Flashfire Page 36
Brandon didn’t even know this woman, but he was annoyed by Matt’s behavior. He was going to defend her from his friend, whether she was ultimately interested in him or not.
It was just the right thing to do.
One thing was for sure—the men were gorgeous in Hawai’i. Liz couldn’t believe how many hunks were at the beach bar, lounging around with their shirts open, looking fabulous. They were all tanned and handsome, completely built. She’d never been in a place so filled with gorgeous men.
“Surfers,” Trudy confided with a sniff. She was a contemporary of Liz’s mentor, Maureen, who had invited Liz to the islands. Maureen had blossomed here, but apparently Hawai’i hadn’t made Trudy relax at all. Her dark hair was tightly pulled back and she spoke more quickly and decisively than the others. “Completely self-indulgent,” she added, then sipped her mineral water.
Liz found herself sneaking a peek at the auburn-haired guy again, the one who had smiled at her a couple of times already. Unlike the others, he didn’t seem predatory. She found his confidence appealing, as if he was comfortable in his own skin—exactly the way she was not. There was a tattoo on his chest, although she couldn’t fully see what it was, and she glimpsed part of another on his arm. He was drinking beer, chatting with his friends. She heard him laugh and liked the rich sound. His eyes twinkled when he caught her looking and he toasted her with his beer before he took a swig.
Liz developed a fascination with the menu.
“The shrimp are good,” Maureen said, bossy and kind, just as Liz remembered. “They’re farmed locally.”
Before Liz could answer, the waitress put a large drink in front of her. “With the gentleman’s compliments,” she said, gesturing to a dark-haired guy at the bar. He also was incredibly handsome, but his smile had a roguish tinge that reminded her a little too much of her ex, Rob.
Liz pushed the stem of the glass. “Thanks, but no. Please give the gentleman my thanks.”
“You sure, honey?”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s the jumbo mai tai, house specialty.”
“I’d just like a glass of white wine, please.”
The waitress shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She picked up the drink and the guy at the bar scowled. Liz peeked and saw that the auburn-haired guy was debating something with his blond friend, as if he hadn’t even noticed. He turned and gestured to the sky beyond the beach and she admired the breadth of his shoulders, the unruly tangle of his hair. It was long, long enough to tempt her to touch it. And that tan . . .
She was losing her mind. Liz took a gulp of her wine as soon as it arrived.
She finished the glass before the food arrived and Maureen ordered her another before she could argue.
It tasted even better than the first one.
The party loosened up as it got later. They didn’t drink much, Brandon noticed, but what they did drink loosened their inhibitions. They laughed more and were obviously having fun. The brunette kept glancing his way, but he wasn’t in that much of a hurry to make a conquest.
She seemed different from the women he usually met. She looked like she had a job, like she had it together in a way that the girls who hung out at the beach seldom did. She looked as if she were serious about life, something that he didn’t see often. She wasn’t interested in Matt—she’d made that clear—which also set her apart.
He wondered what she was looking for in a guy.
He wondered whether he had any chance of delivering it.
When her group spilled out onto the beach in the wee hours, he trailed behind them.
“I tell you, we’ll be able to see the eclipse,” insisted one guy, tapping his watch. “Any minute now.”
“It’s supposed to be quick this time, just an hour from start to finish,” added another guy.
Brandon remembered that there was supposed to be a total lunar eclipse, and there was no better place to see one than on a beach. The night was clear, the dark sky filled with stars and the glowing orb of the full moon. He stood with his feet in the warm sand, listening to the lap of the waves, and stared at that radiant moon. The warm wind tousled his hair and he could smell the plumeria in the brunette’s lei. His heart was filled with an affection for this island where he had chosen to live.
“There we go!” cried one of the women, and Brandon saw the first increment of shadow slide over the full moon. The group stared upward, enraptured.
Brandon would have happily stared as well, but he felt something strange. His hand was warm, but tingling. He glanced down to find orange sparks dancing over the fingers of his right hand, the hand closest to the brunette’s group of friends.
At first he thought his eyes were deceiving him, but the flames grew larger, becoming orange tips that outlined his entire hand. The fire slid up his shoulder, spreading over his skin like a bonfire. At the same time, a warmth slipped through his body, turning his thoughts to pleasure.
Brandon glanced around, but no one else had noticed the fire.
And no one else had the same corona of flames around his body.
What was going on?
When the flames danced down his side, he felt himself become sexually aroused. He spread his hands, looking down at his feet as they were illuminated by the strange orange fire; then a spark leapt from his fingertip.
It cut a blazing arc through the air, colliding with the shoulder of the brunette. She jumped, then turned to look at him. Her eyes rounded in surprise and her lips parted. Their gazes locked and held, and he felt as if they were all alone, standing outside of time, as the flames cavorted between them.
And that was when Brandon knew what was happening. He was having his firestorm. He’d heard about it, but only vaguely, from his parents. He’d never really thought it would happen to him—or that if it did happen, it would be centuries from now. But as he stood and felt the burn of the firestorm, he felt everything become clear.
This woman had seemed special and different to him because she was special and different. She was his destined mate, the one human woman who could bear his son. He had a duty to fulfill the firestorm, which meant he had to seduce her.
Without spooking her by revealing the truth about his other nature.
The firestorm gave Brandon purpose.
He smiled and stepped toward her, offering his hand. She stared at those flames, glanced at her friends—who were so busy staring at the moon that they hadn’t noticed anything odd—then took a cautious step toward him. Brandon felt like they had a secret, a magical connection, and then realized they did.
The firestorm.
She frowned slightly as she surveyed the dancing fire; then her hand was in his. The flames spread over her skin, dancing over her, making her eyes brighten in awareness. She would have asked a question, but Brandon didn’t want to risk the loss of the magic.
He tugged her so that she was against his chest. Her hands fell on his shoulders and she looked up at him, his desire mirrored in her blue eyes. That was all the encouragement he needed to bend his head and claim her lips with a kiss.
And the firestorm surged through his veins, filling him with commitment and desire, persuading him that it knew best.
About the Author
Deborah Cooke has always been fascinated by dragons, although she has never understood why they have to be the bad guys. She has an honors degree in history with a focus on medieval studies, and is an avid reader of medieval vernacular literature, fairy tales, and fantasy novels. Since 1992, Deborah has written more than thirty romance novels under the names Claire Cross and Claire Delacroix.
Deborah makes her home in Canada with her husband. When she isn’t writing, she can be found knitting, sewing, or hunting for vintage patterns. To learn more about the Dragonfire series and Deborah, please visit her Web site at www.deborahcooke.com
and her blog, Alive & Knitting, at www.delacroix.net/blog.
Also by Deborah Cooke
The Dragonfire Novels
Kiss of Fire
Kiss of Fury
Kiss of Fate
Winter Kiss
Whisper Kiss
Darkfire Kiss
The Dragon Diaries Novels
Flying Blind
Winging It