Kiss of Danger Read online

  The Slayer faltered and clearly weakened. Alexander breathed with greater force, thickening the line of dragonsmoke. He thought about choking the life out of this evil creature, imagined what he must have done to Cassandra, and fueled his breathing with his determination to ensure that Katina never suffered the same fate. The Slayer stumbled and began to sway, as if dizzy. The blood flowed from the wounds in his chest with greater force, and Alexander dared to hope he might win.

  Then Jorge laughed. He displayed a dark dragon scale to Alexander, turning it so that it caught the light. It was the same color as Alexander’s scales. He remembered his sense of something falling when he was making love to Katina, and fought the urge to raise one claw to his chest.

  She’d asked him about the gap in his armor.

  He’d lost the scale when he’d returned home and realized that he loved her even more than he’d believed.

  And now he was vulnerable as a result.

  “Look what I found tonight when I went to collect the boy I’d bought,” Jorge crowed. “Did you lose something?” The Slayer grinned, obviously knowing the source of the scale. He deliberately snapped the scale in half, the break making a loud crack.

  Alexander fell to his knees at the violent stab of pain that shot through his body. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think of anything beyond the excruciating pain. His line of dragonsmoke broke, because he couldn’t control it any longer.

  Jorge laughed. He stepped out of the noose of dragonsmoke, then strode to Alexander. He smiled, then broke the scale again and again, each snap escalating the pain that Alexander felt. Alexander writhed on the ground, feeling consciousness slip away.

  “That will teach you to challenge me,” Jorge said, casting the pieces of scale over Alexander’s body with disdain.

  Alexander closed his eyes, assessing the damage to his body but knowing the injury would kill him. He tried to close the wounds on his chest, but the blood flowed warm and thick over his hands. He knew he was losing too much blood, just as he knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

  So, he had returned to his own time just to see Katina, realize they couldn’t be together, lose his son and die.

  It was far far less than what he’d hoped to achieve

  “Papa!” a young boy shouted in the distance. “No!”

  Alexander was consumed by pain, but that cry gave him new strength. Lysander! No, the boy couldn’t come close to Jorge!

  “Stay back!” Alexander cried.

  “By all means, come right to me,” the Slayer said, then his voice dropped low. He breathed steadily, exhaling a stream of dragonsmoke. Alexander saw a young boy running toward him, a young boy with Pyr blood in his veins, and knew his son would be the Slayer’s next victim. Behind Lysander was Katina, running after her son.

  Jorge would destroy her next.

  Never! Alexander would give his all to see them safe. He knew Jorge’s tactic and knew he had little time to make a difference. He breathed dragonsmoke as quickly as he could, choking as he forced himself to loose a long unbroken stream.

  Jorge’s dragonsmoke swirled high, then shot through the air toward Lysander. The boy froze, his eyes wide in terror. He clearly could see it, proof of his nature.

  In that same moment, Alexander drove his dragonsmoke plume in pursuit of Jorge’s. He used every vestige of his power to urge it on. His dragonsmoke locked around Jorge’s dragonsmoke, entwining the two streams like a pair of battling snakes. He made the tip on his rise up, like a snake preparing to strike, then plunged it into the tip of Jorge’s dragonsmoke.

  Alexander felt Jorge’s shock, but had to make this work. “Take my strength instead,” he invited in old-speak, wishing he knew something about beguiling Slayers. “I have more than the boy.”

  Jorge laughed. “You’re trying to be noble.” He said this as if it were a ridiculous trait.

  “You’re just afraid I’m too strong for you,” Alexander taunted. “You’re just afraid an old dragon warrior has too much power for you to tame.”

  Jorge snarled. His eyes flashed, then he turned on Alexander, seizing control of the dragonsmoke with lightning speed. Alexander immediately felt the change and was shocked by the Slayer’s agility.

  The conduit became Jorge’s possession, the dragonsmoke drawing energy from Alexander with unexpected hunger. The dragonsmoke felt icy cold, even as it burned his mouth and his tongue. Alexander felt it draw from his mouth, his lungs, his heart, his very soul. He was being sucked dry, even as Jorge became larger and more radiant. The Slayer’s new wings arched high over his head and flapped with power. His scales gleamed. His wounds healed. His expression was jubilant.

  Alexander felt the life leave his body. He felt himself shifting uncontrollably between his human and his dragon form. He knew he would die.

  But if Lysander and Katina were safe, it would all be worth it.

  He had one more thing to do to ensure that.

  “I am recovered!” Jorge roared, when Alexander felt like an empty shell. The Slayer’s voice shook the very ground. “I am remade!”

  “You should return to the future,” Alexander murmured, wishing he had the power to force the Slayer to take his advice. “Defeat Chen while your power is high.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Has he drained a Pyr dry? You said there was no more Elixir. He must be weak, while you are powerful. Triumph could be yours.”

  Jorge grinned. “Your thinking is sound in your last moments of life.” His eyes lit and he raged fire at the sky as he laughed and laughed.

  Alexander wasn’t sure the Slayer would take his advice, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. He had to know for sure.

  “Take me to Chen!” Jorge bellowed aloud.

  Suddenly and before Alexander’s very eyes, there was a glitter of darkfire, like blue-green stars glittering in the distance.

  A heartbeat later, Jorge was gone.

  Alexander closed his eyes, prayed for Katina’s forgiveness that he was abandoning her again, then all turned to black.

  * * *

  The yellow dragon disappeared so abruptly that Katina feared her eyes were deceiving her. “Is he gone?” she asked Lysander, who took a deep breath.

  “I can’t smell him anymore. I don’t see him either.” Her son scampered closer, pausing to bend over a fallen figure. “Poor Theo. Will he get better, Mama?”

  The other boy was unconscious on the ground, but Katina was relieved to find that he was breathing. He looked to be exhausted, and there was a burn mark on his chest. “I hope so,” she said to Lysander. She picked Theo up in her arms and was shocked by how light he was, like an empty shell of a boy. It was easy to carry him toward Alexander and Pelias.

  Alexander, in contrast, didn’t move at all, and Katina wasn’t even sure he was breathing. “Do you think you can help your father?” she asked. “I don’t know if I can, but we have to try. Maybe you can tell me what to do.”

  Lysander led her toward her fallen husband but stopped abruptly to stare. “There’s another silver thread!”

  “Where?” Katina asked.

  Her son pointed. She saw then that Pelias was breathing slowly and deeply. Lysander traced a path in the air that led from Pelias to the wounds in Alexander’s chest.

  As she watched, the anguish passed out of Alexander’s expression.

  Before her eyes, his bleeding stopped and his wounds began to close.

  Katina was incredulous. What was this silver thread and how did it work?

  She went to Alexander’s side and fell to her knees beside him. The truth was indisputable—he looked much more healthy. Pelias, meanwhile, looked worse. She looked between the two warriors, astonished by her realization.

  “The silver thread came from Pelias?” she asked her son, who nodded.

  Another Pyr.

  Pelias’ eyelids fluttered and he tried to smile at the sight of Lysander. “Your father will train you now.”

  Lysander sank to his knees be
side the warrior. “But what was the silver thread, Pelias?”

  “Dragonsmoke.” The old warrior licked his lips and swallowed. “We can use it to steal life force from another.”

  “Or to give it,” Katina guessed, understanding what Pelias had done.

  He nodded. His breathing became more labored and Katina didn’t think he looked well at all. He flicked her a look that was filled with understanding, his gaze lingering on Theo. He nodded slightly as if to reassure her. “I needed to see Alexander return,” he whispered. “I knew he would, but I wanted to see it.

  “What can I do to help you?” she asked, sinking to her knees beside him and setting Theo down gently. “Water? I have no salve for burns with me...”

  “There is nothing to be done for me, Katina. You, with your healer’s eyes, know the truth as well as I do.”

  “I am no healer.”

  “But you will be. You should be.”

  Katina averted her gaze. “You know.”

  “I have seen more than most in my days on this earth,” he said quietly. “Tell him. Embrace what you are, and together, you will change the world.”

  Katina took his hand in hers and squeezed his fingers, wishing she could heal him.

  Pelias shook his head, as if he guessed her thoughts. “I will give all I have to Alexander, without regret.” Katina’s heart clenched at the sight of his burns. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m an old soldier with a past but no future.”

  “You’d rather die in battle,” Katina guessed.

  “And so I shall, but I will make every last breath count.” Pelias nodded, the gesture clearly causing him pain. He moved a finger toward Lysander in summons, then indicated something broken on the ground.

  “The scale he broke,” Lysander said, picking up one piece.

  Katina saw that it was the same color as Alexander’s scales.

  Pelias nodded. “Find every shard and keep them all safe.”

  “Until when?”

  “You will know.”

  Lysander quickly did as he was bidden. He crouched beside Pelias and assembled all the broken pieces, scanning the ground to hunt for every last bit of the scale. When he’d found them all, he looked at the older man.

  Pelias watched him with pride. “Good. It is done.”

  Katina watched as Pelias took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly and steadily. She could feel the force of his will, even though she couldn’t see the dragonsmoke. She took his hand, knowing there was more than one way to share energy.

  Pelias breathed steadily and Katina saw Alexander begin to stir in his sleep. Beside her, Lysander watched the older man with wide eyes. There was a faint shimmer of blue around Pelias’ form, a glow that brightened steadily and grew to make an uninterrupted outline of his supine figure. When the glow enclosed him totally, he exhaled with one last great breath.

  The blue light faded.

  Pelias didn’t inhale again.

  Katina fought her tears. She reached out and smoothed the strain from the older man’s features, then murmured a prayer. Lysander looked between her and Pelias, his expression stricken.

  “It was a noble gift Pelias gave,” Katina managed to say. “An honorable sacrifice.”

  Before she could say more, Alexander cleared his throat. Katina watched in amazement as he opened his eyes. He managed to brace himself on his elbows, looking disoriented. His gaze danced to Katina and lit with joy. He looked at Theo and appeared to be cautiously relieved. When he saw Lysander, his delight was clear.

  Whatever he might have said died on his lips, because his gaze fell upon Pelias. Alexander gave a cry and stumbled to kneel beside the older soldier, checking his breath and his heart.

  “It’s too late. He gave his last to you,” Katina said, tears in her eyes. “With his dragonsmoke.”

  Katina had never seen Alexander lose his composure, but he lost it in this moment. He gasped in anguish and his tears fell. He bowed over the fallen soldier and touched his forehead to Pelias’ chest, weeping silently. Katina held Lysander’s hand tightly. She knew that Alexander was overwhelmed, for otherwise he would have remained stoic.

  Or maybe the fact that she knew his secret meant he could share all of his emotions with her. If he didn’t feel he had to hide behind impassivity to protect his secret, then they could be as one all the time. Their marriage could be potent and passionate.

  “He should never have done it,” Alexander murmured. “He could have been healed. He could have lived.”

  “No,” Katina corrected gently. “His wounds were too great. He would never have healed.” She reached out and touched her husband’s hand. “He chose, Alexander, and he didn’t regret it.”

  Alexander’s mouth worked in silence as he fought for composure. He bent and kissed the older man’s cheeks, one after the other, his last tears falling as he did so. Then he pushed to his feet and walked a short distance, his hands running over the closed wounds on his chest as if he couldn’t believe his own state either.

  He turned to look at his fallen mentor again. “I would have talked to him again,” he said softly. “I would have told him what I have seen.”

  “He said he was content to have seen you returned,” Lysander said. “He said he knew you would return. How did he know that?”

  Alexander looked at his son. “I don’t know.”

  “Because your father gave his word,” Katina said, rising to her feet. “And a man of honor always keeps his word. I’m sorry, Alexander, that I doubted your return.”

  He looked at her then, his anguish and his love mingled in his gaze, and once again, Katina had the sense that she could see straight to his heart. She might have stood there forever, simply basking in the warmth of his regard, but she knew they couldn’t linger.

  “I meant to die for both of you,” Alexander admitted. “I meant to give my life to see you safe from Jorge. It would have been an honorable deed.”

  “You nearly did, but Pelias gave his for you instead.”

  “Is the yellow dragon gone, Papa?”

  Alexander frowned. “Did you see blue-green light when he disappeared?

  Lysander nodded.

  “Then the darkfire has cast him back.” Alexander inhaled deeply, narrowing his eyes as if he assessed the scent with care. “I believe he may be gone.”

  Katina remembered his sense that the Slayer could hide and reveal his scent, and knew he wasn’t positive. He was being protective, shielding her from his doubts. “Lysander said the yellow dragon had a plan to capture all the sons of the soldiers in your company.”

  “Yes,” Alexander said, recovering himself. He looked hard at their son. “You heard that?”

  Lysander nodded proudly. Katina noticed that the pieces of scale had disappeared from the ground and knew that her son had put them safely away. They must be in the small pouch he kept tied to his belt for carrying treasures. “Mama heard only thunder.”

  “That’s old-speak that you heard,” Alexander explained. “It’s too deep for any other than our own kind to hear, and we can hear it at a great distance. There are those who can whisper old-speak into the thoughts of others, so that it mingles with their thoughts.”

  “So I am Pyr?”

  Alexander smiled. “You are the son of a Pyr, Lysander. There never was any doubt.”

  “Pelias said he was going to watch me.”

  “As he watched me. But now that you have heard old-speak and seen dragonsmoke, our path is clear.” He nodded at Katina. “We go to Delphi, for your training will be there.”

  And to ask the counsel of the Pythia. Katina hoped with all her heart that Alexander would be allowed to stay.

  “What training?” Lysander asked. “I thought I was going to the agoge.”

  Alexander smiled. “I’ll explain it all to you on the way.”

  “Will we fly?” Lysander demanded with enthusiasm, but Katina saw the weariness in Alexander’s expression.

  “Your father has just fought
a battle and nearly died in defending you,” she chided gently. “We can walk while he recovers his strength.”

  Lysander nodded agreement to this, his excitement at being in his father’s presence clear.

  “Don’t ask too many questions just yet,” Katina said. “Let your father catch his breath.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “You should take Pelias’ armor and his cloak,” she told Alexander. “Your clothing is too strange, and it would be best if we drew less attention.”

  Alexander frowned as he considered the older man. “I can’t leave him here, not like this.”

  That hadn’t been Katina’s intention. “Of course not. How do you honor the dead of your kind?”

  Alexander glanced up in surprise. “Pelias was not Pyr.”

  “Then how did he breathe dragonsmoke? And why did he glimmer blue just before he died, exactly as you do before you change shape?”

  Alexander stared at his old mentor, clearly shaken by the idea. “He always insisted otherwise,” he said. “He always said he simply watched for the signs, but you’re right. He couldn’t have done that otherwise.”

  “Didn’t you ever see him as a dragon?” Lysander asked and Alexander shook his head.

  “Nor did he ever see me as one. He always encouraged discretion, but I didn’t realize how much he showed himself.” Alexander frowned, then turned to Lysander. “When the power comes to you, you must learn to manage it. They will teach you how at Delphi, but you must treat it as a secret. You must not show many people or tell them of it.”

  “Because I will know my fellow Pyr by their scent.”

  Alexander nodded and took the boy’s hand. “Come here and draw deeply of this scent. That yellow dragon was a Slayer, the most evil of our kind. Learn the smell of them, that you might be warned of their presence.”