Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel (43 page)

“Lee!” The blond guy said with obvious delight. “How great to see you!” He shook the other man’s hand and even gave him a hug, the enthusiasm of his greeting making Lee appear a little discomfited. Then he glanced at Sam. “Can I help you?”

“I was looking for Sloane,” Sam said, feeling herself blush a little.

“Present and accounted for,” Sloane murmured. He stepped out of the small office in the shop, his gaze warm as he smiled at her. Sam’s blush deepened, even as she noticed that he looked exhausted.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said. “But then, I guess you’ve had company, too. My sister just left.”

Sloane nodded. “Nothing like a full house to wear out the host or hostess,” he agreed. “I hope you had a good time with her.” Even though they were making small talk—and both the blond guy and Lee were listening—Sam could detect the questions beneath his words. It was funny that she hadn’t wanted to talk about her life before, but now she was more than ready to do so.

She had a strange sense that all three men were waiting for her to say or do something. It made her feel more self-conscious than she might have been otherwise.

“It
was
good to catch up.” Sam glanced at that big tattoo again, and the words fell out of her mouth. “Does everyone you know have a dragon tattoo?”

Sloane smiled and shook his head. “Not you.”

“Hey, you don’t know that for sure,” the blond guy said heartily. “She could have a back piece or…”

Sloane silenced him with an intent glance.

The big guy stammered to silence, as if he was used to putting his foot square in it. Lee averted his gaze and seemed to be hiding a smile. “Or, uh, maybe you do know. Look, I’ll take Lee up to the house.”

Sloane held his ground, watching as the other two departed. The shop felt small and empty after the back door slammed, intimate in a way that Sam hadn’t anticipated. Sloane stepped closer, his gaze warm enough to set her on fire. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Sam put her hand on his arm, liking the solid strength of him. “Maybe you could come for dinner tonight.”

Sloane closed his hand over hers. “I’d like that. And I think I can leave my guests to their own devices for one meal.”

“I actually have a devious plan,” Sam admitted and Sloane lifted a brow. “My sister says my tarot card reading still needs work. You seem to have such a knack for it. Maybe you could help me study this evening.”

“Maybe I could. It would take a long time to get through all seventy-eight cards, though.”

“I think I’m ready for an intense session,” Sam whispered, her gaze locked with his.

Sloane leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper. “It might take all night.”

“God, I hope so.” Sam closed her eyes as his lips touched her cheek and she leaned against him, needing to feel his heat against her. She ran her hand over his chest, savoring his strength. “Your guests been here long enough to fix their own breakfast, I think,” she said and Sloane’s smile flashed.

“I think you might be right,” he murmured. “After all, it would be for a good cause.” They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, until Sam’s heart was racing and her mouth was dry with anticipation. Then Sloane slowly bent his head to capture her lips beneath his own. Sam wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, more than ready for all he could give.

Chapter Fifteen

February, 2015

It was pathetic, really, that the
Pyr
had to mate with such an inferior species. Jorge watched Veronica Maitland fight against the drugs in her system, apparently too stupid to know that she couldn’t succeed.

She’d become more troublesome since her stomach had started to round.

But the changing shape of her body had told Jorge all he needed to know. The firestorm had been consummated, just as Jorge had hoped, and this woman would bear Drake’s son. He had one final touch to make before releasing her, one flourish that would ensure his success.

Ronnie was conjured out of her prison only when she was drowsy. A sedative had been put in her last meal and she was already under its influence. Though she had started to eat more since she realized she was with child, she still did not eat much. The drugs were so much more effective this way. Jorge manifested in the crude operating theater he had arranged in yet another abandoned hospital facility. Jorge’s last minion strapped her to a gurney. Ronnie struggled beneath the bright lights, as if anticipating her fate. Jorge could have given her more sedative, ensuring that she was completely under, but it was more amusing to let her be aware of what he did.

He leaned over her, smiled when her eyes widened, then ripped open the neck of her sweatshirt. It wasn’t particularly clean after all these months and he grimaced at the scent of her body. She shivered convulsively when her skin was revealed to his view, but there was little else she could do.

“We have a little job to take care of, before you’re released,” he said, his tone silky as he chose a spot.

“You’re not going to release me.” Ronnie’s words were slurred.

“Actually, I am.” Jorge smiled. “You’ll be my gift to the
Pyr
.”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, then she gasped when the
Slayer
assisting Jorge allowed his right index finger to change to a golden dragon talon. He hovered between forms with impressive ease. Ronnie eyed the talon and swallowed, writhing against the strap once more.

“There,”
Jorge said in old-speak, and this version of Boris Vassily sliced open Ronnie’s skin. She blanched as her blood flowed from the wound right over her heart. Jorge thought the location of the cut a poetic touch.

He unstopped the test tube, taking his time.

Ronnie’s shock was clear and he knew she had guessed what it contained.

“Blood from a victim of the Seattle virus,” Jorge confessed. “It’s highly infectious.”

She gasped when Jorge held open her cut, then poured a measure of the infected blood into it. He liked that the cut was good and deep, and ensured the blood was mixed with her own.

“Sew her up,” he instructed this Boris, who had already changed his talon back to a finger. He smiled at Veronica. “We’ll give it a week, then test you to see if you’re infected.”

Mutiny lit her eyes. “And if I’m not, you’ll do it again,” she guessed.

Jorge turned to leave.

“What about my child?” Ronnie cried, her agitation clear.

“Mothers share blood across the placenta,” Jorge said. “I’m sure he’ll be infected as well, sooner or later.” He could, of course, have injected the infected blood into the womb itself, but he didn’t want to threaten the pregnancy. No, Veronica Maitland had to return to the
Pyr
both pregnant and contagious for his plan to succeed.

He’d have to rely upon the biology of humans to infect the boy. Such a ridiculously weak species. The world would be far better without them.

* * *

Ronnie anticipated they would come for her a week after she’d been cut. She didn’t know whether Jorge had told her the truth about the blood or whether he was just trying to undermine her confidence. It seemed unlikely to be something he’d lie about, even to play mind games.

She developed no outward signs of illness during that week and paced her cell, wondering whether she should fake some. She sure didn’t want to be tied down and cut again. If she’d been lucky enough to not contract the Seattle virus from infected blood, she couldn’t count on being that lucky again.

When her lunch was delivered, Veronica didn’t eat it. Last time, she’d become sleepy. They must have put a sedative in her meal, and she was determined to be able to fight. She hadn’t eaten breakfast either and her stomach was growling. It was hard to decide what was the best choice for her son, when all of the options were such bad ones.

Her son. Ronnie’s hand slid over the roundness of her belly. Drake had been right about her conceiving. Had he been right that it would be a boy? For the umpteenth time, Ronnie hoped that he was alive, even if he wasn’t hunting for her. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being dead, that he could have paid such a price for following her impulse.

She wanted to give Drake a son and see that shadow diminish in his eyes.

She pulled out Drake’s scale from the hiding place beneath her bed and ran her fingers over its dark surface. It seemed to have dulled a little over time, and she worried it was disintegrating. Or did the scale mirror of Drake’s wellbeing? She feared that she might not have any token from him soon. She’d readily surrender the scale, though, if it made a difference to Drake’s survival.

The air moved suddenly in her prison and Ronnie spun, knowing she wasn’t alone any longer. The two of them were in the cell with her, having appeared out of thin air. Jorge held out a test tube. The
Slayer
held her down, then did that trick of letting his nail become a talon again, using it to slice the inside of Ronnie’s wrist.

A dozen drops of her blood fell into the test tube, mingling with some substance that was already within it. Jorge swirled it, then held it up to the light.

The contents had turned black.

The malice in his smile told Ronnie what that meant. She was infected. “Bastard!” she cried. “I hope you get it first. I hope I get to see you die!”

Jorge laughed. “My kind is impervious to this virus,” he said and Ronnie fell silent at the import of his words.

“
Pyr
,” she whispered. Dragon shifters couldn’t get it.

Jorge struck her hard across the face, his eyes glittering even as Ronnie’s face snapped to one side. She feared for a second that he could have snapped her neck, for she had never imagined a man could strike anyone so hard. She saw stars and knew the other was holding her upright.

Jorge leaned into her face, his hatred making her shiver deep inside. “I am
Slayer
,” he snarled. “A higher evolution. My kind will be the survivors.”

He stepped back then and snatched at the scale she’d forgotten she was holding. His smile was cold as he tucked it into his pocket and Ronnie knew there was no point in asking for its return. She wondered whether he’d known all along that she had it. He nodded to the
Slayer
who then released her arms. Ronnie didn’t know Jorge’s plan but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t make it to the door.

“Catch,” Jorge said and tossed the test tube at her.

Ronnie guessed he wanted to know which hand she favored. She snatched with her right hand for the test tube but missed. Had she revealed that she was left-handed? The test tube fell and shattered on the floor of the cell. Jorge seized her right hand, his grip closing over hers as he crushed her fingers within his grip.

Tears rose at the pain, but Ronnie knew by the look on his face that he wouldn’t respond to any pleas for mercy. In fact, she refused to beg this
Slayer
for anything. She held his gaze, her own resolute, even as the pain built.

She heard the bones in her fingers snap, one at a time.

He smiled as he released her hand. Ronnie regarded its limp state and wondered if it could ever be healed. Thank goodness she had deceived him…

Jorge seized her other hand and did the same thing to it, but this time Ronnie cried out. “Yes,” he whispered with a chilly smile. “Even your attempts to trick me are pitiful.”

Jorge closed his hands around her neck then, his eyes only inches from her own. Ronnie swallowed, then felt him begin to squeeze. “You see, Veronica, it’s important that you be unable to communicate the fact that you are infected. You will be released. The
Pyr
will hasten to collect you.” He squeezed and Ronnie couldn’t take a breath. She struggled, but she couldn’t make any change in her circumstance.

Jorge tightened his grip, talking all the while in his calm tone. “They will take you to a refuge, where you will be safeguarded, probably with the other mates and children of the
Pyr
.” He smiled and Ronnie’s view of the room shrank to his face. “Of course they will. While
Slayers
are impervious to this disease, humans are not. You will be the vehicle to kill all the mates of the
Pyr
, Veronica. You might even kill the
Pyr
. We’ll find out about their resistance. Isn’t that a tidy way to end the Dragon’s Tail War?”

She made an incoherent sound of protest, but he simply tightened his grip even more.

“I’m not certain whether their children will also sicken and die, but the loss of their mates will destroy their spirits.”

Ronnie felt faint, her view of the room darkening as she struggled for air.

“You won’t be able to tell them anything,” Jorge murmured, even as he crushed her throat.

Ronnie made a gurgle of pain and the room went black around her.

“Such a feeble species,” she heard her tormentor say, then click his tongue in disgust.

* * *

Ronnie awakened in a park.

She sat up too abruptly and her surroundings spun around her, but she blinked and forced herself to her feet. It hadn’t been a bad dream. Her hands were shattered, covered in blood and useless, her throat burned with pain and her belly was still round. She was starving and filthy…