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  Rafferty had brought them back to her sanctuary, back to Myth. He instinctively understood that Thorolf was safe here, and that Chen’s spell lost its hold over Thorolf here.

  Chandra understood that the other Pyr was trusting her to heal Thorolf.

  She hoped with all her heart that she could.

  Then she rolled him over, hating how motionless he was. She brushed her fingertips beneath his nose and was relieved to find him still breathing. As she angled herself over him, the firestorm burned a little brighter, its silvery light encouraging her as nothing else could have done. She surveyed him, thinking of how well he had fought, admiring how much he’d given of himself to try to save her, and knew in her heart that she’d chosen the right Pyr all those centuries before.

  Now she had to give as much as was necessary to save him.

  * * *

  Liz Barrett felt her husband Brandon leave their bed. His quick movement awakened her immediately. She saw the shimmer of blue light that announced his pending shift, and knew he’d sensed a threat.

  The weird thing was that she felt one, too. A flame had flickered to life somewhere in their vicinity, but it wasn’t a natural flame.

  She was out of bed, following Brandon before she realized what it was.

  Darkfire. The blue-green spark of unpredictability that was associated with the Pyr.

  And it was in the boys’ bedroom.

  Brandon was right ahead of her, his sense leading him to the same place. He blocked the doorway, keeping her from their sons, his posture so protective that she knew he’d seen something. “Marco!” he said in sudden relief. “You gave us a shock.”

  Liz slipped past her partner, smiling to find the Sleeper of the Pyr in the rocking chair in the boys’ room. Marco had dark hair and dark eyes and tended to be quiet. He was rocking quietly as the boys slept, Christopher in his big boy bed and baby Andrew in his cradle.

  “Brothers,” he murmured, looking between the two boys.

  Liz and Brandon exchanged a glance. Of course their sons were brothers, but Marco said the word as if it had unexpected meaning.

  The darkfire crystal that Marco had given to Liz during her firestorm with Brandon was still on the dresser. The spark of darkfire snared within the quartz crystal had been so faint in the past two years that it had been easier to sense than to see. Now it flickered brightly, dancing within the stone and casting its blue-green flickering light over the room. That was the spark Liz had sensed.

  “I’ll guess you came for a reason,” Brandon said, checking on first one boy and then the other. To Liz’s surprise, both continued to sleep deeply. Maybe Marco had that effect on small children. “Is it because of the firestorm?”

  “Thorolf’s firestorm,” Marco supplied. When Brandon nodded, Liz realized he’d known that. “Which is complicating Chen’s quest for a sacrificial dragon with an affinity for the element of air.”

  Brandon had an affinity with air. That was why he’d been targeted by Chen, too.

  “Not the boys,” Liz said, stepping further into the room.

  Marco shook his head. “The affinity of Pyr sons isn’t clear until the shift comes upon them, until puberty.” He smiled serenely at her. “They are usually safe until then.”

  He put a slight emphasis on the word ‘usually’ and Liz seemed to remember that he had been targeted himself as an infant.

  “I’ll guess you didn’t come to admire them,” Brandon said, his tone light.

  Marco shook his head and pointed to the crystal.

  “You could have just taken it,” Brandon said. “You got through my dragonsmoke, after all.” Liz could see that he was unsettled by this, since Marco wasn’t the only dragon shifter who could manifest spontaneously inside a dragonsmoke barrier.

  “I believe in courtesy,” Marco said softly. “I gave the stone to the Firedaughter.” He looked at Liz, his expression inscrutable.

  “I’m happy to give it back to you,” Liz said. “Especially if it can be used to defeat Chen forever.”

  Marco smiled and she knew she’d said exactly what he wanted to hear. He didn’t move, so she crossed the stone and picked it up. The darkfire flared more brightly when she held the crystal, and she felt the strange prickle of its energy. It was electric and felt unpredictable. The truth was that the stone made her uncomfortable, but she’d believed it had been given to her for a reason. She’d used it to defend herself against Chen, so had left it in this room with the boys, in case it might protect them, too. Dragon magic was different from her own, and Marco didn’t seem inclined to explain much about darkfire.

  She’d be glad for it to be elsewhere. She turned and offered it to Marco.

  “That’s not the only reason I came,” Marco admitted, his gaze flitting to Brandon.

  “Do I need to help with the firestorm?” Brandon asked.

  “We need five Pyr, each with an affinity to air, to defeat the spell Chen cast to snare Thorolf.”

  “I’m in,” Brandon said immediately. He reached over and took Liz’s hand. She felt a bit of worry, but she knew that the Pyr would ensure that she and their sons were defended. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Wait and listen,” Marco murmured, his gaze darting to Liz. “Watch for the darkfire.” She nodded, because she could feel it. “All will soon become clear.” His smile turned sweeter as he accepted the stone and its light brightened to blinding intensity.

  It faded suddenly, making Liz blink. The rocking chair was still rocking gently, but Marco was gone.

  “I wonder what he meant about brothers,” Brandon said quietly, taking Liz’s hand.

  “Do you have one?”

  He shook his head. “Somebody does, though. Somehow it matters.”

  * * *

  Melissa could have wept with relief when Rafferty appeared in the suite again. He looked pale and was unsteady, even in his salamander form. He managed to shift shape, then collapsed on the couch in his human form.

  “What happened?” Sloane demanded, but Melissa waved him off.

  “He needs water and food, maybe a good glass of wine,” she said. She knew her Pyr well enough to recognize when he’d done too much. “Call room service, please.”

  “I’ll go get him something,” Niall said. “It’ll be faster.”

  “Maybe not,” Rox argued. “This is a pretty swish place.”

  “We’ll do both and he can eat whatever’s here first,” Niall suggested.

  Melissa was relieved when they busied themselves with arranging the food, leaving her to concentrate on Rafferty. He was in bad shape and she feared the consequences. She wished it was their firestorm again, because its heat could have revived him.

  She had to make do with her touch. Melissa caressed his cheek and kissed him gently, feeling his mouth curve beneath hers. His hand nestled in the back of her waist, pulling her closer, and his eyes opened ever so slightly. She could see the gleam of his eyes, which relieved her as little else could have done.

  “You push yourself too hard,” she whispered quietly, then kissed him again before he could argue with her.

  “The firestorm is the greatest cause,” he replied, just as she’d known he would. His fingers eased into her hair and he rolled, so that she was wedged between his muscular chest and the back of the couch. It suited her just fine. He kissed her then, showing his usual vigor, then whispered in her ear. “Because it’s a gift that continues to give,” he murmured, making her smile. “Maybe food isn’t all I need.”

  “You’re going to have to tell us what happened first.”

  He lifted his head, his gaze warm. “Thorolf’s firestorm is strong. His mate is stronger. They’ve chosen each other, and I’ve given them the opportunity to save him from Chen’s spell.”

  Melissa smiled. “You think they’ll satisfy the firestorm now?”

  “I know it,” he replied with complete confidence. “He’s lost a scale. She was prepared to sacrifice herself to Chen to ensure his survival. He went through dragonsm
oke to save her.” Rafferty nodded approval. “This is an epic passion, and it can only bode well for the Pyr.”

  “But Chen?”

  Rafferty paused and laid back, his eyes closed. She saw again that he was pretending to feel better than he did. “I believe our task is to find the sword she mentioned.”

  He kissed Melissa again, then helped her to sit up beside him. He still looked weary, but at least there was purpose in his gaze. The others, who had been pretending to be oblivious, turned to him with open curiosity. Rafferty smiled, and Melissa guessed he wouldn’t pretend that they hadn’t overheard everything he’d told her. “Did you find out anything about that sword?” he prompted.

  “It must be the one Erik has,” Sloane said. “He sent a message asking for ideas for getting it through airport security. He doesn’t want to check it and he said he’ll be too tired if he flies all this way himself.”

  “He never was one for long distance flights,” Rafferty mused, his quick sidelong glance making Melissa remember a long flight to England in Rafferty’s dragon embrace. She put her hand on his thigh and he covered her hand with his own, an indication that he was remembering the same night.

  Then Melissa realized something. “But if Erik intends to leave Chicago, what about Isabelle?”

  “Donovan and Quinn have gone to Chicago to defend Erik’s lair,” Sloane supplied. “Delaney is coming with Erik.”

  “I thought commercial flights were being canceled,” Rox said, sitting on the end of the coffee table.

  “You’re not spontaneously manifesting again,” Melissa said to Rafferty, anticipating him. “You’ve never done it so many times in a row so quickly before. You need to rest!”

  “But we must have the sword,” Rafferty argued, just as she’d known he would.

  “I agree with Melissa,” Sloane said to Melissa’s relief. “You aren’t going anywhere until you get some sleep.” He turned to the others. “We could maybe fly the sword in stages, taking turns with it.”

  “How will you get it to Thorolf?” Rox asked. “And why does he need it?”

  “I’ll have to take it to her sanctuary,” Rafferty said. “None of you can argue with that.”

  “Unless they show up here again to get it themselves,” Rox said.

  “Let’s plan that route,” Melissa said, booting up her laptop. The further she got the Pyr to bring the sword before Rafferty felt obliged to intervene, the better. She took one look at him, noting his pallor, and feared he would make too much of a sacrifice to the firestorm.

  She had to solve this another way.

  “It’s in Chicago,” she said. “Erik to Los Angeles.”

  “Delaney to Hawaii,” Sloane said, perching on the end of the couch beside her. It was far, but Delaney would do it, for the firestorm.

  “Brandon to Australia.” Melissa said, because Brandon was on Hawaii.

  “He won’t leave Liz and the boys,” Rox said, biting her lip.

  “Brandt is on the northwest coast,” Rafferty contributed, referring to Brandon’s dad in Australia. “Liz and the boys can stay with grandma.”

  “Brandon can bring it to Bangkok,” Sloane said. “Or I can head down there to pick it up, if he’s too tired. We’ll figure it out.”

  “Talk to Erik,” Rafferty said tiredly, and Melissa wondered whether it was indicative of his exhaustion that he didn’t want to contact Erik himself, or the way the two Pyr had parted.

  To her thinking, they could sort it out once Thorolf’s firestorm was resolved.

  To her relief, Sloane took the job of contacting Erik, just as Niall came in the door with chicken curry and rice. Rafferty was falling asleep, but she’d feed him herself to get some sustenance into him.

  Because she just didn’t trust him to leave the retrieval of the sword to the others.

  She knew her Pyr too well to guess that he would feel compelled to aid the firestorm.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thorolf awakened in a familiar state. He felt like crap. He had a headache, which could have been the result of over-indulgence of one kind or another. He was sore all over, as if he’d lost more than one fight he didn’t particularly remember.

  He hoped, as usual, that he didn’t have any new tattoos.

  His skin burned though, burned with the fury of that new and extensive ink. That had been one upside of being Rox’s “project”: he’d had a guardian angel with a tattoo gun, one who never over-indulged and who fiercely protected the art on his body.

  Thorolf sighed, wishing for the old days when he’d hung out with the Pyr. His one glimpse of Rox had been of her chewing him out for this tattoo, but even that had been welcome.

  The good news was that there was a woman lying on top of him, a woman whose long hair touched his face and whose breasts were crushed against his chest. Even better, the spark of the firestorm heated him right through when she touched her lips tentatively to his.

  Chandra.

  Seemed like she was coming around to the idea of fulfilling the firestorm.

  Bonus.

  He opened his eyes to see Chandra in her ebony-haired huntress form, almost nose-to-nose with him. She was gorgeous enough to steal his breath away, and smart enough that she should have worried him. She was studying him, her expression one of uncharacteristic uncertainty. She looked almost as if she’d just kissed him. He liked when her lips were swollen a little and he could get used to her watching him so closely.

  “Hey.” Thorolf ran his hands over Chandra and smiled slowly, making sure she could read his amorous thoughts. He liked how she caught her breath and blushed a little. It was fun to disconcert a goddess. “I’m hoping it’s not an accident that you’re on top of me like this.”

  “I was afraid you would die,” she admitted quickly and sounded as if she thought that was a bad thing. She averted her gaze and caught her breath as he cupped his hands around her butt and squeezed slightly.

  He wasn’t nearly dead yet.

  He liked how her eyes widened with the reminder of his vitality.

  She didn’t pull away, though, much less thump him.

  Something good was going down.

  Finally.

  “I thought you’d be relieved to be rid of me,” he countered, sliding his hands up her back, then pushing his fingers into her long hair. It was thick and soft, luxuriantly wavy and incredibly feminine. The firestorm shimmered and shone with silver light, heating him to his core and making him want. “We’re back in Myth, then?”

  Chandra nodded and eased a little closer, brushing her lips across his with aching sweetness. That light caress stole Thorolf’s breath away. The heat surged through him, making him feel a little more alive than just moments before.

  He sighed. “So, I guess you’ll want me to pick a skull.”

  “Not just yet.” To his surprise, her fingers framed his face, her touch both cool and electrifying. She looked into his eyes, then her mouth locked over his, her kiss more demanding than it had been yet.

  Thorolf decided it would be rude not to show enthusiasm for the change.

  He could count on her calling a halt to this sooner than he’d like. He might as well make the most of her moment of weakness. He pulled her closer and deepened their kiss, astonished on some level that she met him touch for touch.

  But not ready to complain about it. The firestorm’s heat slid through him like molten lava. He felt it push back some toxin in his body, and purge his mind of doubt. He knew exactly what he had to do and why. When Chandra’s tongue touched his, he nearly exploded with desire. When she slid her hands into his hair, holding him captive to her ravenous kiss, he was sure he had died and gone to heaven. When she straddled him, her thighs tight around his waist and that sweet softness of her pressed against his erection, he didn’t care how many layers of cloth were between them.

  Except that he wanted to get rid of them all.

  He rolled over, pinning Chandra beneath him and settling himself between her thighs. He halfway thought sh
e’d smite him, but she locked her legs even tighter around his waist and pulled him down for a very satisfying kiss. She smelled sweet and hot, and felt even better. He wanted to take it slow, but wasn’t sure he could.

  “No skulls,” she whispered moments later. “Not this time.”

  He opened the front of her shirt with one hand, bracing his weight over her as he bared her skin to his view. “What else is there to do in this place?” he murmured, then eased the cloth aside. Of course, she wore no bra. She was a goddess. She was muscled and lean, her breast ripe enough to fill his hand. Her nipple was tightly beaded, inviting his touch, and Thorolf wasn’t inclined to refuse. He bent and suckled her gently, smiling against her skin when she gasped and gripped his hair tightly.

  She didn’t pull away, though, and didn’t stop him.

  It was finally his lucky day.

  She ran her hands over his bare skin, her light caress making his skin feel so much better. It was better even than Rox’s aloe gel. When her fingers dove beneath the waistband of his jeans and she squeezed his butt, Thorolf raised his head to look at her.

  “Who are you and what have you done with my mate?” he asked, not having to work that hard to feign astonishment.

  Chandra laughed. “Get naked already. I might regret this, and you don’t want to give me time to change my mind.”

  Thorolf didn’t need to be invited twice.

  He had to make sure Chandra didn’t regret her decision.

  “Just for the sake of interest,” he said as he peeled off his boots and flung them aside. “Why?” His jeans were next, his Jockeys gone in record time. He turned back to Chandra to find that she’d chucked her own clothes just as quickly and was nude beside him.

  “I like dragons,” she said.

  “All dragons,” he teased and she blushed.

  She tapped a finger on his chest. “This dragon.” She rose to her knees before him and he caught his breath at her beauty. “Besides, it might be my last chance to find out.”

  “No pressure then,” he said with a grin.

  She laughed. “Intimidated?”