Darkfire Kiss

Winter Kiss

“A beautiful and emotionally gripping fourth novel,
Winter Kiss
is compelling and will keep readers riveted in their seats and breathing a happy sigh at the love shared between Delaney and Ginger…. Sizzling-hot love scenes and explosive emotions make
Winter Kiss
a must read!”

—Romance Junkies

“A terrific novel!”

—Romance Reviews Today

“All the
Pyr
and their mates from the previous three books in this exciting series are included in this final confrontation with Magnus and his evil Dragon’s Blood Elixir. It’s another stellar addition to this dynamic paranormal saga with the promise of more to come.”

—Fresh Fiction

Kiss of Fate

“An intense ride. Ms. Cooke has a great talent…. If you love paranormal romance in any way, this is a series you should be following.”

—Night Owl Romance (reviewer top pick)

“Second chances are a key theme in this latest Dragonfire adventure. Cooke keeps the pace intense and the emotions raging in this powerful new read. She’s top-notch, as always.”

—
Romantic Times

Kiss of Fury

“This second book in Deborah Cooke’s phenomenal Dragonfire series expertly sets the stage for the next thrilling episode.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Those sexy dragons are back in the second chapter of Cooke’s exciting paranormal series, Dragonfire. The intriguing characters continue to grow and offer terrific opportunities for story expansion. Balancing a hormonedriven romance with high-stakes action can be difficult, but Cooke manages with ease. Visiting this world is a pleasure.”

—
Romantic Times

“Entertaining and imaginative…a must read for paranormal fans.”

—BookLoons

“Riveting…. Deborah Cooke delivers a fiery tale of love and passion…. She manages to leave us with just enough new questions to have us awaiting Book 3 with bated breath!”

—Wild on Books

“Epic battles, suspense, ecological concerns, humor, and romance are highlights that readers can expect in this tale. Excellent writing, a smart story, and exceptional characters earn this novel the RRT Perfect 10 Rating. Don’t miss the very highly recommended
Kiss of Fury
.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“Combustible…extremely fascinating…. Deborah Cooke has only touched the surface about these wonderful men called the
Pyr
and their battle with the evil dragons…. I am dying for more.”

—Romance Junkies

Kiss of Fire

“Cooke, aka bestseller Claire Delacroix, dips into the paranormal realm with her sizzling new Dragonfire series. With a self-described loner as a hero, this heroine has to adjust to her new role in the supernatural and establish bonds of trust. Efficient plotting moves the story at a brisk pace and paves the way for more exciting battles to come.”

—
Romantic Times

“Wow, what an innovative and dazzling world Ms. Cooke has built with this new Dragonfire series. Her smooth and precise writing quickly draws the reader in and has you believing it could almost be real…. I can’t wait for the next two books.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Deborah Cooke has definitely made me a fan. I am now lying in wait for the second book in this extremely exciting series.”

—Romance Junkies

“Paranormal fans with a soft spot for shape shifting dragons will definitely enjoy
Kiss of Fire,
a story brimming with sexy heroes, evil villains threatening mayhem, death and world domination, ancient prophesies, and an engaging love story…. An intriguing mythology and various unanswered plot threads set the stage for plenty more adventure to come in future Dragonfire stories.”

—BookLoons

Kiss of Fire

Kiss of Fury

Kiss of Fate

Winter Kiss

Whisper Kiss

A DRAGONFIRE NOVEL

SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by New American Library, a division of
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80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

ISBN: 978-1-101-51437-5

Copyright © Claire Delacroix, Inc., 2011
All rights reserved

SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
     The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

For all the Dragonfire fans
who wanted Rafferty to have his firestorm.
I hope you enjoy reading his story
as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Let the darkfire begin!

T
he
Slayer
Chen retreated to his most secure lair. Hidden deep in the Himalayas, lost between China and Tibet, it was located in a labyrinth of switchbacks and dead ends. He disguised his scent as he descended to the deepest chamber, ensuring that no one—
Pyr
,
Slayer
, or human—could follow him.

Only there—once he had secured the perimeter of the chamber, once he was convinced he was utterly alone and knew for certain none had dared to give chase—did Chen unearth his most treasured prize.

He caught his breath at the beauty of the dark crystal, created so long ago within the earth’s deepest core. It could have been an amethyst, but was so deep a purple as to be nearly black.

And deep in the stone’s heart flickered a light of bluish green. It looked like a spark, an electrical spark, restless and unpredictable. Chen admired the power that had trapped the fire within the stone, so many millennia before.

Once there had been three such stones, so went the tale. Chen didn’t care. He had this one, and he had saved it for this moment.

And now, finally, it was time to set the flame free. The moment had come when he could conquer the
Pyr
, and this would ensure his triumph.

No ordinary force would break this stone.

Chen, though, was no ordinary
Slayer
. He stretched himself across the rocky floor of the chamber, remaining in darkness for days and weeks. The chill of the rocky cave permeated his body, the element of earth aiding him to calm himself and heal. The element of water gave him a connection with Gaia, granting him the ability to hear her woes. He knew an eclipse was pending; the
Pyr
would turn the energy of the eclipse to their own agenda, and the element of fire gave heat to his passion. He forgot his recent defeats and focused on the future.

Only the element of air eluded Chen’s mastery, but he would conquer it yet. The finest prize was not gained readily, after all. He had waited eons, he had schemed and acted decisively, and he would do so again.

His pursuit would begin again, in this moment, in this cave.

It would start with the loosing of the spark that would so distract the
Pyr
that they would not perceive his plan until it was too late.

He exhaled, his dragonfire lighting the wicks that floated in vessels of oil, mounted upon the rocky walls of the chamber. Once his hidden chamber was flickering with the golden light of the element he knew best, he began to hum.

He sang the song of the earth. He sang a ballad to Gaia. He had heard her complaints, and he encouraged them. He lent his voice to her battle cry, urging her to greater violence than was her intent. His song gained in volume and in stridency as he coaxed her to change the surface of the world. He fed the fears within Gaia, ensuring that she thought of her own survival and not of the welfare of those who occupied her surface.

They were no better than parasites.

His would be a killing cure. Gaia would be best protected with only one resident—himself. Together, he and she would form an infinite and immortal union. The turmoil he had stirred would ensure that the
Pyr
would be busy and divided, responding to Gaia’s woes.

The loosed flame would take care of the rest.

Chen turned his attention on the dark crystal two days before the eclipse. He sang to it; he chanted to it; he hummed to it. And finally, just as he began to fear that he had overlooked some critical element, the crystal cracked.

The restless spark was freed.

His lair lit with eerie blue-green light, sparks bouncing from wall to wall as the darkfire reveled in its freedom. Even Chen cowered low beneath its force. It gathered again in the middle of the cave, in midair, becoming a cluster of light so brilliant he could not look directly upon it.

And he said the word that untethered the flame from his lair. With that, the light gathered, exploded in a nova of bluish green, then disappeared. Chen felt a charge ripple through his body and into the air. He knew it slid into the water and the fire, then spread throughout Gaia. Even in the darkness, his eyes stinging, Chen could feel his body and his lair simmering.

It was done. The darkfire flame was freed. The
Pyr
would not be able to conquer it. He would be the last and the best of the Dragon Kings, and the earth would be his prize alone.

Perfect.

Thousands of miles away, in a loft in Chicago, Erik Sorensson watched the moon wax ever more full. Each night in December, he had stood on the roof of his building and stared at the moon, willing it to tell him of the future.

There would be a total lunar eclipse when this moon became full on this very night, the first total eclipse in nearly three years. Erik guessed that it would trigger a firestorm of great importance for the
Pyr
he led and for their mission. It would also be the first of three total lunar eclipses in succession, occurring at roughly sixmonth intervals.

The next calendar year, Erik knew in his heart, would have tremendous import for the
Pyr
.

But he felt only dread. The future, wreathed in shadows and obscured, was a mystery to him, even with his foresight. Erik couldn’t change that, but he didn’t have to like it.

He was standing on that roof when he felt a dark shock race through his body, one that left him shaken and disoriented. It was gone as soon as it had struck.

Erik didn’t recognize it, much less understand its intent or its significance. What was even more troubling was that after that initial shock, he couldn’t sense it anymore.

Had he imagined it? Or dreamed it? Was it real, or a portent of the future?

Or was he losing his grip on the realm of the
Pyr
?

In a bunker on the coast of the Caspian Sea, the
Slayer
Jorge was vexed.

His had been a perfect plan. He still believed himself to be the ideal candidate to lead the
Slayers
in the absence of Magnus. He had been certain he had planned for every eventuality, even stealing a store of Dragon’s Blood Elixir to sustain himself. Mouthful by mouthful, syringe by syringe, Jorge had slowly and steadily filled a vial of Elixir for his own use.

He hadn’t counted on his injuries.

He hadn’t counted on Magnus surviving—that old serpent.

After Delaney’s firestorm, Jorge’s leg had been a ruin. He’d had to retreat, regroup, recover. He had needed Mallory and Balthasar then; he had needed them as his own bodyguards while he had the reconstructive surgery on his leg in a private clinic in Moscow.

He had let Balthasar have the surgeon as his reward.

Mallory, of course, had wanted another sip of the Elixir in exchange for his services. Jorge had grudgingly shared.

Then Balthasar had abandoned him, without a word of explanation, simply disappearing in the night. That had been August. Jorge might have pursued him, fully certain of who had summoned the other
Slayer
, but he’d been tricked instead. Even Mallory had been no help, having settled into the deep slow sleep that enabled
Pyr
to live for centuries with little sign of aging.

Jorge blamed them for Chen’s subsequent success.

Chen, a
Slayer
Jorge vaguely recalled from Magnus’s lair in Ohio, had appeared the morning after Balthasar’s departure. Chen had looked haggard and told the tale of Niall’s firestorm in breathless terms. He had begged for sanctuary so pitifully that Jorge let him into his own refuge.

It had been precisely what Chen had wanted. It turned out that Chen wasn’t what he appeared—he was ancient, deceitful, and vicious. He had not only deceived Jorge; he had not only stolen Jorge’s stash of the last of the Elixir; but he had consumed it before Jorge’s eyes.

Then Chen had sealed Jorge inside his own refuge. His song was intricate and ancient; primal and powerful. Chen had departed, the Elixir in his gut, and Jorge had been trapped inside a dragonsmoke barrier, the like of which he’d never seen. It didn’t simply resonate—it tinkled like thousands of little bells. And he could see it, as thick and impenetrable as the densest fog.

A wall of ice.

But this dragonsmoke burned like a corrosive acid, ten times worse than regular dragonsmoke. Jorge had thrown himself at the dragonsmoke barrier, worn it down, forced himself to take the abuse of gradually destroying it. Each time, he had to retreat to let the burns recover. Each time, the Elixir still in his body was less potent, more dilute, and the healing took longer.

It was an infuriating process. He called in old-speak to the surviving
Slayers
in the world, but they weren’t interested in helping him. Not when he had nothing with which to reward them. Even Mallory continued to hibernate. Jorge had been on his own.

And so it was that he was finally down to the last increment, a thin wisp of a barrier that Jorge knew he could destroy in one last intense volley. The problem was that the Elixir was virtually gone from his body. He wasn’t certain he’d survive one more assault on the smoke.

So close and yet so far.

Hatred of his kind, both
Pyr
and
Slayer
, rose within him. He felt the pending eclipse, and the dragon within him roared with a lust for vengeance.

His gaze turned to the dozing Mallory. Jorge hated that he was saddled with such an ineffective, slothful, and passive partner. When he broke free—and Jorge would—Mallory would also be freed, at no cost to himself.

It was wrong.

If only Jorge had more Elixir.

Just one more sip would do it.

Jorge’s eyes narrowed as he realized there was yet one dose of Elixir within his refuge. He considered Mallory, his thoughts flying. Mallory had drunk the Elixir several times. It ran through his veins, limned his bones, slid into his muscles. It would be dilute. Its power would be fading.

Which simply meant that Jorge would need every single drop.

Jorge regretted there might be a mess.

Then he sprang on his unsuspecting prey.

Unbeknownst to Chen or Erik or Jorge, thousands of miles from any of them, the waxing moon influenced another change. Deep in his hidden lair, almost forgotten by his own kind, the Sleeper stirred.