The Dragon Legion Collection

Chapter Three



The apple had shown Aura the truth. Thad believed there would be a son, that the firestorm must result in the conception of a son.

But the apple revealed to Aura that there was no son in her future.

Thad was wrong.

It wasn’t a crime to believe in the tales of his kind, and Aura actually counted his faith in his favor. He liked the story. He wanted it to be true.

She knew it wasn’t, so she could be with him.

And Thad had immediately rewarded her decision with his plan to take their time. Aura had been seduced by more than one man, but they all had a single thing in common: they were in a hurry to satisfy their pleasure. Thad’s intent to prolong the firestorm was wonderful and enticing to Aura.

It was a perfect evening in a perfect garden. The moon was rising and was full, its silver light almost as bright as sunlight in the garden. Aura led Thad to a sparkling fountain that was wide and deep. Stars were reflected in its surface and even better, there were no nymphs who claimed this water.

She would have her dragon all to herself.

Her blood was humming when she turned to face him. She removed her tunic, liking how he caught his breath at the sight of her nudity. She removed her sandals, feeling beautiful and provocative, simply as a result of the heat of his gaze. When she straightened, Thad has shed his strange clothing and was nude beside her. She flicked a glance over him and smiled.

He was everything she could hope a man—dragon shifter or not—could be.

“You undress quickly,” she teased. “Is that anticipation?”

“Training put to good use,” he replied. Aura didn’t understand his words and she guessed that it showed. “We have to undress quickly to hide our clothes when we shift shape.”

She reached to touch his injuries, dipping her free hand into the fountain and stroking away the blood. His wounds were already healing, a sign that dragon shifters were as vigorous as she would have expected them to be. “Can you shift back without them?”

“The story is no.” He grinned, that crazy crooked confident smile that made her heart gallop. “The reality is not something I want to explore.”

“Don’t tell me a dragon is afraid.”

“A wise dragon compensates for his weakness,” he said with a lift of one brow, offering his hand to her in silent invitation.

She put her hand in his and the light of the firestorm flared brilliant yellow between them. “And how will you compensate for that one?”

“By having a partner who can be trusted completely.” He kissed her fingertips, his gallant gesture prompting her smile. The heat in his eyes filled her with anticipation, and the touch of his lips on her fingers made her knees melt. He turned her hand and kissed her palm, folding her fingers over the burning imprint of his lips.

Aura sighed with delight. Thad spared her a mischievous glance, his hair falling over his eyes, then kissed the inside of her wrist. He trailed kisses up the inside of her arm, blazing a trail to her shoulder that dissolved every last shred of her inhibitions. Aura let her head tip back when he kissed her shoulder, her throat, her ear, then gasped as he bent to kiss her breasts.

She had never felt anything so good in her life.

She ran her hands over the muscled breadth of his shoulders, then up his neck, spearing her fingers into his hair. She laughed at the sight of the firestorm’s sparks in his dark wavy hair, like fireflies in a thicket at twilight. She ran her fingertip over the dark blue mark on his skin, the image of a dragon, and the firestorm’s light made it look touched with fire. He straightened and captured her lips beneath his own, claiming her with a kiss.

Thad swept Aura into his arms in one easy gesture. He carried her into the fountain, and Aura felt the water surround her as he sank into its depths. The fountain was deep enough that the water came to his shoulders, and the cascading spray fell all around them like a spring shower. The water, too, turned golden in the firestorm’s light, as golden as Hera’s apples and gleaming just as richly. She felt his hands slide over her beneath the surface and liked that his touch was both firm and gentle.

Thad pulled her astride him and Aura felt the size of his erection. As much as she wanted to feel his heat inside her, she twisted in his embrace. Thad broke his kiss and regarded her with concern, his expression making Aura feel playful. “You didn’t change your mind,” he whispered and she laughed, because it wasn’t possible.


Not now.

“No, but the firestorm won’t burn long this way,” she teased, and his grin flashed. Then she pushed him back so suddenly that he lost his balance. He disappeared beneath the surface and Aura pursued him, seeing how he was holding his breath. She ran her hands over the hard lines of his body with unrestrained delight. She had wanted to touch him before and had caressed him as a breeze, but now she wanted to feel him with her hands. She felt his calves, his thighs, his buttocks, then closed her hands around his erection.

Thad caught his breath and locked his arm around her waist. He lunged out of the water, carrying Aura with him, and caught a deep breath at the surface. “I can’t swim,” he confessed.

“But I can,” she said with a smile. She dipped below the surface and cupped her hands around him, then replaced them with her lips. She felt him moan as much as she heard it. As a nymph linked to the element of air, she was at ease in the water as a naiad. She breathed a stream of tiny bubbles, which frothed against Thad’s skin even as she took his strength in her mouth. She closed her eyes against the brilliant glow of the firestorm and bent her attention to giving him pleasure. She felt his hands close around her head. She heard him catch his breath. When she wrapped her arms around him, she felt the pounding of his heart against her palm. The firestorm glowed with greater intensity, even as she gave him all the pleasure she could give.

She sensed that he was on the cusp of release when Thad seized her by the waist and drew her to the surface. He kissed her deeply and possessively, then lifted her to sit on the lip that surrounded the central pillar. He parted her thighs and kissed the insides of her knees, his playful glance making her blood simmer as much as his artful kisses. When his mouth closed over her, Aura leaned back and moaned from the depths of her being. The water was cascading all around her, the golden glow of the firestorm lit the night and her dragon was determined to make her roar.

Three times Aura found her pleasure that night, each peak higher than the last, before Thad lifted her out of the water, spread her on the lush grasses of Hera’s garden and claimed her, body and soul, forever.

* * *

Chicago—June 1, 2012



Erik, leader of the Pyr, sat vigil.

He had been watching Drake sleep for three days and three nights. The other warrior had been utterly still in his slumber. Only a Pyr could detect the slight motion of Drake’s chest as he breathed, and Erik had leaned close several times, just to be sure. Drake didn’t move or roll around, just remained supine with his hands folded on his chest.

Three days and three nights.

Erik had to wonder if Drake would sleep for months. Forever? He leaned back in his chair and let his own breathing slow. Erik had been sure that Drake would have stories to tell him. He wanted to know what had happened to the other Dragon’s Tooth warriors.

He wanted to ask if Drake knew why Erik’s mind was afire.

Where had they been? Where had they gone? What had befallen them?

The darkfire crystal no longer held a spark. It was dead and empty, the crystal too faceted to even make a good scrying stone. Erik had stored it in his hoard, but he wasn’t certain it had value anymore.

He let his eyes narrow to slits and listened to Drake’s slow breathing. Eileen was maintaining the normal rhythm of their lives, sleeping at night and rising with the alarm clock. She looked in on him and reminded him to eat, even as she hurried to work and took Zo? to daycare. Erik waited with Drake, wanting to be the first one to hear of his experiences.

Wanting to ensure that Drake didn’t slip away without telling him more.

As he sat in the darkened room, Erik did as he always did. He reviewed the locations of the Pyr. He felt a connection with each of his fellow dragon shape shifters, which was how he had inherited the task of leader. He was always aware of them, but when he sat in the dark, the links felt more tangible. There could have been a fine copper wire stretched between him and every individual Pyr who drew breath. Or maybe they were lines made of fire, for they shone in the darkness of his mind like long, thin conduits of flame. At the terminus of each was a larger flame, one that burned in a color or a way that reminded him of the Pyr in question.

There was Quinn, the Smith of the Pyr, charged with the power to heal their dragon scales. Sapphire and steel in his own dragon form, Quinn was staring into the glowing coals on the hearth, in his house outside Traverse City. He was listening, even while his partner Sara and sons Garrett and Ewen slept, and he was turning his challenge coin in one hand as if he sensed danger approaching.

There was Donovan, the Warrior of the Pyr, restless in the middle of the night at his home in Minneapolis St-Paul. Lapis lazuli and gold in his dragon form, Donovan was always learning new fighting skills. On this night, though, he was listening, standing still in his garage by his Ducati while his partner Alex slept. His sons Nick and Darcy slept while their father began to pace.

There was Delaney, Donovan’s younger brother, standing at the front window of the house he shared with Ginger in Ohio. Erik heard Delaney’s awareness that the dairy cows they raised were serene in the barn, and his surprise at that. Delaney was copper and emerald in his dragon form and more wiry than his older brother. He inhaled deeply of the night air, as if expecting to catch a whiff of something in the wind, and listened to the world outside the house while Ginger and their sons Liam and Sean slept.

Niall Talbot, the Dreamwalker of the Pyr, was changing a diaper, his keen sense of smell so affronted by the odor that Erik smiled. Niall and Rox had twin boys, Kyle and Nolan. Erik was aware that Rox was beside Niall, changing the other boy’s diaper, and that Niall was also listening for a sound that had not yet come.

He was not alone in his sense of foreboding.

Erik found that reassuring.

He followed a brilliant and sturdy line of fire to his old friend Rafferty, secure within the line of dragonsmoke that defended his townhouse in London. Rafferty was gold and opal in his dragon form and was humming softly, reinforcing the dragonsmoke even though it was already deep and thick. It was early morning there, and the Pyr abandoned his creation of dragonsmoke when his partner Melissa embraced him. Erik turned his attention away on purpose, not wanting to intrude, but noted that Rafferty also was preparing for a sensed threat.

Stretching beyond Rafferty’s thread of gold was the glittering line that led Erik to Lorenzo, stage magician and chameleon of the Pyr. Lorenzo was staring out of his home at the waters of the Grand Canal in Venice, looking so intently into the water that it seemed he expected something or someone to suddenly appear. Erik felt Lorenzo jump when his partner Cassie spoke to him, a remarkable thing given how observant Lorenzo was.

On a shoal west of the Hawai’ian islands, Brandon scanned the horizon, as if expecting a storm. He stayed close beside his pregnant partner, Liz, and Erik felt the younger Pyr’s readiness to leap into a fight. Brandon’s father, Brandt, even farther away in Australia stood on a beach and listened to the sound of the wind with care.

Erik spared only the barest glance at Thorolf, because he was so disappointed in that Pyr and his choices. Given his lineage, Thorolf should have been not just a large dragon with fearsome appetites but a force for change and good in the world. Instead, he fought, drank and seduced women. Erik knew he shouldn’t be surprised that Thorolf alone was oblivious to any threat, engaged in a bout of lovemaking with some woman in Bangkok. Erik didn’t want to know if that Pyr was also drunk so he turned his attention away quickly.


In California, Sloane, the Apothecary of the Pyr, was stirring some concoction as it cooled. He stood in bare feet in his kitchen, the glass doors slid back and the evening breeze sweeping through his house, which perched on a hilltop, his attention distracted from his task by something he sensed drawing nearer.

They all—with the exception of Thorolf—sensed the same portent that Erik felt. He wondered if their minds were aflame like his, too. Because that was the sum of the Pyr remaining. Their numbers had dwindled over the centuries. Though Erik had hopes for the next generation of dragon shifters, they wouldn’t come into their powers until puberty. In a sense, they were slumbering like Drake. He was used to an array of glimmering lines of gold in his mind, enough that he could count them readily, enough that he could feel comforted that he wasn’t alone, enough to cast a glow in the darkness of his dreams.

The problem was that lately, there had been a fireball in his mind. He could see and follow the same lines that he knew well, but hovering on the edge of his vision was a brilliant halo of light. Erik could make no sense of it.

But it drew steadily closer. It had first lit when Drake took the darkfire crystal from Lorenzo, and it had become almost blinding in its intensity when Drake appeared at his door three days before. It was clear to Erik that his fellow Pyr sensed a change as well, though none of them knew what it might be. There were others of their kind, Slayers who had turned to the shadows, but the Slayers who survived had drunk the Dragon’s Blood Elixir. That extinguished them completely from Erik’s network of lights and made their doings mysterious. It wasn’t the first time he’d worried about Chen and his doings.

The light was brighter on this night, and it seemed to Erik that a thousand points of light converged on him. He shook his head and sighed, frowning at Drake. He didn’t know whether to dread or celebrate the fact that one of these days, the source of this new light would become clear.

There would be a partial eclipse in three days. Would there be a firestorm sparked by the eclipse? If so, whose? Sloane? Thorolf?

And what did this sense of foreboding mean?

Erik debated the merit of awakening Drake immediately, but the older warrior seemed worn thin. He sat back in his chair, impatient but determined to give Drake the time he needed.

For the moment.

* * *

The pilgrim paused in his journey to cough.

He didn’t have much choice, really. The urge came from deep inside him, and he feared that once he began to cough, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Each spasm was longer than the last, more exhausting, more painful, and seemed more likely to be his last.

He coughed. He choked. He felt his chest clench and his body shake. He saw blood in his spittle, more than the last time, and was profoundly grateful when his coughing stopped.

He was also exhausted. His knees were trembling and he felt too close to the end.

Unfortunately, his journey wasn’t complete. He looked up the ascending road to the pass that he believed led to the fabled Garden of the Hesperides. He’d hoped to reach that place before he died. He’d hoped to throw himself at the mercy of Hera, and maybe, just maybe, to be given a bite from one of her golden apples. That fruit was said to have the power to heal anything, and he had pursued every other cure, without success.

Now he feared he would die before he reached the garden at all.

He sighed, more weary than should be possible, and noticed a tree at one side of the road. This path was mostly barren of vegetation. He’d thought it a feat of the goddess herself, in order to increase the impression of the garden’s lush greenery by contrast. If so, he doubted he’d ever see that contrast.

He stumbled to the tree and almost collapsed beneath it, leaning back against its sturdy trunk. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the air beneath the tree was still cooler and fresher, almost rejuvenating in itself. He looked up and smiled at the way the leaves blew, stirred by a breeze he could not feel. He could see the stars through the tree’s boughs and he felt safe, as if sheltered from harm.

He shook his head at his own whimsy and reached into his pack for his skin of water. There was nowhere safe in all the world, he’d learned that the hard way, and a tree’s branches were no refuge. He supposed his illness had progressed to the point that he was losing his wits.

He tried to be accepting of that and failed.

He opened the skin with a savage gesture, resenting that he should be the one to fall so ill, that his body should fail him when he was still comparatively young, and that was when he saw her.

A woman was hunkered down and watching him, not ten steps away. She wore a dark cloak of roughly woven cloth, one that she’d pulled over her head so that he’d mistaken her for a rock in the shadows. Her eyes shone from within the darkness of her hood though, her gaze so bright that he shivered.

On impulse, he offered the skin of water. “Thirsty?” he asked. “It is yours, if you want it.” He gestured to himself. “There are those who want nothing from a sick man like myself, and I wouldn’t blame you if you chose to die of thirst instead.”

To his surprise, she scuttled forward, moving more like an insect than a woman. She paused an arm’s length from him, considering him warily, then snatched the skin away. She drank of it so gratefully that he felt sympathy for her.

“It was hot yesterday,” he said. “Did you drink all the water you’d brought?”

She nodded, then halted to offer the skin back to him.

He smiled, knowing she must still be parched. “Drink some more. It won’t help me as much as it will help you.”

Again she studied him, little discernible of her features except those glinting eyes. She drank again, gratefully and greedily, and the pilgrim was glad that something good had come of his journey.

“You’re going to the garden,” she said, when the skin was nearly empty. She offered it to him again and he drained it.

Then he nodded. “Well, I was, but I won’t make it there now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am sick, so sick that no one can help me.” He shrugged. “I had an idea that Hera herself might show mercy upon me, if I asked her politely.”

The old woman cackled. “Can you ask nicely enough?”

He grinned. “I could try.” She gave him such a skeptical look that the pilgrim had to consider himself, so gaunt that his bones showed, running sores on his flesh and his hair almost gone. His teeth had fallen out months before and his nails had turned black. The idea of him courting the favor of a great goddess, even as he looked as he did, made him laugh at the absurdity of it all.

That launched another coughing spasm, one that left him shaking beneath the tree long moments later. The blood in his spittle was bright red. He could taste it and knew there was more of it than ever before.

So, he would pass under this tree. It was no so bad a place to die.

To his surprise, the old woman hadn’t left. “You are sick,” she said, helping him to sit up. She had an unexpected strength and her hands, when he glimpsed them, were as unlined as those of a maiden. She hid them away so quickly that he wondered if his vision was fading, as well.

“I am dying,” he said, having no need for pretense. “It will not be long now. You should go. Take the rest of my provisions, and may your journey go well.”

But she didn’t go. She moved closer and took his hand in hers. He would have looked but the pain rose within him, and he closed his eyes against it, taking comfort from her touch.


“I will stay with you,” she said, her voice gentle. “If you like.”

The pilgrim gritted his teeth against the rise of another spasm, trusting himself only to nod.

“I will tell you a story,” the old woman said, settling herself beside him with his hand firmly locked in hers.

* * *

Thad awakened hours later, relaxed and content. The sky was turning rosy in the east and the plants in the garden were heavy with dew. He could still see stars in the western sky, but his attention was captured by the beauty nestled in his embrace. Aura had been everything he’d hoped and more. The firestorm had lived up to its reputation. And now, Aura would have his son and they would create a life together.

He bent and kissed her forehead. A spark crackled between her soft skin and his lips, making Thad withdraw in shock.

Had he imagined it?

Aura turned and nestled against him, her hand trailing down the length of his chest. To Thad’s astonishment, a glow lit in the wake of her caress, as if the embers of the firestorm were being stirred to life again.

But how could that be? The firestorm was always satisfied the first time a Pyr and his destined mate made love. He and Aura had made love more than once the night before. How could the firestorm still burn?

There could be no doubt, though. The light caress of her fingertips summoned the heat within him again, and radiance began to grow between them. The light was deep orange but becoming brighter and whiter by the moment.

She wasn’t pregnant.

She wasn’t carrying his son.

He was being punished. But why? Why was he unworthy? He had served with his fellows. He had hunted vipers. He had been enchanted and survived, then returned to finish the viper Cadmus. He had obeyed Drake without question.

Had Cadmus cursed the Dragon’s Tooth Warriors forever? Had he somehow been cheated of his birthright?

Thad rolled away from Aura, unable to think of another reason the firestorm could continue to burn. Worse, he couldn’t think of a way to set things to rights.

He was so filled with restless energy that he might have gotten to his feet and paced, but he felt Aura’s hand on his shoulder. As well as the brush of her fingertips, there was the warming glow of the firestorm on his skin, heating him from within, making him think that another romantic interval might solve the issue.

But it wouldn’t. Thad knew it.

“Awake already?” Aura murmured. “Come back to me. I like mornings.”

Thad turned around, captured her hand and kissed it. “I can’t,” he said, and saw her confusion. He stood up then and shoved a hand through his hair, uncertain what to do.

“What’s wrong?” Aura was braced on one elbow, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, her lips so soft and ripe that Thad yearned for another taste. He turned his back on her, wanting to solve the problem.

“The firestorm is still burning.”

“So, it is.”

Thad heard her get to her feet. She made a little incoherent sound as she stretched and he couldn’t resist the temptation to look. She was as luscious and alluring as when he’d first glimpsed her. The firestorm heated to a simmer, driving practical issues from his thoughts.

Aura caught his gaze and smiled, extending one hand to him. “We wanted to prolong it and it looks like we succeeded. Let’s put that spark to good use.” It took everything within Thad not to take her up on that offer.

He had to make his case while he still could. “Don’t you see? The firestorm is still burning!” He gestured and sparks flared from his fingertips when his hand neared her.

Aura folded her arms across her chest and watched him warily. “This was a good thing last night, but it’s a bad thing this morning?”

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

“It did happen. We can enjoy it.”

“But you should be pregnant!” Thad flung out his hands. “The firestorm should be satisfied the first time a Pyr and his destined mate are intimate.”

“Because she always conceives the first time?” Aura asked, her tone skeptical. Thad nodded and she smiled. “Every time?”

“Every time! That’s how it works.”

“Well, I don’t think we did it wrong,” Aura teased, coming to his side. She ran her fingertips over his shoulder and down his arm, her gaze following her touch. Thad swallowed, feeling his entire being focus on her and the heat she generated. She bent and touched her lips to his shoulder, sending a surge of desire through him that weakened his knees. “We could try again, just to be sure,” she whispered against his flesh, then closed her hand around his erection.

Thad shut his eyes, not having the strength to step away from her caress. “Aura, you don’t understand. This is important. I must have failed the Pyr somehow...”

Aura froze. “You? Never! There has to be another reason.”

“What could it be? The firestorm sparked, I followed its heat to you, and it should be satisfied.” He glanced down to find consideration in her gaze. “You should be carrying my son.”

Aura regarded him with new wariness. “And without the son, you don’t want me?”

“I want both!”

She leaned closer, her gaze intent. “Which do you want more?”

Thad stared at her. He knew his answer was important to her, and he could guess why, but the situation made no sense. “I shouldn’t have to choose,” he said. “The firestorm should be satisfied, and we should be planning a life together, you, me and our son.”

Aura shook her head. “What if I told you that I was never going to have your son?”

“What?” Thad took a step back, moving away from the distraction of her enticing touch. “Why not? Don’t you want to have a child?”

Aura held his gaze, her own resolve clear. “I don’t want to only have a child, Thad, and I don’t want to have a child alone.”

“But I promised you...”

“I know.” Aura frowned. “But you were wrong and I knew it.” She met his gaze and smiled slightly. “I couldn’t resist you.”

Thad took a step back. “I don’t understand. You knew the firestorm wouldn’t be satisfied, and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know that, not exactly.” Aura sighed. “I see the future, Thad. It’s my gift. When you came to me, I looked into the possibilities of the future. There was no child in our joined future.”

Thad shook his head. “That’s impossible. That’s how the firestorm works.”

“I know you believe that. I was uncertain, because you were sure there would be a son, yet my vision was so clear that there wouldn’t be one.”

“That’s why we came here,” Thad said in sudden understanding. “That’s why you wanted me to eat a golden apple.”

“I needed to know whether you were telling me the truth.” Aura shrugged. “You were, at least as much of it as you knew.” She smiled slightly, her expression apologetic. “But you were wrong, Thad. There is never going to be a son from our union  .” She lifted her hand and the firestorm’s flames danced between them. “Looks like you’re the only one who expects otherwise. Is that so bad? We could have a lifetime of nights like this together.” Aura reached for him. “We can share so much pleasure, without worrying about consequences. Think of a hundred nights like last night, a hundred flights across the seas, a hundred secret refuges that only you and I can reach together. We could have so much together.”


Thad was tempted, but he caught her hands in his. “Not if I’m a failure to my kind.”

“You don’t know that’s true.”

“There has to be some reason! The firestorm is always satisfied.”

“We could have each other,” Aura urged.

Thad spun away from her and paced. Was it a curse from Cadmus or his own failure at root? The problem was that he couldn’t think of how he had failed his kind. He felt Aura watching him and was aware that the firestorm’s heat faded with distance. He turned back to study her and couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t as agitated as he was.

In fact, she seemed disappointed. He couldn’t bear the sight of her resignation. Just then, Thad remembered Rafferty’s firestorm. Rafferty’s mate hadn’t been able to conceive a child at all, but the firestorm had brought them together and subsequently brought a daughter to them. Was there something wrong with Aura? He couldn’t believe it. Was there a kind of sorcery in this garden that obstructed the firestorm? No matter what was going on, he had to follow Rafferty’s lead and be true to his mate.

He marched back to Aura’s side, feeling the heat build between them with every step. He saw the sheen of tears in her gaze, although she tried to hide it. “Tell me,” he invited in a murmur.

“I had hoped that I might be enough.”

Her words cut deep, because Thad had never meant to imply that she was less than his every dream come true. “You are enough,” he insisted. “I will stay with you. The Great Wyvern chose you as my destined mate because our futures are entwined, and because there is more that we can do together.”

She eyed him. “But a son was part of your expectation.”

Thad had to nod agreement to that. “But you accepted me, only because there wasn’t going to be a child,” he said, no accusation in his tone. She dropped her gaze in acknowledgement and his heart clenched. “Why don’t you want my son, Aura?”

“It’s not your son, Thad. It’s any son. Any child, really.”

Had Aura been able to interfere with the firestorm’s promise?

Aura turned her back on Thad, and he knew this was important to her. He followed her and caught her shoulders in his hands, bending to touch his lips to her neck. He felt her shiver in response to the same shimmer of heat that erupted from the point of contact and rolled through his body. He could have tried to change her mind with passion, especially with the firestorm on his side, but Thad sensed that he had to listen. “I won’t abandon you, Aura. I promise. Son or no son, our futures are bound together.”

Her hand rose so that her fingers entangled with his, and he felt her trembling. “I believe you,” she admitted quietly, and he was relieved. “But I still don’t see a son in our future.”

“You think you know why,” he dared to guess and she nodded once. “Aura, tell me.”

She glanced up at him, both enticing and vulnerable. “Remember that tree?”

Thad was startled by the change of topic. He spared a glance at the orchard of golden apples, but Aura shook her head. “Not those trees.”

“The one outside the garden?” he asked, unable to think of another she’d singled out for his attention. Aura nodded. The tree had something to do with the firestorm?

“Let’s go there, now, and I’ll tell you a story.”

Thad was ready to do anything to fulfill the firestorm and to win Aura’s trust, even if he couldn’t understand her reasoning as yet. He summoned the change from deep within himself and savored the surge of power that rolled through him with his transformation. He took flight over the lush garden, then hovered over Aura.

She had picked up the golden apple, the one they had shared. It had two distinct bites out of it but was otherwise intact. She tucked it into her tunic, hiding it from view, then smiled at him and lifted her arms toward him. “Show me what it’s like to fly with a dragon,” she demanded, and Thad was only too glad to comply.

She was his mate. She was his future. He would spend every moment of his life believing in the firestorm and proving as much to her.

And if the firestorm burned for all of that time, he would savor every spark.

Thad swept down and gathered Aura up, chuckling at her shout of delight. He soared high over the garden, even as her hair swirled around him and tickled his scales. She was unafraid, her eyes shining. He showed off a little, wanting to prompt her laughter, but only until she pointed to the road outside the garden.

“The tree,” she commanded, so fearless that he knew she was his match in every way.

“The tree,” Thad agreed, fixing her with an intent look. “And the story.”

Aura nodded and settled against him, leaning her cheek against his chest. Thad raced out of the garden and over the lip of the mountaintop, spiraling through the air in a way he knew Aura would appreciate. He was so busy trying to show her the similarities between their powers that he didn’t notice the scale from his chest fall free and into her hand.

* * *

The dark scale lifted from Thad’s hide so easily that it might not have really been attached. Aura caught it in her hand and glanced up at him, realizing immediately that he hadn’t noticed it fall. He was intent upon flying, and while she admired his skill, the scale mystified her.

Did the Pyr lose their scales like this all the time?

It couldn’t have hurt him to lose it, or he would have noticed. Maybe the Pyr routinely shed scales and grew new ones. But when Aura looked over Thad’s muscled dragon form, she couldn’t see another missing scale anywhere. The dark scales were locked over each over in perfect rows, as if providing complete protection.

Except for the spot this one had left bare. Aura could see a bit of uncovered skin, and it worried her to think that her dragon had any vulnerabilities. She’d ask him more about the scale after she told him the story she’d promised him.

The sky was brighter in the east and the sun had crested the horizon. When Thad flew high, they were above the lingering shadows of the night, and a crisp wind lifted Aura’s hair. She wondered if it was anyone she knew, a notion that made her smile.

“I’m waiting,” Thad murmured in old-speak and Aura smiled.

It was so easy to confide in Thad. Aura knew that was because she trusted him to keep his word.

“Once upon a time,” she said. “There was a beautiful nymph.”

“I know a beautiful nymph,” Thad interjected and she poked him.

“A different nymph.”

“Then she must have been less beautiful than my nymph.”

Aura smiled at his possessive tone then continued. “She loved to make music in the world around her. She would make water spray so that it splashed on broad water lily leaves, or cast it tinkling into a pool of still water. She would blow through the rushes so they whistled and race through icicles so they made a sparkling tune. She was happy with these amusements and would have stayed so.”

“But...” Thad prompted.

“One day, Zeus himself spied her and was filled with lust. She refused his advances but he was determined to have her. He tricked her by becoming a tree with silvery leaves that made music when they were stirred by the wind. She discovered this and couldn’t resist the tree, for the music it made was sweeter than sweet. The third time she blew through the tree’s leaves, Zeus surprised her. He changed shape, captured her and claimed her by force. Once he had had his fill of the beautiful nymph, he abandoned her on a remote hilltop and went in search of another beauty to claim.”


Thad stilled at this and fixed her with a look that commanded the truth. “Are you certain I don’t know this nymph?” He looked dangerous and ready to avenge her, even against the king of the gods.

“Positive,” Aura said, liking how Thad closed one claw more protectively around her. He flew higher, taking a turn over the mountain that sheltered the garden and narrowed his gaze as he stared toward the horizons. Was he checking the area for amorous gods? Aura could believe not only that, but that he wouldn’t flinch from defending her.

The warm glow of the firestorm surrounded them, like an orb of golden light, its caress making her imagine many earthy ways to reward her loyal dragon.

But first, the story.

“Hera knew of her husband’s infidelity, but she blamed the nymph for tempting Zeus. She came to the nymph, determined to punish her. Once Hera saw the result of what her husband had done, though, she felt only pity for the nymph who had been so ill-used. She also knew at a glance that the nymph would bear Zeus’s daughter. The nymph had no desire to play or change shape any more. She was weary of the world and begged Hera to help her somehow. She vowed to accept any price to avoid the lust of gods and men.

“This suited Hera very well, for she didn’t want Zeus returning to the nymph—not for the sake of any of them. So, Hera made the nymph an offer: she would change the nymph into a tree, a tree with lovely silver leaves that made music in the wind, and the nymph would be safe forever from the desires of men and gods in that guise. The nymph loved this idea and would have accepted immediately, but Hera told her that she was going to have a daughter by Zeus. The nymph felt snared by this news and appealed to Hera for help.

“Hera had been trapped by the children of Zeus and his lovers before, so she resolved to make an ally of this unborn daughter. She offered to raise the nymph’s daughter as her own, letting the girl grow up in the Garden of the Hesperides, which was tended by other nymphs. The nymph gratefully agreed, asking only that her daughter knew the truth of her conception. Hera said she would do better than that and give the daughter the gift of foresight, so that she would know the result of any union   before it occurred. She took the nymph to the Garden of the Hesperides and after her daughter was born, Hera kept her promise and raised the child there. She ensured that the daughter not only knew her mother’s story but visited her mother often on the hill below, stirring the silver leaves to make music.”

Thad turned high in the sky then and dove toward the tree, his choice telling Aura that he understood her meaning. It was as thrilling to soar down toward the mountain in his grasp as it was to do it herself and Aura held fast to his mailed chest as he descended. He flew around the tree with a flourish, and Aura saw that there were two pilgrims beneath its shelter.

It was just as she’d expected.

Thad must have seen the pair, too, because he continued in old-speak. “And one day, the nymph met a Pyr, who was determined to win her heart forever. He called the sparks that flew between them ‘the firestorm’ and insisted that they were destined lovers. The nymph knew there would be no son, but she brought him back to the Garden of the Hesperides, giving him a golden apple to see if he was sincere in his pledge to stay with her forever.”

“And he was,” Aura whispered in the speech of her own kind.

“And he was,” Thad agreed. He landed beside the tree with ease, shifting shape in the last moment so that Aura was surrounded by a sparkle of pale blue light. Then Thad was in his human form, holding her in his embrace, his strength against his softness and the heat of the firestorm between them. “And so she brought him to meet her mother,” he said, before he bent to brush his lips across hers.