dropped to her hands, fingers knotted tightly in her lap, knuckles white.

  “A coffee?”

  Another head shake. This time, she followed it up with an uncertain chew of her lower lip. He tore his attention from the sight, the vivid reminder of what those lips tasted like surpassing the discomfort and igniting a poorly timed adjunct to the tension.

  “You’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure her.

  “I’m being stupid.”

  His brows shot up. “How’s that? You’re not going to be alone. That’s not stupid. That’s smart.”

  A sharp sound blew past her lips, a cross between a half-second laugh and a snort. “I’m with a complete stranger. I’m going to stay in a house with two complete strangers, two men. Any logical woman would run.”

  “Logic doesn’t play a role when it comes to the paranormal.”

  “Umph.” Her fingers tightened more. He feared she’d break those precious digits if she continued to twist them. “Apparently neither does respect for one’s preferred lifestyle. I have things, big things, happening to me right now and my entire world has been invaded, dissected, and destroyed in the matter of a day.”

  Yeah. He couldn’t deny that. And the upset was far from over.

  “The only reason I agreed to this is because you’re a dragon.”

  Briella had more to say, but those unspoken words hung on the heavy silence that stretched between them.

  “I think that reason surprises me more than anything. Most people would run in the opposite direction, which leads me to believe you know a little about our kind,” Syn surmised. He hoped the opening would lead her to tell him what she knew, and whether her father still lived.

  Instead, he felt the heat of her gaze move over him, starting at his face, lowering like a warm caress to his hips, and lifting back to his mouth. His lips burned beneath her attention and a surge of renewed desire flooded him.

  “Believe what you want.”

  “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you.”

  “You haven’t told me much, but you’ve done plenty.”

  “If you’re implying the kiss—”

  “Not happening again.”

  A satisfied grin crossed his mouth. She could deny it all she wanted, but he sensed her desire was as raw and potent as his own. Their attraction went beyond sparks and straight to explosive.

  First, they had a foundation to build and information to share, if she was open to sharing.

  “I’ll be sure to hold you to it.”

  Two can play this game.

  He pulled up to Taryn’s house, climbed out to unlock and open the gate, and parked the truck beneath the carport. Briella was half out of the truck by the time he cut the engine. Silence continued to stretch between them. He refrained from trying to break it. Briella had shut down. He couldn’t get a read from her mind. She cast him out as quickly as she had accepted his advances.

  Syn closed and locked the gate. When he returned to the truck, Briella was staring at Taryn’s home, her lips separated and her eyes glowing with awe. The sight of her stole his breath, the long, loose braid of dark red hair draped over her shoulder and the rose cresting her cheeks. The flouncy shirt cinched at her narrow waist emphasized her curves, as did the tight black jeans tucked into a pair of leather riding boots.

  Not now.

  He shook himself free of the sensual trance she induced and returned to the truck. He’d hoisted one of the boxes of Briella’s paintings when she twisted away from the house, eyes narrowed on him.

  “This is your friend’s place? That other guy?” Briella asked.

  Syn nodded. “Yeah. He’s a bit extravagant.”

  “You don’t say. These homes run in the millions!”

  “I got all the details from him when I arrived here a few days ago.” He jutted his chin toward the front door. “Wait ’til you see the inside.”

  Briella grabbed her weekender bag from the bed of the truck and followed him up the front steps. Syn rested the box between the wall and his side as he dug out the house key from his pocket and let them in.

  “Oh my…wow.”

  Briella moved into the grand living room and stopped. Syn smiled as he watched her spin in a circle, her eyes drinking in every nuance and detail of the Greek revival architecture meshed with a modern flare. The opulence of the home definitely fit Taryn’s high-end tastes. A sliver of envy crept through him, and for the first time since leaving The Hollow, Syn wished he had a place of his own in this realm. A place Briella would gush over. A place she wanted to live in, with him.

  “This is beautiful.”

  “And you haven’t made it more than ten feet into the house.” Syn placed the box of paintings on the floor and hitched his thumb toward the door. “Let me get the rest of your stuff inside and I’ll give you a tour. I think I know something that’ll really suit you.”

  Syn unloaded the rest of her paintings and art supplies, followed by the last two bags of her belongings. Each trip into the house, he found her moving about a different part of the ground floor, exploring the layout with growing awe. On the last trip, he closed the door and secured the lock. Briella waited for him in the dining room. She pointed to the pillars that flanked the opening between the living room and dining room.

  “These are magnificent. What character. And all the molding? It’s stunning.”

  “I have to agree. He picked a winner with this house.”

  Briella nodded. She did another turnabout, then met him in the living room. “You said you came here to visit. Where do you live?”

  Might as well break the ice. “I kind of live the nomadic lifestyle. Since leaving my home, I haven’t found a place I cared to stay more than a few months. Besides, we weren’t supposed to lay down roots anywhere. It’s too risky.” Syn made a single circular motion with his hand. “As you can see, Taryn isn’t very good at listening to instructions, but he’s always been a homebody. This place has filled the gap abandoning his home created.”

  A spark flashed through her eyes, a thread of sympathy. “Where is your home?”

  “It’s called The Hollow. It’s a land not of this realm, but cloaked in magic and power and untouched beauty. Nothing compares, and I’ve seen plenty of this world to vouch for that.”

  “Sounds like you’re the homebody, more than your friend is.” She gripped the strap of her purse and cast a glance toward the stairs. A lock of wavy hair fell over her cheek. “Is your friend aware you’ve invited me here?”

  “He’s anxious to meet you.” Syn curled his fingers to keep from brushing that chunk of soft hair away from her cheek. They’d had enough bumps between them already. He didn’t want to create another by being too familiar and possibly making her feel more uncomfortable around him. “So, your turn. Where are you from?”

  “New York,” she answered, and left it at that. The shadowed side-glance she shot him made him awfully aware of her non-specificity.

  He tried again with, “What got you into painting?”

  A flicker of a smile transcended her mouth before disappearing. “I needed an outlet for the voices in my head. It turned out I had a talent for it.”

  “That you certainly do.”

  “Thanks.”

  Again, she didn’t embellish. He let it slide. There was time for digging. Time for discovering whether his Keeper lived. If Giovani was alive, everything else would fall into place.

  “One of the guest rooms is upstairs. I’ll bring you to it.” Syn motioned with his hand toward the stairs and followed closely as she climbed to the second level. By all that was sacred, why did she have to look and smell so good? Twice, he had to
pull his gaze up from her lithe legs and the outline of her ass beneath her shirt. Twice, he swallowed back smoke that began to rise in his throat and blinked away the shift in his vision from human to dragon. All he needed was to see her thermal outline, detect even a slight increase of her temperature from normal to aroused and he’d be a gonner. “Second door on the right. It has a bathroom attached and plenty of room for you to set up an area for painting.”

  Briella came to the door and stepped into the airy room. Simply decorated with elegant white furniture and a full-sized canopy bed, her presence alone breathed life and excitement into the room.

  Syn stamped down the image of her lying in that bed, her hair fanned out, the rich red of it a stark contrast against the pure white sheets and blanket. He grabbed hold of the doorframe and cleared the lump from his throat. Damn, this was going to be a nightmare to get through, especially if she kept the walls up between them.

  “I’ll thank your friend for opening his home to me. I’m sure I won’t intrude for long.” She turned and pinned him with a stubborn look. “I can’t live in another’s home for long, Syn. My place is at my apartment.”

  Your place is with me.

  The flush along her cheekbones darkened. She’d heard him.

  He offered a friendly grin.

  “I think I should get my paintings up here. I need to finish up something and see if I can’t get it in my show.”

  “You have a show?” He knew, but she didn’t know that. “That doesn’t surprise me, with your talent. Is it your first?”

  Briella nodded. “I moved here for the opportunity. I had a connection from back home to a gallery here. That fell through, but I was referred to another gallery and offered a debut showing.” She cast her eyes down to the floor. “I should really get to work.”

  She turned her back to him. He stepped into the hallway. “I’ll bring everything up.”

  “Thank you.”

  Syn lingered in the hall for a few slow heartbeats. What he’d do to turn back time. To have introduced himself before the Baroqueth broke into her apartment. To have hidden his talons when he kissed her.