Stroke of Fire

by Kira Nyte

  “Now isn’t the time, sweet.”

  Her heart twisted and her stomach knotted. This was the closest he’d come to a confession that there was something wrong. It made her feel worse.

  “Why? What happened at your meeting? You’ve been…off since you returned to my parents’ cottage.”

  The merciless wind that cut through the seams of her clothing began to win out over Syn’s body heat. She squinted against that same wind, although she knew her eyes were protected from the danger such speed could cause. The icy air that filled her lungs seized her breaths every few inhales, but she knew it was in her head.

  She was made for this. For flight. The freedom and the closeness, all shared with Syn.

  Yet that closeness was hindered by something dark, threatening, and she didn’t like it.

  “We’ll discuss everything when we reach Taryn’s house.”

  “Now.”

  “No.”

  She wished she could pinch him, but the thick armor of his skin beneath his smooth scales was as impenetrable as those scales. Instead, she stewed in building anxiety until Syn coasted to a soft landing in the field they’d launched from the night before. Taryn arrived before them, the dragon having morphed back into a man to stand beside her mother.

  She climbed down from Syn’s back and was tempted to go to her mother, but decided to wait until Syn transformed back into a man. It was impossible to decipher any expression on his dragon face, but the expression he wore as he shed his scales for skin and clothes was filled with a mixture of hardened determination and sympathy.

  It didn’t bode well for the unease in Briella’s gut.

  “Will you tell me something?” she implored in a hushed voice. The thrust of wind as Gabriel and Emery coasted down for their landings rustled the treetops. Strands of hair blew over her face.

  He caressed her cheek, catching those strands of hair and tucking them behind her ears. He took her face between his hands, lifted her up, and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. Damn the man for his tenderness while she roiled in turmoil!

  “You’re beautiful. You’re wonderful. You’re talented and smart and stubborn as all hell.” He kissed her forehead. “I think I love you for it all.”

  Briella blinked. Did he…? Was that…?

  “Syn?”

  A ghost of a grin touched his mouth. That hard, lethal edge in his eyes softened. “You heard me right.”

  She stared up at him as his confession sank in and made her own heart thump hard against her breastbone. His arm slipped around her shoulders as he looked over her head. Caught up in a new cloud of wonder, she could barely comprehend the conversation that started around her. While her parents and the dragons discussed their flights, the bittersweet return to this world, and the prospect of another trip soon, Briella sank against Syn’s side, emotions twisting and churning inside her.

  “Let’s get out of here before we draw attention to ourselves,” Taryn suggested, heading toward the parking lot where they had left his pickup truck. Briella and Syn took up the rear, following the others at a slower pace.

  “It’s not uncommon,” Syn said quietly, his hand slipping from her shoulder to her waist. He squeezed gently as he glanced down at her.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re doubting my confession. Things happen much faster between lifemates than they would normally occur between two humans. The emotions run high and hard and fast, love. And they never dim over time.” He made a faint motion with his hand toward the group in front of them. “Look at your parents. They may not be dragon and Keeper, but for Keepers and the residents of The Hollow, Gio and Saralyn were a match. Are a match. They love each other as much now, if not more, than they did thirty-one years ago.”

  She rested her head against the side of his chest. “It’s hard for me to grasp, is all.”

  “I understand. You weren’t raised in our ways.”

  “Sounds medieval.”

  Syn chuckled and she looked up at his shadowed and utterly handsome face. “I’m pretty sure you had a taste of exactly how not medieval we are.”

  Yes, she certainly had. And if she were to admit it, she was eager for more.

  “So, you love me? You sure you can handle me?”

  There was no forewarning when Syn twisted and scooped her up in his arms. She gasped, swallowing back a shriek as she settled into his hold. He kissed her temple.

  “I’ve handled plenty in my years. Question is, can you handle me?”

  She traced his bottom lip and giggled when he nipped her fingertip. “Nope, but I always like the challenge. And I kinda like you, too.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “All of this talk about love hasn’t made me forget how off you’ve been since returning from Cade’s place.” She preferred this playful side of Syn, but love or not, she wanted to know what transpired during the meeting. She also needed a distraction from her own strange swell of…well… “It has to do with my debut, doesn’t it.”

  “Yes.” A heavy breath left him and he lowered her to her feet. “Please. Let’s discuss this when we get back to Taryn’s. There’s much that we need to talk about. All of us.”

  Briella resigned herself to his request with a nod. A sickening ache pulsed in her belly, one that left her wondering how badly her new life was going to shatter her old dreams.

  * * *

  Ten minutes after they arrived at Taryn’s, Briella was cringing over the volume of text messages she received from her friends as soon as she turned on her phone. Most were from Mark. Emma had left a few, teasing Briella about her new beau. Adrienne and Mindy’s texts at first conveyed concern, then took on the same taunting nature as Emma’s, leaving her to surmise Emma had let the beans out about Syn.

  Gabe and Emery left to get some beignets and other snacks before they started their “talk.” Briella kept busy with her mother in the kitchen, preparing two pots of coffee and boiling water for tea. Syn must have purchased tea for her, gauging by several brand new tins filled with loose-leaf teas and the new steeper she spotted in the stockpile of coffee. His thoughtful gesture made her heart flutter despite the impending disappointment she feared was to come.

  Not even her mother’s jubilant talk about The Hollow could lift her spirits.

  “Do you ladies need help?” Briella’s father asked, poking his head into the kitchen. Her mother waved him away with a bright smile.

  “I think we can handle this. Taryn has trays.” Trays they were loading up with mugs, sugar caddies, and milk servers. “Are the others back?”

  “Should be here any minute. Then we can get this show underway.”

  Briella managed a tight grin when her father winked at her before disappearing. As she turned back to the tray she was fixing, her shoulders slumped.

  Saralyn rested a hand over hers. “Everything will be fine, sweetheart. You’ll see.”

  The doorbell chimed throughout the house. Briella placed the spoons on her tray, napkins on her mother’s, and paused when she heard a strange voice echo down the hallway.

  Her spine went ramrod straight. No, not strange. Just strange here, at Taryn’s.

  “What on earth…?”

  Briella spun on her heel and hurried into the hallway. Her eyes widened when she spotted Mark in the living room, shoulders stiff and chest puffed out. His expression was shuttered, but his eyes lanced Taryn as the dragon chuckled and settled into his usual casual stance.

  “Mark, what are you doing here?” Briella demanded. Mark’s attention cut to her.

  “You’ve no business in this place with these creeps.”

  Briella came up short as the volatile thoughts practically bellowed through Mark’s head. The force of his anger and disgust sent her reeling back a step when he took several long strides toward her.

  “Brie! Dear God, I was so worried about you. The ladies haven’t heard from you all day. We were expecting to do more promotion”—his arms swung around her in a possessive e
mbrace that she found herself trying to kindly push free of—“and no one could get in touch with you. Between your absence and not showing up for lunch and calling out of work, I didn’t know what to make of it.”

  “Uhh…”

  Mark leaned back to look down into her face, but kept his hands low on her hips. Uncomfortably low. She mustered an awkward smile and eased his hands away only to have him capture her hands with his.

  “I’m glad I found you. Your friend,” he nodded his head at Taryn, “told Emma where he lived and I figured I’d try here.”

  Her brows quirked. “Oh?” She glanced at Taryn, who wore his humored smirk like an egotistical brute who was thoroughly enjoying this game. “Well—”

  “Sweetheart, who is this?”

  Relief rushed through her at the sound of the calm, reasonable question. Thank heavens for her mother. She tried to pull her hands from Mark’s, but he refused to let her go.

  And where the hell was Syn during all of this?

  She twisted as her mother came into the living room, wiping her hands on a dishrag. Mark’s expression morphed into something utterly charming and engaging.

  He released one of Briella’s hands and extended it to the older woman. “My name’s Mark Heddleman, ma’am. I’m a close friend of Briella’s. You must be…her mother?”

  Briella took the opportunity to gently twist her other hand from Mark’s grip and step back, folding her arms over her chest. She watched in a mixture of horror and fascination as Mark tried to sweeten up her mother with a kiss on her knuckles. Taryn snorted from his position propped against the wall.

  “Hmm, I think I need to give him a few lessons.” Syn’s presence purred through her mind. The sound of his deep, accented voice instantly put her at ease. “But I’ll let him continue to try.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Courtyard, love. Would you like me to come in and save you?”

  “I can save myself, thank you. Continue stargazing while us women handle the problem.”

  Syn laughed, the sound so rich and delicious inside her head that she barely caught the end of what Mark was saying to her mother.

  “…assured, she is safe. I’ve been certain to make sure of it.” Mark came to Briella’s side and draped his arm around her shoulder.

  Briella cleared her throat as she once again rolled away from him. “Mom, I think I hear the kettle whistling.”

  Her mother cocked her head at the lie, but nodded. “Oh, yes. Let me take care of that. It was nice meeting you, Mark.”

  Briella watched her mother disappear into the kitchen. When she turned to face Mark, she found him glowering in Taryn’s direction.

  “Call me Mr. Chaperone,” Taryn said.

  “Taryn, give me a minute with him, okay?” Briella asked, lifting her brows to enforce the command behind her request. He groaned, pushing off the wall.

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.” As Taryn headed toward the courtyard, Briella grabbed Mark by the wrist and dragged him to the front door. Once out on the stoop, she closed the door and hissed, “What are you doing here?”

  His charming demeanor melted into disgruntled defensiveness. “Me? I should ask you that question. What’s gotten into you, Brie? The last few days you’ve shoved me off like I don’t matter anymore. I don’t get it. I don’t like it. And I certainly don’t like how cocky that guy is.”

  “Jealousy doesn’t play well with you, Mark.”

  “And flamboyance doesn’t play well with you. You’ve know that guy, what? A couple days? And isn’t he that other guy’s friend? What are you doing with them?”

  Briella flexed her fingers at her sides. She couldn’t stop her lip from curling. “What are you implying?”

  Mark jabbed an arm toward the door. “You’re in a house with a bunch of strangers!”

  “Um, Mark. Last I checked, my mother isn’t a stranger.”

  Mark raked his hands through his hair and scowled. “Where’s the other guy?”

  Briella’s spine went straight. “The ‘other guy’ has a name. And he’s here as well. I think you should leave, though. You’re drawing conclusions—”

  “Conclusions based on what I’m seeing! Guys like them are after one thing, Briella. One. Thing. And if you’re going to be so blind as to give it to them, maybe you deserve what will come to you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Anger darkened Mark’s face until she barely recognized him. “You heard me. I thought you better than that. Than them. I’ve been nothing but kind and caring to you. I’ve given you my time, my concern, my worry, my help. What have they given you? A few screams in the sack?”

  The clap of her splayed hand connecting with Mark’s cheek stung her ears as much as it stung her palm. She stepped into him, pointing a finger at his face when he stared at her in disbelief.

  “You listen to me good, Mark. You have no idea who those men are. You have no idea what goes on between me and anyone behind that door. If you think so little of me as to come within a breath of calling me some foul name because you’re jealous, you don’t deserve my time, my friendship, or the time I’m wasting on you now. But because you’re so damn concerned, I’ll fill you in on something. Those men are friends of my parents. Very, very good friends. So, not only have you insulted me in one of the worst ways a friend could, you’ve insulted my parents, our friends, and someone I care deeply about.”

  She stepped back as Mark’s face fell. His cheek flared red from her slap. His eyes glinted with a potent storm of hurt and hate. She fisted her hands against her thighs, her arms tense.

  “You need to leave. Now. Before your mouth causes more damage. As it stands, I’ve seen a side of you I’m not sure I ever care to encounter again.”

  “Brie—”

  She jerked her finger toward the gate to the sidewalk. “Now.”

  Mark’s jaw locked. He sniffed, his chin lifting slightly, and hopped off the stoop. Briella watched him throw open the gate and storm out of sight. Before she could return to the house, Gabe and Emery slipped through the gate, their gazes cutting between Briella and the direction Mark had taken. They each held several pastry boxes.

  “Is it safe to come in?” Emery asked, flicking a wave of hair from his forehead.

  Briella snorted and opened the front door. She came up short when she found Syn perched on the arm of the sofa, one brow arched, arms folded over his chest. The half-grin on his mouth was smug and proud and too damn sexy under the circumstances.

  Gabe sidled by her. Emery paused to point a finger down at her head.

  “Bro, she scares me,” he told Syn, giving her a wide berth as he rounded her. He held his hands up when she shot him a hard glance. “I’m on your side. I promise.”

  Emery’s antics managed to crack through her anger enough for her to blow out a sharp breath and shake her head. “Sorry you heard that.”

  Emery winked and kicked the front door closed. “Hey, I’m all for it, as long as I’m not on the receiving end of getting smacked. At least, not that—”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Briella cut in, eyes wide. “Too much information.”

  Emery laughed and followed his brother’s path to the kitchen. Briella rubbed a hand against her cheek before looking at Syn.

  He reached out for her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She shuffled over to him and melted into his embrace. “Thanks for not coming out and doing some cliché kiss or something to show him who I belong to. I appreciate you letting me handle it.”

  “How’s your hand?”

  “I think I slapped him harder than I intended.” She lifted her hand and showed off the bright red of her palm. “At least he didn’t get kicked in the groin.”

  Syn grumbled something inaudible, then placed a kiss on her palm. “He got off easy. And he’s lucky he was able to control his tongue.”

  She perked up at that. “You think he controlled his tongue? I thought he was out of line.”

  Syn
chuckled. “Oh, sweet. He was on the verge of sinking to name calling, and that’s one thing I wouldn’t have stood for. Bad enough he implied you were being shared.” Fire licked through his eyes before dying out. “I don’t share.”

  Briella sank her fingers into his hair and pressed her forehead to his. “Good. Neither do I.”

  “Hey, love doves. Wanna get this meeting going?” Taryn called from deeper in the house. Briella laughed when Syn growled and tipped his head to the ceiling. Taryn yelled, “Faster we get moving, the faster you can go to sleep.” The deliberate way he said the last word made his insinuation obvious.

  “If I didn’t like him as much as I do, I’d slap him next,” Briella teased, straightening onto her feet. Syn pushed off the sofa arm and led her toward a casual sitting room down the hall. Gabe was helping her mother arrange the beignets and cookies on a tray while everyone else helped themselves to coffee. Briella asked Syn, “Did you buy the teas?”

  Syn smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “I hope you like some of them.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure I will.”

  “So, we ready?” Taryn asked, settling into a wingback chair and balancing a cup of steaming coffee on his knee. His usual humor had subsided to semi-seriousness.

  Briella took a spot on a plush sofa while Syn poured cups of coffee and tea for them. Only after he sat beside her was she able to feed from his strength and support in the face of threatened disappointment.

  She raised her mug in salute. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Syn was not one to sleep much, not that he needed it.

  Yet sometime after taking Briella to bed and washing away her disappointment as best he could with passion, he nodded off.

  A methodical scraping sound drew him from sleep. He opened his eyes to slits and pinpointed Briella in front of the window, back to him, draped in an oversized T-shirt, painting. The moon lent enough light to illuminate the dark strokes of paint while a dim clip light mounted on the easel over the canvas added a depth of color.

  Syn rolled onto his side, tucked his arm beneath his head, and watched in silence as his beautiful lifemate found solace in her artwork. She worked with methodical precision for hours, unaware of his attention.