Kiss of Darkness (The Dragon Legion Novellas) (5 page)

Not once he’d known that she could kill him at any time.

He would have gone back for his son sooner, if he and his fellows hadn’t been cast across the centuries.

And now Charon had forgotten his bargain and had headed back to the far shore. Damien doubted there would be a refund or a credit on the extra fare he’d paid. Petra was running like the wind, running faster than he could have imagined a woman in her state would be able to run. It would have been simple to catch her if he’d been able to shift shape, but no amount of effort seemed able to rouse the dragon within. Damien pursued her, realizing as they moved deeper into this strange territory that the underworld wasn’t a place he wanted to explore alone—much less a place he wanted to remain.

But Petra had been trapped here. He felt a pang of sympathy for her.

In fact, the first sight of her, round with his son, had shaken him. She’d always been lovely, and had always had lush curves. But pregnancy had ripened her in a way that made Damien remember very well all the pleasure they’d had creating that son. The strange blue-green light of the darkfire had flattered her in a way he hadn’t expected, drawing him closer, making him want to caress and seduce her all over again.

He saw the darkfire crackle along the ground ahead of him, illuminating this dark and dreary realm. It flared up suddenly in front of Petra, almost like an explosion. He shouted a warning but she didn’t stop. Damien tried to run faster even as she stepped right into the brilliance and disappeared.

Damien cried her name in horror. He feared the worst, although when he thought about it, he couldn’t think of what would be worse for her than being dead. He passed into the light of the darkfire, feeling a shiver pass over his flesh at its cold touch as it engulfed him.

And then, he was surrounded by the past.

Damien froze, then turned in place and stared.

Damien had just stepped into a tavern, taking shelter from the night along with Orion. The door was behind him and the cool of a winter evening at his back. Inside the tavern was a crowd of people, laughter and food.

And music.

The music had drawn them, turning their steps in this direction like a spell of enchantment. Now, surrounded by the glow of candlelight, Damien stood in silence and stared.

A gorgeous woman played the lyre in the middle of the tavern, to the obvious delight of the people listening. She evidently played a familiar song, for they all knew the words and sang along. A plump man who had to be the proprietor stood by the door to the kitchen, smiling with satisfaction.

Damien’s companion, Orion, heaved a sigh of satisfaction. “Finally, a decent meal and some good company.”

“I’m not such bad company as that,” Damien retorted and Orion grinned.

“You could be the most beautiful woman in the world, and after a month in your company alone, I’d still be ready for a change.”

Damien laughed, unable to be insulted. “That’s the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said, gesturing to the musician. “It would take more than a month for me to tire of her companionship.”

Orion might have replied in kind, but as Damien gestured, a spark lit at the end of his finger. The brilliant orange light flared from his finger, arching across the room to land on the musician’s parted lips.

She gasped in wonder.

She considered him.

Then her eyes lit and she smiled.

“The firestorm,” Orion said, a tinge of jealousy in his tone. “You’ll satisfy it in a night, won’t you?” he teased. “Never linger.”

“Lingering only builds expectations,” Damien replied softly, his gaze fixed on the woman who could bear his son. His blood fired in anticipation of the night they’d share. “And the firestorm is extinguished as soon as it’s satisfied. One night is all it will take.”

She ended the tune, stilling the strings of the lute with one hand as her audience applauded. There were calls for drinks and food that sent the proprietor scurrying, but the woman immediately began to play another song.

It was a love song, low and seductive, the words sending a pulse of heat through Damien.

Or maybe it was the way she sang the song to him that fired his blood. Damien stood utterly still, his gaze locked with hers, as her song filled the tavern. Her voice was so rich and pure that she might have been born of the gods. He heard the rapturous sigh of one of the patrons. He was barely aware of Orion clapping him on the shoulder, then pushing him forward. He took one step and then another, moving closer to the beguiling beauty who sang just for him.

With every step, the heat of the firestorm burned brighter. With every step, he heard her song more clearly, and was more smitten. Her eyes were darker than dark, filled with a thousand lights. They tipped up slightly at the outer corners, giving her an exotic appearance, and her ripe red lips seemed to caress each syllable of the song as the words spilled forth. Her hair was long and dark and wavy, hanging past her hips in flowing ebony. Her skin was so fair that it might have been carved of ivory, and the contrast made her even more strikingly attractive.

She wore a chiton of fine white cloth that was cut full, then tied at her narrow waist with a gold cord. She was curvaceous, her breasts enough to fill his hands, her waist narrow, her hips sweetly curved. She danced barefoot, the glimpses of her feminine feet beneath the hem of her tunic making Damien’s pulse pound in his ears. Her tunic was hemmed in golden embroidery and the light played with the thread, making her look like a precious gem.

His gem. His mate. The firestorm told no lie. This was the woman who could bear Damien’s son, and he wasn’t going to bypass the opportunity.

He was going to make the most of it.

And he’d be gone in the morning.

The way she sang for him, her eyes dancing and her smile drawing him closer, told him that she liked what she saw, as well. It wasn’t just the light that burned brighter between them with every step he took closer—it was the desire that surged through his body with greater demand. By the time he halted before her, he was burning for her, determined to woo her in bed, to make this night a night that neither would ever forget.

He was captivated by her dark eyes, her knowing smile, her grace and her lovely voice. The song could have lasted a lifetime or the duration of a single heartbeat. Damien didn’t know or care. There was only the musician and her song.

And when she held the last note, drawing it out into a tone of impossible richness, her smile was only for him. The others applauded but Damien took the last step between them. “Pure magic,” he said, then caught her face in his hands. She gasped at the spark of heat that fired between them, then smiled at him in the illumination of the firestorm. She held her ground though, undaunted by the strange light.

She was as remarkable and bold as he’d hoped.

“Thank you for the song,” Damien whispered, then bent his head and kissed her.

She was as sweet as the finest honey, her lips both soft and firm, the scent of her perfume enticing. To Damien’s surprise, she slipped one hand around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss when he might have stepped back. Her tongue touched his, her welcome enflaming him.

He knew he should break their kiss but didn’t have the willpower to do so. She opened her mouth and rose to her toes, inviting him to partake of all she had to offer, and Damien couldn’t have resisted her—or the firestorm—at any price.

* * *

Petra was back in the tavern, on that fateful night. She felt the firestorm even before she saw Damien, although she hadn’t known what it was at first. She turned in surprise at the unexpected heat just as he walked into the small tavern.

And her world stopped.

At first glimpse, she was snared. Damien paused at the back of the tavern, looking unpredictable, confident and alluring. He watched her, a smile on his lips and a seductive glint is his eyes. It was more than the fact that he was handsome, more than his muscled build, that drew her eye.

He was surrounded with golden light, and she felt as if she was looking straight into the sun. His eyes even seemed to be lit with gold, although later she would see that they simply had hazel glints in them. In that moment, she thought he could have been a god come to walk amongst them. Petra guessed that there was something different about him. He had a raw power that she could sense even at a distance, see even with a glimpse, and her heart soared with hope.

Could it be that there was a man worthy of her love?

Could it be that there was one man who would love her for what she was?

After just one song, he was striding forward to claim her with a kiss, as if he, too, knew that there was strange magic between them. That golden light burned and flared, becoming brighter the closer he came to her. His touch seared her soul and his kiss both melted her bones.

She was his for the taking. Their meeting was destiny at work; their happiness together assured. She couldn’t bear to share his company with anyone and led him outside the back of the tavern, where the night sky was thick with stars.

He kissed her again, slowly and thoroughly, leaving her flushed and filled with desire. The golden light burned even brighter between them, sparking off her fingertips in a way that made her laugh. She played with it as he watched her, touching his shoulder to make the flame flash brighter, then drawing her hand away, over and over again.

Each touch made her desire stronger.

Each touch made his gaze burn with greater intensity.

There weren’t any other people outside and Petra was thrilled that they were alone, that this intriguing man was bent on winning her favor. She toyed with the light that sparked between them, and its growing power took her breath away. She was dizzy with her awareness of him and her desire for him. At the same time, she didn’t know what to say to him. Did he have this effect upon all women? Her thoughts were filled with questions, but she loved the sensation of standing with him in the velvety darkness of the night, caught in a golden glow of light that tantalized and teased them both.

“Surely such a beautiful woman has a name,” he prompted finally and Petra smiled.

“Petra. And you?”

“Damien.”

Petra nodded approval. “A good strong name. A warrior’s name.”

He smiled, watching her play with the sparks. “You’re not afraid of it.”

“Should I be?”

“Many people would be, particularly if they knew what it meant.”

Petra smiled at him. “Does that make me bold?”

The heat in his eyes made her heart pound. “Maybe.”

“Is that a problem?”

He shook his head. “I like bold women, strong women, and women who know what they want.”

“Sounds like you like a lot of women.”

Damien laughed. “I have, but none like you.”

She surveyed him, summoned a spark from one of his shoulders with her fingertip and passed it to his other shoulder. She had to narrow her eyes against its bright flare. “Does this happen often to you?”

He shook his head. “Never before, but I know what it is all the same.”

“How so? Have you seen it before?”

He shook his head, his eyes dancing as he watched her try to figure it out.

“You’ve heard of it, then.”

“Many times. It’s called the firestorm.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Of course not. You’re not one of us.”

Petra’s heart skipped a beat at the inference that he was different from other men. Maybe he was just as different from men as she was from women. “Us?” she echoed lightly.

He smiled, nodding back toward the tavern. “My friend and I belong to a company of warriors called the
Pyr
.” He watched her then, waiting to see if she recognized the name.

Petra did. “Dragons,” she breathed, her fingertips rising to her lips in awe. She could believe that Damien had the ability to change into a fire-breathing dragon. She could believe that he had been chosen by some divinity to be more than just a man.

Maybe to be her partner.

“Not many have even heard of us.”

“I collect stories and songs. It’s my trade. I’ve heard of the
Pyr
, and hoped they were real.”

“As real as can be.” He spread his hands, inviting her admiration. Petra didn’t trouble to hide it. In fact, his confidence made her want to laugh out loud. She’d known so many men with doubts, and had had plenty of her own in her life. It was infinitely appealing that he appeared to have none.

“So sure of yourself,” she teased. “Exactly as one would expect a dragon to be.”

“I’ve got to live up to your expectations.” He must have seen her confusion because he leaned closer, dropping his voice to a seductive whisper. “It’s the demand of the firestorm.”