Kiss of Fire (8 page)

She stared at him in astonishment, but he gave no signs of being crazy or having meant to say something else.

His destined mate.

A prophesied child.

“You could, you know, just tell me that you practiced magical tricks,” Sara said, trying to return to a semblance of normal conversation.

“But that would be a lie,” Quinn said flatly. His eyes blazed. “I'm not going to lie to you about what I am, Sara. It's a bad precedent.”

She had to agree with that. “Maybe I didn't see what I thought I saw.” As she spoke, Sara realized how much she wanted this to be true. Quinn was the most attractive man she'd met in a long time and it would have been nice to have everything be uncomplicated between them. She was ready to fall in love, ready to make a lifetime commitment, ready maybe even to find her future with a man like Quinn.

She'd really prefer that the man in question not be nuts. Or weird. Or a stalker.

She was fussy like that.

“Then let's review,” Quinn said softly. He put his left hand on the cash desk. He glanced around them but the bookstore was empty. He closed his eyes briefly and straightened slightly. He seemed to become radiant before Sara's own eyes. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

They glittered like blue ice.

She sat back in alarm, then looked down at his hand. The nail on his thumb had changed to a long talon. He let her look at it, turning his hand so she could see the talon from all angles.

It looked awfully real. Sara had to be sure.

She reached across the cash desk and grasped his thumb. Quinn seemed startled; he caught his breath but he didn't pull away. He was warm, as usual, and she felt a pulse of heat at their point of contact. His skin seemed to be getting warmer where she touched him, and sparks danced from that point of contact.

She looked at Quinn and he smiled. He seemed content to let her examine his talon with her touch. Sara fingered its sharpness and felt the length of its point.

It was real and it was part of him.

“Change it back,” she challenged, knowing there could be no trick while his hand was within hers.

“Are you sure?”

Sara nodded. “I want to feel it, to know that it's not an illusion.”

Quinn nodded agreement.

She held Quinn's gaze and his thumb, sensing that he was mustering his strength for something. His eyes narrowed, he exhaled, and Sara felt the nail change shape beneath her grip. His eyes glittered for a moment, then returned to normal.

Sara lifted her hand from his, and his thumb nail was just as it should be. “How did you do that?”

“I decided to.” He shrugged, as if shaking something off, then pushed a hand through his hair.

“It's not logical,” Sara protested. She was fascinated despite herself. She supposed she should have been afraid, but she was intrigued. Quinn seemed exotic and mysterious, but honest all the same. Sara felt even more attracted to him than she had before.

Maybe she was the one who was nuts.

Magda had often said that it was good for a person to believe ten impossible things before breakfast. It was only just past lunch, so Sara was running late, but she had to think that this day was setting some kind of record on her Impossible Things Scale.

It said something that reading Sigmund Guthrie's book about slaying dragons was the most reasonable choice of what to do next.

S
ara was with him until he mentioned destined mates.

Quinn saw the change in her expression, saw skepticism replace any desire to believe. It was further than he'd expected to get on his first try, although, as always, he would have liked to have achieved more.

How could he protect her unless she accepted their linked future? Quinn bit back his frustration and focused on hanging the door knocker, giving her a bit of time to come to terms with all he'd said.

A bit of time was pretty much all they had.

“Did the guy who claimed to be leader of the
Pyr
say what his name was?” he asked as he marked the position for the door knocker.

“Erik Sorensson,” Sara replied. “Why?

Quinn turned to stare at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“Yes.” Quinn drilled a hole for the screw, his annoyance rising. It figured. Erik Sorensson. There was no shaking that guy and no matter how much he took from Quinn, he always turned up looking for more.

“What did he look like?”

“I thought you knew him.”

“We've only met in dragon form.”

Sara blinked, but didn't question that further. “Tall, slim, and trim. Good-looking. Black hair with gray at the temples. Black leather jacket, despite the weather. A bit intense, really.” Sara frowned. “I think he was in your booth this morning.”

Quinn's blood ran cold. It was no wonder he hadn't recognized Erik, as they hadn't ever met in human form—and the times their paths had crossed hadn't endured long enough for Quinn to have a good sample of Erik's scent.

Until today.

Was Erik leading the true
Pyr
, or the
Slayers
? Quinn was inclined to believe the latter, given his own experiences with Erik. He had a very bad feeling about Erik speaking to Sara, but didn't want to frighten her further.

Quinn secured the mermaid to the door, then glanced up to find Sara immersed in one of the books Erik had chosen for her. What exactly had the so-called leader of the
Pyr
suggested that she read? Quinn put the tools away and cleaned up the bit of sawdust, and Sara kept reading.

“Is his recommended read any good?” he asked.

Sara glanced up and shrugged. “I don't like it much.”

“Why not?”

“It's nasty.” She flipped to the front cover, then back. “This Sigmund Guthrie guy was obsessed with killing dragons and making sure they stayed dead. There are all these rituals and mystical mumbo jumbo.” She smiled and wrinkled her nose in a way that made her look young and cute. “I'd think that dead was dead, but that shows what I know.”

“There's probably some key truth buried in the mumbo jumbo. It's an old way of ensuring that ways of power stay secret.”

“Really?” She considered this and surveyed the shelves. “I read one book that talked about healers disguising the one active ingredient in their potions by including lots of other stuff.”

“Eye of newt and toe of frog.”

“Or is it hair of dog?”

“It might not matter, if that's the disguise.” Quinn was relieved when she smiled.

“It makes sense in a way. Like protecting your technical secrets to keep anyone else from profiting from them.” She glanced at the cover of the book again, then drummed her fingers on it. “Why do you think he wanted me to read this?”

Quinn leaned on the door frame. He had an idea but he didn't like it much. “Well, according to the prophecy, you're supposed to be the Seer.”

Sara laughed. Quinn was entranced by the sight. Her eyes sparkled, like sunlight on the surface of the sea, and kept dancing when she sobered. “I am
so
not a seer. It was a family joke that I was the only one who didn't have an intuitive bone in my body.”

“Yet here you are.”

She ran her hands across the counter. “I used to spend summers with my aunt Magda here, and help in the shop. She was so different from the rest of my family that it was like visiting another planet.”

“How so?”

“She consulted her tarot cards about everything. I mean,
everything.
She shopped at thrift stores, which meant she had the oddest wardrobe ever. And whenever I thought she was just weird, she'd look at me and tell me exactly what I was thinking.”

“Because she could read your thoughts.”

Sara shook her head. “No. She was just a good judge of character.”

“Aren't they two sides of the same coin?”

She was startled by that idea. “That sounds like something my mother would have said. Magda was actually my maternal grandmother's sister.”

“Is it true that psychic abilities are often inherited, on the female side?”

Sara smiled. “I've heard that before, too. My mother used to read tea leaves, actually. She said it helped her make new friends when we moved, and we moved a lot.”

“Was she ever right?”

“Yes. Usually.” Sara blinked and hesitated. “She said she was just a good judge of character.”

Quinn laughed.

“It doesn't matter,” Sara protested, that smile playing with her lips. “I'm the practical one. I'm the one who adds it all up at the end of the day. That's what I do. I don't know why I'm even giving this nonsense any credence. It's crazy.”

Quinn could sense that he was losing her again.

He could only think of one way to show her that this—and he—was real.

Sara inhaled sharply. “I should call Malone's about that air conditioner,” she said quickly. “It's really hot in here.”

“It's not the air conditioner, Sara. It's the firestorm.” Quinn knew immediately that he'd said too much.

“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “No. This is nuts. There is no firestorm. There is no prophecy and if there is, it's about somebody other than me. I've got an inventory to reconcile and a bookstore to run and you've got an art show to do.” She lifted her chin and glared at him with defiance that only made him want to protect her.

The scarf around her neck and the bruise it hid were all too potent a reminder of the price he'd pay if he failed.

He'd paid it before, thanks to Erik Sorensson. The situation took on more urgency for him.

“You have to come with me,” Quinn said with resolve.

“Excuse me?”

“We have to stay together. It will be safer for you.”

Sara lifted one brow, her tone making her skepticism clear. “Because you're the Smith and I'm the Seer?”

“You don't have to believe it, Sara, to recognize that someone tried to kill you last night.”

She swallowed and looked down. “It could have been an attempted mugging.”

“Did he take your purse?”

She swallowed and frowned. “I won't stay late, if that makes you feel better.”

“The only thing that will make me feel better is if you come with me, right now.” Quinn leaned forward for emphasis when her lips set. “It's not safe for you to be alone, not now that they know where you are.”

“I thought your door knocker was your sentinel.”

“I didn't get here fast enough.” Quinn disliked the reminder but he wouldn't shirk the truth. “Anything could have happened to you in that time. If Erik had intended to hurt you, it would have been over by the time I got here.” He knew his voice was rising and he didn't care. “That's not good enough.”

Sara folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. “I thought you could sense when I'm in trouble? Like you did last night?”

Her doubt irritated Quinn, because he was having doubts himself about his ability to protect her. “They know where you are, Sara, and they're determined to stop the firestorm….”

“Why? What does the firestorm mean?”

Quinn gritted his teeth, not having wanted the conversation to go in this direction just yet. “It's a mating sign,” he admitted, knowing he sounded annoyed because he was.

“A mating sign?” Sara's eyes widened. “The other dragon shape shifters want to keep you from having sex?”

Quinn wasn't sure that telling Sara more was going to make this any better. He didn't have the chance, anyway. Sara crossed the store with decisive steps. He'd hit a nerve and he wasn't sure what it was.

“You're getting a bit ahead of things, don't you think?” she said when she turned. “We've only just met, so maybe you don't realize that I'm not the kind of woman who goes for quickies or one nighters.”

“Sara, it isn't about—”

“No, it never is, is it? It's always about forever and ever, until it's done and then the man of the hour has somewhere else to be. I've read that book and seen that movie, thanks just the same.” Her expression turned hard. “It wasn't compelling enough to be worth buying tickets again.”

Quinn knew that look. It was the look of a woman who had been wounded in relationships before but still believed in love.

“Forget the mating sign and the prophecy, then,” he argued. “You have to admit that someone tried to hurt you and might try again. Let me ensure your safety, at least.”

“No. I can take care of myself.” Sara hauled open the door and gestured to the arcade. “Thanks for hanging the door knocker, Quinn. Maybe I'll see you around.”

Quinn tried one last time. He had to—it wasn't just a matter of life and death; it was a matter of his mate's life and death. He paused beside her on the threshold. “Sara, it's not what you think. Protecting you is my responsibility….”

Her gaze was hard. “I've done just fine protecting myself for thirty-four years, Quinn, thanks. I find it's easier to just rely on myself than to count on someone who might not hang around.”

“You haven't protected yourself against
Slayers
, Sara. You don't know what you're up against. You
can't
know what you're up against, and you haven't got the tools to fight back.”

“But there were no
Slayer
s in my life until you turned up and I'm not convinced there are any now. One nasty attempted mugging doesn't make a whole team of bad guys. Have a good day, Quinn.”

“Sara! I'm not leaving you alone!” Quinn held his ground, knowing that she couldn't physically toss him out of the shop. He'd change shape if he had to. He'd do whatever was necessary to ensure that she was safe.

Then Sara looked him straight in the eye and said the only thing that could have changed his mind. “I don't want you to stay.”

Quinn knew then that if he won this battle, he'd lose the war.

“You're wrong,” he said softly. “It's risky.”

“I'll take my chances,” she said, without a hint of hesitation.

On some level, he admired her bravery. On another, he hoped it wouldn't cost them everything. He only left her then because he had one weapon in his arsenal that she didn't know about.

“Fair enough.” Quinn stepped through over the threshold. “Will you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Lock the door.”

She smiled. “That's not very good for business.”

“But better for your health.”

She shrugged, but he liked that she was considering his suggestion. Maybe she wasn't as confident as she wanted him to believe. He knew how much it hurt to trust someone and then be let down by that person, and he couldn't blame her for wanting to avoid that.

They'd only just met, after all. He needed time to win her trust.

Quinn could only hope that he had that time. He paused and leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. “I'm going only because you want me to,” he said. “You understand that, don't you?”

“And you don't like it. I get that, too.” Sara didn't look as if she found his protectiveness offensive.

Quinn could understand the desire to fend for oneself. After all, he was the one who preferred to be self-reliant. It would have been nice not to have had this particular trait in common with his mate, but Quinn could understand it.

He spared a glance up and down the arcade, well aware that Sara was watching him. People wandered its length, considering the merchandise in the shop windows and appearing harmless. He couldn't smell any other
Pyr
. He met Sara's gaze, not troubling to hide his concern. “You know where to find me.”

“Will you hear me if I scream?” she said, teasing him slightly.

“I'll hear you
decide
to scream,” he said with conviction and saw her surprise. “I just hope that's good enough.”