Kiss of Fury Read online

  “Wow,” Alex whispered when they broke their kiss. She fanned herself with one hand.

  “Wow,” Donovan agreed. He bracketed her waist with his hands, holding them slightly apart. He glanced around, needing a moment to catch his breath. Whose lair was it? “Where are we?”

  “My brother’s cottage.”

  It didn’t look much like a cottage to Donovan. “Cottage?” “High-tech palace in the woods, more like.” Alex wrinkled her nose. “It’s over the top. I find it a bit frightening how easily I get used to its many comforts.”

  Donovan frowned. “But how did we get here?”

  “The Wyvern brought you.” His astonishment must have showed, because Alex smiled. “Blond chick, enigmatic, turquoise eyes. She looks more like a glass swan than a dragon when she shifts.”

  “That would be Sophie. Did she tell you anything useful?” Alex sobered. “She let me watch her shift. She did it really slowly so I could see.”

  Donovan watched her carefully. “And?”

  Alex exhaled. “It was incredible, but fascinating. If she’d done it fast, right in front of me, I might have had heart failure.”

  “But slowly?”

  “I could witness it. Think about it. Try to figure out how it was done.” Her eyes narrowed and Donovan didn’t want her to start thinking about anything else just yet.

  “Did she say anything about me?” he teased, and Alex laughed.

  “Men!” She leaned forward, touching the tip of her nose to his. When the spark lit, her eyes widened and he was intrigued by how brilliantly they sparkled. There were amber lights in those chocolate depths. Her voice dropped to a throaty purr that had a predictable effect on him. “She said I’d know what to do.”

  “Do you?”

  Alex’s eyes closed slightly and she smiled a little, the combination making her look provocative and sexy as all hell. The firelight was loving her, caressing her features and making her look so beautiful that Donovan ached for her. Those eyes danced with mischief. “You know, I think I do.” She leaned forward and dropped another sizzler of a kiss on his mouth. “Let’s thwart the firestorm,” she whispered against his mouth.

  Donovan wasn’t going to argue with that. “We didn’t stop at a drugstore,” he reminded her.

  “Diane is a hostess who thinks of everything.”

  He inhaled sharply as Alex’s hand eased between them, launching a zillion forest fires on the way. She unfastened his jeans slowly, punctuating each inch of opening with a kiss. Her hair slid over his skin like silk. Her tongue was in his navel, sliding over his skin. Her teeth grazed his belly and he was the one writhing on the rug. She slid her hand into his jeans to caress him and Donovan couldn’t stand the restraint anymore.

  He kicked off his jeans and boots then, joining her before the hearth in nothing but his Jockeys.

  “Good choice,” she said with a smile. “Nice view.” Donovan kissed her again. His kiss was rougher and more demanding; if he’d thought about it, he might have realized that it was possessive, but Donovan was well past thinking.

  He was feeling. He was seducing and being seduced. He was exploring and being explored—he wouldn’t be ready to stop any time soon. Alex’s touch was magical and powerful. The way his body tingled, his acute sensitivity while in the clutch of the firestorm, the way he was attuned to her combined to make this the best lovemaking ever. They were truly in union, each intent only on pleasing the other, and it was astounding.

  He never wanted it to end.

  At the same time, he wasn’t sure how long he could last.

  Alex was no shy virgin and he liked that a lot. She met him touch for touch, reciprocating with every bit as much heat as he. She knew how to drive him wild, just as well as he knew how to arouse her. They paid attention to each other, learning what the other liked best. Their kisses were endless, one fusing into the next, a chorus of tongues and teeth and need. Their caresses alternated between feather-light touches and powerful demands. She offered all he had ever wanted from a woman and more.

  Donovan rolled Alex to her back again, then slipped his fingers along the lace of her panties. She smiled at him, arching with anticipation. His fingers slid under the lace and into her own slick heat. He watched her eyes widen and her breath catch.

  “I’ll bet you a bottle of champagne that you can’t hold out long,” he teased, and she laughed.

  “I’ll bet that same bottle that I can hold out longer than you,” she challenged, her eyes dancing.

  Donovan grinned. It was his kind of bet. He bent to run his teeth across her tight nipple. “So long as we agree that the winner shares the spoils.”

  Alex laughed again. “I like how you think.”

  “I like more than that about you.” Donovan moved his fingers and, when she gasped, he eased those lace panties down to her knees. He slid quickly down her length, catching her hips in his hands as his tongue darted between her thighs.

  “Ditto,” Alex gasped, then moaned from the depths of her soul. He watched her grasp fistfuls of the rug and arch her back, spreading her legs for his questing tongue. He was just settling in when he heard a scratching overhead.

  It wasn’t a good sound.

  It was, in fact, a sound that made his hackles rise and his body shimmer on the verge of change. There was a threat to his mate in close proximity.

  Slayer alert.

  Chapter 11

  Donovan glanced up. The ceiling of the room was dark, although it had a gleam like glass. “What’s that?” he whispered, almost as softly as old-speak.

  Alex pulled up her underwear and reached for the gun that Donovan now saw on an end table. She checked the chamber with shaking hands, then spared him a glance.

  “Talons on steel,” she said. “Steel shutters roll down over the windows.”

  Donovan heard the faint sniffing of one of his kind checking a scent, then caught the scent himself of a familiar Slayer.

  Too late he realized that their indulgence in his firestorm had been a mistake. Its growing heat had drawn Tyson to the precise location of his mate.

  Had the other Slayers come as well?

  “Tyson,” Donovan muttered. “The amber one. He’s come to finish the challenge.”

  “What challenge?”

  “He wanted to avenge the death of a Slayer we killed during Quinn’s firestorm last summer. I challenged him to a blood duel.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t like what she was hearing. “What does that mean?”

  He gave her a steady look. “It means we fight until there’s one survivor. Winner take all.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “At the mall. When you were running away.”

  Alex put her hands on her hips, her disgust clear. “You challenged a Slayer to a blood duel in the middle of your firestorm? How are you going to protect me if you lose?”

  Donovan fired a grim glance her way. “I’m not going to lose.”

  Those talons scratched overhead and Alex glanced up. “Explain to me why a blood duel right here and right now is a good idea.”

  “You can stop sounding like Erik anytime.”

  “You’re the only Pyr between me and at least one hungry Slayer!”

  “I did what I had to do.” Donovan rummaged in his discarded jacket, avoiding Alex’s perceptive gaze, and pulled on the gloves Quinn had made for him. “Otherwise Tyson would have challenged Quinn, and Quinn needs to ensure Sara’s safety.”

  He looked up to find Alex watching him, her expression thoughtful. “Doesn’t sound like you’re riding solo to me.”

  The scratching got louder. “Do we need to talk about this now?”

  “It might be our only chance,” Alex retorted, unafraid of his anger. “Unless you win.”

  “Thank you very much for the vote of confidence.”

  They glared at each other for a moment; then the scratching moved across the roof. Donovan felt his body ease toward the shift with sudden vehemence. He thought of
Olivia.

  Could he keep himself from changing before Alex’s eyes?

  Could he prevent his past from repeating itself?

  Alex took a shaking breath, telling herself to keep her cool. She should be getting used to dragons by now.

  “Tell me about the entrances and exits.” Donovan looked lethal, even though he was almost naked. Alex could have sworn he had gotten bigger and more pumped since they’d heard those talons. His eyes were glittering, and the edges of his body shimmered.

  Alex sensed that he was close to changing shape. Did she really want to watch?

  How could she not watch?

  She just hoped he did it fast. Really fast.

  “There’s only the main entrance when the place is locked down like it is now.” Alex found her shirt and pulled it on while she answered. Then she pulled on her pants. “All the windows are covered with steel shutters and so are the other doors. The main door has a keypad security system.”

  “Which will short out in dragonfire.”

  “There’s a backup system, but yes, any fire will eventually cook it all.” Alex looked around the shadowed house. “Then none of the locked windows and doors can be opened, because the computer won’t be accessible through the security system. It has to be overriden manually with another set of passwords, either from inside the house or from a remote location.”

  “What else?”

  “There’s a steel door in the foyer that automatically descends when the security system is overridden. Any attempt to breach it sends a message to Peter and contacts the police.”

  Donovan arched a brow. “Is your brother a drug runner?”

  Alex shook her head and grimaced. “Just completely risk-averse. Consulting for banks on security issues suits him pretty well.”

  Donovan nodded understanding. “He’s doing all right with it, though. The front door?”

  “Right there. Beyond the lap pool. The steel door that drops is in the ceiling just before the lap pool.”

  “Got it.” Flames erupted at the far end of the corridor that led to the front door, orange tongues licking beneath the front door. The steel door began to glow on the side adjacent to the lock.

  “Company calling,” Donovan said as he raced for the door.

  Alex knew the exact moment that the security system failed because a number of things happened in rapid succession.

  There was a flash and small explosion from the door lock.

  The front door swung open.

  A large amber dragon stepped over the threshold.

  Donovan shifted on the run into his full splendor, a dazzling display of lapis lazuli and gold.

  And the steel door rumbled as it began to plummet.

  Donovan obviously assumed that Alex was going to stay safely behind, but he had that wrong. Alex ran as the door dropped with frightening speed. She fell and rolled beneath the guillotine of the door, staring straight up at it for one heart-stopping moment.

  She was barely out of the way when it fell home with a thud behind her. She felt the vibration of its impact and thought the edge grazed her shoulders.

  In front of her, the dragons locked claws and roared.

  The alarm started to beep and a red light flashed beside the front door. “Unauthorized access,” said Oscar, his mild tone echoing through the in-house speaker system. “Location secured. Intruders confined.”

  To Alex’s shock and dismay, a second stainless steel door slid down on the far side of the conservatory. The front door was inaccessible to them now and they were surrounded by steel.

  With the exception of the saltillo floor tiles that Diane had had imported for the conservatory.

  Uh-oh. The only thing that would burn in this space was flesh.

  The Slayer seemed to follow Alex’s thoughts.

  “Nothing like an after-battle snack,” Tyson hissed to Donovan, licking his lips with pleasure. He cast a spurt of dragonfire in Alex’s direction, so that Donovan couldn’t miss his reference. Alex danced back, lifted her gun, and pinched off a shot.

  She missed. The bullet bounced off the stainless steel door, then ricocheted to the opposite end of the conservatory. Alex ducked and thought she heard it whizz past her head. The Slayer shouted as it caught him in the leg on the rebound.

  Then he raged fire and fury, fire hot enough to make the grout spark between the floor tiles. Alex backed into a corner, holding her gun before herself in terror.

  Donovan swore with more force than she thought the situation deserved. “Do not do that again,” he ordered, his eyes blazing.

  Alex lifted her chin, irritated with him for assuming she hadn’t observed the results of her action. She wasn’t a helpless fainting female.

  Even if she had fainted after Tyson attacked the Buick.

  Tyson laughed. “Good thing I like my treats well done.”

  “This treat is all mine,” Donovan snarled, and the dragons locked claws again.

  Being trapped in the conservatory with a pair of dragons who were fighting to the death no longer seemed like a great choice. The Slayer’s dark blood dripped onto the floor and hissed on impact. It left black holes in the tiles. Meanwhile, the dragons battled ferociously overhead, slamming each other into the walls and breathing fire. It was awesome to see their power.

  But they had a vulnerability. Alex remembered Rafferty’s advice and looked. All she had to do was find Tyson’s missing scale.

  Then shoot him right in that spot.

  In the dark.

  While Tyson and Donovan twined around each other and fought.

  Alex swallowed. Shooting at paper silhouettes in target practice no longer seemed very relevant training for her use of a firearm.

  Donovan didn’t know whether to be more angry with Tyson or with his mate. Alex should have remained secure in the house, but instead she’d followed him right into the heart of danger.

  He could have admired her courage if he hadn’t been so afraid she would die for it.

  They might both die for it. Her presence distracted him almost as much as her vulnerability. His instinct to protect his mate was so primal that its power was frightening. He didn’t feel entirely in control of his dragon self with the stakes so high.

  He was ready to pillage and destroy.

  Fortunately, the perfect candidate to take the brunt of his hostility was present and accounted for.

  Tyson.

  The Slayer ducked away from Donovan’s enhanced claws. He dodged and feinted, as slippery as a python, and not a predator that Donovan wanted close to Alex.

  Tyson’s wounds from earlier in the day had healed remarkably well: in fact, Donovan could not see any sign of the slash he’d give the Slayer. Donovan was aware of his own wounds, the gouge on his chest from Delaney and the missing patch in his armor.

  Tyson ducked around the long cylindrical planter, playing hide-and-seek. Donovan blasted the Slayer with dragonfire, and the plants took it badly.

  An alarm began to beep insistently. “Fire detected,” declared that same mild-mannered male voice.

  The sprinkler system came on.

  “What the hell?” Tyson paused to look around. Making every surface in the conservatory glisten, the water sparkled through the air and tinkled into the lap pool.

  “The house is smarter than you,” Donovan declared. He dove across the surface of the pool while Tyson was distracted by the sprinklers. The long planter and the darkness disguised his choice. He came up abruptly at the other end where Tyson lurked, blasting the Slayer with dragonfire again. “See?”

  The dragonfire reflected off the steel security wall, burning Tyson across the back as well, and Tyson bellowed in pain at the double burn. He raged at Donovan, snatching for him with talons outstretched. Donovan led him on, then leapt over the planter at the last minute. Tyson landed heavily across it. The cylinder of steel broke away from the ceiling at one end from the impact of his weight.

  It fell slowly, one end splashing into the lap pool. The pottin
g soil spilled down the incline to make a pile of dirt.

  “More room to fight,” Tyson snarled, and deliberately broke the other end with a swing of his tail. The planter fell with a crash and a clatter.

  Alex jumped when the length of it tumbled noisily onto the floor. The first end was tipped out of the pool when the rest fell, plants and soil scattering across the entire room. The steady sprinkle of water combined with the wet dirt to make the room smell like a rain forest.

  Except for the scent of charred ferns.

  And the taste of human terror.

  The sprinkling water made Tyson hard to grasp, more snakelike. The pair ducked and evaded each other, until Donovan pivoted, surprising his opponent, and decked Tyson instead.

  The Slayer fell into a barricaded window. The glass cracked and splintered, but the steel shutter on the outside took only a dint. Another alarm began to beep when the glass broke, but the dragons fought on. There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver in the space, especially as Donovan was trying to keep Tyson away from Alex.

  The pair locked claws, biting and snatching as they tumbledthe length of the conservatory. Donovan dug his steel talons into the backs of Tyson’s claws and the Slayer howled. He slammed Donovan into the wall, stunning him with the force of his blow. Then he dunked Donovan into the pool, holding his head under the water.

  Donovan choked. He struggled. He fought, but was unable to free himself from Tyson’s lethal grip. He felt the lack of air in his lungs and tasted his own fear.

  “This one is for Everett,” Tyson murmured in old-speak. The bitter words echoed in Donovan’s thoughts even as he felt his body weaken. He became aware of Alex’s consternation.

  She would be faced with a dragon determined to incinerate her if he died. The possibility infuriated Donovan, filling him with an anger he could barely contain.

  But to change the course of events, he had to overcome Tyson somehow. He remembered Alex’s assertion that energy was never destroyed, that it was just redirected.

  Could his passion for Alex be used to give him new strength?

  Boris Vassily was irritated.

  Boris was always irritated, it seemed, on one level or another. He was tired of incompetence, of Slayers who surrendered to their blood lust and raged into situations that could have been avoided with an increment of foresight. He was fed up with the audacity of this particular human mate and insulted that she had shot him.