Page 3 of Storm Dragon
“Alright, Hot Momma, that’s about enough outta you. No comments about my love life, please. I…” “Love life? What love life?”
Continuing as if the Bobcat with whom she shared her soul hadn’t spoken, Tamsyn’s tone grew snarkier. “…I’m too tired and there’s not enough coffee in the whole world to deal with your commentary on my life choices right now. And, if everything’s been so hunky dory since you’ve been on active duty, as you call it, how did that bullshit the other night happen? We’ve been together for a couple of centuries, Bridge. How did I make it all the way through the house and outside, and you were still purring in your sleep?”
“Girl, I’ve got no freakin’ clue.” The honesty of her response was loud and clear. “I woke up the same time you did, remember?”
“How could I forget? We both gasp so hard I got lightheaded.” Tamsyn blew out an exasperated breath. “I just keep thankin’ the Great Goddess that none of those crazy teenagers who are always running through the fields ‘hunting ghosts’ were out that night. Can you even imagine if one of them had told their parents that I was out on the porch in my jammies? They already think I’m too young to be Queen of the Pride and that I might not have all my dragons in a row. If they knew what I'd done…”
“Did you just say dragons in a row?”
The barely contained snicker in Bridgette’s voice stopped Tamsyn mid-sentence. Thinking back through her last comment, she slowly replied, “I-I sure did. Wonder why.”
“Well, some might call it Freudian,” Bridgette chuckled, the sound more like a hiccupping purr as it gained momentum.
“And I might just tell you to hush up.”
“Something's just never changed.”
“And others refuse to stay the same.” Raising her gaze, Tamsyn looked out the window and got as far as, “And that is what’s got me…”
When an overly cheerful, rumbling baritone called out, “Yo, Tams. We’re here.”
“We’re?” Out of her chair and on her feet, she got as far as turning around before Luke walked into the kitchen.
Eyes instantly going to the man behind him, a familiarity unlike anything she’d ever experienced slammed into her like a freight train barreling down the tracks at top speed. About an inch taller than Luke’s six-foot-eight, his shoulders were broad, his biceps pushed the fabric of his polo shirt as far as it would go, and his chest filled out the rest to perfection. His crystal blue eyes swirled with an Ancient Magic that somehow called to her own. Power-Elemental, profound, and Primordial rolled off him, filling not only Tamsyn and Bridgette but every nook and cranny of the kitchen in the Grand Hall.
Hand moving towards his while her brain– and Bridgette– were trying to make sense of the sudden affinity she felt for the stranger, Tamsyn shuddered when flesh met flesh. A flash of the man from her dreams superimposed over the stranger. So close, yet not identical. Same eyes. Same high cheekbones and strong jaw. Same regal stance. Same auburn hair, except that the man standing before her was graying at the temples, and the one from her dreams was not.
The word brothers floated through her mind at precisely the same time that Bridgette sighed, “Well, crap, he’s not the one. He’s not your dream guy. There’s va-va, but no voom. So close, yet so far.” Pausing, she nodded. “I think you might just be right. They might just be brothers.”
Before the Bobcat Queen could respond, Luke cheerfully introduced, “Tamsyn Ryder, this is Carrick, the Leader of the Golden Fire Clan of Dragons. He and a few of his Guardsmen have come to help with the evacuation. Isn’t that great?”
Nodding as she tried to find her voice, Tamsyn just barely held back her gasp when the Dragon Leader’s grip tightened ever so slightly as he asked, “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Ryder, but I must ask, have we met before?” “What was that you were sayin’ about getting’ your Dragons in a row?” “Shut up, Bridgette…”
2
Several Week Earlier
Catapulted headfirst through the oppressive wave of unconsciousness that had been his constant companion for centuries, a burst of Magic so powerful, so pure, so utterly captivating that it refused to be ignored forced the Guardsman’s eyes open and made his heart pound. Fighting the disorientation, refusing to be dragged back to the depths of an all-encompassing darkness filled with the most vile of Sorcery, his body shook as he metaphysically grabbed onto his newly found consciousness with both hands. From barely awake to wide-eyed and frantic in a split second, he searched for the origin of the glorious Enchantment with every shred of strength he had left.
“Amazing…”
That single word, one he hadn’t uttered in hundreds of years, echoed through his mind, blanketing him in a calm warmth that soothed not only his weary soul but his ever-aching heart. The Magic called to his own as nothing ever had. It was enticing. It was inviting. It was irresistible.
It was everything he’d ever searched for and so very much more.
Riding the wave of euphoria, the beat of his heart stuttered, stopped, then instantly resumed thumping to the lyrical rhythm of the one whose Magic had called to him. Lifting of its own accord, the Enforcer’s hand tugged at the thick, heavy, silver chains that had been holding him captive for more than a few human lifetimes with a strength he hadn’t felt in centuries. Drawing on that incredible métier and years of training, he opened his weary mind wide and instantly spotted the dimming light.
“H-has th-that been there all…all along?”
Even mentally, he stuttered. The unfamiliarity of his voice, the thick brogue of his homeland, and the rolling lilt of the Highlands threatened the tiny bit of sanity that remained. If only his Dragon King, Dorman, were awake to lend aid…
But he wasn’t, and the Guardsman could not, would not, give up. The light was calling to him, filling him with emotions he hadn’t known existed. He couldn’t wait for help. He was all on his own, and that would have to be enough.
Tuning into all his incredible insight, the immense Magic of his heritage, and every ounce of strength he had, the Enforcer zeroed in on the first glimmer of anything he’d seen in years. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t put a name to it. It was there. Not a figment of his imagination, but real and almost close enough to touch.
“I have to get there. I have to feel it. I have to…”
The harder he fought to reach it, the farther away it was. Like a ball floating on the tide, any movement erased what little progress he made. Even the wiggle of his fingers caused telepathic waves that pushed the waning light deeper into the darkness. It was maddening, and frustrating, and a challenge he could not deny.
