Stroke of Fire

by Kira Nyte

  My battle, not hers.

  “Your silence speaks volumes, Syn,” she said quietly. “If I don’t accept, your bloodline dies, doesn’t it? There is no other option. There really is no choice.”

  Syn reached across the table and grasped her hand. He ignored the fierce thrum of fiery heat his touch ignited inside him and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

  “Briella, you have a choice, and that is all you need to know.”

  Briella’s head dropped as she looked at their hands. He half expected her to pull her fingers away. When she turned her hand over and returned his gentle squeeze, peace filled him. If nothing more, they were on the road to being friends. He was gaining her trust.

  Her fatigue washed over him in swells throughout their conversation. It peaked then, a hazy crest preparing to crash down. “You must be tired.” Syn stood up, continuing to hold her hand, and helped her to her feet. He handed her the box. “Your father returned it to me. To give to you, if you wish to have it. If you feel you want the responsibility of keeping it safe, that is. Keeping me safe.”

  “Now, isn’t that funny. Me, five-foot-four, someone who slips in heels, and responsible for keeping my big, brawny dragon safe. Boy, on a good day that might be a risk.”

  The laughter they shared lifted the weight of the universe off his shoulders. He didn’t miss her small claim on him, either, as her big, brawny dragon.

  “I think you’re deadly with that stun gun.”

  “Then you should see me with paintbrushes.” She made a whoosh sound. “I wreak havoc all the time.”

  Syn’s smile grew as he traced a smudge of paint over her temple. “Those lethal brushes left their mark on you.”

  “Oh geez. I didn’t even think to look.”

  “You wear them well, sweet.” He cupped her face, their other hands still joined, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Briella lowered her head and leaned into his chest. “I enjoyed this.”

  “So did I.” She remained resting against him for another few moments before she straightened up with a deep breath. “I should shower and get some sleep. I have a long day tomorrow. I have to start passing out brochures for my showing, and I work tomorrow night at the restaurant.”

  “Get some rest.” Syn stepped back, allowing their hands to slip apart.

  She brought the box with his dragonstone to her chest.

  “I’ll keep it safe.” The sincerity in her eyes touched his soul. “I promise you, Syn. I’ll learn how to be your Keeper.”

  Her parting words left a bittersweet air caressing his soul. He hoped for more, but that was her choice. The steady click-click of her boots faded as she moved deeper into the house.

  Syn reached for his beer and finished the remainder in a matter of chugs.

  This battle may very well undo me.

  Chapter Eleven

  Briella lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She glanced at the dragonstone case several times. The ornate box sat on the edge of the nightstand, capturing the moonlight sifting through the gauzy curtains. For hours, thoughts of Syn haunted her mind, from his scent to his strength. She replayed their courtyard conversation over and over, and how his responses rang with genuine truth.

  Comfort, unlike any she’d known. Comfort, and security.

  She didn’t want to leave him, but couldn’t bring herself to stay. She had a life on the runway to her dreams, and the very thing that she dreamed of landed right in front of her.

  It was a collision course in the making.

  Her thoughts rolled, her mind working to untangle the nonsensical information she learned today from its relentless knot. So much to take in. So much to learn…

  She’ll give it up.

  Briella gasped, but the air that filled her lungs was anything but reviving. Thick and tenacious, it seemed to settle deep in her chest as she fought to breathe. Panic speared through her with adrenaline on its tail. She grabbed her throat and tipped her chin, trying to suck in air through the dense, suffocating substance.

  Sweet little Keeper.

  Her scream snagged deep in her chest. She thrashed on the mattress, trapped in the tangle of sheets and blankets. She twisted her head one way, the other, anything to open her throat and get air into her burning lungs.

  She saw him. Right in front of her. Felt evil so pure it turned her blood to ice. Dark eyes with their silver blade tips and that menacing face. The room closed in on her. Them. Blackness swallowed the moonlight, stole the white of the bedding, until all she could see was black.

  The power that rolled off the creature far more terrifying than the blackness.

  Panic soared. She clawed at the bed, the pillows, trying to get away, but the edge of the bed never came.

  Neither did the air.

  She flailed, arched, fought an unseen binding, magic that trapped her like a sacrifice to this evil creature.

  In the darkness, a small pulse of blue began to grow larger and larger with each pulse.

  A jewel. A stone.

  Oh God, she had to get the box! She had to—

  The blue flashed.

  She screamed, jerking away from the orb of energy.

  Syn!

  “Briella. Wake up.”

  Air flooded her lungs and she sucked in each breath as she fought the encasement surrounding her body.

  “Briella, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

  Whatever spell she was under drew back its inky tentacles, releasing her to reality. Sharp spasms shook her. She blinked several times, grappling for the solid form in front of her until he came into view.

  Stark worry glowed through the amber rings of his eyes. He brushed her hair from her face, slow and methodical, tucking strands behind her ears.

  “You’re safe, precious. It was a nightmare.”

  Briella’s body shook. Cold sweat dampened her tank top and forehead. Her breaths remained ragged. She held Syn’s gaze for the very life of her, his unwavering strength drawing her back to herself.

  “You’re safe.”

  Deep, rich, and so utterly certain, Syn’s voice somehow worked beneath her skin, soaking into her muscles until she relaxed. Briella sank down and collapsed against him. She released her nail-biting grip on his shoulders and let her hands slide weakly down his chest. For a short eternity, she listened to the strong beat of his heart, drawing calm from each one of his slow breaths.

  Oh, to stay like this for hours.

  As the tremors subsided along with the nightmare, Briella eased off Syn’s chest. Her legs remained haphazardly tangled around his thigh and waist. So intimate, and embarrassing had she not been such a complete mess.

  “Want to tell me what happened?”

  Briella rubbed her hands over her face. “I think everything from the past few days caught up with me.” She drew up and looked around the room. No thick black shadows. The moonlight lit the room with a succulent gray-blue glow. Her bedding was still white and the box with the dragonstone remained untouched on the nightstand. “I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare, let alone one that choked me. How did you know something was wrong?”

  “Connection, remember? Your distress was almost palpable in the other room.” He motioned with a quick wave of his hand toward the door. “I was sleeping on the sofa in the living space outside the room. Heard you scream.”

  His confession to sleeping outside her room should have sown a seed of unease, but all it did was increase her sense of security.

  “Oh, geez. I hope I didn’t wake up the house.”

  Syn’s mouth quirked. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  Briella wanted to sink back into his arms and stay tucked against his body for the rest of the night. She dipped her head, plying her bottom lip between her teeth, and closed her eyes. She’d steal these fleeting moments of distress to relish the warmth of the hand pressed low against her back, skin touching skin where her tank top didn’t reach. Capable fingers tangled in her hair, the rough heel of his palm molding ag
ainst her neck as his thumb swept back and forth along her jaw. The seemingly innocent touches created a low simmer deep in her gut and a subtle burn where she most wanted one and least needed it.

  Or maybe she had it all wrong. Want and need had become interchangeable terms since she crossed Syn’s path.

  She opened her eyes, but her lids remained heavy. Her gaze flicked up to his mouth, those warm, full lips that led her through a kiss so wickedly delicious and addicting she could barely stop thinking about it. All she had to do was shift her hips a few inches closer, her head a few inches up, to complete a connection that would otherwise be…

  A faint shiver skated along her nerves. A thrum so visceral gripped her until she caught herself leaning in for a kiss.

  Instead, she unwrapped her legs and scooted back onto the mattress, clearing her throat. She went from one level of distress to the extreme opposite side of the scale. From raw fear to raw desire. From burning up with fever to the harsh cold of reality.

  Your dreams. Don’t lose sight of your dreams.

  “I”—she tried to clear the lump from her throat—“I should clean up. I don’t think I’ve ever sweat while I slept before. I don’t think I’ve ever had a nightmare before tonight.” She rested a hand on his knee, his leg tucked under him. “Thank you. For coming. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  He laid his hand over hers. “Taryn has powerful wards set around the house. Nothing can get in here without alerting him.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She could really get used to his tenderness. “I’ll leave you be, as long as you’re okay.”

  Briella nodded, forcing a grin. She was far better now that Syn was with her, but she wouldn’t break down into a weakened wanton over a nightmare. The pull her mother had mentioned, it was stronger than her willpower to refuse. It was unnaturally strong, an entity of its own devices, forging iron-clad links between Syn and herself. She knew, though, that giving herself to him would be tantamount to letting go of her dream of becoming a recognized artist.

  “If I need anything, I’ll call,” Briella said. The her head jerked up. “Did I call you?”

  Syn nodded once.

  “Telepathy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.” She’d have to learn more about how to use this new gift.

  Syn climbed off the bed, his gaze dropping to the box on her nightstand. His face was a marvelous depiction of angles and curves, the shadows and moonlight creating their own masterpiece of light and dark with nature’s fantastic paints. His profile stole her breath. His dark hair with hints of dark red fell over his forehead. His tilted eyes were mysterious beneath shades of dark gray. His jaw, lined with short scruff trimmed to perfection, shimmered under the moonlight.

  Oh, to paint him within the throes of his inner thoughts and emotions. So much played across his face, which appeared rugged and sharp in the same glance as it appeared content and serene.

  She could easily sacrifice her dreams to build new ones—

  No.

  She needed sleep, preferably nightmare-free.

  Syn’s attention shifted back to her and lingered. He graced her with a sexy half-grin. “Goodnight, sweet.”

  “’Night.” Handsome.

  Damn her eyes for dropping from his head to his waist and lower before he turned to leave the room. A wash of liquid fire drenched her from head to hips. And here she thought she was bad off. Her utterly controlled dragon might be able to hide most of his desire, but what lay in his pants gave him away. Tremendously.

  After her second shower that night, Briella dressed in a fresh set of pajamas and climbed back into bed. Her eyes burned with exhaustion. She was far past tired, but sleep eluded her. She scanned every dark corner of the room, waiting to see something or someone pop out from a hiding spot she knew was not there. Every time she closed her eyes for longer than a few moments, she relived that suffocating terror from her nightmare, the choking sensation, the helplessness. Blue flashed against the back of her eyelids.

  Every visual sweep of the room brought her to her painting, and stoked a longing that started in her chest. An unremarkable ache that grew with each breath and each beat of her heart, spread with each minute spent staring at that painting.

  An hour passed. Two. Three in the morning crept in like the fog over the mountains back home. She tossed. Turned. Restless until she threw back the blankets and scrambled from the bed with an inward groan.

  Briella scrubbed her palms over her face and blasted out a breath. Strands of hair had escaped the haphazard updo she’d left it in after her shower.

  “This is friggin’ hell,” she muttered.

  She jerked her head toward the painting, then over to the door. Was Syn sleeping, unfazed by the events of the day? Did he have the strength to resist what was quickly breaking her down?

  Briella crossed the room. Hand on the doorknob, she pressed her ear to the door and listened for any sign of someone’s presence in the living space. Did dragons snore? She imagined they did to perfection.

  Silence. Not a single sound from the other side of the door. Perhaps Syn finally retired to another room, knowing she was okay.

  Quietly, Briella opened the door and poked her head into the open room. Her eyes landed on the hulking figure stretched out over the cream-colored sofa, arms crossed over his chest, ankles crossed and propped up on the arm. Syn’s width did not fit on the sofa any better, and his shoulder hung over the edge. He was dressed the clothes he’d worn the day before, dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt, leather boots. The man wore no jewelry, except for a black-banded sports watch. Everything about him appeared neat and tidy and humble. Simple.

  There’s nothing simple about that man. Nothing simple about what he’s created, the havoc tearing you apart.

  A sweet, delicious havoc.

  She knew she needed to step back, close the door, and count sheep in her own bed, but her legs drew her from the room and to the sofa. The sleeping man. The devilish temptation.

  For a long while, Briella stood beside his waist, drinking in the magnitude of who this very man was. Her lifemate. Her…lifemate. Those arms could hold her for years to come. Those hands could touch her, explore her, bring her pleasure and comfort.

  “Precious, you need to sleep.” The gruff rumble of his sleep-filled voice startled her. When she snapped her attention to his face, she caught his eyes, open to mere slits, watching her.

  “I, uh, I…” What on earth was wrong with her? She tossed a quick glance back toward the open door to her room. Syn’s advice was quite sound. Her inner voice suggested the same. But…

  I don’t want to be alone.

  A crushing revelation for someone who prided herself on her self-reliance, but one that gave her a small sense of relief.

  Syn kicked his feet to the floor and sat up in one fluid motion. No man his size should possess that degree of grace.

  He patted the seat beside him. “Come here, sweet.”

  She obliged. Settling down beside him felt as natural to her as producing an art piece. Folding her hands in her lap and hunching forward, not so much.

  “I’ve been listening to you toss and turn for most of the night.”

  “Tonight’s been…trying.” A soft breath fled her lips and she shook her head. “I’m not weak, Syn. I can hold my own. I can face my problems and deal with them and come out on top. I don’t need rescuing.”

  “I didn’t realize my actions would have been perceived as rescuing.”

  “They weren’t. They’re not.”

  “Then who are you trying to convince of your strength?”

  She shot him a hard glance. One that earned her what she was coming to recognize as his signature sexy half grin. Blasted man. He had a point. Again.

  After a long, tenuous moment, Syn nodded once and leaned back, spreading his arms over the back of the sofa. He kicked his feet up on the large square ottoman and sank lower into the cushions.

  “Briella, I am the last person you need
to prove anything to. I know you’re strong. I’ve seen your strength in everything you do. Every expression, every movement, every word. It’s beautiful, that strength of yours, and only an insolent fool would try to take that away from you.”

  Briella looked away from him, playing with the knot of her fingers in her lap.

  “That same strength can allow one to admit to the reason behind actions taken,” Syn added, his voice lowering, turning into a thick, molten river of words that curled around her and gently drew her closer. Her back heated as she felt his gaze slide up her spine.

  “It does.”

  “Mmm.”

  Briella closed her eyes. Why had she come out here? What possible reason did she have for coming out here, knowing there was a possibility Syn was on the sofa?

  I don’t want to be alone.

  At last, she resigned herself to listening to the pleading voice she’d stomped down into the pit of her mind since landing in Syn’s arms the night before at the bar. No, two nights before. Her fingers loosened and she leaned back, her side resting lightly against Syn’s. She could hear the echoing beat of her heart throughout her head, mimicking the seconds as the night slowly ticked away. Mocking her resistance.

  “My sweet, let go of the day’s troubles and allow your mind to rest.”

  That sultry voice in her mind washed out the echoing beat and performed magic on her internal mayhem. His arm lowered around her shoulders, a blanket of warmth from his body cloaking her in comfort. Before she could fight instinct, she twisted and curled up against the side of his form, laying her head on his hard shoulder, her arm draping around his equally hard abdomen, and a leg over his.

  So, so right.

  “Yes, precious. It is.”

  Ah, that telepathy thing. She’d really have to work on those skills. Another day. Another time.

  Right now, for the first time in forever, nestled beside Syn, she could think of no other way to make perfect better.