Stroke of Fire Page 3

  Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  Briella Everett might be small in stature, but the fire that burned inside her delicate frame was larger than life. He could almost taste it on his tongue. It overpowered the subtle essence of Baroqueth that lingered in the enemy’s wake and managed to make him harder. Oh, and that hair of hers. He’d love to tangle his hands in its softness, tug her head back, and…

  A growl escaped his lips. He rubbed his palms roughly on his thighs, willing away the evidence of his arousal with the harsh motion. The contact only made his hunger grow.

  This lifemate business was murder on a man.

  Resigning himself to suffering his relentless hard-on, he scanned his surroundings for any sign of an enemy. Whoever ransacked Briella’s apartment either found what he was searching for and left, or found nothing of material interest.

  Either way, he would be back. Of that, Syn was certain. The Baroqueth would not let the possible lifemate of a Firestorm dragon out of their sights for long.

  And neither would he.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Briella mindlessly stirred her tea, ignoring the string tangling around the spoon. The chills continued to spread up and down her body two hours after her ordeal. Chills, and a little something else.

  “Brie, doll. I’m sure it was some random act. You said that nothing was stolen and all your paintings were intact. Whoever it was probably got the wrong apartment.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  Briella looked across the table at Emma Nova, one of the friends she’d made since her move. The other woman tended to play the mother, though she was only six years Briella’s senior. Briella hated the idea of asking anyone to take her in for a night, but she hadn’t wanted to room up at a hotel. If the attacker was after her, he might look at a hotel first. The big man with flames in his eyes had seemed to be more than your run-of-the-mill mugger.

  One night. Only one night until the security company installs a system tomorrow. Nothing will happen in one night.

  Universal laws had dished out plenty of excitement for one night. One week. Hell, one lifetime. She didn’t need any more excitement of the dangerous kind.

  Emma slid a plate of beignets closer to Briella. “Café du Monde. I didn’t have time to make mine, but these still come in first, in my opinion.”

  “Thanks.” Briella lifted her cheek out of her hand and helped herself to one of the golden pillows dusted with powdered sugar. They were still warm and soft and deliciously sweet. “Sugar is good for the brain after a break-in.”

  “Any suspects?”

  The image of the large guy hidden beneath normal street clothes and a rain-drenched hoodie made a cursed appearance in her mind. She shook her head, dispelling the image, and sighed. “I haven’t a clue why anyone would break into my place. I have nothing of value—”

  “Um, yeah. Paintings?”

  Briella finally pulled the spoon from the mug, unraveled the string on the tea bag, and dropped both on a small plate. Emma caught her hand before she could pull away and held fast until Briella looked up.

  “Brie, your paintings are going to go crazy big and you’ll be set. Your dreams are coming true. Maybe someone caught wind of your talent and your prospective showing and thought they’d try and get an original.”

  “Not a single painting was stolen or ruined. They were just…displaced.” Like I am right now. “My money wasn’t taken, just moved. My jewelry, same.”

  “Well, then, you should rest easy knowing that they didn’t find anything they wanted and left. Wrong building. Nothing more.”

  The rest of the night stuck in her throat, and then shoved back into her chest as she swallowed a bite of beignet. A sliver of guilt tried to creep into her conscience, but she tamped that down as well. She didn’t want to bring up the brute attacker whose eyes blazed with literal fire, whose skin took on the strangest of colors, and whose nose and mouth released a plume of smoke that didn’t come from a cigarette.

  She’d had plenty of time for the initial shock to wear off. She knew what she saw. Maybe she was near crazy to admit it, but whatever that…thing was, it was not human. An easy enough concept to wrap her head around, considering the city she lived in, and her own gift. She’d crossed paths with witches and voodoo priestesses, imitation vampires and a few real ones. Ghosts, oh, plenty of those. And two werewolves that had a sniffing fetish they tried to hide behind bouquets of flowers.

  She had also encountered darker entities—demons, incubi, succubae and ghouls that made the worst nightmare seem like a fantastical dream.

  She stayed clear of the cemeteries after dusk.

  She thanked and cursed her gift for the insight into the “other” world.

  “Earth to Briella,” her friend said in a cajoling tone.

  Briella cleared her throat and followed it up with a deep sip of warm tea. She drew her hand back from Emma’s and shrugged. “Sorry. Trying to figure things out.”

  “Sweetie.” Emma stood up and rounded the table. She crouched down, one arm around Briella’s shoulders, and smiled. “It’s getting late. You’ve had a crazy night. Finish your tea and get some rest. You’re safe here. And you’ll be safe here as long as you need to stay. Have you called your parents?”

  “Oh, hell no. They’d be on the first flight down with wrangling gear to drag me back home. It took me a month of begging to get down here. No way in high hell am I throwing away this opportunity at a gallery showing.” Briella shook her head to emphasize her decision. “No stinking way.”

  Emma released a quiet breath, one Briella knew too well. She should call her parents, but why? So they could worry?

  What if Emma was right? It was a random break-in and the person had the wrong apartment. Her parents would rush down here for nothing, and she might lose the chance to see if she could sell her art professionally. The only things she had worth taking were her paintings, and they weren’t worth much. Yet.

  “Well, I think you should relax. Rest easy in the Big Easy. We’ll get Adrienne and Mark together tomorrow to celebrate your amazing offer.” Emma pressed a kiss to Briella’s temple and straightened up. “I’m sure Mark will be more than happy to spend some time with you.”

  Briella laughed. Their friend’s continued attempts to win her affections wasn’t lost on her. “He certainly puts life into the party, I’ll give him that.”

  “Mmm.” Emma patted her shoulder. “We’ll see.”

  Briella finished her tea, washed her mug, and headed to the guest room Emma set up for her. After she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she climbed into bed, her mind finally easing.

  “Everything will be fine,” she reassured herself, folding her hands over her chest. “Everything will be fine.”

  She shut out the rambling thoughts of the strangers walking by outside. The chills had subsided, leaving her feeling calm. Soothed.

  Briella closed her eyes. Seconds turned into minutes as she felt herself drift off to sleep.

  “Daddy, how do you know if it’s one?” Six-year-old Briella touched the reptilian snout of the statue, one of two her father prized and displayed in his home office. “If it looks like us?”

  “My little Belle. Have you forgotten what I’ve taught you about the secrets the eyes hold?” Her father lifted her onto his lap and pointed to one of the glass orbs that served as the dragon’s eyes. “The truth lies here. In the eyes. The fire of their soul and their desire to protect us.”

  Briella shot upright in bed, eyes wide, cold sweat dotting her hairline and inching between her shoulder blades. She gasped for breath, her father’s voice from a near-forgotten memory resounding in her head.

  In the eyes. Fire in the eyes.

  Her fingers fisted on the edge of the blanket.

  “A dragon.”

  Chapter Three

  In the morning, Briella couldn’t shake the insane notion that the man who’d acc
osted her was a dragon.

  A dragon!

  She had no problem believing all the paranormal stuff. She certainly wasn’t completely “normal,” and not completely “para” either. She was unpara-abnormal.

  But…dragons?

  “Yeah, right.” She’d been a kid when her father told her stories about dragons. He never went crazy about them, giving just enough details for a child’s mind to latch onto and run away with the notion that the magical creatures could exist. Possibly. Maybe.

  “Not.”

  After a quick breakfast, Emma headed off to her part-time job at an antiques store. Briella faced the sunny morning alone and returned to her apartment. The security company would be arriving within the hour, and her fingers itched to paint. Paint the thing that had attacked her.

  The potent reminder of how his hand felt on her arm shot a whip of warmth up to her shoulder. It wasn’t direct skin-to-skin contact, but beneath the fear and panic that consumed her in those few moments, his touch did something unnerving to her. She didn’t like it and forced the very reminder into the darkest depths of her mind.

  Surprise shook her from her thoughts when she walked through the iron gate into her apartment building’s small courtyard to see Mark Heddleman sitting on the single step that led to her private entrance. Lithe, tall, with black hair and dark eyes, he was definitely eye candy. Unfortunately, she lacked the romantic spark he clearly hoped to fan to life.

  Her last relationship cost her an opportunity to boost her paintings into the public eye. She wasn’t about to let any man stand in her way again.

  “Hey, there, Brie. Emma told me you’d be coming home around this time and asked if I’d mind staying with you to make sure you’re safe.” His dark brow wrinkled over an eye as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Briella had to stamp down the urge to roll her eyes and laugh. Leave it to Mother Emma to use this opportunity to matchmake. Mark asked, “What happened last night?”

  “Someone broke into my apartment. I promise, I’m okay. I have a security company installing an alarm system today.”

  “You managed to get someone out here that fast?”

  Briella unlocked the garden door and led Mark up the narrow stairs. “One of the officers that responded to the call has a brother who works for a company. He put in a call for me.”

  “Making friends with the cops, eh?” Mark chuckled. “It’s all about who you know in this town. At least something’s being done to protect you today and not next week.”

  “You know, I do have the means to protect myself.” Briella opened the inside door to the apartment and motioned for Mark to enter. She closed and locked it, then dropped her purse on the small side table. Mark started picking up paintings and leaning the canvases against the wall. “I’m pretty self-sufficient.”

  “I never said otherwise. But your place was broken into. What if you were home and asleep when it happened?”

  “I have no problem staying over for a night or two.”

  Briella laughed despite the heat that touched her cheeks as she picked up his blunt thought. “I don’t need a sleeping companion, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She worked on straightening up the paintings across the apartment. “I may be a little country-like girl who’s never lived alone, but I’m doing quite well so far.”

  Mark muttered something under his breath. His thoughts were filled with his desire to do more than keep her company, to win her affections by promising protection. Briella sighed to herself. Her entire life, she’d been cocooned and suffocated. Her mother could have invented the term helicopter parent, while her father schooled her on her strange gifts and to always listen for warnings and threats in the thoughts of the people around her. The stun gun and pepper spray were his suggestions that her mother made a reality. She stopped them at insisting she also carry a dagger and a pistol, but accepted self-defense courses as good sense. Of course, those were held under her father’s keen supervision.

  At twenty-nine, she was more knowledgeable about how to snap a bone or gouge out an eye than she was about what might be a good deal on a bundle package for cable and phone.

  She rested the last painting against a pile of others and rubbed a hand down her braid. Her fingers twitched and her gaze instinctively slid to the clean canvas perched on an easel, waiting for her to create something magnificent.

  “So? How did your meeting go last night? Emma refused to dish details.”

  Briella closed her eyes, reined in her impatience, and forced a smile to her lips. The urge to paint was quickly wearing her down.

  “It went well. I’ll dish later when we go out for drinks.” She turned to face her friend and her determination to get him out of her apartment took a hit when she caught the sparkle in his eyes. She was truly grateful for the friendships she had built in such a short period of time, regardless of certain underlying motives from one new friend in particular. She didn’t want to hurt Mark’s feelings. “But now? I need to do some work.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help you? Get paints? Water? Make you a cup of coffee?”

  “The only time I drink coffee is when I stay up all night.” A huge cup of chicory deliciousness would be wonderful right now, but Mark didn’t need to know that. “Painting is a private endeavor. I can’t really…work…when someone is around.”

  Briella refrained from cringing at the directness of her implication. If she knew Mark even a little, Emma probably woke him up out of a dead sleep to send him on a mission to make sure Briella would be okay. As far as she could determine, Mark’s natural circadian rhythm was roughly six hours behind that of a normal person. The least she could do was be hospitable for a short time.

  A sigh escaped her as Mark’s smile faltered.

  “You know what?” She waved toward the canvas and managed a grin. “I need to go through my paintings and pick out the fifteen best. Wanna help?”

  Mark looked as if she had offered him a million dollars. Or a date. The sparkle in his eyes intensified in the sunshine coming through the window before a sly smile curled his lips.

  “You got the gig, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Briella didn’t give him an answer until he wrapped his arms around her in a strong hug. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you, Brie. You’ve no idea how much I hoped for the good news today. Well, I wouldn’t have minded a call last night, but I’ll take post-breakfast notification.”

  “Thanks, Mark.”

  “Oh, I could hold you like this for a long, long time.”

  She stiffened as his hug lasted longer than she deemed necessary, and his thoughts trekked down more sensual avenues. Yeah, her nonexistent spark was leaving her feeling a bit awkward.

  “Oh, buddy. Wrong woman to be holding like that.”

  Briella blinked. The strange voice was potent, direct, and unmistakably referred to her current situation. The uncanny warmth that followed the comment confirmed her deduction. So did the awareness that prickled along her neck.

  “Okay, well, let’s get to work,” Briella said, working her way out of Mark’s embrace. She tucked the hair that had come free of her braid behind her ears and twisted toward the windows. She scanned the small courtyard below, searching for anyone who might be watching her. Was that monster lurking around her home? Waiting for a perfect opportunity to attack again? What did he want with her?

  The voice is different. Not the voice from last night.

  The realization didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, it made her more uncomfortable. Two assailants had an interest in her, and they were roaming around free.

  “Let’s start with these here,” Briella said, tapping the row of paintings closest to the window. “Tell me which ones you think would be good for the exhibit.”

  “All of them.”

  Briella rolled her eyes and cast him a humored glance over her shoulder. His attention wasn’t even on the paintings, unless she counted herself as a piece of art.

  Crazy piece of work is more like i
t.

  “Nice try, smartass. If you’re going to help me, you need to be honest. I can only take the fifteen best that I have.” She picked up the closest canvas and held it out to Mark, diverting his attention from her to the task she assigned. “What do you think?”

  “Okay, okay. Let me go through them and I’ll let you know my honest opinion.”

  “Good. I need to water my plants. I’ll be right back.”

  Briella filled a watering can and stepped onto the narrow balcony outside the small kitchenette. Her mind whirled with the onslaught of voices and thoughts, the acute awareness of being watched, and the residual anxiety of last night’s confrontation with the hulking stranger. The French Quarter was alive and well this morning, moving along without a care for her tribulations. The smell of sweet olive trees and roses would normally have soothed her, but her nerves were on high alert. It was more than the voice, more than the sensation of being watched.

  Intuition never let her down.

  The gift of visions came from her mother’s side of the family, while the gift of voices came from her father’s. Without her parents’ guidance and training on how to control both gifts, she’d be long gone in mental capacity by now. Instead, they’d ensured she was empowered by her gifts.

  However, right about now she wanted nothing to do with either gift. She felt antsy, jumpy, and wanted to scratch at her skin until the prickles were scraped off.

  The methodical routine of watering her small pot garden of gardenia, daisies, wild flower mix, and ivy helped—until a loud bang cut through her serenity.

  Briella shrieked, dropping the watering can on the wrought-iron balcony floor with a clang. Mark popped his head out a second later. Concern etched his brow. She realized the bang had been the sound of someone pounding on her downstairs door.

  “Brie?”