Kiss of Fire Read online

  Sara swallowed because it was true. She could feel the heat emanating from his skin and the clean smell of his skin. She was thinking of chocolate again and not really wanting to stop.

  “I can feel them rising,” Quinn continued, his melodic words awakening a heat in Sara’s belly. “I can smell your skin from twenty feet away, and I can tell the color of your eyes, even in this darkness.”

  “That’s easy,” Sara said, hating that she sounded breathless. “They’re hazel.”

  “No, they change,” he said with such complete certainty that she didn’t doubt him. “They turn greener when you laugh and more brown when you’re angry. And they turn gold when—” He stopped abruptly.

  Sara swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. “When?”

  “First things first,” Quinn said, his manner businesslike. “We have something to do.” He caught her hand in his and she followed him across the dark foyer. “Ten stairs to the first landing, about six inches high each. All right?”

  “All right,” Sara said, amazed that she trusted him. She lifted her foot, following just behind Quinn, and found the first step exactly as he had said.

  It became brighter as they climbed, the streetlights casting their light into the open arches that surrounded the bells. Quinn kept to the shadows and Sara remained at the top of the stairs while he chose a vantage point. He tucked himself into the darkness in one corner, then beckoned to her to join him.

  Quinn pulled her in front of him. “Down there. You see his car?”

  Sara could see the polished black of the sports car. She nodded, but before she could speak, Quinn folded her between himself and the stone pillar at the corner. “I told you I’m not that kind of woman,” Sara teased, knowing that he was shielding her.

  “Keep your eyes open,” Quinn said, not sharing her humor. “Something might happen.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Get someone’s attention.”

  “How?”

  “By starting a fire close to his heart, such as it is.”

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed as Sara watched and his gaze fixed on the car far below. Sara felt his concentration and saw his eyes glitter again. His lips set in a thin line and she knew his attention was completely diverted. She twisted to peek around the edge of the pillar, but for a long time, there was nothing to see.

  Suddenly flames leapt inside the black Lamborghini, orange dancing against the lines of the roof. She saw Erik running down the street toward the car in the same moment that she heard Quinn chuckle.

  “Coffee cup left on the dash,” Quinn muttered. “Fool.”

  “You started a fire in his car?”

  “Just a little one. Here he comes.”

  Erik looked up, straight at the bell tower, and Sara was sure she could see the blaze of his eyes even at this distance. He jumped off the curb, shouting something. He changed shape in midair, becoming a pewter and onyx dragon right before her eyes. His dark wings beat hard to carry him skyward.

  If Sara had been hallucinating when Quinn changed shape, her delusions were getting worse.

  Much worse.

  “Get down!” Quinn commanded but Sara didn’t need the warning. She didn’t have to be psychic to know that trouble was coming. She crouched on the stone floor and backed toward the center of the tower. At the same time, Quinn leapt off the half wall, shimmered, and shifted in midair. He reared back as he hovered, his leathery wings beating powerfully. The silver and blue of his scales glinted against the night. He looked like a large jeweled beast, made of metal and armored against assault. He snarled, ready to meet his opponent, and Sara was awed again by his strength and confidence.

  Although she did wonder what had happened to his clothes. It was as if they had folded away in the blink of an eye and disappeared.

  Sara peeked over the lip of stone and caught her breath in fear. An emerald and gold dragon was airborne behind Erik, smoke streaming from his nostrils as he ascended.

  Two against one! No fair!

  But Erik and his friend were the least of Quinn’s troubles. Sara glanced around, wondering who else had noticed the strange doings in the sky. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Five dragons were closing fast on the bell tower from the other side. They didn’t look friendly.

  Seven to one. Sara’s heart pounded with fear. Quinn was outnumbered and there was nothing she could do to help him.

  Quinn had been right: he did hear Sara decide to scream.

  He felt her agitation and glanced away from Erik, who was climbing fast. He saw Erik’s second cresting the buildings on State Street. That wasn’t the source of Sara’s fear, though. Quinn surveyed the night sky and found five more dragons, all flying furiously toward him.

  It had been a long time since Quinn had seen so many of his kind in one place and he could have done without it at this particular point. He didn’t think he knew any of them, although the golden one conjured memories of a golden dragon in his past.

  There was no time for sentimentality. Quinn turned away from Erik, taking care of the most critical business first.

  He had to protect Sara. Even if he was wounded, his territory mark would keep the others at bay for a while.

  If he was killed, that was another problem, but he wouldn’t think about it. Quinn had no intention of dying just yet.

  Quinn exhaled silvery smoke, cursing the slow speed at which it emanated. Marking territory was intended to be a leisurely pursuit. It required concentration and contemplation, precisely the opposite frame of mind as fighting to the death.

  His desire to rip out Erik’s throat slowed Quinn’s smoke production, there was no doubt about it. He tried to push himself to produce more quickly and knew the line of smoke would break if he went too quickly.

  He forced his breathing to slow as he curled the smoke around the interior of the bell tower, between the perimeter of the tower and the bells hanging in the middle. He struggled to encircle Sara completely as quickly as possible. He had to leave enough space that if she moved, she didn’t leave his protection.

  On the other hand, he didn’t have a lot of time.

  Erik bellowed and broke Quinn’s concentration. The line of smoke snapped and he started another, anxious to close the circle. He’d have to go back and weave in the ends at the break to make Sara’s protection complete.

  He was attacked first.

  “Curse the Smith!” roared a ruby red dragon in old-speak as he erupted around the corner of the tower. Quinn was startled by his appearance. The leader of the band of five had flown more quickly than Quinn had expected.

  The ruby red dragon landed on the railing of the bell tower and flicked an appreciative glance at Sara. His scales seemed to be edged in brass, like garnets set in gold. He was impressive and clearly quite old, and Quinn was wary.

  “Fresh meat tonight,” he said in old-speak, grinning with anticipation. Sara couldn’t hear him, Quinn knew, but she understood her peril. He could tell by the way she was nearly hyperventilating. “Princess? Virgin? Or just your routine damsel-in-distress?” His tongue flicked. “I do like the tang that adrenaline gives a fresh kill, don’t you?”

  Quinn’s tail moved with lightning speed and caught his assailant across the side of the head. The ruby red dragon choked and took a step along the parapet to correct his balance so that he didn’t fall into Quinn’s smoke. Quinn roared dragonfire at his attacker, forcing him to step backward off the ledge.

  The ruby red dragon swore in a language Quinn didn’t know as he stumbled off the wall. He dropped a good ten feet before his bronze wings began to flap. Quinn lunged after him.

  His attacker was old and wily, though, and made a miraculous recovery when Quinn was within range. He raged upward at Quinn, his eyes shining with triumph. The pair locked claws, thrashing their tails at each other as they tumbled toward the ground.

  Quinn was vaguely aware that the ruby red dragon’s fellows were locked in battle with Erik and his second, a fact that made
him wonder whom he was fighting. If Erik was a Slayer, as he’d suspected, then who were these five?

  He’d worry about that later.

  Quinn felt the strength of his opponent and decided to save time by playing the same trick on him. He grunted as the ruby red dragon scored a strike with his tail, and pretended to be failing.

  “You’ve spent too much time in your lair, Smith,” the ruby red dragon chuckled, exuding smoke into Quinn’s face.

  Quinn coughed as if overwhelmed. “While you’ve spent too little time tending your teeth,” he replied, letting his voice sound weak.

  The ruby red dragon’s eyes flashed. He swung his tail and Quinn went limp when he took the hit, as if it had been more fatal than it was. He groaned and stopped flapping his wings.

  He thought he’d be left to fall, but his opponent snatched him out of the sky. Quinn stifled a smile as the ruby red dragon carried him upward. Quinn was all muscle: lifting him would exhaust his opponent and give Quinn an advantage in addition to surprise.

  “You have been lazy, Smith,” his attacker said, his voice strained even in old-speak. “Who would have imagined it would be so easy to eliminate you? I had hoped for a better fight.”

  Quinn listened while he played dead. The ruby red dragon must be a Slayer, because no true Pyr would have wanted to kill the Smith. If he was as old as that, Quinn should have known him, but his voice was unfamiliar. It had a Russian cadence and Quinn couldn’t remember any Pyr from the East.

  It wasn’t as if he’d been paying attention to his fellow Pyr for the last centuries, though.

  And really, it mattered less who this Slayer was than that he could be beaten. Quinn surveyed his opponent’s chest through narrowed eyes and found what he was seeking. He let the ruby red dragon carry him over the bell tower and waited for him to gloat.

  He poked Quinn with one of his bronze talons and chortled. “Come, all of you!” he cried to his fellows. “The Smith has fallen and our work here is done.” He started to chortle again, but his laughter was cut short.

  Quinn made a miraculous recovery. He twisted, lunged, and bit the ruby red dragon in the chest. He had seen that there was a scale missing and Quinn sank his teeth into the weak spot.

  Quinn felt his victim’s surprise, he tasted the darkness of his blood, and he knew for certain that this was an old and irredeemable Slayer. He bit deeper and harder, locking his claws around the ruby red dragon’s chest and holding him in a death grip as he tore open the flesh on his chest.

  The ruby red dragon screamed and tried to fling Quinn away from him. He thrashed and fought, to no avail. He bellowed in rage, then dug his talons into Quinn’s back. Quinn tossed him away, certain the wound he’d made would slow the other dragon down.

  “That enough fight for you?” Quinn taunted in old-speak, expecting another round of locked claws and battle.

  To his astonishment, the ruby red dragon smiled, hovered, then turned tail and flew away. Quinn would have raged dragonfire to finish the fight, but two other dragons set upon him from behind.

  He understood now why the leader had retreated: he’d left his minions to do his dirty work. Quinn swung in fury at such cowardice and caught the malachite green and silver dragon across the face with his tail. His powerful blow tossed the more slender Slayer’s body against the bell tower roof. That dragon hit his head and slid down the smooth copper, leaving a trail of black blood that hissed as it corroded the metal.

  In the heartbeat he had, Quinn saw Erik’s second battling ferociously with a topaz yellow Slayer. The emerald and gold Pyr was not doing well and Quinn was inclined to help. In that moment, though, Quinn saw Erik emerge from behind the tower, presumably where the fifth Slayer had fallen, and fly to his companion’s aid.

  Quinn took a quick inventory: the malachite green Slayer knocked out, the ruby red dragon having left the fight, the topaz yellow Slayer fighting with Erik’s second, and another Slayer down behind the tower made four. There had to be another of the attackers left.

  Quinn turned slowly, but saw nothing.

  He heard nothing.

  He knew better than to believe that he was alone. He braced himself for assault.

  A garnet red Slayer suddenly came over the roof and leapt down on Quinn. Quinn spun to defend himself, and locked claws with his attacker. This one was strong, his eyes burning with bloodlust that obviously affected his thinking.

  Because he breathed fire on Quinn. Dragonfire could kill or fatally injure all Pyr.

  Quinn was the Smith, though, and the exception. The dragonfire singed Quinn’s shoulder even as it sent new strength through him. The singe invigorated him, the fire giving him new strength, making him brighter and better and more powerful.

  He tore his claws from those of the garnet red Slayer and in the heartbeat of his opponent’s surprise, Quinn seized him by the throat with fearsome speed.

  “You call that dragonfire?” Quinn asked in old-speak. His opponent’s eyes widened in fear and he began to fight Quinn’s grip with new vigor. Quinn held him captive easily. “I call this dragonfire.” Quinn summoned his most impressive fire and loosed a torrent of it on the garnet red Slayer.

  The Slayer bellowed in rage and pain. Quinn held fast as the red scales dulled and burned, as the scent of burning flesh rose. The Slayer fought Quinn’s grip, but Quinn was older and more determined.

  They had come to kill Quinn’s mate.

  This one wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  The younger Slayer’s eyes filled with fear as his scales were incinerated. He must have seen something in Quinn’s expression, because he had the wits not to beg for mercy. Quinn heard the Slayer scream, first in old-speak, then aloud, felt him writhe, yet summoned the last increment of fire from his own belly and loosed it on the attacker. He felt the life force of the Slayer join his own and welcomed the surge of power.

  That was when Sara decided to scream again. Quinn felt her pulse leap with fear, even though she didn’t utter a sound. She needed him, but didn’t want to distract him.

  Without another thought, Quinn released the limp and charred dragon and let him fall. He dove toward the bell tower.

  He moved too quickly, and didn’t see that the malachite green Slayer he’d cast against the roof had recovered. The other dragon had hidden behind the corner of the tower and emerged only when Quinn had flown past him.

  Quinn felt a brush of wind, and glanced back in time to see a tail closing fast. The malachite green Slayer struck a ferocious blow across Quinn’s head, one that took Quinn completely by surprise and sent him tumbling senselessly toward the earth.

  Chapter 6

  It was like something out of a fairy tale. Sara could hardly believe her eyes. The dragons fought with fury, their tails lashing and their claws tearing. They breathed fire and exhaled smoke, and their wings pounded against the night sky. When they locked claws to fight at close range and fell earthward, she was fascinated and fearful.

  Sara had run to the edge of the tower when Quinn had fallen into the clutches of the ruby red dragon. Her heart pounded in terror that Quinn had been injured.

  But it was a feint. He rallied and slashed back at the ruby red dragon and she wanted to cheer.

  She did cheer when the ruby red dragon turned tail, a trail of black blood running from his chest as he flew away. Far below her, Erik and the emerald green dragon that had flown with him fought with a topaz yellow dragon who seemed particularly strong. She didn’t think the emerald dragon was that experienced a fighter.

  Sara was more interested in Quinn’s fate, though. She couldn’t stop staring at him, entranced as she was by his grace and power. He was magnificent, all silver and blue, gleaming in the night as if his scales were jewels. He fought with agility, practiced and aware of his capabilities.

  “Potent,” said a man, as if he heard her thoughts.

  Sara pivoted to find a golden dragon perched on the lip of the railing around the bell tower. He looked old and wily, and there w
as a malice in his gaze that Sara didn’t trust one bit. His scales changed color slightly in the light, reminding her of the light that often danced in tiger’s eye stones.

  She caught her breath and bit back the urge to scream. She hoped against hope that Quinn really could hear her decision to scream and that he’d arrive shortly.

  She had to stall for time.

  Her attacker smiled a chilly smile and continued. “Quinn was always a good fighter. Passionate. Powerful. Calculating.” The smile broadened. “He learned that last bit from me.”

  Sara backed away, distrusting the gleam in this Pyr’s eyes.

  He moved slowly, as if choosing a place to step down into the tower. There wasn’t a lot of room for him, given how massive he was, and Sara thought that was his concern, but he seemed to be studying the floor. It was as if he was searching for something, but Sara couldn’t see what he was looking at.

  She knew when he found it, though. He sniffed, exhaling a puff of smoke, then smiled as he stepped very precisely onto the bell tower floor. He even lifted his tail with one claw, as if he were climbing a fence. There was no doubting his satisfaction.

  “Those small neglected details can be so very critical,” he said, fixing his gaze upon Sara.

  She didn’t have to understand what he meant to know that she was in major trouble. “You stay away from me.”

  He laughed at the very idea. “I can’t seem to resist you, Sara Keegan. Maybe it’s fate entwining our paths.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We’ve met, of course, though we haven’t been formally introduced.”

  “That was you last night,” she guessed as she backed away. She touched her throat and he seemed to be amused.

  “Sore today?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Liar! Don’t try to win me over with guile, Sara. You’re my assignment, no matter how charming you might be.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course not. You’re only human, after all, a species that is remarkably feeble both physically and intellectually.”