Blazed

Dragos: Blazed
Amber Kallyn

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Amber Kallyn

ISBN: 978-1-60521-512-9
Formats Available:
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Publisher:
Changeling Press LLC
PO Box 1046
Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046
www.ChangelingPress.com
Editor: Crystal Esau
Cover Artist: Karen Fox

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Dragos: Blazed

Amber Kallyn

Working together a nymph and a dragon must stop a fiery catastrophe. Problem is, Love will Blaze.

When someone comes after the rock band Brianna Jones works with, she must not only embrace the fire nymph within herself, but also the growing desire she feels for bounty hunter and dragon shifter Tyler Dragos. Together, they will try keeping not only the band members, but Bree safe from the dark mage hounding the Dragos Clan.

Chapter One

Ghostly tendrils of awareness crawled down the back of Bree’s neck, making the hair stand up and her skin itch. Someone was watching her. Bree worked around the stage, ignoring the rambunctious laughter and talking, glancing around the stadium every few minutes in hopes of catching her phantom watcher.

Running wires along the stage, she connected the charges for the band’s pyrotechnics. This was the Grave Diggers’ first of three nights performing in Phoenix.

The abnormally high temperatures had sweat trickling down her back. Between the heat she wasn’t used to, the crowds, and loud noises echoing from the closed dome that wouldn’t open until just before the show, Bree was surprised she wasn’t losing her mind. As the sensation of being watched persisted, she stopped working and stared into every shadowed nook and cranny in the football stadium.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Then again, what was ordinary about thousands of fans hovering around hours before the show, all dressed up like gothic vampires, witches, werewolves and other supernatural creatures?

It was laughable, really. As if these humans had any idea what such beings were truly like. Vampires weren’t pale, glittering creatures. And werewolves didn’t just grow a bit of fur on their faces and hands, but shifted into real, if huge, wolves with blazing eyes and dangerous teeth.

As she headed toward the partitioned-off area doubling as backstage, a conga train of mummies decided to block the way, forcing her to stop. Nearby stood a trio of surprisingly normal looking people -- two men and a woman.

Her gaze landed on the tallest of the three. His short brown hair stuck up in fashionable spikes tipped with orange and purple. Clean shaven, his features were strong and masculine, with just a hint of softness. Bree had never seen eyes so amazingly blue. As she watched, his wide lips curled up at the edges, revealing a dimple on his right cheek. His body, long and lean, hinted at muscles just barely hidden beneath his blue jeans and faded red shirt.

He glanced up, and their gazes locked. Heat rushed through Bree, throwing all thoughts out the window. Her heart stuttered. Her breath hitched. The man’s magnetism was strong. Fierce.

The other man, almost as tall and just as stunningly masculine, slapped Blue-Eyes on the shoulder. He shook his head, turning back to the little group.

Bree gulped down air. Just what the hell had that been about?

“O’Neil,” Blue-Eyes said. “You ready for it?”

The other guy clasped the shoulders of a shorter woman standing between the two men. “You got that right, Ty.” O’Neil pulled the woman to his side, laying his hand over the very noticeable bump of the woman’s stomach.

The woman smiled dreamily. “We’ll be just fine.” Her eyes, as blue as Ty’s, sharpened, and a scowl twisted her lips. “At least, we will be as soon as we get that information.”

“Scott’s parents?” Ty asked.

“I hate these dead ends we keep finding,” the woman grumpily replied.

O’Neil hugged her tighter. “We tracked down the last lead, but it led here rather than to my parents.”

“So that’s why I got roped into this,” Ty grumbled.

The woman turned a glare his way, stepping away from O’Neil and poking Ty in the chest with her index finger. “You sound like we’re bothering you.”

He glared back at the woman. His expression darkened, growing hard enough to force a shiver down Bree’s spine.

The conga line of mummies ended, clearing the way to backstage. Bree hesitated. She didn’t like eavesdropping, but neither could she bring herself to walk away. The pregnant woman might need protection from such an overbearing brute.

With a sigh and half a shake of her head, Bree turned back to the stage. She’d keep an eye on them. The woman had her own man there. If he couldn’t take care of any problems…

Bree tweaked a connection, still keeping an eye on the group. If the brute dared lay a hand on the woman, well, she was on a first name basis with Commando Krav Maga. She’d yet to meet an ass she couldn’t kick.

Her neck itched again, the hair on her nape standing to attention as goosebumps covered her arms. The watcher was persistent, she’d give him that. Working her way around the stage, she tried to act as if nothing was amiss. She was damn well going to figure out who kept staring at her. Then, she’d make them regret the intrusion.

Damn idiots.

* * *

Tyler Dragos glared down at his sister, Calla. The anger blazing in her eyes irked him, made him want to growl.

But as the sound vibrated up his chest, the air around him swirled in warning.

“I suggest,” Scott O’Neil said in a laid back tone that did nothing to hide his anger, “you don’t growl at my wife. She shouldn’t be upset in her condition.”

Ty turned his glare to his brother-in-law. “Look here. You really want to get between siblings? She’s been my sister longer than your wife.”

Calla slapped Scott’s arm, pushing from his hold to step between them. “You’re both pissing like dogs marking their territory. Knock it off. We’ve more important things to do.” She poked Ty’s stomach, hard enough to make him grunt. “Quit acting childish. I won’t have it.”

Ty snorted, his anger fleeing as quickly as it had come. “You really think this mage is coming here? Why?”

Calla took his hand, drawing him close. Obligingly, he leaned down to hear her soft words over the growing ruckus surrounding them.

“Garreth said the bounty hunters found something. Combined with what Scott and I heard, we think the master is running out of prisoners to torture and steal magic from. He’s after someone in the band.”

Ty glanced around, wanting to laugh at the wrongness of so many of the costumes. But humans would never get it right. Besides, they didn’t want to know the truth, and creatures of magic weren’t about to tell. “So, Garreth’s on his honeymoon with
Chiquita
, and I’m dragged from my own case to take over his?”

He complained, but didn’t really mind. He’d been stationed in a sleepy little town tracking down a rogue banshee.

Not fun.

Anything was better than that. But he sure could use some sympathy from his sister. Besides, being tossed in with minimal information ticked him off.

The crowd surged around them. Ty stumbled forward, reaching for Calla before someone plowed into her. But the air around her was an impenetrable wall, keeping everyone but O’Neil away. The man even had the doggone gall to wink.

“She is mine to protect now,” Scott stated, matter-of-fact, his western twang full of amusement.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ty shrugged. “Habits die hard.”

Calla lifted her chin, drawing herself to her full height, the top of her head barely coming to Ty’s shoulders. “I’m your big sister, runt. Don’t you forget it.”

Ty laughed, the sound carrying over the noisy crowd. “You sure are. And getting bigger every day.” He stared at her round stomach.

His sister’s eyes flashed the red of her dragon. With how emotional she’d been lately, Ty wouldn’t put it past her to shapeshift here and now for the sole purpose of roasting him.

“I should get to work,” he mumbled, stepping away before she tried to hurt him.

Hormones.

The main reason he wouldn’t ever settle down. Women were great for a day or two, maybe a few months. But then they started nagging, demanding, needing more than he had to give. When Ty couldn’t provide the emotional connection women wanted, the short relationships always came to an abrupt, loud end.

He headed for the control van, leaving Scott to try soothing Calla behind him. Ty chuckled, not envious of the man’s job.

The van was parked near a ficus tree, the driver lounging in the shade. After making sure everything was on task, Ty worked his way to the stage. His family’s company was supposed to be there as supervisors and quality control, since the band -- the newest rage with teens and adults alike, though Ty didn’t have a clue how anyone could enjoy the shrieking and squalling trying to pass as music -- had their own pyro. It was a perfect in for him. He could play the role, keeping the fact he was also a bounty hunter on the lookout a secret.

Starting at the end of the stage, Ty traced the wires, the length of fuses and control boxes.

The band’s guy was good. Better than good.

As he reached the middle of the wide stage, he spied a tall, slim woman messing with some wires. Abruptly, she turned and strode through the black curtain over the opening leading to the dressing rooms.

Ty hurried to where she’d been. Tangled wires lay in a ball and a vial of black powder spilled nearby. His hunter instincts alert, Ty hurried to the curtain.

He caught a flash of orange hair pulled back in a tight bun, and a heart-shaped ass curving into legs longer than should be legal as the woman disappeared around a corner.

He hurried after the little saboteur, internally lamenting her wasted beauty. She must work for this master guy. It was a good plan, the mess of wires enough to cause a commotion. Anyone would have plenty of time to swoop in, grab the band member they wanted, then disappear without anyone the wiser.

From what Ty heard, it sounded exactly like the type of plan the mysterious dark mage would use. Nothing too brash, nothing to force him to face actual adversaries. No, this master guy was more the cowardly type.

Their mistake was doing it so early. Did they not realize the pyrotechnics had to be checked, double checked, then checked again before they could be signed off on for the concert?

Well, Ty was on the job and he’d stop it all before it had a chance to begin.

Whisper quiet, Ty crept down the hall. Reaching an intersection, he glanced around the corner. The flame-haired woman was only a few feet down, facing away, still and quiet. The thought
trap
sprung to his mind, but Ty didn’t worry. He could take care of himself. Choosing the casual approach, Ty stepped into the hall.

“Excuse me, miss?” he asked pleasantly, reaching for her shoulder.

A claw of fiery heat clutched his throat, lifting him off the floor and slamming him against the wall. He dangled, mid-air, straining to breathe as the woman stared at him with eyes of orange flames.

* * *

Bree fought to control her fire. She really shouldn’t light up the man until after she found out what the hell he wanted. A spark of recognition punched her in the gut. The brute from the crowd.

“Why are you following me?” she demanded.

He gasped, face turning purple, as he pushed at her arm. She kept him pinned to the wall. Without warning, his neck expanded. White scales covered his skin, slicing into her palm, forcing her to release him.

Bree let him drop. The damn man landed on his feet. She spun, sweeping her boot at his legs. The impact made him lose his balance, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

Jumping back, Bree brought up both hands. Flames, bluish-red, licked along her fingers, ready to be flung at the stranger if he tried anything.

Just what the hell was he?

He groaned, rubbing his once more tanned throat, before climbing to his feet. Cocking a dark brow, he grinned, the dimple reappearing on his right cheek. “You introduce yourself to everyone like that?”

Baring her teeth, Bree repeated, “Why are you following me?”

She wasn’t used to anyone shrugging her off so casually. Here she was, facing him with deadly flames, and the damn man was grinning at her like she was some harmless child.

He took a step closer. The flames on her hands sprung higher as she readied for a fight.

The man stopped short, his cocky smile unwavering. With a shrug, he asked, “Why were you messing with the band’s pyrotechnics?”

Startled by the question, Bree could only stare. A door behind her slammed open. Quicker than a blink, she doused her flames, though she kept her hands ready, palms out, just in case.

“Ah, girl. Stage all set?” Donovan, the lead singer of the band, called out. His English accent grated on her nerves like always. If he got it right, it might be different. But sometimes he sounded Australian, other times Scottish. The fakeness rubbed her wrong.

“No,” she replied, attention still focused on the stranger in front of her. “I found a mess near the drum area. I came back for my box.”

The man’s blue eyes flashed something unreadable, then the grin twitching his wide lips moved to his eyes. “You’re the band’s pyro?”

Donovan stepped to her side, flinging his hand out. “You’re Dragos, right? The local firebug company?”

Bree’s jaw clenched at the derogatory term, but she’d long since learned to deal with this asshole’s insensitivities. He didn’t mean to be a prick.

He just was.

Dragos nodded, barely sparing Donovan a glance. Holding out his hand, he said, “I’m Ty Dragos. Here to look over your stuff, make sure all’s on the up and up.”

Donovan pointed her way. “Bree… um…” The wafting scent of whiskey coming from his breath explained how he’d once again forgotten her last name.

She sighed, rolling her eyes and letting her tense muscles relax. She debated just walking away. The man in front of her had the control to refuse to approve her pyrotechnics. She was lucky she hadn’t already pissed him off and she wasn’t about to push it. Covering the few feet between them, she said, “Bree Jones. Band pyro.”