Soul of the Dragon (23 page)

Tars was vulnerable.
 

He had traveled secretly around the city and surrounding countryside in search of his personal Kryptonite. He could not detect a single unit of water energy. Thermal energy abounded, and he blew up three trees and boiled a duck pond dry in his frustration. But no water energy. He knew an entire county could not be free of the substance; therefore, he was vulnerable.
 

It was not a state he enjoyed.
 

If he couldn’t sense it, he couldn’t guard against it. He couldn’t create a shield or counterspell. He’d wasted weeks trying, while Alexa was no doubt developing her skills.
 

He’d rethought his assumption that she’d nurtured the talent all along. The look on her face when her attack had succeeded was as surprised as his own. With the benefit of cool contemplation, he realized she had not knowingly blocked his fireball on the roof. She was a child when it came to magic. He, of course, was a master mage.
 

A mage who was starting over. He growled.
 

“What’s wrong?”
 

Tars glanced up at Mark, who was working at a desk on the other side of the office. “Nothing that concerns you.”
 

Mark nodded and went back to his spreadsheets, but Tars saw the whiteness of his fingers on the pencil, the subtle tightening of the man’s jaw. He had to pull it together. Mark was likely to quit if Tars didn’t ease off, and he could not afford for that to happen. Besides his value as a trained, experienced assistant, he knew too much. Dragonsoul Enterprises would be exceedingly vulnerable should Mark defect to a competitor.
 

It doesn’t matter
. The realization calmed him in a way all his attempts at relaxation and meditation had not.
 

“Have we had a buyout offer recently?” he asked Mark.
 

The man looked up in surprise. “Yes, actually. Two.”
 

Tars stood and began pacing. “I think I want to sell. I’ve grown weary of business and wish to move on to other things.”
 

Mark sat back in his chair and studied him. “Why? I mean, you could have sold two years ago when the market was up and made a fortune. The stock value is down, except for our security divisions, and you’ll take a beating if you sell out.”
 

“Fortunes do not drive me, Mark.” He moved to the window and searched the reddened skyline. From here, he could see planes taking off and landing at the airport where Alexa and Cyrgyn hid. He’d known of their presence for some time but had not devised a plan for penetrating their “sanctuary.”
 

A chime sounded, followed by the silent opening of his office door. The executive secretary entered and crossed to him.
 

“Mr. Suinn, sir. Your messages.” She’d been ordered to deliver them every hour and a half. He hadn’t been in the mood to take calls.
 

“Thank you, Margaret. You may set them on the desk.”
 

But Margaret didn’t change course. She stopped next to him and murmured, “Seven messages are from a woman named Victoria Chambers, Mr. Suinn. She was quite insistent.”
 

“Very well.” He took the slips and waited until she left.
 

“Is she what drives you?” Mark asked.
 

Tars sorted through the messages. “She probably should be.” In his saner moments he acknowledged the value of family in this life. Those moments were too fleeting.
 

“Is it Alexa Ranger, then?”
 

“Alexa,” he whispered, gazing in her direction once more. His chest burned with longing, his body craved hers. He knew he was much too far gone to turn back.
 

He whirled and strode to Mark’s desk, dropping the messages on his spreadsheets. “Sell the company and set up a trust for Victoria Chambers and her fiancé, Peter Ranger. Hold some in reserve for their children. Take ten percent as a commission. I’m going to Scotland.”
 

“Wait!” Mark leaped to his feet. “I have questions—”
 

Tars paused with his hand on the door. “I don’t care how it is done. Break it up, sell it whole—do whatever you feel is best. I trust you.”
 

“But I’ll need you for paperwork.”
 

“I can be reached in Scotland. You have my digital number.” He left, not intending to ever go back.
 

His sham life was over. He would focus the rest of his energy on obtaining Alexa as his wife. Somehow.
 

* * *
 

Alexa didn’t see Ryc for weeks after the kiss. She worked with Cyrgyn, practicing what she considered her “mundane” magic and trying to develop her command of water energy into something powerful enough to counter Tarsuinn.
 

“Remember, he has had hundreds of years to grow his strength,” Cyrgyn told her one day on the shore of a lake. Alexa didn’t need a body of water to sense the energy, but it did tend to collect where water did. Using the energy dissipated it, and it took time to coalesce, so she liked going where an abundance allowed her to practice for long periods of time.
 

She lifted her hand, focused on a small coil ten yards away, and drew it to her. It swirled around her hand, invisible to Cyrgyn but a changing sphere of blue and white she could clearly “see.” She watched it swirl faster and harder, then cast it at a small fire burning in a camping pit. There was a hissing burst as the fire sparked and sizzled, then went out all at once.
 

Alexa grunted and sat on a log next to the dragon. “He may have memory and practice on his side, but this is new to him, too.” She glowered at the steaming fire pit, which contained little evidence of the waterball she’d thrown. “Unfortunately, I can’t develop a good attack without a target.”
 

“And we can be certain he is developing his defenses, as well.”
 

She rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward until her ponytail fell over the top of her head and brushed the ground. “I’m so tired of this, Cyrgyn. It’s getting us nowhere.” She tossed her head back. “Let’s go.”
 

“Where?”
 

She leaped onto his back and gripped the spine at the base of his neck. “Anywhere. Away. Hawaii.”
 

“Very well.”
 

He launched, and Alexa felt her tension fade immediately. There was something about the freedom of the open sky, the lack of confinement to an extent she’d never felt, even with skydiving. Even though she was at the dragon’s mercy, out of control, she felt less than helpless.
 

They couldn’t fly to Hawaii, of course, but Cyrgyn managed to find a secluded beach on the coast of one of the Great Lakes—she hadn’t been paying enough attention to know which one. They’d begun flying at twilight, and landed on the beach in full dark, but with a brilliant moon. Alexa walked along the curve of the sand, digging her toes in and relishing the water that teased her feet.
 

She turned back and watched Cyrgyn lumbering behind her.
 

“Can you swim?”
 

He tilted his head one way, then looked at the vast lake. Tilted his head the other, and looked at her again. “I have no idea.”
 

Alexa laughed, something she’d done infrequently these last few weeks. “Let’s try it.” She grabbed the hem of her shirt and began to pull it off. Cyrgyn’s gasp of horror made her pause.
 

“Don’t be a prude,” she admonished him. His golden eyes glowed with censure and she remembered his plea when she’d begun undressing in the hangar that day. She relented. “Close your eyes, then. I’ll tell you when I’m in the water.”
 

His rumble of frustration sounded very much like that of an aroused male denied his prize, but he closed his eyes. Alexa eagerly shucked her clothes and tossed them high onto the sand to keep them dry. As soon as she waded deep enough into the water, she ducked to her shoulders and turned back.
 

“Okay, I’m in.”
 

Cyrgyn opened one eye, then the other. She watched while he dipped a toe into the water. The sheer absurdity of the scene made her laugh again.
 

“Come on!” she called.
 

“It’s cold,” he replied, putting his entire paw in, then withdrawing and shaking it.
 

Alexa moved back so she had enough depth to swim. “Well, it is a Great Lake. We’re pretty far north. But the daily temperature’s been high enough that this is fairly warm.”
 

“Relatively speaking, I suppose?” Cyrgyn shuddered, looking like a horse trying to shake off a fly. He took a deep breath, reared back, and plunged in.
 

His roar echoed off the dunes around them. “By the Gods, Alexa! You hate me so, that you would subject me to such torture?”
 

Alexa laughed again, but Cyrgyn obviously couldn’t take it and heaved himself back onto the beach.
 

“I apologize. I may have fire in my belly, but I am still of the reptile family. The cold is unbearable.” His teeth seemed to chatter. “I must dry off. I will return.”
 

She watched him leap into the air, then disappear as he cloaked. “It’s probably colder up there,” she muttered, feeling abandoned. Still, the water felt good to her, as she’d spent hours in ninety-five degree weather trying to play warrior with the magical equivalent of water balloons. She swam out into the lake, then turned onto her back and floated to shore.
 

The moon was nearly full, the sky completely clear. Alexa examined the stars, and how they got brighter the further they were from the moon. One in particular caught her attention. It seemed to shine more fiercely than the others. She knew its red tint was a function of the atmosphere, but it seemed to denote passion and fortitude. It was surrounded by other stars, yet stood remote in the vast expanse of space. She felt like that. Like the rest of the world was a crowd around her, but so far away as to be insignificant to her life.
 

She flipped over and stroked toward shore, watching the beach and the surrounding woods. Cyrgyn hadn’t returned. She knew he wouldn’t leave her here intentionally, but how long did it really take to dry off? He could have had an accident—flying into a plane, or a cloud-enshrouded mountain, or even crashing to earth because the water affected his aerodynamics.
 

She scanned the area one more time. Nothing moved. No sign of Cyrgyn, or any other living creature. She felt utterly alone.
 

Swallowing the fear that she’d be that way forever, she stood and started wading back to the beach.
 

Ryc stood in the shadows between dunes and watched Alexa swim closer to shore. He hadn’t been able to stay away once Cyrgyn had flown off. It had been weeks since he’d seen Alexa, weeks when he knew she’d been training and preparing for the battle sure to come. He’d forced himself not to go to her, not to make excuses like his ability to help her train. She’d be fine with Cyrgyn. She needed to be with Cyrgyn.
 

But eventually he’d weakened, and he couldn’t pass up this opportunity.
 

She stood and his mouth went dry. Completely naked, her body shone silver in the moonlight, her long hair unbound, flowing over one shoulder and covering one breast. It made the exposure of the other all the more erotic.
 

Pressure grew in his chest, his desire fighting his integrity. She was not his, could never be his, but he felt driven to brand her so.
 

She stopped halfway up the sand and stared into the darkness that surrounded him. Her stance was combative, ready, despite her lack of weapon—or clothing. She looked like a comic book heroine but so much more.
 

After a moment she relaxed, walked the few feet to her clothes, and picked up her tank top. “Come on out, Ryc,” she called after she’d yanked the shirt over her head. “I know it’s you.”
 

He moved out of the shadows but kept his distance while she pulled on her shorts. The knit clothing clung to her wet body and was more sexual than her nakedness had been. “How did you know?” he asked.
 

“I just did.” She shook sand out of her undergarments and tucked them into a fanny pack. Her matter-of-fact movements belied the tension coming off her in waves. “What are you doing here?”
 

He folded his arms to keep from reaching for her and had to clear his throat three times. “I don’t know.”
 

She looked up at him, and he read the same emotions in her eyes that he’d been fighting. “I can’t keep doing this,” she said. She palmed something from the pack and zipped it shut, then let it fall to the sand. When she slid her hands over her head he realized it was a hair elastic. Regret pricked him as she tied up her glorious hair.
 

“I’m sorry, Alexa.” It was inadequate, but all he had.
 

“Yeah, you’re sorry. And Tarsuinn’s sorry, and I’m
sorry
, but all it gets us is more pain.” She covered her face with her hands. “We’ll live forever in pain.”
 

When she started to cry Ryc couldn’t hold back. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and tucked her close to his chest.
 

She kept talking, the words muffled against his shoulder. “I still can’t figure out how to do this. Every day I’m with Cyrgyn he seems more and more resigned. My magic isn’t gaining strength. Tars isn’t making any moves, and I
hate
waiting.” She stomped her foot and Ryc swallowed a chuckle. Then she looked up at him. “To make it worse, I can’t stop thinking about
you.” Her hand clenched in his shirt. His heart quickened at her words.