Kiss of Fate by Deborah Cooke
He had come too close to seeing Jorge and Mallory claim her.
And he had no patience with people who didn’t tell the truth.
Eileen had to hear his anger, but she wasn’t afraid of him. She met his gaze and lifted her chin, her lips setting stubbornly as she reached for the handles of the wooden chest.
“Give that back to me.” Her fingers closed on nothing as Erik held it out of her range.
“You promised me that you would talk to someone about this. You promised you would put it out of your possession.”
She snatched for the handles again and he let her catch them. She tugged but Erik didn’t let go. “I didn’t say when. I have something to do first.”
He leaned closer and saw her eyes wide with awareness. At least he wasn’t the only one snared in the heat of the firestorm.
“Look back down the platform,” he murmured. “Do you see a short man with dark hair?”
Eileen didn’t look. “Frenchie. He’s wearing a green sweater.” She wrinkled her nose. “Machine knit.”
How did she know Mallory?
“He talked to me at the newsstand. He had flames in his eyes. And he has a bandage on his throat, probably from when you hurt him last night.”
Erik swore.
Eileen tugged the leather handles out of his grip. “You should have injured him more. He’s the red dragon, isn’t he?”
“He’s been following you since you left the house,” Erik told her, glad that she looked worried. He arched a brow and met her gaze, feeling the need to remind her of another falsehood. “Or should I say, since you left the Ritz?”
Eileen flushed.
Erik had a beat to feel triumphant before her eyes flashed. “There’s only one way you could know that,” she retorted. “You followed me, too.”
“Of course I did. You have no idea what—or who—you’re up against.”
“I think I’m getting an idea.” Her lips tightened. “Here they come.”
Erik glanced over his shoulder, guessing what he’d see. He was right—Jorge and Mallory were walking down the platform together.
“They looked like trouble about to happen,” Eileen murmured.
“Get on the train now.” Erik spoke with authority. He saw defiance in her eyes and knew she wasn’t much for following orders. “Jorge, the blond, shot your friend.”
Eileen inhaled sharply and stepped into the train. She began to move down the car, Erik close behind her. The firestorm sizzled between them, making Erik keenly aware of the sway of her hips, the luster of her hair, the haunting familiarity of her perfume. She caught at his senses more surely than Louisa had—as if her character had been distilled and fortified into the most compelling and enticing woman possible.
There were few other passengers in the car, most already settling into their seats. She chose a pair of seats together and made to put down her satchel.
“Keep going,” Erik commanded. “Into the next car.”
“This is fine—” Eileen started to argue with him just as the door opened behind them. She paled and Erik knew whom she saw.
“Go!” Although Erik kept his tone low, his urgency must have been clear.
Eileen went. The two Slayers came into the same car just as she swung open the door to the next one.
The whistle blew. There was a vibration beneath their feet as the train prepared to depart. Eileen trotted down the half-empty car, her satchel bumping against her hip and the wooden chest in her arms. Erik knew it was futile to offer to help her again.
“There’s only one more!” she said to Erik after she swung through the next door. Erik hauled the door closed behind them and kept walking.
They’d done this dead-end trick before, but Erik wasn’t going to change shape this time.
He had a different idea that just might work. Eileen kept glancing over her shoulder at him, her agitation clear.
Was she trusting him, or simply out of options?
Just as the train began to move, they reached the last door, the one at the front of the car. Erik heard Eileen catch her breath. He looked over his shoulder to find Jorge and Mallory unable to get past a couple with a lot of luggage.
“Off,” Erik said, gesturing to the steps.
Eileen nodded. “There’s another train in half an hour.”
Erik thought they’d worry about that if they survived the next half hour, but didn’t say so. There was no point in frightening her.
Eileen jumped from the moving train and Erik landed right behind her. Jorge and Mallory leapt out of the adjacent car, only thirty feet away from them. The four of them were the only people on the platform beside the slowly moving train.
But Jorge and Mallory were between them and the station.
Jorge reached into his jacket and Erik guessed he had a gun.
“Oh, no,” Eileen whispered, and seemed struck to stone in her fear.
“This way!” Erik seized her hand and tugged.
A spark leapt between them, sending a sizzle over his skin. Eileen caught her breath, but Erik urged her down the platform in the same direction as the departing train.
“I’m trusting that you have a plan,” she muttered.
“Good.”
Erik heard Eileen grind her teeth in irritation.
He also heard Jorge’s and Mallory’s footfalls on the platform.
The train picked up speed, running right alongside them. One car passed them, then another, the train moving faster. Erik was counting under his breath. The end of the platform was drawing closer and he hoped that Eileen would trust him.
He pushed himself faster and she matched his speed, her hand fast in his. The conductor was slow to shut all of the doors, to Erik’s relief.
“Erik . . .” she began, but it was time.
“Now!” he said, then caught her around the waist with one arm. The last door on the last car drew alongside them in the same moment and he jumped.
He caught the railing inside the door with his free hand and swung them onto the steps. His back collided with the steel of the train car and he held his mate fast. If Jorge had chosen to fire, the train would have protected them.
He didn’t.
Eileen’s feet were hanging in the air as the end of the platform slid out of sight. The firestorm blazed through his veins, making Erik tighten his grip on her as his breath was stolen away.
Eileen’s hair tickled his chin; her curves pressed against him; that damn perfume tempted him with possibilities. He could feel her heartbeat under his palm, and caught his breath as his own matched its erratic pace.
He peered back in time to see Jorge and Mallory skid to a halt at the end of the platform. Erik could almost hear them calculating the merit of shifting shape to give chase. The adjacent platforms were crowded and he knew the instant they decided against it.
There would be too much beguiling to do.
They’d wait for their moment.
Jorge spat onto the tracks after the train. “This isn’t done,” he muttered in old-speak, the threat echoing in Erik’s thoughts.
Erik didn’t grace the comment with a response. He simply held Jorge’s gaze, knowing his own stare was cold and relentless. He would protect what was his own.
And that included Eileen.
“They won’t give up,” Eileen murmured.
Erik thought she was beginning to appreciate the depth of Magnus’s desire for the Dragon’s Teeth.
“No. They won’t,” he agreed, his words tight. He lifted her into the train and reluctantly released her.
The conductor stood on the top step, his expression severe as he surveyed the two of them. “You might arrive a mite sooner in future, and avoid such unnecessary exertion,” he advised. He reached past them and closed the door with more force than was strictly necessary.
Eileen smiled an apology.
Erik didn’t bother. He took the wooden chest from Eileen’s limp fingers and moved into the car, seeking a pair of seats. He had time to believ
“You’re pale,” Eileen said with a frown. Her concern melted barriers within Erik that the firestorm left untouched.
“I’m fine.” But Erik wasn’t. He was jangled to his core.
It was more than the firestorm’s force.
Something terrible had happened. He sat down, feeling unsteady on his feet, and wiped the perspiration from his brow.
“I don’t think so.” Eileen’s annoyance was clear. “You can do anything else, but don’t lie to me.”
“Okay. I’m not fine.”
She forced a smile, but still seemed to be worried. “Thank you for that. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
Erik chose not to comment or explain. He’d felt the destruction of something elemental and didn’t have to close his eyes to feel the increasing shadow cast by Magnus’s dark academy. Even without knowing precisely what had happened, Erik understood that the odds had risen against the Pyr again.
Significantly.
He had to consummate his firestorm and return to the greater business at hand. He needed to seduce Eileen and steal the Dragon’s Teeth from her.
As soon as possible.
He knew his responsibility and the easiest solution, and yet the prospect annoyed him. It should have been easy to do what he had to do, yet he met Eileen’s worried gaze and felt opportunistic.
Mercenary.
Erik had claimed two window seats that faced each other and Eileen sank into the seat opposite him. Why couldn’t the firestorm ever be simple? He put the wooden chest under the window and offered to lift Eileen’s satchel onto the overhead shelf. She shook her head, hugging it close. She kept her coat on but opened it as she watched him warily.
He let her look.
And he looked back.
The sheepskin was just as vivid a purple as he recalled, while the heavy scarf wound around her neck was purple and gold and blue. Otherwise, she wore black from head to toe. Her only jewelry was a single amber pendant on a silver chain and a silver ring on her right thumb that looked like a braid. Her red-gold hair was long and wavy, unsuccessfully bound at her nape. Her skin was fair and her eyes were a remarkable shade of blue. Erik wondered whether they seemed a brighter sapphire because of her obvious intelligence.
She stretched out her legs, crossing her shapely ankles and leaning her feet against the wooden chest.
Message received. It was hers.
And possessing it made her a target. The idea terrified him. Erik had to get the Dragon’s Teeth from Eileen before she was hurt. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t be easily persuaded to part with her treasure, but he had no choice.
Erik leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. As he drew closer to Eileen, he felt that increasingly familiar tingle sweep across his skin, a brushfire that could easily be coaxed to a conflagration. He held her gaze and watched her catch her breath.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Ask.” He’d let her choose the questions, even though it went against everything in him not to take command of the situation. It was a concession, but a small one. It was, he sensed, a critical one.
He was curious as to what questions she’d ask.
“What just happened? What upset you?”
“I’m not sure.”
She rolled her eyes at that.
“No. I truly am not. Nothing good, that’s for certain.”
Eileen studied him for a moment; then her lips set with a determination Erik was starting to recognize. “So, the blond one was the one who grabbed me last night?”
Erik nodded once, liking that she was being careful with her choice of words. The car wasn’t full but it wasn’t empty either. “Jorge. I don’t know the dark Slayer’s name.” He studied her for a moment. “Have you truly come to terms with what happened?”
“No. But I decided a long time ago that there could be more going on in the world than most of us know.” Eileen arched a brow and smiled, the unexpectedness of her attitude shaking Erik’s assumptions. “This definitely counts.”
Their gazes locked for a charged moment; then she frowned. “Maybe after this is over, I’ll have time to work out an alternative explanation, but for the moment there are other, more important issues.”
“Like?”
“Surviving.”
Erik respected her ability to prioritize.
Eileen rummaged in her satchel and pulled out a pair of knitting needles and some yarn. The yarn was thick and glossy, composed of different threads of rich colors. “Don’t think you’ve gotten off easily,” she warned him. “I have questions, but I do my best prioritizing while I knit.”
Erik looked out the window. They were passing through the city, behind yards and industrial spaces, past graffiti and dirty underpasses. He couldn’t see any sign of pursuit, but knew better than to believe that there wasn’t any.
He tried to appear more relaxed than he was. He knew that the drumming of his fingers on his knee gave him away. He watched Eileen knit instead and found the repetitive motion of her fingers soothing.
“You were explaining that you followed me,” Eileen said.
“You were explaining to me about the Ritz’s unfortunate loss of your reservation.”
Her laughter was quick and sent an equally rapid stab of desire through him. “Would you expect me to tell every stranger I met where I was staying? I’m not stupid.”
“Clearly not.”
She smiled. “But I didn’t see you.”
Erik watched her dancing fingers. “Maybe you didn’t glance up.”
She looked out the window and frowned, and he regretted having reminded her of his nature. Then she turned to face him again, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Did you watch the house all night, then?” The idea didn’t appear to trouble her.
“I kept vigil, yes.” Erik cleared his throat. “Ensuring your safety is my responsibility.”
“Like in the train station?”
Erik nodded.
“Is that why Magnus’s car left last night?”
He was startled. “You saw him?”
“The black sedan parked right across the street, just after I went into the house.”
Erik nodded, not truly surprised but disliking the news. “I thought he was close. Either he saw me or the dragonsmoke. He chose to wait for a better opportunity.”
Eileen frowned at her work. “What’s dragonsmoke?”
“That’s complicated.”
To his astonishment, she leaned forward, her eyes snapping. She rapped one needle on his knee. “No. That’s not good enough.”
“Excuse me?”
“No half measures or partial explanations.” She waved her needle with such gusto that Erik drew back. “It’s my new policy. I only do complete disclosure. No shared truths or ‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’ Lay it all out. I can take the honesty. In fact, I prefer it.”
Erik was astonished. Her lecture could have fallen from his own lips. “Why does that sound like a warning?”
“Because it is.” She made a cutting motion with one hand. “I have zero patience left for liars.”
Who had lied to her? Erik was curious.
“So I’ve been warned?” he teased, and that smile curved her lips again. Her smile made her look younger and more playful, and reminded him of sunlight dancing on water.
He regretted that they would be spending so little time together, that he wouldn’t be able to see her smile more often.
“Consider yourself lucky,” she said, her tone ominous. “I don’t always fire a warning shot.”
“I do consider myself lucky,” Erik said softly.
Her smile faded as their gazes locked. Erik let her see his admiration. He leaned forward, letting his knee touch hers as the train rocked slightly. The spark lit there, then settled into a golden glow. He felt heat emanate from that point, a heat that moved across his flesh, arousing him beyond expectation. Eileen caught her breath, but she didn’
In fact, she pressed her leg against his, redoubling the heat of the firestorm. Erik was thinking about the musculature of her leg, the soft strength of her calf against his own. He was thinking about sliding his hand under the hem of her skirt, about caressing her knee, about letting his fingers slide higher. Her thighs would be soft and warm, and the scent of her perfume would be stronger as he moved higher. . . .
He was thinking about changing seats to the opposite side, to the seat directly beside her, of sliding his hands into the silken mass of her hair. He was remembering the taste of her lips and knew Eileen was thinking the same thing.
He felt her heartbeat accelerate and his matched its pace; her eyes sparkled and her lips parted in invitation. They stared at each other, their legs touching, and the heat in the train grew more intense. Erik watched Eileen, sensed the tingle of her desire grow to a roar, was sure he could feel the shiver slide over her flesh. He imagined his fingers slipping over her, thought of the taste and the softness of her, inhaled deeply of her perfume.
And was interrupted.
“Tickets, please.”
Eileen thought that if she looked up lust in the dictionary, there’d be a picture of herself.
Or a picture of her and Erik necking.
The conductor checked his watch while she rummaged for her ticket. “And you, sir? Do you have a ticket?” His expression turned even more dour when Erik admitted that he had to buy a ticket. “Where to, sir?”
Erik looked at Eileen and she made a quick decision.
She wasn’t quite ready to be rid of Erik Sorensson. And it wasn’t just because it was good for her health to have a Pyr on her side when other dragons were hunting her.
She was remembering that kiss and wanting another.
“Telford,” she admitted.
She didn’t think Erik recognized the name, judging by his expression. But then, just because he had a British accent didn’t mean he had the entire country memorized. He paid the fare the conductor demanded, and his desire to be rid of the man as quickly as possible made her fight a smile.
“Advance planning would have saved you on this fare,” the conductor noted, his tone arch. “But then, advance planning is rather a challenge for some of us, isn’t it?”