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  Niall frowned, then glanced up and down the hall. He took a step closer, leaning his free hand on the door frame, and that heat rolled through Rox with renewed strength. His eyes were dark with intent, almost indigo, and his voice dropped low. "I know we didn't start off on the right foot," he said, "but maybe we could try again. Maybe you could let me protect you tonight."

  Rox's heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she felt dizzy. Even though she'd refused to have his child, he had still come to her. His presence made her much happier. "Maybe you just want a place to stay tonight."

  Niall grinned, looking daring and sexy. Rox's heart went thump. "Well, there's that, too. But if you say no, I'll just keep watch from the roof."

  Rox was surprised by the offer, but she believed it.

  "That's where Thorolf and Rafferty have been while I picked up my stuff."

  "Why?"

  "Because I asked them to." His gaze bored into hers and she could feel his determination. "Whether we work anything out or not, Rox, your defense is my responsibility as long as the firestorm lasts."

  "How long is that?"

  He looked away and she guessed he didn't like this answer. "I don't know anyone who's managed to resist it long enough to find out."

  Rox could understand that. Even with the door between them, her desire was raging, making her skin tingle and filling her thoughts with the persistent notion of sex, sex, and more sex.

  "Maybe you just think you can seduce me in the night," she teased.

  Niall shook his head, his smile fading. He held her gaze, his own expression solemn. "No, I respect your choice. The world doesn't necessarily need more babies, and children are a long-term commitment." He arched a brow. "Even if I don't believe that's your real reason."

  Rox changed the subject, although she figured Niall would guess why. He was too perceptive. "Why does it sound like I'm not the only one with an issue with consummating the firestorm?"

  "I don't have a problem with the consummation," Niall admitted, the wary twinkle in his eye making Rox smile. "It's the bit after that. It's the baby. Especially now."

  Rox knew she shouldn't have been surprised that they had something else in common. "Why?"

  "It's complicated." Niall cleared his throat. "Look, I came to tell you what the point was, the point of my being able to do what I can do. I thought it was too long a story before, but you've seen a lot more now."

  "Okay," Rox said, leaning against the door frame. She was curious. "Tell me the point."

  To her amazement, Niall did.

  Chapter 8

  Niall glanced up and down the corridor before he leaned close to Rox. His voice dropped to a whisper that made her shiver with delight. "In the beginning, there was the fire, and the fire burned hot because it was cradled by the earth. The fire burned bright because it was nurtured by the air. The fire burned lower only when it was quenched by the water. And these were the four elements of divine design, of which all would be built and with which all would be destroyed. And the elements were placed at the cornerstones of the material world, and it was good."

  Rox watched him, fascinated.

  "But the elements were alone and undefended, incapable of communicating with one another, snared within the matter that was theirs to control." Niall held her gaze steadily. "And so, out of the endless void was created a race of guardians whose appointed task was to protect and defend the integrity of the four sacred elements. They were given powers, the better to fulfill their responsibilities; they were given strength and cunning and longevity to safeguard the treasures surrendered to their stewardship. To them alone would the elements respond. These guardians were--and are--the Pyr."

  "I knew you had to have a higher purpose than kicking butt and looking good doing it," Rox whispered.

  Niall's smile was quick. "We don't just defend the elements. We protect all of the treasures of the earth--that includes the elements and humans, too."

  It was a philosophy that perfectly meshed with Rox's own.

  "And that's the kicker," he continued, "because I've taken on a quest, to eliminate the shadow dragons, and I want to be sure I'm going to survive before I bring a child into the world."

  "Why wouldn't you survive? I mean, isn't there always going to be a threat?"

  Niall sobered and his eyes narrowed. Rox liked that he was giving her questions serious consideration. "There's something different this time. I can't explain it, but I feel targeted, as if something or someone is out to get me. As if maybe there's no escape. I know it sounds crazy, but it's throwing my game."

  Rox knew that feeling all too well. "But what's that got to do with creating a son?"

  Niall looked pointedly at the chain. "Long story."

  Rox understood. If she let him in, he'd tell her. She was tempted, seriously tempted. If nothing else, the firestorm proved that Niall wasn't his twin. There was no case of mistaken identity, so long as the firestorm was raging.

  "Give me your hand," she said, and Niall blinked. "Just to check. Before I let you in."

  He lifted his hand to the gap between the door and the frame. Rox touched his palm with her fingertips, watching as a brilliant orange spark burst from the point of contact. She felt its heat roll through her and caught her breath at its power. Niall swore softly. She watched him swallow, noting the sizzling blue of his eyes, and was aware of the warmth of his skin beneath her hand.

  There was no doubt that he was Niall.

  Her destined mate.

  In another time or place, with another history behind her, Rox might have found the whole notion romantic and appealing. As it was, the prospect of a permanent bond terrified her.

  But Niall's concern, both for the child that would result from the firestorm and for defending the treasures of the earth, was his passport back into her life.

  Or, at least, into her apartment.

  Rox shut the door, removed the lock, and opened the door to Niall, refusing to consider whether this was the dumbest thing she'd ever done. She had a feeling that nothing would be the same if she let her life become entangled with Niall's.

  On the other hand, it already was.

  On the third hand, it was healthy to shake things up once in a while and take on new challenges.

  This was going to be a big one. Her heart said to trust Niall, so Rox tried. She had a policy of not letting fear govern her choices, and this firestorm was testing her determination.

  Rox stepped out of the way and held her breath, trying to see her home with Niall's eyes. She wasn't worried about the furniture from the thrift shop, or the spartan decor.

  Niall stepped into her living room and froze. Rox felt his astonishment, but she was mostly aware of his presence in her home. He seemed larger and more buff, filling the space in a way she hadn't anticipated. She felt self-conscious then, because her dreams were truly displayed in her home.

  They covered the walls. Niall stood and stared at the myriad images of dragons. He was silent, as if struck dumb with wonder, his gaze roving over the drawings again and again and again. The quiet made Rox fear his reaction, and she had to say something.

  "So, no getting a son on me while I'm asleep," she joked, feeling as if her heart and soul were laid bare.

  Niall turned and glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes glittering in a way that reminded her all too well what he was. His smile was slow and seductive, the sight of it enough to make her heart thunder.

  "Invitation only," he murmured, his gaze sliding over her with obvious appreciation. "But feel free to invite me anytime."

  Uh-oh.

  Rox could have been a different woman.

  Niall had thought when she opened the door that he might have the wrong apartment. Even the sliver of her figure that he could see was utterly different from expectation. Her hair was damp and her features were devoid of makeup. Her eyes seemed more vividly blue, and she looked more delicate.

  Feminine.

  Pretty.

  He appreciated tha
t he was seeing her without her shields up, and he was awed that she'd opened the door to him at all. When she'd let him in, there'd been the surprise of her lustrous red pajamas, the silk covering her completely but sliding over her curves.

  Just the way Niall would have liked to slide his hands over her.

  And if that wasn't enough to shake Niall's assumptions, there was Rox's apartment itself. It was in a big six-story building, a Beaux Arts building more typical of the Upper West Side than so far downtown. He wasn't surprised by the high ceilings or the grandeur of the rooms or the elaborate plaster on the ceilings, even though the entire building seemed out of place.

  He was shocked by the artwork. The walls were filled with framed posters of dragons, and one wall was actually painted in a fresco of a dragon in flight.

  No, they weren't posters--they were original paintings. He'd never seen so many images of dragons, let alone so many that were so beautiful. Each dragon was unique, each image rendered with a loving hand and an eye for detail.

  The living room, otherwise, had only a pair of vintage couches. They were slightly different, but covered in the same natural cotton. Their backs were low enough that they didn't obstruct the view of the art. The floor was hardwood, polished to a sheen and devoid of any rugs. White rice-paper blinds covered the windows, which must have been large, judging by the expanse of closed blinds. The only color was from the art, which seemed to glow on the walls.

  No doubt about it, the dragons held court.

  Niall couldn't stop looking at the paintings. He moved around the room, examining each in turn, well aware of Rox's nervous silence as she watched him.

  There was one dragon perched on a mountain aerie; another flew low over a lake as clear as a mirror, his scaled belly reflected perfectly in the water. There were two fighting each other, their tails locked together and their teeth bared. There was a dragon sleeping beside his hoard, one eye open a slit as an intrepid woman ventured closer. The fresco was of a moonstone and silver dragon, raging on the attack. Each dragon was so realistic that Niall wouldn't have been surprised to hear the rumble of old-speak in his thoughts.

  He gradually realized they had been created by the same hand. There were commonalities in the way the scales were articulated, the way the eyes had been drawn, the assumption of the musculature beneath the scaled skin. He saw an R in the bottom corner of one, an R executed with flourishes, and he knew why Rox was self-conscious. He remembered Thorolf's tattoo.

  He turned to look at her.

  She was watching him, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes filled with doubt as she nibbled one thumbnail. He'd never seen her uncertain, and his heart clenched with the reason why she felt vulnerable.

  "Did you create all of these?" He heard the wonder in his own voice and didn't try to hide his awe.

  Rox nodded once; then she swallowed.

  "They're wonderful." Niall couldn't help but look again. The level of detail was fascinating, and he could have studied each work for hours on end. "Do you sell your work?"

  "No." There was no question in her tone. "These dragons are for me." She marched past him, keeping her gaze averted as she headed toward the kitchen. Again, she seemed vulnerable to him, and Niall followed her with caution. He didn't want to make a mistake and it seemed increasingly clear to him that the firestorm had made his match in one. "Do you want some tea?"

  "If you're making it, sure."

  Rox was moving quickly, uncertain as Niall had never seen her. "Herbal okay? I don't do caffeine."

  "Me, neither, so that's perfect, thanks."

  She flicked a quick glance his way, as if skeptical, and Niall smiled, hoping to reassure her. "I try to avoid stuff like that."

  She blushed and turned her back on him, as if he had spooked her. Blushed. Rox blushed. Niall couldn't have imagined her blushing just twenty minutes earlier. Fascinated, he put his laptop bag down by the kitchen table, then leaned in the doorway, giving her lots of space.

  No wonder she'd been able to accept so much dragon lore. She knew about Thorolf and she was obviously interested in his kind.

  Rox filled the kettle and put it on to boil, then rinsed out the teapot, moving with that same energy. When she had put in the tea bags and laid out the mugs and run out of tasks to do, she almost vibrated in place.

  "Why dragons?" Niall asked quietly.

  She exhaled and stared at the counter, still avoiding his gaze. The back of her neck was a smooth curve of pale skin, one that he was tempted to caress.

  "I've always been fascinated by dragons, always thought they had to be the most beautiful and magical creatures."

  "Always thought they were real?"

  "Dragons are real!" she said, pivoting to face him abruptly.

  "You don't have to persuade me," Niall agreed, and her cheeks were touched with pink again. "Most humans would argue otherwise."

  "True." Rox kept her distance. She folded her arms across her chest again, looking both defiant and fragile. She looked a bit, actually, like the woman brave enough to invade the dragon's hoard in that one illustration.

  Intrepid but cautious.

  Determined.

  "It started when I was a kid, when my dad died," she admitted softly. "I wanted to become an animal or another creature, to fly away maybe."

  There it was again, that hint that her childhood hadn't been idyllic.

  "No fairies or butterflies?" Niall asked lightly.

  Rox laughed. "Too vulnerable. They can be squished." She lowered her lashes, once again ensuring that she didn't meet his gaze. "I wanted to be fearless. Dragons are still beautiful; they still can fly, but they don't have to be afraid of anything."

  He heard the resonance of truth in her words. Her defiance and resilience made Niall angry, making him want to take a price out of the hide of whoever had hurt her. "What happened, Rox?"

  She shook her head, then turned her back on him. "I always knew dragons were real, no matter what anyone else had to say. I believed."

  Niall respected her privacy enough to leave the subject alone. He couldn't help looking back at the fresco, the painting that was obviously of Thorolf. "And then you saw one."

  "Thorolf. He called himself T." Rox grimaced, then shook her head, her mood lightening. "I thought he was my destiny. I thought my every dream had come true. And when he needed an alibi, someone sane and sober to insist there hadn't been a dragon there, I was quick to volunteer." She smiled, rueful, and Niall felt bad that Thorolf had unwittingly disappointed her.

  On the other hand, he was glad of it.

  "You brought him home."

  Rox made a gesture of futility and turned to the kettle, hiding her expression from Niall. It wasn't a coincidence and he knew it--the kettle wasn't quite boiling yet. "Call it a weakness," she said lightly. "I'm always trying to save people from themselves, or give them a chance to start fresh. Sometimes a second chance even works."

  "But not with Thorolf."

  She made a sound of frustration. "He had--has--this incredible power, and all he wanted to do was get drunk, brawl, and seduce women."

  Niall fought a smile, knowing he'd accused Thorolf of the same thing.

  "What's so funny?"

  "He accused me of not respecting him last year and we had an argument. I told him I couldn't respect someone who hadn't bothered to learn to use his powers, and only wanted to drink, fight, and, um, get lucky."

  Her unexpected smile was mischievous and made her eyes dance. "I'll bet you used a different word."

  Niall grinned at her. "You'd win that bet." He'd accused Thorolf of wanting only to party, fight, and screw.

  Rox laughed, the most delightful sound Niall had ever heard, then flung out one hand. "I couldn't understand it. All those powers, yet he just wanted to slide through life and achieve nothing. I've had to work for everything I've got, and it just drove me crazy that he wouldn't even try."

  That sentiment sounded pretty familiar to Niall. "I hear you."

  Ro
x swallowed and looked down.

  "You were right, though," Niall said quietly, and she looked his way, startled. "About giving him a second chance. He did well tonight."

  She smiled. "You got through to him."

  "Be serious," Niall scoffed. "He's scared crapless of you. I think you softened him up for me."

  Rox laughed, then blushed again. It seemed warmer in the kitchen, more intimate and welcoming. "What about you?"

  Niall recognized that the question wasn't an idle one. "Well, as I mentioned, there are these shadow dragons. I've taken it as my quest to eliminate them all." Anticipating her question, he explained. "Shadow dragons have been fed the Elixir, the Dragon's Blood Elixir that confers immortality. The thing is that they didn't ingest it by choice--they were raised from the dead and forced to consume it. It makes them into zombies that a Slayer can control."

  "Is that what's wrong with your brother's eyes?" she asked, and Niall nodded. "Then why didn't you kill him?"

  He exhaled and stared at the floor. "Well, that's just it. I'm not sure he really knew what he was doing when he chose to turn Slayer. I wonder whether he was tricked."

  "Because he wasn't really bad?"

  "Just misguided." Niall shrugged. "Looking for the easy way and living on charm."

  "Like Thorolf."

  "Exactly. And what happened today made me wonder whether Phelan just needed another chance."

  Rox stared at him, her eyes wide.

  "He even asked me to help him."

  "Oh. Is that possible?"

  "I'm not sure. You see, my friend Delaney, who is also Pyr and used to be my business partner, was forced to drink the Elixir. It really messed him up, but he didn't exactly become a shadow dragon. And it was possible to save him, to drive the Elixir out of his body and make him whole again."

  "You think you can save your brother," Rox whispered.

  "I don't know. I do know that I need to be sure, so I sent a message to Sloane. He's the Apothecary of the Pyr, and I asked him to come and help me work it out." Niall grimaced. "It leaves both of us in more danger in the short term. . . ."