He loved how she looked when she smiled, as if a flame had lit within her. She seemed younger and softer, more approachable.
He sobered then, thinking of the toll life could take on an individual and remembering his grandfather’s stories. “My grandfather believed his son had been found only because he had remained in human society. He believed that interaction had led to Myrddin’s downfall, and to his comparatively short life. He took Owen away then, to teach him, even though Owen never had Myrddin’s natural gifts.”
“Which was why he’d warned Owen that he would do as much for Owen’s son, and how your mother knew to expect him,” Melissa concluded.
Rafferty nodded. He watched her review her notes, looking for loose ends in his story.
“What happened to your father?” she asked.
“He was killed, within days of my conception. I never knew him, save through Pwyll’s tales.” Rafferty looked at the fire again. “Those were dark times for us, when the hunting began.”
The silence stretched between them.
But this time, it was Melissa who placed her hand on Rafferty’s. “I know what it’s like to have something else running your show,” she said softly. There was compassion in her eyes and, seeing it, he knew he had made the right choice.
He also believed they could make a partnership for the duration.
Even if Melissa wasn’t yet persuaded.
I
t was tempting to confide in Rafferty, to share her own story with this intense and romantic man, but Melissa knew better.
It didn’t help that she couldn’t think straight with the darkfire dancing over her skin and through her body. Could she ever get enough of him?
Melissa had to focus on the facts, on her main objective, and not get distracted by emotional dreams that couldn’t come true. She frowned as she reviewed her notes, sensing that she was missing something.
She found it, just as Eileen yawned again.
“Wait a minute,” Melissa said to Rafferty. “You said that you can’t do the spontaneous manifestation thing that Montmorency can do.”
“That’s right.” Rafferty’s tone was grim.
“What about the newt bit?”
Eileen froze in the act of leaving the kitchen. “Salamander,” she corrected as she watched them.
Melissa nodded. “Okay. Montmorency became a salamander in the helicopter. At least I think it was him. The salamander was the same jade green color.”
“It
was
Magnus.” Rafferty spoke with resolve.
“And the other one…” She fanned her notes, looking for the name of the topaz
Slayer
, but Rafferty answered her first.
“Jorge.”
“He was a salamander when he first appeared. Can you take lots of different forms?”
Rafferty leaned closer. “All of us can take two forms, man and dragon. Traditionally, the Wyvern has had some ability to assume different forms, but no others among us. That seems to have been changing.”
“How so?” One thing Melissa was good at was asking questions. It was wonderful that Rafferty was answering her.
What had changed in his view?
His attention was certainly fixed on her, leaving her all warm and tingly, even if she didn’t look at him. And that voice… “Some
Slayers
who have drunk the Elixir appear to have the ability to take the salamander form.”
“Because of the Elixir?”
Rafferty shrugged. “Apparently so.” He hesitated, flicking a glance at a watchful Eileen. “I have told you too much already.” Was he personally reluctant to confide in her, or was he afraid of Erik’s reaction?
Melissa didn’t really care. It made sense to her that they work together. “The way I see it, we have a mutual problem named Magnus Montmorency. If we pool our information and work together, we could nail him.”
Rafferty glanced again at Eileen. “You must recognize that I have an obligation to my kind and must not further jeopardize their security.”
“And I’ve already spilled the beans.” Melissa nodded in understanding. “Okay, let’s make a deal. I won’t tell anyone else anything about the
Pyr
without your explicit approval.”
Rafferty arched a brow, but she sensed that he wasn’t truly surprised. “I thought the story—and that job—was tantamount.”
“I think nailing Montmorency is more important.” Melissa shrugged. “And I suspect you’re the only one who can really do it.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
Rafferty smiled. The curve claimed his lips slowly, pleasure lighting his eyes. The transformation made Melissa’s heart pound.
And it made the darkfire flames burn more intensely green.
He leaned forward, all muscled power, and extended his hand. Melissa’s fingers were lost in his grip, the heat of his touch making her as dizzy as the approval in his eyes. She could have fallen into his lap; she could have twined herself around him, but he gave her hand a single pump, then released it.
She saw the effect of that contact upon him when he sat back, took a deep breath, and pushed a hand through his hair.
She liked that the firestorm tormented them both.
She sat back in her chair and curled her feet beneath her, smiling at the way he watched her legs. There was hunger in his expression, a desire that she liked to believe wasn’t purely because of the firestorm’s heat.
She shivered in anticipation of sating it.
Would that mean his departure? The notion burst Melissa’s bubble, no doubt about it.
Rafferty pursed his lips, choosing his words. “There is another
Slayer
, one who only recently revealed himself. His name is Chen, and it appears that he can take six forms.”
“Six?”
Rafferty counted off on his fingers. “I have seen him as a dragon, as a salamander, as a snake, as a beautiful woman, as a young man, and as an elderly man.”
“Wow.” Because the concept obviously troubled Rafferty, Melissa made a joke. “That seems excessive.”
Rafferty’s smile was fleeting.
“So, this Chen must have had a lot of that Elixir, then.”
“I’m not sure,” he acknowledged. “Magnus restricts himself to three forms, and he drank most of it. By far. It was created by him, and its source was under his control.”
“So, is that because it isn’t possible for him to take more forms, or because he chooses not to?”
Rafferty shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“So, maybe there’s another factor than the Elixir.” Melissa smelled an answer close at hand. She flipped through her notes again, seeking it.
There it was, right in front of her.
“How did your grandfather get into the convent?” she asked, barely able to hide her excitement. “And how did he visit your grandmother in her village, without being seen even once? My experience of small towns is that everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
Eileen sat down heavily then, her eyes round. “Merlin is said to have been a shape shifter,” she murmured.
“What form did he take?” Rafferty demanded.
“A stag,” Eileen said, then began to sound like a teacher. “That’s assumed by some scholars to be an example of a pagan story revised to a Christian one. Shamans often dressed as stags for specific rituals in nature religions. We even have images of them in such disguise on the walls of Lascaux. And Merlin is often considered as a shaman figure in the Arthurian cycle.”
“Could your grandfather become a salamander?” Melissa asked. “Or spontaneously manifest in other places?” She leaned forward, sure she was right. “Was that how he did it?”
Rafferty’s eyes brightened. “Maybe. Maybe!”
“What if those powers have nothing to do with the Elixir?” Eileen asked.
Rafferty was clearly deep in thought. “Magnus always collected old lore,” he mused.
“What if he discovered a lost truth?” Eileen asked.
“More importantly, what if you can do it, too?” Melissa asked.
“What if reclaiming this old power is another legacy of the darkfire? What if knowing something is possible is the key to doing it?” Rafferty whispered, then smiled.
He laughed out loud and scooped Melissa up into his arms, swinging her around as her pencil slid across the table. He kissed her, then held her in his embrace. “What a gift you bring me,” he murmured, his gaze so warm that Melissa blushed. “My grandfather always said the richest treasure in his hoard was his mate.”
He then glanced pointedly at Eileen.
Melissa meanwhile caught her breath. It had been a long time since anyone had thought of her as being key to anything, and she savored the satisfaction of making a contribution.
Of making a difference.
It was good stuff.
Eileen stood up. “I feel a strange compulsion to get some sleep, right this minute,” she said, winking at Melissa. She hefted Zoë higher with a grunt, then left the pair together.
Rafferty smiled down at Melissa. “I am feeling celebratory.”
“Sounds as if that word has a specific connotation.”
His smile broadened. “The dragon celebrates with physical pleasures of all kinds.” He kissed her knuckles, sending a torrent of desire through Melissa’s body. Her mouth went dry. The firestorm turned Melissa’s thoughts in the same direction, but she fought its appeal.
Sex wasn’t good enough—even though this was the best she’d ever had. She had to prove to Rafferty that she was worth having around, even though she couldn’t give him a son.
She had to help him destroy Montmorency.
She had to help him extinguish the darkfire, before everything he cared about was lost. The firestorm’s allure would wait—and even if it didn’t, she knew she’d be wanting Rafferty for a long time.
Maybe there
could
be a future for the two of them. The trick would be securing it.
Donovan stood on the wharf and eyed the island on the other side of the choppy stretch of water.
“No ferry today, sir—that much is for certain.”
“No. I can see that.” Donovan checked his watch for the hundredth time. He was tired and frustrated, and that went double for Alex and Nick. The wind was violent, tossing dark clouds across the sky and making the water churn into dangerous waves.
Keeping him from the Sleeper.
He’d made a mistake, revealing himself here on the dock. He’d assumed they’d be able to cross on the ferry quickly, saving him from any explanation about how they had arrived. Islands with small populations were tricky in that, and he was determined to blend in as much as possible. This far out of the tourist season, it wouldn’t be easy.
Bardsey Island might be home to ten thousand saints, but they were all dead. The living counted only two dozen or so, particularly in winter, so three Americans couldn’t arrive without being noticed. Still, as he watched the water, he wished he’d just flown them all there under cover of night.
What would he find when he arrived?
“In a hurry are you, then?” the burly man asked.
“Impatient, yes,” Donovan agreed, trying to keep his toe from tapping. “And it has been a long day of travel, as well.”
“Almost off the edge of the world here,” the man agreed amiably.
“It’s always good to reach the destination and be able to relax,” Donovan said.
The man’s gaze sharpened as he surveyed Donovan, then Alex and Nick. Alex had remained in their rental car and was reading to Nick from a book they had brought. The boy leaned against her, sleepy but not wanting to miss anything. He could see the exhaustion in both of their faces.
“We don’t see many visitors this time of year.”
“Not so much of a visitor, as one returned,” Donovan said.
The man’s interest sharpened. “How so?”
“I came to Bardsey Island as a young man, although it’s been a long time.” It had been longer even than this man anticipated, but Donovan didn’t say that. “My distant cousin owned a house on the island.”
“And who would that be?”
“Donovan Shea.”
“Oh, he’s been gone a long while.” The man’s manner warmed at the mention of the name. “Seems I heard he had passed away.”
“Yes.” Donovan shook his head, as if to marvel. In fact, he had started the rumor, as he did every sixty or seventy years, concurrent with another round of legalities to pass his own property to himself. It had gotten more difficult in the last century, and he wondered absently how rich the
Pyr
were making lawyers everywhere. “I guess it amused him that we had the same name, for he left the house to me. Quite a surprise, after all this time.”
“That would be the old white house, then.”
“It would.” Donovan wasn’t surprised the man knew it. “I’m eager to see it again, and to show my own son the island. I’m sure it’s as magical as I recall.”
The man nodded. “It’s a place you don’t shake out of your bones; that’s for certain.” He eyed the sky. “I might have taken you alone, but I’ll not take your boy before the sea is more favorable.”
“That’s fair. Any idea when it might be?”
The man inhaled and scanned the horizon, his gaze dancing over the clouds. Donovan trusted his judgment, for he likely knew this stretch of water as well as his own hand. “Before sunset,” he said.
Sunset would have to do.
The Sleeper would have to wait a little longer to be defended.
Donovan thanked the man and rejoined Alex and Nick, hoping he arrived soon enough to keep his old vow.
Rafferty was jubilant. Trusting Melissa had revealed a side of his grandfather’s story that he’d never seen. He had no doubt their working together could only bear more fruit.
The Great Wyvern had been right. His firestorm was a gift, and he would build a partnership with his mate.
“We need to finish Montmorency before we celebrate anything,” she said with a resolve he’d already come to associate with her.
“Why don’t you believe in the future anymore?” he asked, watching the play of emotions on her face. He raised a hand before she could speak. “No platitudes. You’re a logical woman, and there’s a specific incident at root. I would be honored if you would trust me with that truth.”
Melissa closed her mouth. She looked at him, then down to her notes and the crystal that still rested on the table. “It seems only fair,” she said, her words tight. “Given how much you’ve confided in me.”
She didn’t hesitate then, just lifting her chin and holding his gaze. She didn’t flinch, either. “I came home from my post, only to learn that I had cancer.”
“I thought I read that you had left the Middle East to get married.”
Melissa smiled. “I did. He was adamant that he wouldn’t live abroad. Of course, he had an anchor post already.” She sighed. “I met him when he came to do some spotlights for the network in the region, when there were treaty agreements. Love at first sight, we were in sync, everything was perfect. Moving back stateside seemed like the better plan, especially when he put in a word for me to get a transfer.”
“You were giving up a lot.”
“Didn’t seem like it at the time. A tiny sacrifice for the greater good. And what did I need a hotshot career for? Or those journalism awards? We were going to start a family.” Melissa frowned, her gaze dancing over the kitchen. Rafferty saw that the story wasn’t an easy one for her to tell. “I went for my first physical exam in years, never imagining they’d find anything. I was healthy.” She met Rafferty’s gaze. “Who would have guessed that while I was dodging explosives, the real bomb was silently growing inside me?”
Rafferty shook his head. There were no words for such horrific news. “How did you find out?” he asked.