Kiss of Fury Read online

Donovan’s heart stopped cold. He shook off his assailant’s grasp, fearful of what he would see. He spun and the sight of a silver and peridot dragon shook him to his core.

  It was Keir.

  And he wasn’t dead.

  Anger replaced surprise with lightning speed. Donovan had never seen his father in dragon form, but he recognized the selfish glint in his eyes. Keir had the same easy grace in human form, even when he was stone drunk. “Don’t call me your son, Keir Shea.”

  Keir laughed. “Denying it will change nothing. Why don’t you acknowledge what we have in common and join the winning team?”

  Donovan replied with an onslaught of dragonfire.

  Donovan had seen his father only once, when he had sought his Pyr parent far and wide. He would never forget the drunken wreck he had found in the tavern in Tortuga. Making what coin he had by piracy, infested with lice, indifferent to anything beyond his own pleasure, the reality of Keir Shea had been a crushing disappointment to the young Donovan.

  Keir Shea hadn’t been a Slayer then, but Donovan wasn’t surprised by his father’s change of loyalty. Rafferty always said that the true allegiance of a Pyr could be found in his heart.

  If the Slayers thought Donovan wouldn’t kill his father, they could think again.

  He owed Keir less than nothing.

  He was ready to render the balance due.

  Quinn could feel the firestorm. He didn’t know whose it was, but the heat was fierce and its power drew him closer.

  He also sensed the presence of Slayers. He drove past Erik’s hotel, then parked around the corner. “Go to Erik’s room immediately,” he said to Sara, and flung himself out of the truck. “Let the valet park the truck.”

  “What’s happening?” Sara moved into the driver’s seat.

  “A firestorm.”

  “The one we came for.”

  “But there are Slayers.” He met her gaze for a moment, knowing she understood the risk. She herself had been captured by Slayers trying to stop Quinn’s firestorm. “Erik will protect you.”

  She nodded and he felt her pulse skip in fear. He kissed her quickly, knowing he couldn’t leave her undefended.

  “Wait,” he murmured, his gaze slipping over the windows. Quinn sensed that the leader of the Pyr was close at hand.

  “Help Sara,” he urged in old-speak, hoping Erik would hear him. “I’m going to the firestorm.”

  “It’s Donovan’s.” Erik replied immediately.

  He saw the silhouette of Erik on the roof a heartbeat later; then an onyx and pewter dragon descended to the side street. Quinn felt Sara’s relief when she saw Erik. The leader of the Pyr shifted shape on the sidewalk, then strode toward the truck. He got into the passenger seat, sparing Sara a smile.

  “Go,” he said to Quinn, his eyes flashing.

  Quinn didn’t need to be told twice.

  Keir took the dragonfire on one side but didn’t flinch. Donovan smelled his father’s scales burning, but his father didn’t seem to be aware of his injury.

  Donovan couldn’t understand it. Only the Smith could endure dragonfire and emerge stronger. Keir wasn’t strengthened, though—he was injured but oblivious to it.

  How could that be?

  Keir roared and, claws extended, dove at Donovan. They locked talons and rolled, thrashing and biting. Donovan pulled one claw free and slashed at Keir, ripping open his shoulder.

  Again, Keir didn’t notice the wound.

  And he didn’t bleed. There was neither red Pyr blood nor black Slayer blood emanating from the wound.

  Donovan felt a trickle of fear.

  What had his father become?

  Keir smiled with a vestige of what had been a rakish charm and spoke in a brogue as thick as Donovan remembered. “Deny it as you will, but you are my son—blood of my blood, shard of my talon.”

  “You might have planted your seed in my mother’s belly, but you were no father to me.” Donovan struck his father with his tail, following that with a slash of his front claws. The metal talons struck so deep that Keir’s left arm was dismembered.

  It fell to the ground, but his smile never wavered. There still wasn’t any blood. “You cannot deny what you are, Donovan—devil’s spawn. Better to embrace it.”

  “Is that what you told my mother? That you’d come from hell to seduce her?”

  Keir smiled. “The slut was willing enough, once the firestorm started. I saw no reason to abandon my own pleasure.”

  “Although you were quick to abandon her. Did you even stay until morning?”

  “Why bother? There was no spark after the firestorm was sated.” Keir glanced down, just noticing the loss of his arm, and chuckled as if it were irrelevant. His eyes shone with new malice when he looked at Donovan again. “You’re not one to linger, either, are you? I suppose the spark never falls far from the blaze.”

  “We have nothing in common!”

  Keir laughed. “Don’t we? How long will it take for you to recognize that you’re really a Slayer? The truth lies within, and your heart sings the same chorus as mine.”

  “Liar!” Donovan dove at his father, determined to silence his lies forever.

  Alex was hyperventilating, but she was getting better at driving the bike. She felt guilty about leaving her good dragon behind, but everything had a limit.

  Three dragons had made appearances this evening in rapid succession, each more splendid than the last. She didn’t doubt that the others could also change into men, like her dragon did, which meant the world was a whole lot weirder than she’d previously believed.

  How many dragons were there?

  How many of them were hunting her?

  Alex passed under an overpass and the amber dragon am-bushed her. He streaked out of the shadows, appearing suddenly on her right, and Alex nearly tipped the bike in her terror. He tried to snatch at her, his extended talon passing over her head.

  She accelerated, knowing the bike was nearly out of control. A curve in the road loomed ahead and she feared that one way or the other, she’d be dead very shortly.

  She’d rather miss the curve than share Mark’s fate. The dragon inhaled and Alex knew he would breathe fire next. She gritted her teeth, sure that she was taking her last breath, and felt a presence behind her. The world lit with flickering orange flames, but Alex felt nothing.

  Maybe she was dead already.

  Maybe this was a nightmare.

  “Just keep driving,” a man said, his low tone reassuring. “I’ll be right back.”

  Alex glanced up to see a sapphire and steel dragon engage with the amber one. A fourth dragon. They locked claws and fought, the amber one exhaling fire on the sapphire one. This new arrival laughed, seeming to get bigger under the fire’s touch.

  The amber dragon fell back in shock, his chest wounds still dripping dark blood. The sapphire dragon went after him, thrashing and snapping and spewing fire of his own. The amber dragon yowled and retreated, finally flying high to leave the fray.

  Alex kept going, even though she was shaking. Had she found another good dragon? The sapphire and steel dragon flew beside her, his manner vigilant.

  “He’ll leave it now,” the sapphire dragon said, his words surprisingly clear to Alex. “Stop the bike before you crash it.”

  Alex was trembling right to her marrow and had that light-headed feeling that hinted that she was going to pass out again.

  Four dragons.

  Sedatives in her drip.

  Two weeks of bed rest followed by one crazy night. She didn’t think her body could take any more.

  And she didn’t blame it. Perhaps her chances of survival were better if she stopped the bike. This dragon had saved her from the murderous amber one, after all.

  She stopped but kept the bike running, only one foot on the ground. She dipped her head, wishing she could put it between her knees. She’d have to get off the bike for that, though.

  The dragon didn’t land. “Turn around,” he said with quiet force. “We
have to go back and help Donovan.”

  “There’s another dragon there.”

  “Yes. A Slayer. Donovan won’t let him touch you.”

  “Why not?”

  It was as if the sapphire dragon smiled. “The firestorm,” he said with such conviction that Alex believed him. “It’s his duty to protect you because of the firestorm.” That made about as much sense as anything else she’d heard that night.

  But the lapis lazuli dragon had protected her already.

  Alex turned the bike around and followed the other good dragon back toward her dragon.

  Donovan.

  Alex saw immediately that her dragon must have taken a hit, because there was blood on his chest. Donovan kept on fighting, though, as if untroubled, his claws flashing as he fought. Sparks seemed to fly from him in his fury. The fire he breathed burned hot and red against the night sky and Alex felt a bit overwhelmed.

  She put her feet on the ground, but kept the bike running. She concentrated on breathing in and out at regular intervals. She couldn’t do a damn thing about the ringing between her ears or the racing of her heart.

  Donovan rained blows on the green dragon, pummeling him until he should have been limp. He’d already lost one foreleg and the opposite wing. It didn’t seem to matter to him. The sapphire and steel dragon joined him and they fought grimly together, anticipating each other’s moves.

  Even with two fighting against him, even with his wing and leg gone, the light green dragon didn’t give up. The two good dragons exchanged a glance and Donovan began to take their opponent apart.

  If Alex hadn’t seen dragons do what she’d seen them do in the lab to Mark, she would have had a harder time watching the fight. There was a rumble, like distant thunder, and the flashing signs at the mall seemed like a beacon from another world.

  There was no blood, which just made the scene more surreal. Alex stared, her numb mind unable to make sense of what she witnessed. Donovan was dismembering the light green dragon one limb at a time. Alex could sense the good dragons’ distaste for the battle, as if they did an unpleasant job that needed doing.

  When the green dragon’s legs and wings were gone, they tossed him out of the sky. His remains fell heavily, then kept twitching. The two good dragons gathered the other limbs and tossed them on the mangled body; then the sapphire one breathed fire. Alex smelled the burning flesh and forced herself to watch the destruction of a bad dragon.

  He became a bonfire in a parking lot.

  Through the glimmer of the flames, Alex saw that he shifted shape. She had a glimpse of a man with salt-and-pepper hair. He was handsome in a roguish way, and he looked as if he had thoroughly sampled all of life’s pleasures.

  Then his body was devoured by the flames, the fire crackling as it leapt high.

  That was enough. Alex got off the bike, her knees shaking, and sat down on the curb. She put her head in her hands and then between her knees. She told herself that none of this was real and didn’t believe it for a minute.

  It would have been nice to pass out again, but Alex knew she didn’t have that luxury. There were too many dragons around.

  Alex glanced up as the two good dragons landed in unison on the pavement. They shifted shape so quickly that Alex couldn’t discern the change. One minute, they were massive dragons descending toward the earth; the next, they were two men.

  Handsome, built men. They shook hands, like old friends who had worked together. There was nothing left but cinders where the other dragon had fallen. Alex’s mind wobbled a bit in its conviction of how the world worked.

  What she needed was some sleep.

  The sapphire and steel dragon had become a dark-haired and broad-shouldered man who moved with deliberation. He was more muscled than her dragon and his manner was more thoughtful.

  “No water,” he said inexplicably, then spared a glance to the clear sky overhead.

  Donovan grimaced, then stopped beside the pile of ash. He spat on it, then turned away. “That’ll take care of that,” he said as he turned toward Alex, his gaze simmering. She saw then that he bore a passing resemblance to the fallen man and wondered at it.

  “Subtle,” the new arrival commented with disapproval, and Alex’s dragon man shrugged.

  “But effective.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t care. What’s past is passed,” he said grimly.

  “You knew him?”

  “You could say that.” Donovan spoke without emotion, his words sending a shock through Alex. He surveyed her, as if uncertain what she would do. On some level, Alex thought that was funny—she was the predictable one in this company.

  “Are you going to pass out again?” he asked, and there was a teasing undertone to his voice.

  “I don’t faint,” Alex said.

  He smiled and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Okay, maybe I’m still deciding.”

  Both men smiled then. “Quinn Tyrrell, Alex Madison,” Donovan said. “Quinn is the Smith,” he added, and Alex nodded as if that made sense to her.

  It didn’t, but then neither did much else.

  “Let me see,” Quinn urged, his expression expectant.

  “This isn’t a freak show,” Donovan protested.

  Quinn shook his head. “That’s the last thing it is. I can feel your firestorm. Let me see it.”

  Donovan arched a brow, managing to look both seductive and skeptical at the same time. He tugged off a pair of gloves and held them in his left hand, while he stretched his right toward Alex, his palm up.

  Alex recoiled.

  He frowned. “Just touch my fingertips. It won’t hurt.” Alex was unconvinced.

  Donovan smiled. “Quinn wants to reminisce about his own firestorm. It’s a small favor for his showing up to help us.”

  Us.

  “No fast moves,” she said, and Quinn tried to hide his laughter.

  Donovan held her gaze, his own so hot that she couldn’t look away. “I told you: that’s not my strategy.”

  Alex hesitated. What could go wrong on a public thoroughfare?

  In the middle of the night, with no one else around, after dragons had attacked three times without warning and her two companions were also dragons.

  A lot could go wrong.

  But being afraid never solved anything.

  Alex stood up and walked unsteadily toward Donovan. She wanted to see the spark again herself, to verify that she hadn’t dreamed it. He simply stood and watched, letting her set the pace.

  She liked that.

  He was handsome, maybe the best-looking guy she’d ever seen. A simmer began deep within her. It seemed to get hotter as she got closer, as she could see the bright green of his eyes, the faint shadow of a day’s whiskers on his chin, the slight upward curl of the corners of his firm lips. He had a good smile.

  Desire simmered inside her.

  But then, she had always had a thing for strong men who knew how to fight, confident men who knew they were sexy, and hunks who knew what to do about both.

  The heat grew with every step. Alex felt warm, right to her toes, warmer than seemed reasonable on a fall night. She was aware of his scent on the jacket she wore.

  She barely knew him.

  And what she knew about him should have sent her running.

  A trickle of sweat eased down Alex’s back and she licked her lips. It was hot, maybe because a dragon had been incinerated so close by. The pavement felt cold, though. The heat seemed to be within Alex and it was more than a thermal response.

  It was a sexual one. She looked at the strength of his neck and shoulders, his long fingers outstretched to her, the russet arch of his lashes. She eased closer, reached out, and touched his hand quickly. His skin was warm.

  The spark that danced between them was unmistakable.

  “The firestorm,” Quinn whispered with satisfaction.

  Alex swallowed; then her breath caught in her throat. That mischievous glint lit Donovan’s gaze and
he smiled. He shoved a hand through his hair and nodded once at Quinn. Alex knew he was as affected as she was.

  His smile made her go all shivery.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, indicating the bike with a jerk of his chin. “Going my way?”

  With those five words, Alex recovered her senses and wanted to bolt.

  Chapter 4

  Alex was afraid.

  Donovan couldn’t blame her. His mate had been exposed to two dragon fights in rapid succession. He respected that she had returned, even at Quinn’s urging.

  She had guts. He liked that.

  He also liked the soft curves he could see through his own T-shirt. He liked her crisp scent, which teased and tempted him, making him think of better ways to get to know each other. He liked how she looked both disheveled and purposeful.

  He liked that she surprised him.

  He could hear the soft whisper of her breathing. The heat rose between them, gaining momentum as they stared at each other. Donovan heard her pulse, felt his own heart match its pace to hers. She licked her lips, running her tongue across her bottom lip nervously, and he watched it avidly.

  He could think of lots of activities that involved tongues.

  She caught her breath, her eyes widening slightly as she glanced away. Her lashes were dark and thick, the line of her jaw enticing. He liked how primal his body’s response to her presence was, and couldn’t help thinking that the sex would be great.

  But then, she’d conceive a child.

  Donovan was not going to make that kind of commitment.

  There were shadows under her eyes and fear lurked in their chocolate depths. He was shocked by how sexy she looked in his clothes. She wasn’t wearing much underneath, though. A pang of desire shot through him at that realization and he forced himself to look away from some very intriguing shadows. He reminded himself that he wasn’t having any part of his firestorm.

  Even if his body greeted the idea with enthusiasm.

  Quinn spoke quietly to Alex. “You’ll need to come back to the hotel with us.”

  “Excuse me?” Alex took a step back.

  “You’ve been attacked by Slayers twice tonight,” Donovan said, leaving the issue of the firestorm for the moment.

  “Slayers?” Alex folded her arms across her chest.