The dragon in him gained the upper hand over the demon, allowing him to breathe fire all over her thighs and groin.
“Glarg!” Veronica grabbed the sheets with both hands, her back arching, her legs taut. Her body trembled, and for a moment, he thought he’d pushed her too far, but at that moment she grabbed his head and tried to pull him upward, over her body.
“Oh, my goddess, you have to finish!” she demanded, simultaneously wiggling out of her underwear and trying to wrap her legs around him, even as he rose up and positioned himself. “That was incredible, Ian. Why aren’t you moving? Why aren’t you inside of me, making me sing songs I didn’t know that I knew?”
He wanted to laugh, but his body was wholly focused on only one thing—joining his body and soul with Veronica’s. “A gentleman waits for a lady to finish talking before he dives in.”
“Dive!” she commanded, slapping her hands along his arms before sliding them up to his shoulders. “I’ll shut up.”
“I don’t want that. I like how you tell me what you’re thinking. I’ve never had a sexual partner who did more than moan and issue instructions,” he said, easing himself just inside of her. The heat seared through him, driving his own blaze even higher.
“Glorioski,” she said on a gasp that took in a huge quantity of oxygen. She was panting, her fingernails digging into the muscles along his shoulder line.
Ian was unable to keep from asking, “Are you having a painful gas bubble? Should I stop?”
She pinched his shoulder, giggling and tightening her legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him in deeper. “Nice time to use my own words against me. Can you do the fire while you’re doing this?”
“Yes, but it takes a while for me to summon it. Dragon fire does not come easily to me.” He leaned forward, sliding a bit more into her, using the position to lave her breasts with his tongue. “Next time, I’ll blow the fire inside of you.”
Her eyes opened as wide as they’d go while she clearly considered such a thing. “That sounds…dangerous. Can I do it to you?”
“Breathe fire? You have to learn how first.” His head dipped down to kiss her, the sweetest kiss he could offer, one that promised everything and demanded nothing in return.
“Teach me,” she said, her eyes soft with passion and pleasure. He wondered if she knew she was falling in love with him, and wondered if he should caution her against a doomed future, but he was unable to make the words come.
He wanted her in love with him. He wanted her to reciprocate the feelings that he didn’t want to admit were forming in the dark, neglected parts of his soul that were hidden from Anzo…He drove that thought from his mind, knowing the fear for her future would drive away all sexual pleasure if he allowed it to continue.
Since she had stopped talking—a coping mechanism, he suspected, for rationalizing what they were doing—he flexed his hips and slid even deeper, the sensation raising the need to claim her, to make her his. He fought the need, knowing the depths and strength of it might shock her, but at the same time, feeling the shreds of control slipping from his grasp. Desperately, he clawed it back, barely keeping the dragon within from manifesting its nature.
She rocked her hips, her legs pulling him in deeper, while at the same time, she bit the thick line of muscle along the top of his shoulder, and that was it for his control.
The dragon rose hot within him, and he made a noise deep in his chest that had her purring in response. Before he realized what he was doing, he pulled back enough to slide one hand under her and flip her over onto her stomach, pulling her hips up to meet his insistent thrusts.
“I’m sorry,” he managed to get out, his heart pounding in his ears while he wrestled with the dragon need to shape-shift. It was rare for a dragon hunter to be able to do so, but for the first time in his life he felt like he might actually be able to manage it. He knew without a shred of doubt, however, that Veronica would not be receptive, and focused on the woman beneath him and making her as wild as he was. “I have to do this…the dragon…Christos, woman, don’t wiggle that way…”
She moaned, and panted, and clutched his pillow, but didn’t protest the new position, and in fact, seemed to be quite happy with it, especially when he did something he’d never done before during sex: he breathed fire. It swept along her back, signaling the start of his orgasm, and powerless to stop it, he was about to help Veronica to her own when her body shuddered around him. She moaned, collapsing down onto the bed, taking him with her. He lay insensate for a few seconds before realizing that he might be too heavy for her, and rolled off, his body both highly charged, fueled by dragon fire, and feeling as weak as a newborn kitten.
“Remember before when I said holy moly?” Veronica pushed herself back off her stomach and onto her side, her delightful chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “I want to say it again, but this time, let’s put it in all caps, because Jehoshaphat, Ian, that was—hoochiwawa! That was the best thing that has ever happened to me, and that includes graduating cum laude, which, until this moment, was the high point of my life. That fire was…hoo.”
Ian was amazed he had the power left to speak, let alone roll onto his side and pull her up against his chest. “It was good. Very good.”
She pinched his nipple. “Understatement, sir. When can we do it again?”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself, she was so completely open, she charmed him like no other had ever managed, not in the length of his long, solitary life. And he knew then that he was in trouble, a very great amount of trouble, because he wasn’t going to be able to walk away from her when the time came to do so.
But would she want him when she learned the truth about him? Would she still hoochiwawa him once she found out he’d failed to save not just her stepfather, but also his own mother? That he’d been driven by failure into turning his back on dragon hunters?
She was so brave, and fearless…and his soul was stained and dark with misery. She would have no trouble walking away from their blossoming romance. From him.
Something inside him died at the thought.
Badassery and Other Shenanigans. Also, Check With Mr. Manny If Badassery Is a Legit Word.
“I SUPPOSE WE SHOULD CHECK ON ASPEN,” I SAID, taking a towel that Ian had handed me.
“I will need to find a mage.” He was dressing, having taken a quick shower after our connubial time, and I was about to do the same. My anxiety monster might have been mostly tamed by my metamorphosis into dragon hunter, but it couldn’t stand the thought of spending the rest of the day among other people when I smelled like Ian. “Then yes, we should address the situation with your apartment. And find who stole your sword. By now, they’ve probably taken the esprit and used her for…who knows what.”
“The esprit? She wasn’t in there when Helen gave the sword to me.”
Ian turned a look of astonishment on me. “What? Are you sure?”
“No, but she said…” I cast my mind back to that horrible night. “She said it was missing something, that it was empty. That means the esprit, right?”
“I assume so.” He closed his eyes for a moment, my heart aching at the lines of pain and exhaustion etched on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
I gave a little shrug. “I didn’t realize what she meant at first. You couldn’t tell?”
“No, it was in its scabbard.” He took a deep breath. “At least we don’t have to worry about the esprit being stolen, but now I very badly want to know what happened to it.”
“I’d still like to know who took it.” I hesitated before I stepped into the shower. “I would add ‘finding out who killed my sister’ to the list, but I suspect you wouldn’t like that.”
The look he gave me was steady and completely without emotion.
“I thought so. You’re going to have to tell me someday, you know,” I said, picking up a clean towel. “I trust you, and know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone who wasn’t horrible or a demon, but that do
esn’t mean I’m happy about the fact that you haven’t told me everything you know about the situation.”
He blinked.
I sighed and left the subject to hurry through my shower. I had made my mind up that I would not push the point about Helen’s death until I had to, but it still rankled a bit that Ian was unwilling to share with me. That annoyance aside, I was dressed and ready to go ten minutes later, but Ian was still sitting on the bed, his attention focused on his phone. “Any ideas on that subject?”
“Which one?” he asked absently, typing in a text quickly. “I found a mage an hour away. She says she’s willing to come to us.”
“Good. I was talking about my sword, by the way. Finding out whoever stole it, assuming it was the same person who broke into my apartment, and I don’t see why that shouldn’t be. Also, what are we going to do with Indigo and the little girls?”
“Ah.” He looked up at that, but what I saw in his eyes sent a spike of fear through my gut. “About that.”
“You’re not going to turn them over to the demon lord who hired you,” I stated, alternating between worry and disbelief. “You know I’m not going to let you do that.”
“I know you would try to stop me should I wish to do so,” he said with a smile that any other time I would consider adorable and sexy as hell. He laughed outright at my expression, pulling me onto his lap. I tried not to notice the scent of his body wash, or the heat of his chest against my side, or even the way his hair curled, but it was hopeless. “You don’t have to look as if you wish to gut me, Veronica. I’ve done what I could to keep from Anzo the true nature of the esprits, and as luck would have it—and honestly, I don’t think luck has anything to do with it, but we’ll let that go for now—Falafel did likewise, evidently focusing Anzo on the courier instead.”
“Why would Falafel do that?” I asked, puzzling over such behavior. “Hide the esprits, I mean? She was a servant of Anzo, too, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.” Ian’s gaze darkened. “I believe she was working with the Witnesses to gather esprits to help her attempt to usurp Anzo, but since Falafel is gone, we can’t pinpoint just what her plan was. The Witnesses, however, clearly have some interest in the esprits, as well, or else they wouldn’t have shown up to meet Indigo.”
“Then we’ll just have to keep them safe from the Witnesses, and all will be well. I mean, they’re totally safe with you since you won’t let Anzo have them, right?” I asked, not liking the grimness of his expression.
He looked away, his jaw tightening. “You know I am bound to Anzo.”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “But you’re not a monster. You wouldn’t give two little girls to a demon lord. I know that about you, Ian. You’re an honorable man. Sasha told me this morning that you’re almost a hundred years old, which means you must have saved…oh, thousands of people being a dragon hunter, right?”
His expression froze. “Far from that.”
“Okay, not thousands, but hundreds, right?”
His gaze flickered away, but not before I saw the pain in his eyes. “I suppose I should tell you now. You’ll find out sooner or later, and it’s just as well that you know the truth now.”
“What?” I asked, my skin crawling. “Oh, goddess, you did kill Helen!”
“No,” he said, his words grim and abrupt. “I didn’t kill her, but I did kill her father.”
I stared at him in horror. “That’s not what you said earlier. You said that you thought Falafel killed him while you were being Anzo’s slave.”
“Yes, but Falafel should never have been given the chance to do that.” His hands tightened into fists, his eyes staring straight ahead at the wall. “If I’d had my élan vital with me, I might have dispatched her when I first saw her, but I didn’t.”
I looked at the sword that sat across the foot of the bed. “You never go anywhere without it. I don’t understand why—”
“That’s not my sword,” he interrupted, making an abrupt gesture before running a hand over his hair. He looked both anguished and angry, his dragon fire running hot within him. I wanted to help him in some way, but I had no idea how. “It’s Adam Larson’s. He gave it to me.”
I sat silent while he explained what had happened with Adam.
When he was finished, I put my hand on one of his fists and gently stroked his knuckles. “I know you blame yourself for Adam’s death, but really, you did everything you could to save him. You took his servitude upon yourself. You got Falafel out of the way for a couple of weeks. You gave Adam time to do the work he wanted to do. You aren’t responsible for his death.”
He took a deep breath. “If I’d had my élan vital, Falafel would have died that day, and Adam Larson would be alive now. I failed him just as I failed my mother almost a hundred years ago. She died by the hand of a wrath demon, too. I should have saved her, but her élan was destroyed, so I bequeathed mine to her. When the monsters who were trying to purge the world of demon hunters descended upon us, she was overwhelmed…and I had no way to help her. A dragon hunter without his élan is…nothing.”
Silence filled the room, thick with sorrow and fury. I knew Ian well enough to know he was damning himself for not protecting someone he loved. “How did you escape being purged, too?”
He turned eyes filled with self-loathing upon me. “The cult—a predecessor of the Witnesses you met earlier—conducted a ritual using the esprit they’d stripped from her sword. She threw herself onto it as they were consuming it to purge us, breaking the bonds and causing everyone touching it to…implode.” He sighed heavily. “I was being held prisoner in another room. I didn’t know they’d all been destroyed for days, until I managed to break out of my shackles. Then I found their ashes, and I knew my mother had given her life because I had failed to do my job.”
I wrapped my arm around him, leaning into him, trying to pour into him all the warmth of my inner fire. “Or maybe she simply wanted to make sure that you lived on so that you could save others.”
He was silent, but I felt him withdraw from me emotionally.
“Ian, you’re not a god. You are a badass dragon hunter, and you’re sexy as hell, but you aren’t omnipotent. Your mom did what she had to do to save you and probably a bunch of other dragon hunters, just as you bound yourself to Anzo in order to save Adam.”
“If I’d had my élan vital with me,” he said, making another of the abrupt gestures that expressed intense frustration. “If I hadn’t turned my back on being a dragon hunter—”
My heart, already at the brink of falling for him, pushed itself over the edge at that moment. This lovely, tortured, warmhearted man who put the happiness of others ahead of his own desires had clearly sacrificed himself for another. “You don’t know what would have happened. Maybe Falafel would have killed you right there, and then where would we have been? Adam would be the slave of Anzo, and you wouldn’t have saved me from those demons in the parking lot. I’m not a believer in any organized religion, but this is truly one of those times when I believe that things happen for a purpose. Your mom sacrificed herself for you, and you sacrificed yourself for Adam.”
“It wasn’t enough,” he insisted, somewhat obstinately, I thought to myself.
I looked at him, love filling me at the sight of his wonderful, tortured self. “That you put Adam before your own self says a lot about you.”
He grimaced. “Some might say it says a lot about my stupidity.”
“No,” I said, leaning forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It says that even though you didn’t want to be a dragon hunter anymore, you were chivalrous, and generous, and selfless, and you did what had to be done to save an innocent man. You truly are a badass hero.”
I swear he blushed a little. He certainly looked very uncomfortable, and muttered something about simply doing what was right. I decided the moment was ripe for distracting him from his inner flagellation. “So the sword you have is Adam’s? What happened to yours?”
“It was destroyed with my mothe
r.”
“Huh.” I thought for a moment. “What happened to the esprit in it?”
“When it was destroyed in the explosion, you mean?” Ian asked.
“Yes. If they are spirits, can they be killed?”
“Not in the sense you mean.” He looked thoughtful. “The demons we destroy are gone for good. I assume it’s the same for the esprits when they give up themselves.”
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a slight headache coming on. “Okay, so we have Adam working on a fix for dragon hunters and asking you to find his esprit, and Falafel ruining everything. But what happened to Helen’s sword? Why did its soul spirit leave?”
“You will have to ask her that,” he said after a few seconds of silence, one where he refused to meet my eyes.
“She’s dead,” I pointed out.
“She said she would be back. I assume she knew what she was talking about.”
“That’s true, but I don’t know when she’s coming back. Or even how. All that aside, do you know the reason why her sword spirit left?” I had the uncomfortable feeling I was balancing on the edge of a razor. There were so many secrets, so much I didn’t know, so many ways for me to fall and lose myself, and yet in the midst of all the confusion and uncertainty, Ian was my safety net. He was the one person who, I realized with a start, didn’t make me feel nervous at all. It was almost as if he was an extension of myself, one that my anxious animal had accepted fully.
“No,” he admitted with obvious reluctance. “But an esprit does not leave an élan vital unless it has a good reason, or it is stolen. Adam said he let his esprit have a day off, which is unlikely, but knowing Adam, not unbelievable. I didn’t know your sister, though, and it doesn’t sound like she relinquished her esprit willingly.”
I thought back to that horrible night. “I wish I’d thought to ask her, but I had no idea about all of this. And even if I did, I don’t know that she would have told me that since she was rushed on explanations. But, Ian, if you are implying that she did something wrong, something heinous that would make the pure-as-driven-snow esprit bail on my sister, then you are wrong. Helen wasn’t a bad person. Her only thought at the end was to protect Indigo and her girls from…well, from you. She told me an informant had said you were after them.”