Kiss of Embers (The Dragon Lairds #5)

Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

STRUAN

I stood just inside the tent’s entrance watching rain descend in a steady sheet. The drumbeat of raindrops thundered against the canvas above me. The clacking sound of a laptop keyboard peppered the air at my back.

Finn had dug his computer from his pack the moment we returned from the clearing. Then he’d plunked his ass down in front of the screen and proceeded to ignore me. When I’d asked what he was up to, he’d muttered “research” and waved me off.

“How are you doing research without an internet connection?” I’d demanded.

His response had been accompanied by a raised eyebrow. “Satellite, Struan. Get with the times.”

Two hours and nonstop keyboard noises later, my mood soured by the minute.

Lightning flashed outside, briefly throwing the base camp into stark relief. Low-lying clouds hovered above the soggy ground. The moon gleamed overhead, its face full except for a narrow sliver. Its heat caressed my skin, and the first faint notes of its call tugged at my bones. In another two days, the song would grow too loud to resist, and I’d have to hunt.

Wind gusted, shifting the rain so it poured sideways. Lanterns swung from poles outside the tents, some of which were two stories high and reinforced with magic to keep them from collapsing. Most likely, the silly contraptions belonged to the vampires. The bloodsuckers were notorious for flaunting their wealth.

Ordinarily, I would have teased Finn about his pretentious cousins. But right now, all I could think about was big brown eyes and a pair of impossibly long legs. Wheat-colored hair and full, pink lips.

Sighing, I lifted the apple I’d dug from my pack and held it to my nose. Drawing a deep breath, I let the fruit’s sweet fragrance fill my lungs. Frustration gripped me. The scent was a poor substitute for her .

Zara.

Thunder rumbled. Through the tent’s opening, the rain continued to soak the ground.

My woman was out there. Fate had given me a tall, gorgeous werewolf—and she wanted nothing to do with me. The knowledge was a hollow ache in my chest.

More lightning flashed. Rain misted my face.

“We should go to her,” I announced.

Behind me, the clacking noise finally fell silent. Still holding the apple to my nose, I turned around. Finn sat at the dining table across the tent. He faced me, the table length between us, but he kept his gaze on the screen.

“Did you hear what I said?” I asked.

“Aye.” He didn’t look up. Just stared at the screen, his skin bathed in blue light.

A wave of annoyance washed through me. “Catching up on your holiday shopping?”

“No.”

The wave built. Why was he being such a dick? “Our female is steps away, and she hates us.”

“She doesn’t hate us.”

I lowered the apple. “We should be figuring out how to claim her, not”—I groped for a word—“whatever the bloody hell you’re doing.”

Music rose from Finn’s laptop. His face lit up, and he waved me over. “Come here, cranky arse. He got something.”

“Who?” I demanded, curiosity propelling me across the tent. I snagged one of the dining chairs on my way around the table and then plopped down next to him.

“I’m not cranky,” I muttered.

“Of course not,” he said, a smile in his voice as he clicked to accept the incoming call. A second later, a dark-haired man with piercing golden eyes filled the screen. Even seated behind a modern-looking desk, he looked like someone who could cleave a man’s head from his shoulders with a single swing of a broadsword. And he could. Lachlan MacKay was over a thousand years old and had fought in some of the most famous battles—human and supernatural—in history.

Right now, however, he balanced a chubby toddler with red curls and bright golden eyes on his lap.

“Draga!” the little boy yelled, pointing at Finn. His chubby finger swung toward me. “Draga!”

Lachlan grinned, and the love dancing in his eyes transformed his face from brutal to strikingly handsome. “That’s right, Brodie,” he said. “Finn and Struan are dragons.”

The boy twisted around and patted Lachlan’s jaw with a hand covered in something red and sticky-looking. “Da.”

“Aye, just like your daddies.” Lachlan captured the boy’s hand. “And you, ye wee scamp.” He examined the boy’s fingers, his brow furrowing. “Och. Who gave you jelly?” He reached out of the frame. There was a rattling sound and then he produced some kind of white cloth. He captured the boy’s hand and wiped the pudgy fingers with a competence that indicated he’d performed such tasks many times before. When he swiped the cloth over the lad’s face, the boy grimaced.

“Uck!”

“Aye,” Lachlan said, his eyes twinkling. “It’s no fun being clean, is it?” He looked at the camera. “Finn. Struan. It’s good to see you again.” Pride filled his voice as he bounced the toddler on his knee. “I don’t believe you’ve met my son. This is Brodie MacKay.”

The introduction was unnecessary. Every dragon in the world had seen Brodie’s photos. Like the other Firstborn Races, dragons had always reproduced sparingly. Then the Curse came along, and our numbers dwindled. The birth of a new bairn was always a cause for celebration. Brodie had also inherited his mother’s rare gift of absorbing magic from any supernatural being he touched. Tales of the boy’s magical—and frequently hair-raising—exploits already filtered through the supernatural world.

I set my apple on the table and then waggled my fingers at the little boy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Master Brodie.”

The toddler rewarded me with a gummy grin. With his red curls and citrine eyes, he was the perfect blend of Alec and Lachlan. Per dragon tradition, he’d taken the surname of his eldest sire. The next bairn would take Alec’s name, and then future children would rotate.

A familiar longing rose within me. I was fifteen years older than Finn, which meant our firstborn would be a MacLure.

Our firstborn. I’d never permitted myself to dwell on the possibility of raising bairns with Finn. But now that we’d found our female, what had seemed impossible suddenly felt very, very real.

Assuming Zara didn’t gut both of us in our sleep.

Finn looked at me, something tender and knowing in his eyes. “You don’t have much contact with the wolf side of your kin. Lachlan has a few centuries on us, and his mother was a werewolf. I thought he might be able to share some insight about Zara and her pack.”

My heart turned over. Finn understood all too well what it meant to be estranged from family. He hadn’t been ignoring me. He’d been trying to gather information.

I reached over and squeezed his knee. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” he murmured, the smile in his eyes letting me know he heard the apology in my voice.

I turned to Lachlan. “We appreciate any information you can give us.” Lachlan wasn’t just any werewolf halfling. For one thing, he was twelve centuries old. His she-wolf mother had been so formidable in battle that even the humans knew about her. Although, as usual, they got much of her history wrong when they penned a saga about her—and the humans who slayed her.

“I’m happy to help,” Lachlan said, looking like a doting father instead of the ancient dragon who avenged his mother’s death and inspired an Old English epic poem. He shifted Brodie on his lap as he leaned forward and appeared to read something on his screen. “The Rockford wolves own a vast forest in Maine. And Zara isn’t just any werewolf. She’s the alpha of the Rockford Pack.”

Surprise coursed through me, although maybe it shouldn’t have. Zara had carried herself like a leader. She’d given orders like she was accustomed to being in charge.

Lachlan’s expression turned serious. “There’s something else you should know. The Rockford Pack is overrun with moon sickness. They’ve tried to keep it quiet, but word is spreading. Zara’s mother was among the first to die. Her father was killed by moonstruck wolves a few months later. In the year that Zara has served as alpha, dozens of Rockford wolves have succumbed to the illness.” Lachlan nodded toward his screen. “According to these reports, Zara buries several pack members each week.”

Finn met my gaze. “I thought moon sickness was rare.”

“It is,” I said. “I’ve never heard of an entire pack being affected.”

“Nor have I,” Lachlan said. Brodie yawned, and Lachlan stroked the toddler’s curls before tucking Brodie into the crook of his arm. “Obviously, the moon sickness is what prompted Zara to compete in the Games.”

Finn nodded. “Aye, it makes sense. She wants to win the elixir and save her people.”

Lachlan’s expression turned grim. “Just like we want to win it to save our queen.”

The gravity of the situation settled heavily on my shoulders. Not only did Finn and I have to prevent Zara from winning, we had to take the elixir for ourselves. And somehow, we had to convince her to accept our claim even as we enjoyed the spoils of our victory at her expense.

Lachlan eased back in his chair, the now-sleeping Brodie curled in a ball with one dimpled fist resting on Lachlan’s chest. “‘Tis a difficult path fate has given you,” Lachlan said. “But if experience has taught me anything, it’s that difficult paths can end up being the best kind to travel.” He lowered his gaze to his son’s bright head. “Sometimes, fate gives us the most exasperating, impossible, beautiful journeys.” Lachlan looked up. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. But if Zara is meant to be yours, you’ll figure it out.”

I gazed at the sleeping child, who represented the future of the dragon race. Brodie’s mother, Chloe, had played an instrumental role in breaking the Curse and killing the witch who put it into motion. If Finn and I failed to win the elixir, Brodie’s future—and the future of the entire race—would be at risk.

“A dragon has never won the Games,” Finn said. He looked at me, determination glinting in his eyes. “That changes this year. We’re going to win that elixir for the queen. And we’re going to claim our female while we do it.”

A shiver raced down my spine. It was hardly the first time Finn had provoked that sort of response in me. Intense was too mild a word for my mate. Memories of our first meeting, when I’d caught his eye across a bustling street in Edinburgh, ran through my head. The world had been busy celebrating the end of the Second World War. I’d been knocked senseless by the gray-eyed man staring me down from the other side of the cobblestones.

I’d felt that way ever since.

I smiled now, my worries fading. “You mean I’m going to win the elixir.” I patted his shoulder, and I loaded my voice with condescension as I added, “You can help me claim our female.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Keep dreaming, Struan.”

Lachlan chuckled. “I’ll leave you two to your bickering.” He glanced at Brodie and then spoke in a serious tone. “A final word of advice from a man who’s done his share of groveling at the feet of a strong woman. You’re unlikely to win Zara over by charging into her life and declaring her yours. She’s an alpha werewolf. Underestimate her at your peril.”

Anticipation shivered through me. “We won’t. And we thank you again for your help.”

Lachlan nodded. “Good luck.” He ended the call.

Finn sat back in his chair, unmistakable challenge in his eyes. “You’re going to win the elixir, huh?”

“That’s right,” I said, another delicious shiver running through me. “Only one of us can win.” I leaned forward and grabbed the apple I’d left on the table. I brushed the firm, glossy skin over my lips as I smiled at my mate. “Might as well be me.”

He ran a proprietary look down my body, sexual promise joining the challenge in his gaze. “We’ll see.”

“I’m sure we will.” I tossed the apple into the air once and caught it. Finn’s casual pose in the chair didn’t fool me for a second. He planned on beating me on and off the field of competition.

But I’d like it, so I’d end up winning even if I lost.

I tossed the apple into the air and caught it again. “Should we go see Zara? I’m thinking we need to introduce ourselves properly.”

Too quick to track, he darted forward and took a healthy bite of the fruit. Just as quickly, he grabbed the back of my neck and hauled me into a kiss. He thrust the apple into my mouth, forcing me to chew or choke. As I swallowed the fruit, he spoke against my lips.

“You always have the best ideas.”