Serpent's Kiss by Deborah Cooke
“It worked,” Quinn said in his usual thoughtful manner, his deep voice as audible as if he were standing there.
Erik chuckled as he landed alongside the others. “There’s magic in the air tonight,” he acknowledged. “The scrying is particularly good.” He gestured to his own reflection, or to the place where his reflection should have been. Rox saw his mate Eileen in the dark mirror of the pond, her hands on the shoulders of their daughter Zöe. Zöe would be six this year, as well, taking her dark hair and maybe her intensity from her father. Rox refused to think about the only female Pyr having lost all indicating signs that she might be the new Wyvern.
Rox looked down the reflecting pool and saw Donovan opposite Delaney, his lapis lazuli and silver scales shining almost as brightly as the pearl in his own repaired scale. His mate, Alex, was with him, along with Nick, who would be six within a few weeks, and Darcy who was also three.
Rafferty’s adopted daughter Isabelle, the oldest of all the children by a few months, was mirrored opposite Rafferty and Melissa. Melissa fell to her knees and reached out her hand, smiling as their daughter raised her own hand to match. Some of the Pyr—including Rafferty—believed that the soul of Sophie, the lost Wyvern, had taken the form of this little girl, and every time Rox saw Isabelle, she hoped it was true.
Lorenzo appeared in the lake, opposite Sloane, his scales gleaming in shades of tri-color gold and cabuchon gems. His mate, Cassie was pregnant again, their toddler in Lorenzo’s arms. Lorenzo had returned to Venice after his battle with Chen to ensure her safety. Rox knew they had to be in Italy and guessed from the protective look in Lorenzo’s eyes that even the Dragon Legion in his lair hadn’t been enough to convince him to stay for Thorolf’s scale repair.
A blue green light flickered across the surface of the water and Marco, the Sleeper, appeared opposite Brandt, his figure more shadowy than usual, as if he were hidden in the depths of the dark water.
Finally, Drake appeared opposite Niall, as dark and inscrutable as ever. He looked with approval at Thorolf though and inclined his head at the other Pyr in respect. Rox guessed that he felt responsible for Tisiphone’s quest for vengeance, since it had been one of his men who had assaulted her centuries before.
She realized that there were seven Pyr standing alongside the reflecting pool, which had to be a magical number. The water rippled again and the ranks of the Dragon Legion filled the pond, that remarkable surge in the population of the Pyr that were the result of Drake’s adventures with the darkfire crystal. Rox knew she didn’t imagine that he caught his breath as he looked over them, his eyes narrowed slightly with pride.
There was a murmur of old-speak that sounded like a single pulse of thunder to Rox. The Pyr looked up as one as another dragon flew closer. He glittered gold, red on his scales and his talons, with pale feathers streaming behind him. Lee still had color and strength to regain, but he was beautiful and exotic.
He hovered before Thorolf and presented that Pyr’s missing scale with a bow.
Thorolf accepted it with an answering bow. “Thank you, Lee.”
The newest member of the Pyr backed up, remaining in flight over the still water. Rox had a lump in her throat, given what he’d endured because of Chen’s jealousy.
“We gather to heal one of our own,” Quinn said and the other Pyr raised their wings high. He breathed dragonfire into a small jeweler’s forge. The flames shone in the depths of the pool, but also rose as if the fire sat on the surface. Rox caught her breath as its golden light touched the scales of the gathered Pyr, making them look like the jeweled treasures she knew them to be. They were virtually motionless and she ran a hand over Niall to reassure herself that she wasn’t dreaming.
He caught her hand gently in his claw, gave her fingers a squeeze, and lifted her hand to his chest. She felt his own repaired scale, along with the gift she’d given him to see it done. She also felt the beat of his heart beneath her palm.
Quinn breathed more dragonfire on his forge, the flame heating to silver in its brilliance. He reached up with one claw and to Rox’s surprise, his talon passed through the water, as if the surface was a portal to another world. Thorolf surrendered the loose scale to him, and Rox caught her breath as Quinn took it to his side of the barrier. He heated it, that spiral glowing with dark malice.
Would it make T sick again?
Chandra leaned forward to address Quinn. “You need a gift from me,” she said softly. “Let me give it to you.”
She offered an arrow head with the rune carved in it to Quinn, holding it out in her bare hands to the flame Quinn had conjured. Rox had heard all about Chandra’s past and her runes. Still she wasn’t sure what to expect, but Quinn coaxed the fire to burn hotter. White flames erupted from the surface of the water to lick the stone in Chandra’s hands. The arrow head heated to white. Chandra caught her breath in pain and Rox saw three tears fall to the water.
They were gold, though, instead of clear.
Quinn laughed with delight as he caught them, and his claws came through the surface of the water.
Thorolf caught his breath in awe. “Tears of amber,” he whispered.
Chandra flashed him a smile. “Probably the last ones,” she said. “I’m fresh out of magic.”
“You won’t regret surrendering it for me,” Thorolf said with a vehemence that made Rox shiver. She’d always known that if he came to care for anything, his love would be potent stuff.
Quinn worked the teardrops of amber into the surface of the scale with his usual dexterity and Rox could see how proud he was of his work. Thorolf took flight, then hovered low over the surface of the water, the brightness of his reflection making Rox narrow her eyes.
“Fire!” Quinn declared and pressed the arrow head into the gap in Thorolf’s armor. Rox knew that fire was one of Thorolf’s affinities. Thorolf tipped his head back, grimacing at the pain, then blew a plume of dragonfire over the pool.
“Air!” the Pyr cried in unison, for this was Thorolf’s other affinity. Chandra blew on the repaired scale.
“Water!” Quinn said, running a talon over the amber tears that Chandra had shed.
Thorolf scooped up his mate, his manner triumphant. “And earth,” Chandra concluded, her voice both practical and sultry. She folded her hands over the repaired scale, obscuring it from view. She then kissed his face before lifting her hands away. The scale shone on his chest, the amber tears like jewels on its surface.
And the dark swirl completely gone.
“The final gift of the firestorm,” Niall murmured, and Rox knew it was true.
Thorolf shimmered blue once again, landing in his human form to kiss Chandra soundly. The other Pyr shifted shape right after him, and Rox wasn’t the only mate to receive a celebratory kiss after Thorolf’s healing. She might not be the only one thinking about celebrating a little bit more, dragon style.
Niall winked at her when he broke their kiss, and Rox knew she wasn’t.
“Another son,” she whispered to him. “Tonight’s the night.” Niall’s answering grin made her heart skip a beat, and Rox knew that was one thing that would never ever change.
The Pyr: The Next Generation
A number of firestorms (never mind a lot of Pyr committing to their mates for the long term) means a growing list of sons born to our favorite dragon shape shifters. Here’s a list of the next generation so far.
This list is also included on my website and will be updated with new firestorms. There’s also a new page there about eclipses and the Dragon’s Tail.
Kiss of Fire
Quinn Tyrrell and Sara Keegan
Firestorm sparked March 3, 2007 (but Quinn and Sara didn’t meet until the following July)
Garrett—April 16, 2008
Ewan—February 21, 2011
Thierry—June 11, 2012
(Sara pregnant again in Serpent’s Kiss.)
Kiss of Fury
Donovan Shea and Alexandra Madison
Firestorm sparked August 28,
Nick—May 10, 2008
Darcy—August 4, 2011
Kiss of Fate
Erik Sorensson and Eileen Grosvenor
Firestorm sparked Feb 21, 2008
Zöe—November 16, 2008
(Zöe’s coming of age as the new Wyvern of the Pyr is recounted in the paranormal young adult trilogy, The Dragon Diaries. Nick Shea, Liam Shea and Garrett Tyrrell also feature in this series.)
Winter Kiss
Delaney Shea and Ginger Sinclair
Firestorm sparked February 9, 2009
Liam—November 23, 2009
Sean—May 14, 2012
Whisper Kiss
Niall Talbot and Rox Kincaid
Firestorm sparked June 26, 2010
Kyle and Nolan—April 28, 2011
Darkfire Kiss
Rafferty Powell and Melissa Smith
Firestorm sparked December 21, 2010
Isabelle—March 5, 2008 is their adopted daughter
Flashfire
Lorenzo de Fiore and Cassie Redmond
Firestorm sparked June 15, 2011
Antonio—March 27, 2012
Bartholomew due May 2014
Ember’s Kiss
Brandon Merrick and Liz Barrett
Firestorm sparked December 10, 2011
Christopher—September 16, 2012
Andrew—January 7, 2014
And more to come…
Ready for more Dragonfire?
Read on for an excerpt from
Firestorm Forever
The Final Dragonfire Novel
Excerpt from Firestorm Forever © 2014 Deborah A. Cooke
October 8, 2014—California
Sloane Forbes, the Apothecary of the Pyr, was frustrated.
He was exhausted by his efforts to find a cure for the plague ravaging the Pacific Northwest and knew he’d spent more hours in his lab than were healthy. He was discouraged, though, because he’d made so little progress. Every time he thought he had a good lead, it came to a dead end, and he had to start over again.
Yet another one was in the petri dish in front of him. This vaccine had showed promise, killing the virus as he watched through the microscope. Within minutes, though, the tables had turned and the ridiculously efficient virus was encircling and destroying the antidote that should have finished it.
Sloane grimaced and shut down the lights. He sealed up the lab, ensuring that the virus was contained. He had a smaller version of a lab designed for working with Level 4 biohazards, buried into the hill under his house. He followed all the CDC protocol in locking up and cleansing himself, then wearily climbed the stairs to the basement of his house. He was nude, but it didn’t matter. The house was sealed from human eyes, and the dragonsmoke barriers were piled thick against curious dragon shifters.
The fact was that while Sloane searched ineffectively for a cure, people were dying. That knowledge burned. It was the responsibility of the Pyr to defend the treasures of the earth, which included humans, so he felt like a failure. That this malady had been brought from the ancient world by one of his own—well, by Jorge, a Slayer but still a dragon shifter—only multiplied his sense of duty.
The weather didn’t help. It had been hot and dry since spring, as it seldom had been in this part of California before. Reservoirs were drying up and the land was parched. Heat made Sloane irritable and he missed the breezes that used to slip down from the hills here. He’d chosen this location because of its temperate weather and didn’t like finding that he was living in a virtual desert.
He reached the kitchen and opened a beer. The sight of his swimming pool sparkling in the moonlight sent another pang of guilt through him. Denying the local kids their usual access to his pool in summer—because of his secret possession of the virus that spread the plague from Seattle—only made him more annoyed. He was trying to be cautious and responsible, but knew that everyone in the valley thought he was a selfish prick, given the weather.
He put the barely tasted beer down on the counter and strode into the yard. He dove into the pool and began to swim laps, working his body furiously.
If nothing else, he’d make sure he slept.
The worst of the worst was that there would be another full moon on this night, and another lunar eclipse. That meant there probably would be another firestorm, and another Pyr would feel the spark light that identified his destined mate. Sloane had always been patient about the firestorm, trusting that his time would come, but his patience was disappearing fast. He realized that he’d always assumed he’d have his firestorm before the end of the Dragon’s Tail cycle of eclipses.
Once it had seemed as if the Great Wyvern were steadily working her way through the ranks of the remaining Pyr, and that his own firestorm had to be soon. Now, there were dozens of new Pyr, thanks to the darkfire crystal and Drake’s adventures in the past. The odds were skewed decidedly against any of them.
Thorolf had had his firestorm in April. There would be an eclipse tonight, another in April 2015 and the final eclipse of the cycle next September. Only three left, before the fate of the Pyr was decided forever.
Sloane was beginning to feel as if he were being punished for his failure to solve the riddle of the plague.
The presence of his new neighbor made him resent the fact that he couldn’t choose his own mate. He turned underwater and roared through another pair of laps. Samantha was exactly the kind of woman he’d have chosen for himself. She was blonde and delicately built, but clever and sensitive. She was feminine but pragmatic, too, which had to be the most enticing combination.
He’d met her when she’d come to buy herbs from his greenhouse. She was a tarot card reader who sometimes cast spells with herbs for her clients. She had a secret, though—Sloane could smell it on her—and a vulnerability that got him right where he lived. The thing was that until he had his firestorm, he couldn’t promise anything more than a short fling to any woman. He sensed that Sam needed more than that, and plowed through another half dozen laps disliking that he didn’t have more to offer.
The moon moved, the first shadow of the eclipse touching its radiant glow.
Sloane swam harder.
He closed his eyes as a firestorm sparked, his heart sinking with the realization that it wasn’t his. He reached the end of the pool with a growl, pulled himself up out of the water, then caught a whiff of roses and lavender.
Sam’s perfume.
She was standing at the gate, watching him with care.
Sloane froze, braced on the side of the pool, and stared, transfixed. It was as if he had conjured her out of nothing, willing her to appear. He halfway thought she was a vision, but he could smell her hesitation and her uncertainty. He saw her swallow and wanted to reassure her.
No, he wanted to protect her forever from whatever she feared.
And he wanted to spend the night making love to her first.
Sam evidently took his silence as agreement, because she opened the gate and stepped into the paved yard. She slipped out of her flip-flops and eased the linen shirt from her shoulders. She was wearing a bikini so small that Sloane’s mouth went dry. She flicked a glance at him, then smiled as she unfastened the clasp in the middle of the top. She bared her breasts to the moonlight, then slipped out of the bikini bottom. Sloane could have been turned to stone.
She walked toward him and he told himself he had to be dreaming. The moonlight made her skin look silver and her eyes luminous. She sat down on the lip of the pool beside him and put her feet into the water. She smiled, licked her lips, then touched his shoulder.
“I was so hot,” she whispered, her gaze clinging to his. He didn’t dare survey her again, because he didn’t want to spook her, but he could see the patina of perspiration on her upper lip. He wanted to kiss it off. “It made me think of you,” she admitted, and her words astonished him.
She wasn’t lying.
So, he wasn’t going to.
“I was just thinking of you,” Sloane admitt
“But you’re too much of a gentleman to have done anything about it,” she charged, then shook her head.
Sloane might defended himself, but she was right. He wouldn’t have gone knocking at her door on a moonlit night, no matter how much he wanted to do so.
“Is that why you were swimming laps so hard?”
Sloane dipped his head and grinned that she’d guessed at least part of the reason for his frustration. “Caught,” he murmured, daring to look into her eyes once more.
She was pleased by that and her eyes started to sparkle. She looked good enough to eat, but whatever happened had to be her choice. Sloane was keenly aware of that vulnerability, an indication of an emotional wound, and wanted to heal her more than anything in the world. He sensed she was trying to make a change, to move past something, and he wanted to help.
Which meant he had to wait.
He wasn’t sure how long they stared into each other’s eyes before Sam reached out and touched his mouth with her fingertip. “I’m hoping you’re not too much of a gentleman to do something about this,” she whispered, then bent closer and replaced her fingertip with her mouth.
Her lips were soft and sweet, her kiss gentle, her scent beguiling him as little else could have done. Her mix of boldness and vulnerability kicked all of Sloane’s desires into overdrive. Before he could think twice—much less be cautious and responsible—she was in his arms and he was slanting his mouth over hers, deepening his kiss.
A firestorm sparked somewhere, sending a spark of fire through Sloane’s veins.
It wasn’t his firestorm. It might have been a thousand miles away.
And the funny thing was, Sloane no longer cared.