Firestorm Forever: A Dragonfire Novel (9 page)

“He had a connection with the darkfire. Maybe he believed the crystal should be his,” Delaney suggested.

Erik scowled. “Then he should have asked me for it. I probably would have given it to him. That he stole it and the book only reminds me that he’s the nephew of the
Slayer
, Magnus Montmorency.”

“The
Slayer
who formulated the Dragon’s Blood Elixir,” Ginger whispered.

“Exactly,” Erik said, his displeasure clear.

“Marco couldn’t have turned
Slayer
,” Donovan said, but there was no real conviction in his voice.

“We don’t really know him,” Delaney said.

“He likes it that way,” Donovan said. “A lot of us are private.”

There was silence in the loft then, excerpt for the sputtering of the coffee maker as it finished its cycle and steam rose from the filter. Eileen could hear their doubts, but there was no old-speak.

Just the tinge of uncertainty.

Eileen poured freshly brewed coffee. Could there be a traitor in the
Pyr
’s own ranks? She didn’t want to even think about it.

Instead she gave Erik a mug of coffee, then looked him in the eye. “So, are you going to call Sloane about these injuries of yours or am I?”

Erik gave her a smile, then reached for his cell phone. She was glad that even a dragon as stubborn as hers recognized a battle he couldn’t win.

* * *

Sloane drowsed, liking how Sam curled against his side. Her breathing was slow and relaxed, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. They’d loved silently and slowly the second time on the patio, only the stars overhead to witness them. He didn’t know how much time had passed and he didn’t care.

Sam was beautiful and sweet and responsive. It had been awesome, which made Sloane wonder how great lovemaking would be if and when they knew more about each other. He couldn’t help feeling there was an intuitive connection between them, although he couldn’t explain it.

She wasn’t his destined mate, after all. He frowned at that, disliking that his romantic future wasn’t his own to choose.

Not that his nature hadn’t influenced their lovemaking. The spark of that distant firestorm had fed Sloane’s passion and his determination to ensure that Sam was pleased. He’d felt as if the dragon side of him had been hovering in his thoughts, and he’d even caught himself on the cusp of change more than once. Everything seemed more potent to him, the feel of Sam’s silken skin, the sense of unity with her, the power of his release. Sloane felt different afterward, momentarily sated yet still tingling with need.

He wondered whether it was Sam, or whether it was the firestorm.

She turned to face him, her eyes open only a little bit. Her eyes were a clear blue. He liked how her lashes were dark like chocolate. Her hair fell over her shoulders in waves when she let it hang loose as she had on this night. He found it sexy that she tied it up in the daytime and one stray tendril curled against the back of her neck, capturing the sunlight, inviting his caress. He caught a fistful of it now, savoring the silken feel of it around his fingers. Her hand landed on his chest, her fingertip tracing circles over his heartbeat. Sloane didn’t want to move, didn’t want this intimacy to end.

In fact, he wanted more.

“I hardly know anything about you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Sam smiled and braced her chin on her hand, regarding him with twinkling eyes. “Isn’t that my line?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s supposed to be women who want to talk all the time, and who want to know everything about their lovers.” She rolled her eyes at the very notion, but he sensed that she was hiding a truth beneath her playful manner. “I should warn you that I’m different.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning maybe you and I know all we need to know about each other.” Her hand slid lower, undoubtedly in an effort to distract him, but Sloane wasn’t ready for another round.

And he wanted to know what she was hiding.

What had wounded her.

He caught her hand in his. “But I’m curious.”

Although her expression didn’t change, Sloane felt that Sam had raised a barrier against him—and his questions. “You know what they say about curiosity and the cat,” she said lightly, and he saw the new wariness in her eyes.

“I doubt that asking a question or two would lead to that dire a fate,” he said with a smile, well aware that she was agitated.

“Okay,” she ceded with obvious reluctance. “One question.”

“Are you really a tarot card reader?” Sloane saw her eyes widen and knew she wasn’t.

“What makes you ask?”

He shrugged, keeping his tone easy. “You just seem pretty direct for someone who casts spells and reads tarot cards.”

Sam arched a brow. “Instead of floating around in dreamy clothes and being incapable of managing real life?”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. You just have a pragmatism about you.” Sloane mused. “More like a scientist than a mystic. And that made me curious about you.”

He saw alarm flash in Sam’s eyes before she averted her face.

“Maybe the stereotypes aren’t true,” she said, her voice a bit breathless. “How many tarot card readers and mystics do you know, anyway?” She was hiding something from him, and her evasiveness only made Sloane more determined to unravel the truth.

They had, after all, shared an incredible physical intimacy. He sensed that she needed to heal, and that this refusal to confide in him—or anyone, likely—was an obstacle to her recovery.

Healing, after all, was Sloane’s business.

He chuckled at her question, watching her all the while. He didn’t want to miss a nuance of her reaction. “I’ve met plenty here in California. You’re definitely unique.”

“Maybe that’s my niche,” she said stiffly.

“Maybe. I’m skeptical, though, that tarot card readings paid for that house.”

The property adjacent to Sloane’s had been for sale for a year or so, since the previous owner’s death, because the heirs had wanted a high price for it. They had to split the profit six ways, and Sloane thought that desire had informed their choice of price more than the assets of the property itself. It was a nice house on a large lot, but in need of updates. Real estate wasn’t cheap in the area, by any means, but their price had been too high for most buyers—even Sloane. He’d been surprised to learn that the house finally and suddenly sold, no less that the sellers had gotten their asking price. That deal had changed perceived values throughout the area.

Sam was visibly discomfited, which told Sloane he was getting close. “Maybe I don’t own it.”

“But you do.” He kept his voice low and even, speaking slowly but with conviction. “It says Samantha Wilcox on the title and doesn’t list the liability of a mortgage.”

She glared him. “You
checked
on me.”

Sloane tried to reassure her. “I check
all
of my new neighbors. I’m kind of private that way.” He smiled in an attempt to ease her concerns. “Call it a weakness.”

Sam dropped her gaze and he guessed she’d lie. “I used my divorce settlement,” she said, her tone hard. “I married well and divorced better. There. Mystery solved.”

There was bitterness in her voice and Sloane knew better than to press her any more, at least for the moment. He wondered how recently the divorce had happened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.

“Don’t be. It’s better this way.” Sam sat straight now, as invincible as a warrior princess, and Sloane wished he hadn’t said anything. She was so distant than he doubted he’d get close to her again.

But then Sam surprised him. She took a deep breath and eased closer to him again. She smiled and slid her hand over his skin in a slow caress. Her fingertips felt good, her light caress making him think about how things should go from here. The tension that had arisen between them was dispelled, as easily as that, pleasure pushing complications aside.

He was ready for another round and she knew it. Sam’s gaze swept over him, and she smiled with satisfaction. “Let’s keep things simple,” she suggested in a low murmur. “This was good—very good—and I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

“Tonight?”

“Even after tonight.” She held his gaze with resolve, and Sloane recognized that they were negotiating. “But no questions. No emotions. No confidences.”

“No commitment for the future?”

She shook her head.

“Just sex?” Sloane said, not believing that was even possible.

“Just sex,” Sam said firmly. “Plain, simple, wonderful sex. It’s good for the immune system, you know.”

Sloane laughed despite himself. “I thought you’d say it was good for the soul.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Got to keep the element of surprise on my side.” Sloane wondered but she eased her hand down his stomach and over the tops of his thighs, teasing him with her fleeting caress. “
If
you’re as interested as I am.”

“Can you doubt it?”

The stars glinted overhead and the heat of the other firestorm was fading steadily. Sloane felt powerful but in control of his dragon. That would have been worth celebrating, even if he hadn’t been naked beside the pool with a beautiful and mysterious woman.

“Are you cautious because of your divorce?” he dared to ask, hoping she could admit it.

“In a way,” she acknowledged with a shrug. “I’m never going to marry again, so there’s no point pretending that possibility is in my future. What’s the point to surviving anything if we don’t learn from our mistakes?”

“The next time you marry might not be a mistake,” Sloane suggested.

“There won’t be a next time,” Sam said with resolve. “I’m alone now and staying alone.”

“You sound very sure.”

“I’m positive. And I don’t want you to have expectations I can’t fulfill.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Even though she was offering a solution that was perfect for Sloane, who had to be able to commit to his destined mate whenever his firestorm sparked, he understood intuitively that ‘just sex’ wasn’t the right answer for Sam.

He wanted to be part of the solution for her, not create another issue.

“Does it matter?” Sam leaned over him, her hair spilling on his chest, and brushed her lips over his. Her eyes were sparkling again as she surveyed him and he was pleased to see her lips start to curve in a smile. “What kind of man are you to turn down sex with no commitment?”

“One who might surprise you.”

There was a glint of hope in her eyes, one that she dismissed quickly but Sloane still noted. She wasn’t as invulnerable as she wanted him to believe. “I don’t think so.”

Sloane slid his hand down her back, his admiration for more than Sam’s slender curves. “Maybe I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Her brow quirked. “Maybe I’ll check the cards on your prospect of success.”

Sloane shook his head, pretending to be dismayed. “There you go again, making me curious.” He locked his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.

Sam’s eyes narrowed a little and she braced her hands on his chest. “Curious about what?”

“Why a mystic wouldn’t check her tarot cards
before
seducing her neighbor.”

“Maybe I was just too hot to take the time.”

“Maybe.” Sloane grinned up at her. “Maybe you like talking more than you insist you do.”

Her smile flashed, then she bent to kiss him with a passion that fed his own.

Could he heal Sam’s scar? Sloane was amazed by how much he wanted to do just that. A divorce could be a deep wound, but most people moved past it. It took time, and maybe someone to listen.

He could be that person. Even if he couldn’t commit to Sam for the duration, he could help her to move forward with her life. It was an appealing prospect. Sloane rolled onto his side as he kissed Sam, feeling his desire burn brighter. He deepened his kiss when she wrapped her arms around his neck with a contented sigh.

He wouldn’t trust Sam until he knew all of her truth, but he supposed she didn’t know all of his, either.

Maybe simple pleasure was just the beginning of what they could offer each other.

Maybe it would be the way to win her trust.

When Sloane broke that kiss, they were both breathing hard again. Her eyes were sparkling and Sloane bent to kiss her throat, then between her breasts. Both of her hands trailed over his shoulders, then suddenly she froze.

He lifted his head to find that she was staring at the tattoo on his upper arm. “A caduceus,” she whispered and he was intrigued that she recognized the symbol. “But with dragons.” She shuddered and pulled away, evading his gaze. “Why?”

“Because I thought it was cool,” he said lightly, which wasn’t entirely a lie. He watched her, noting how she tried to hide her revulsion.

“A symbol of the dead? Of the god who was the patron of
thieves
?” She shook her head. “Why would you think that was cool? And with dragons!” She drew back to look at him. “What kind of life do you live?”

Sloane was intrigued. Most people assumed the caduceus was the symbol of health care, although that was really the Rod of Asclepius, which featured only one snake. The caduceus did have a darker meaning, one he found appropriate for his inherited role among the
Pyr
.