Dragon Rising (5 page)

A
rcher walked right behind Lyra as they approached Jeremy’s door, guarding her back, she suspected. They found Anika in Jeremy’s bedroom, staring at the perfect depiction of angel wings made of dust. She turned and opened her mouth, but before a sound could emerge, a shadow appeared at the corner of the room. Something that looked like a huge snake thrust through the wall and bound Anika in a tight grip. It looked as though it were made of solid light, making no sound at all. Anika did, though, screaming and creating jagged arcs of magick that stabbed the thing. It didn’t budge.

Archer bowed his shoulders, and wings tore through his shirt. He roared in pain as they pushed out to their full width. “Don’t go Dragon, Lyra,” he growled, launching toward the snake.

It and Anika disappeared.

“Hell,” he said, turning to Lyra. He pulled her to his chest as he threw himself back against the wall. “It will likely come back if it sensed we were in the room, too.”

“Why shouldn’t I Catalyze?” she whispered.

He leaned close to her, his breath fanning her ear. “If it senses your Dragon, it will go after you. Now, be quiet.”

His wings folded over her, cocooning her in his cool embrace. A light as fine as mist shielded them seconds before the snake thrust through the wall again.

What in the holy hell could Caidos do?

Archer’s wings tightened over her, his arms crossed over her stomach, a full shield. The snake was blind, or so it seemed, feeling around the room looking for them. Her Dragon strained to come out. But Archer wasn’t fighting the snake, and he wasn’t afraid of much.

No, he’s afraid for you.

She shivered, then realized he’d feel everything she did. She swallowed her fear as the snake hovered a few feet in front of them. Archer’s fingers pressed into her stomach now, his body rock hard and ready to fight. The snake sensed them, all right. Archer’s shield kept it from being sure, apparently, because it didn’t grab them. It touched all around the shield. It pulled back finally and searched the room, even under the bed. Then it disappeared back into the wall.

Archer didn’t release her. Did he think it would return again? A minute passed. Then two. She felt his chest rising and falling, pressing against her with each breath.

“Will it come back?” she whispered at last.

“I don’t think so.” He hadn’t whispered, so he must be pretty sure.

“Then why are we still here like this?”

“I’m processing.”

Well, okay, then. She was too curious to let that pass, though. She turned her head slightly, seeing that his face was still rigid. “Processing what?”

“How it felt when I thought you might be grabbed.”

She turned now, staying in the cocoon he’d created. “How did it feel?”

His arms released her but rested on her shoulders once she was facing him. His eyes shimmered frantically, staring at nothing in particular. “Like dying.”

Those words clamped around her heart. She wanted to touch his face the way he’d touched hers. “I’m okay. I tried to hold in the horror of what I saw, of Anika being taken. And my fear,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She understood how dangerous that knowledge was now. Someone could torture him on purpose.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Sorry, my thoughts—and feelings—ran away from me. Do you want me to move back?”

His fingers tightened, and she expected him to push her away. Instead, he pulled her against him. “No.” She could hear his breathing, long deep breaths, his hands splayed on her back. “Your heat…,” he murmured.

“You’re so cool.” Her hand hovered over his bare chest, wanting to touch him.

“Feels good.” His voice, low and ragged, melted into her.

He seemed to be drawing her heat inside him, and she wanted to give it to him, to warm him. Such pain, so cold. Was this how human females had tempted the angels?

“It wasn’t the humans’ fault,” she whispered. “We’re drawn together, each giving a part of ourselves to the other. Needing each other.”

Lyra was weakening him. Somehow, in her haze, she realized this. The tremors running through his body, so apparent as they pressed close, had to be pain. Pain at his desire. It took everything inside her to step back.

He blinked, as though coming out of a spell. His hand rubbed across his bare chest, where she could see his heated skin.

“Thank you,” he said, but she didn’t know whether it was for giving him heat or pulling it away.

“Is this part of the Thrall, Archer? That I want to go inside you and yank out the curse that makes desire hurt?”

“Not that I’ve heard of. Is that how you feel?”

She nodded, and their gazes locked. It seemed difficult for him to tear his away. He did, going to the wall where the snake had come through. He ran his hands all along the surface. “I don’t feel anything, no portal or even residual magick. The power contained in that snake was tremendous. I could have fought it, and maybe won, but I didn’t want to chance your safety. I’ve heard of Caidos who hold dark power, but I’ve never seen one.”

He knelt down and began scooping the wing dust into his palm. His wings shimmered with his movements. She did the same, until none remained on the floor. The dust felt electric. She poured it into his hand. The glow that surrounded him made her feel as though she were in a dream. He seemed bigger, though he hadn’t physically grown.

Lyra found a dish filled with coins, dumped them out, and handed it to him.

He poured the dust in and set it on the dresser. “Whoever is behind this has taken too many people. We have to get them back.” Then he bowed, planted his hands on his thighs, and retracted his wings. It didn’t look as painful as when they’d come out. He released a breath, his dark gaze on the bowl of dust.

“Could that happen to you, too?” she asked.

“Yes. Sometimes I think it would be sweet relief to die and be free of the pain.”

“Don’t ever do that,” she said, the words tumbling out.

He considered her for a moment, a Mona Lisa smile on his face. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of dying anytime soon. I have a good life when I’m isolated in my world.”

“When you’re not working with an emotional Dragon,” she said.

He took her in with a measure of amusement. “You were trouble. I sensed it from the start.”

“That’s why you were so cold and awful to me?”

“Yes.”

Not a whiff of apology either. The man who’d answered the door in a towel and nearly closed that door in her face seemed different from the one in front of her now. Definitely not cold and uncaring.

Kye’s words about “issues inherent in such a union” came to mind. Now Lyra knew what those issues were. “Kye said something about an Essex. What is it?”

“It’s an essence exchange.” Archer leaned against the dresser, mindful of the bowl. “Our own emotions aren’t painful, but they are uncomfortable. Unnatural. Most Caidos find that repressing them is easier than dealing with them. But as always, our human side wants to experience joy, desire. We can exchange our essence with another Crescent’s essence, which temporarily relieves the pain of feeling. Or so I understand.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? I can give—”

“For that very reason. From what I hear, that relief is like a drug, the same as OxyContin is to Mundanes. Once we taste it, we want it again. And again. We get addicted.”

“But if a Crescent wanted to give you her power to sustain you—”

“It will weaken you. Eventually your Dragon will wither, the same as if you moved away from the Field that sustains our god essence. I would need more, more, never enough. Only the weakest Caidos are tempted to do that with one person. Only the most selfish.”

Archer wasn’t selfish. She let out a long breath. “It really is impossible.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. You have a good heart, Lyra. I knew you would offer.” He brushed his hand across her cheek. “I understand why Jeremy craves that feeling now.”

She ran the toe of her shoe across the carpet, leaving tracks in the fibers. “Have you ever been in love, Archer?”

He hesitated before answering. “No. Have you?”

“Lots of times, but only in a superficial way. In an I-can’t-wait-for-him-to-call way, not in an I’ll-give-you-my-power way. Never that way.”

When he winced, she pushed the thought away, hard as it was. “Tell me what it felt like just now.”

“A pulsing pain, like someone twisting my insides. And when you make that face and feel pity, it’s like fingers jabbing me.”

“Sorry.” She took a breath, trying to clear away her emotions. “Now what do we do?”

“When Jeremy and Anika did the Cobra, it triggered something that sent him to your father. That something must have been about Tara. Maybe it involved her husband, too.” He rubbed the back of his head. “If we can’t figure out what that something was, we have to find out who has the power to use his Light in a way that can create a giant snake.”

“This Caido would also be powerful enough to, say, change a fetus’s orientation. There has to be a connection.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. I need to find out who Jeremy knew with that kind of power. Then I go after him.”

“
We
, Archer.
We
go after him. It’s my father among the missing. I’m not sitting around worrying about you.” Another glance at the dust, even scarier now because she thought of Archer being incinerated. “My Dragon is strong, you know.” She felt it stir in pride and rubbed the place where the tattoo tingled. Another more horrifying thought twisted inside her. “You could be turned into a wraith. If something happens to you, what do I do?” She cleared her throat. “With your remains?”

“Call the Raphael and ask for Grayson’s number. He’ll know what to do. You’ll have twenty-four hours.”

A
rcher let the cool rush of absinthe tickle his tongue as it swirled around his mouth.

Lyra sat next to him at the kitchen counter. “You drink that stuff for breakfast?” she asked, fascination more than disgust in her voice.

“Technically it’s still night. The sun hasn’t come up yet.” He nodded to the expanse of dark sky to the east. “Would you like one?”

“Gods, no. Are you still trying to get rid of me?”

“Get rid of you? By offering you a drink? Wouldn’t that be counterintuitive?”

She regarded him with a curiously suspicious expression. “If you say so. But what I need is food.”

His stomach grumbled. “I suppose sustenance would be appropriate.”

She gave him a funny smile. “Yes, sustenance would be highly appropriate.”

He opened the refrigerator. “I have eggs.”

“Hot sauce?” she asked, coming up behind him.

“No.” He pulled out a jar of olives. “Will this do?”

“Olives and eggs. Yum. Not.” She nudged him aside and took in the contents of the refrigerator. “Caviar. Capers. Dark chocolate truffles. I heard you Caidos lived high on the hog, and it’s true. I can work with this.” She grabbed up several items and set them on the counter.

He eyed the box of truffles. “Don’t tell me you’re making caviar chocolate eggs.”

“The chocolate’s for me. After what we just went through, I need it.” She popped one into her mouth and pulled a pan from the rack hanging above the stove.

After breakfast, he flipped through the pages of Jeremy’s address book, looking for a name of interest.

She sat beside him, a mug of coffee in front of her, eyeing her cell phone. “I feel like I should call Kirin and update him. Even though he sure as heck hasn’t been sharing information with me. But I don’t know what I’d tell him at this point. I know he’d yell at me for consorting with dangerous individuals.” She flashed him a wry smile, then set the phone on the counter and leaned closer to the book. “Find anything?”

Her heat pulled at him. Why was he so sensitive to it? So drawn by it? Now he was aware of her physically, the smell of her shampoo and her unique scent, and the way her blond hair curved around her neck. When he’d held her, protected from pain by his wings, he’d gotten lost in her.

He focused on the book again. “I know some of these names.”

She pointed, her finger drawing an imaginary line beneath the name Silva. “Ooh, Jeremy was pissed at this guy. He scribbled his name out. Is Silva powerful enough to change the orientation of a fetus?”

“I’ve never heard of him.” Which was odd considering how small the Caido community was. Archer flipped through the rest of the pages. “He’s the only name in here that Jeremy crossed off. Something big made him do that.”

He grabbed up the phone. When a man answered, Archer said, “Silva, please.”

“He’s busy,” the man snapped. “If you care to leave a message—”

“No, I care to talk to him. I understand he can perform…services.”

Had the man coughed or snorted? Archer couldn’t tell.

“Silva is not currently performing
services
. Call back another time.”

Lyra had moved close to hear, surrounding him with her heat and scent. He could barely think.

“I understand that his abilities are beyond any regular Caido’s, and I’m prepared to pay handsomely if he can provide this highly sensitive service. I’ve heard great things about him, but you know what…it’s probably beyond his skills anyway.”

Silence for a moment. He knew some Caidos had egos that knew no bounds.

“It’s an advanced service?” the man pressed.

“A very unusual one. So unusual I can’t discuss it over the phone. But if he’s busy—”

“Who is this?”

“Grayson Winter.” Just in case this Silva knew who Archer was.

“Wait a minute.”

Archer turned to Lyra, who was smiling her approval. Embers flickered in her eyes. Even her Dragon was beautiful.

The phone clicked. “He’ll see you at two. You can tell no one you are coming here.”

“Understood.”

“If you have pen and paper ready…”

Archer wrote down the address and hung up.

“That was brilliant, using his ego against him. So we…” Her voice trailed off as she saw his intense gaze. “Your eyes are glittering.”

He brushed her hair from her face, leaving his fingers resting against her cheek. “There is something else I haven’t told you about Caidos.”

She leaned slightly into his touch. “What?”

Pain throbbed at the nerve endings of his skin, his desire, hers, twining together like barbed wire.

“Being in angel form inures us to pain. There’s a nice side effect: I can feel desire without pain, too. But I can’t hold it for long.”

Her pupils dilated. “You mean I can touch you, want you, and it won’t hurt?”

“If the wings don’t bother you.”

“Hell, no.” She shook her head, but her expression darkened. “But it hurts you when you transform, as you call it.”

“It’ll be worth it. For one time.”

He slid off the stool and removed his shirt, then bowed and willed his wings to come. They drove through his skin, but he didn’t care about the pain. When he straightened and opened his eyes, she was standing, too, watching him.

They stepped toward each other simultaneously. He ached, but not from desire. From a need for her touch, her heat. He was so cold inside. He hadn’t realized it until he’d held her earlier and felt it seep into his soul.

Her blue eyes were wide as she placed her hand on his chest, gently trailing her fingers over his pecs, watching him for some reaction.

“No pain,” he assured her. He didn’t tell her that the form muffled his feelings.

She smiled and put her other hand on him, too, running them across his shoulders, biceps, even down his forearms. She stepped around him, letting her fingers follow to his back. Her movements stilled.

“Can I touch them?” she asked.

No one had ever touched his wings, other than in combat.

“Yes, but you’ll feel an electrical pulse.”

He held his breath as her fingers dipped into the energy of his wings. While combatants tried to cut or damage each other’s wings, Lyra’s touch was gentle. Every feather transmitted her touch right down to his core. She breathed softly, tickling her way across the width of both wings.

She came around to the front again, her fingers working the buttons of her top. It slipped to the floor, followed by her bra, and he had to keep from sucking in a breath at the beauty of her. Beauty he could touch. She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his chest. “Touch me,” she whispered, as though sensing his thoughts.

His hands trembled as he ran them down her silky hair to her bare shoulders and back. So soft, smooth, so female.

She held tightly to him, her fingers splayed on his lower back, her breasts crushed to his chest. “Take my heat.”

He closed his eyes at her offer. He pulled it into his body, her heat and everything about her. He drank in the feel of her skin, the bumps of her spine, and then the beauty of her face as he tilted it back and kissed her. All he could taste was the absinthe, but her mouth was warm and wet and everything her body would be if he buried himself inside her.

Even muffled, he felt enough to know that this would taunt and claw at him for the next hundred years. That he would want more, would want to feel everything in vivid Technicolor. That he would be tempted to do the Essex. He should stop this now. His fingers tangled through her hair as he devoured her. Gods, her tongue, the way it swirled through his mouth and sparred with his, and the purring sound she made.

He picked her up and carried her to the kitchen, setting her on the counter, never breaking the kiss. His body tingled as it came to life. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling that feminine part smack up against his erection. That was the only painful part of his body, throbbing, pushing against his jeans.

His hands explored her breasts, across her stomach, everywhere he’d wanted to touch earlier when she’d slept. He slid his hands down her back and beneath the waistband of her pants to cup her ass. She groaned and pressed even closer, rocking against him.

His wings contracted, pulling in with a pinch. The pain returned, pounding like the beat at the Deuce nightclub. He dropped to his knees, hands on the floor, and had to catch his breath with the suddenness of it.

“What happened?” she asked, breathless herself.

“I couldn’t hold the form any longer. Damn it.” But her heat still swirled in him, even as he got to his feet.

She remained on the counter, gripping the edge, beautifully half naked in the soft light, with the glitter of Miami behind her. Her Dragon tattoo shifted on her skin. Its yellow was even deeper than it had been, its eyes as heavy as Lyra’s.

“I wish it had lasted longer,” she said.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t say he did, too, or that he was glad it hadn’t because he had enough trouble letting her go even with the pain.

“So was this”—she winked—“premature transformation?”

“You’re trying to make light of it?”

“It’s better than crying.”

He laughed then. “Too true.” He snatched her shirt from the floor and pushed it at her. When she didn’t cover those beautiful breasts, he settled against the back of the couch, a safe distance away.

She held the shirt in her hands, making no attempt to put it on. “I want more, Archer. More of you. If I give you a little of my—”

“No, not even a little. It’ll never be enough. I would suck you dry, Dragon Girl.”

She shivered, though he couldn’t tell if she was afraid or aroused. He was far enough away, thankfully. She did, however, pull on her bra and shirt. Everything about her, her heat, her essence, curled through him still and accompanied the thrum of pain at his wanting, at the will it took not to close that distance.

He walked to the wall of windows, pressing his body against the cool glass, arms spread. In the reflection, he saw her watching him.
Take the heat away. Take it away, because I can never have it again.