Enticing the Dragon Page 3

  Ah, her thoughts. They should be all about the job she had come here to do, shouldn’t they? But they weren’t. She was totally shaken by how much the encounter with Torque had affected her.

  You are a twenty-eight-year-old FBI agent, for heaven’s sake. You cannot still have a crush on a rock star.

  It didn’t matter how much she reproached herself, how hard she tried to concentrate on typing up her notes, half her mind remained firmly fixed on a pair of shimmering eyes and a very disturbing smile. Torque’s mouth had lingered in her imagination as she drifted off to sleep. The disturbing, but pleasant, fantasy of feeling that full lower lip against her own had been achingly real...

  The dream came quickly and she tumbled into it, welcoming it like a familiar friend. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t experienced this slumbering adventure. It was warm, comforting and thrilling all at the same time.

  Her sleeping self approached the giant creature. The beautiful red-gold dragon lay still, his breathing deep and rhythmic. A faint thrumming issued from his chest, and wisps of smoke curled from his nostrils, but she knew his inner fire would be subdued in slumber. His powerful hind limbs and huge coiled tail were tucked beneath him, and he slept on top of his hoard. His precious gems and jewels were scattered all around him, their brilliance dulled by the light of the cave.

  When dream-Hollie approached, the dragon’s eyes opened as if a switch had been flicked. Smoke poured from his nostrils, and there was a sound of scales sliding over coins as he shifted position. Keeping his wings tucked in tight, he lifted his head to gaze at her. Hollie raised a hand to touch his face...

  She came awake abruptly, angry that her dream had been interrupted. Her annoyance dissipated fast as she realized what was happening. Hollie had been in too many fire simulations not to recognize the real thing when she was thrust into the middle of it.

  Subconsciously, when she arrived at the Pleasant Bay Bar, she had done what she always did and checked out the fire safety systems. The bar itself had been fine. As a business, it needed to comply with industry standards. When it came to an escape route, her bedroom was not ideal. It had only one door and a small window high above the street. She hadn’t realized, when she checked those things out on her arrival, that she would be putting them to the test quite so soon.

  Smoke was already filling the room. Sliding from the bed, she found the T-shirt she had taken off when she undressed and tied it around the lower part of her face. Crawling commando-style in order to stay low, she made her way across to the door. Just as she had feared, one touch told her everything she needed to know. The wooden panels were hot beneath her fingertips. It meant the fire was raging on the other side of the door.

  Although the window was her only escape route, she already knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She was two floors up and there was no fire escape. A thirty-foot drop onto concrete faced her. Break the glass and make some noise. That was about the best plan she had as she crawled her way back across the room.

  This was no coincidence. That thought hammered through her mind as the toxic smoke stung her eyes. The stench of synthetic carpet burning and electrical wiring melting made her gag. Above the roar of the fire, she could hear the whine of a smoke alarm. But it hadn’t done its job. It hadn’t warned her in time. It was a discordant thought, one for which she didn’t have time. She spent her life fighting fire, but this one was personal. This one was meant for her.

  As she reached the window, the noise level changed. There was sound that could have been a roar of fury and the door came crashing in. That shouldn’t happen. Hollie knew how fire behaved. Although it could be unpredictable, it didn’t kick down doors. Through the choking haze, she saw a tall figure, framed by shimmering tongues of fire.

  It’s too late. I’ve inhaled too much smoke...now I’m seeing things.

  She sank helplessly to the rug, her eyelids drifting closed as the flame-haired figure strode toward her. She was swept up into strong arms...or maybe swept away on a tide of unconsciousness. It was impossible to tell which as she felt the searing heat on her exposed skin and through her lightweight pajamas.

  Opening her eyes, she gave a horrified gasp. She was in Torque’s arms, and he was advancing toward the door. He was purposefully carrying her into the source of the fire. Desperately, she squirmed against him.

  “Keep still.” His voice was different. Authoritative, slightly rasping. “If you move as we go down the stairs, I can’t protect you from the flames.”

  This couldn’t be happening. This man—one of the most famous rock stars in the world—couldn’t seriously think he could get them down that blazing staircase. I am about to be killed by my celebrity crush. Either that or I really am hallucinating.

  Unable to fight, she was helpless to do anything except press her cheek into the hard muscle of Torque’s chest as he stepped into the flames. Her job made what was happening so much worse. Hollie had seen too many burned bodies, had attended too many coroners’ inquests on people who had died in agony. This was a first. She had never come across a case in which someone had willingly walked through a blaze.

  Yet, as Torque slowly made his way down the stairs, the strangest thing was happening. She could feel the heat of the flames, but it was like getting too close to a roaring coal fire. She was uncomfortable, but she wasn’t being incinerated. Wrapped tight in Torque’s arms, she had the strangest feeling that he was the source of her protection. But how could that be? It was like he was fireproof. She caught glimpses of what was going on around them. Flames were licking at his arms and shoulders, catching the long length of his hair and dancing gleefully like a halo around his head. Torque was on fire...but he didn’t flinch.

  As they neared the final step, one of the ceiling beams gave way with a weary groan. Orange cinders rained down on Torque’s head as he reached up a hand and caught the blazing bar. Still holding Hollie tight against him with his other hand, he gave a grunt that sounded like it was half pain, half annoyance as he thrust the beam aside without breaking his stride. Two more steps and he was kicking open the door that led them into the street.

  Her last memory before she passed out was of those moonstone eyes glowing bright with concern as he placed her gently on the grass.

  * * *

  Hollie slowly opened her eyes, hoping she’d been dreaming, fairly certain she hadn’t. Her throat felt like she’d drunk a glass of chopped razor blades and her nose itched unbearably. Her eyes streamed with the effects of the smoke and she smelled disgusting. Lifting a hand, she could see thick black grime coating her skin. When she tried to sit up, everything ached.

  A strong arm slid around her waist, and although she wanted to question its source, she was too grateful for the support. Leaning against a broad shoulder, she eased into a sitting position.

  “What...?” The word came out as a feeble croak, followed by a coughing fit.

  “I got you out before the blaze took hold of the staircase.”

  They were far enough away from the burning building to be safe from any explosions or debris, but she could still feel the searing heat of the blaze. When she tilted her head to look at Torque, he took away what was left of her breath. With his hair streaming in the breeze and his eyes glittering with that strange intense light, he appeared otherworldly.

  Around them, a fire team bustled into action and paramedics approached. Hollie might be feeling the effects of the smoke, but her memory was clear. Torque was lying about what had just happened. He hadn’t rescued her before the fire took hold. Like a comic book hero, he had carried her right through the heart of the inferno. And he was untouched, completely uninjured by the fire he had just walked through.

  They should both have been incinerated. Instead, apart from the effects she was feeling from the smoke inhalation, they were unscathed. And Torque appeared... She searched for the right word. Invigorated. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rus
h of the rescue, but he appeared energized, his former laid-back manner replaced by restless, flickering presence he presented onstage. Almost as if the fire had entered his bloodstream.

  I am hallucinating.

  As a paramedic knelt at her other side and placed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, Hollie tried to get to grips with her new, alternate reality. An existence that included a superhero rock star. A man who could walk through fire. How the hell was she going to explain this to McLain?

  “My laptop.” Her attempt at an exclamation was muffled by the mask.

  “Pardon?” Torque leaned closer as he tried to hear what she was saying.

  “All my clothes, my purse, my cell phone, my laptop...they were all in that room.” Her voice was still a painful rasp, but she managed to get the words out.

  There was nothing left of the top floor of the Pleasant Bay Bar. The roof had fallen in and bright orange flames were shooting into the night sky. It was a pyrotechnic performance of epic proportions, almost as if the fire itself was celebrating.

  Hollie’s professional senses got to work, weighing up what had happened. The fire must have started in the upper part of the building. Was it an arson attack? It was too soon to say. But it was an awfully big coincidence that Hollie, the person who was here to investigate the Incinerator, had almost died in a fire. The second thing Hollie noticed was that Torque had gotten here before the emergency services.

  He had saved her life, and from that, she might assume he wasn’t the Incinerator. Unless the rescue was a huge double bluff, designed to throw her off the scent? As she turned her head back to look at him again, she had the oddest sensation of her world tilting off balance. Was Torque the Incinerator, and was he capable of such cunning? If he knew she was here to investigate him, had he planned to set a fire and save her from it, thereby lulling her into a false sense of security? Her heart wanted to rebel against such an idea, to tell her he wasn’t behind such deviousness, but her training and her experience warned her to be wary.

  Hollie had been part of the team hunting the Incinerator for four years, wondering how the daring arsonist had set increasingly elaborate fires and escaped without injury. She didn’t know how Torque had walked through those flames and emerged unscathed. If she hadn’t seen it for herself, she wouldn’t have believed it was possible. All she knew for sure was, she had to find out more about this phenomenon and whether it was linked to their inquiry.

  The paramedic removed the oxygen mask. “How does that feel?” The woman had checked her over and found no injuries. The only concern was the effects of the smoke.

  “I’m fine.” Hollie knew better than anyone what the health risks were, but she could feel her lungs returning to normal. “I don’t need any further treatment.” She bit her lip. “I just don’t have anywhere to go.”

  “You can stay at my place.” Torque’s breath was warm on her cheek.

  His words triggered a world of conflict inside Hollie. She was here to investigate him. Staying in his house was certainly one way to keep a closer watch on him. It was also a good way to put herself in danger. She could almost hear McLain’s response. Outraged caution followed by an insistence that she get her ass back into the office immediately would probably be the mild version.

  Hollie’s own internal warning system appeared to be broken. In spite of everything, her heart’s initial reaction to his offer was a leap of joy. Common sense refused to prevail, but maybe that was because her choices were seriously limited. It was the middle of the night, she was coated from head to foot in foul-smelling ash, she could barely open her eyes and she sounded like a donkey with asthma. The only clothes she possessed were these once-pink, now-black pajamas. Even if she’d had the strength to get to her feet, she didn’t have her ATM card to draw the cash to get herself home...

  With a sound that could have been a laugh, but was closer to a sob, she rested her head back against Torque’s chest. It was a very comforting place to be. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 3

  Torque showed Hollie to one of the luxurious guest bedrooms. He explained that there were toiletries and towels in the bathroom, and brought her a pair of his sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  “They’ll both be too big, but until I can get to a store in the morning, it’s the best I can do.”

  She plucked at the front of her grimy pajama top with a grimace. “Anything will be better than this.”

  “You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own?” He realized how that sounded and held up his hands in a backing-off gesture. “Not that I’m offering to help you shower.”

  She attempted a laugh, but it ended on a cough. “I’ll be fine.”

  Her bravery and resilience astounded him. She should have died in that fire. Did she know that? Even if she hadn’t figured it out, she must be experiencing a profound sense of shock, yet her courage shone through. When he first saw her, Torque had been drawn to her because of her looks. Seconds later, he had taken the whole never-meant-to-be, fated-mates hit. Now her spirit and strength attracted him just as powerfully as her physical characteristics.

  Overcoming a fierce desire to pull her into his arms, he left her alone. But the urge to protect her remained strong. Torque never slept well. The same sorceress who had stolen his liberty and wiped out his clan had once cursed him with her trademark insomnia spell.

  Yeah, Teine, the fire sorceress...what a charmer she had turned out to be.

  Taking up a position just outside Hollie’s bedroom window, he sat on the grass with his back against the wall and his long legs drawn up so he could rest his forearms on his bent knees. From this angle, he could make sure she was safe and watch the sun rise over the bay. Not that he was in any mood to admire the beauty of his surroundings. His mind was wholly occupied with Hollie and what had just happened.

  Being a rock star brought many privileges Torque’s way. This beautiful house with its sweeping grounds and its dramatic views, his island, his fast cars and faster motorbikes...any material thing he wanted was his for the asking. But there was a dark undercurrent to his fame, one at which he had already hinted to Hollie. There were always a few fans whose admiration spilled over into obsession. Enthusiasts who thought they owned him because they knew his face and read every article and interview about him.

  Even among a band of big characters, Torque attracted more than his fair share of obsessive fans. Ged, his manager, put it down to Torque’s fiery onstage personality. “They see you as Beast’s torchbearer. Even though Khan is the ultimate showman and Diablo has the dark, brooding looks of a Hollywood leading man, you stand out because the photographers love to catch you surrounded by fire.”

  Ged knew who Torque was, of course. The man who had rescued him from the centuries-deep spell cast by Teine was also the man who had given him a new lease on life as a musician. It was a strange life choice, but one that worked. Torque was the only dragon-shifter in the band, but he was among equals. Tiger, jaguar, snow leopard, wolf...his bandmates were all shifters who had been rescued by Ged. Their manager was a businessman by day, a were-bear who saved damaged or endangered shifters by night.

  No matter how knowledgeable Ged was, Torque wasn’t sure he bought into the torchbearer theory. It wasn’t just that he got more contact from obsessed fans than his bandmates. The contact he did get was on a crazier level. Ged called it stalking, but Torque wasn’t sure letters and emails fitted that definition. No physical contact was made—he had never even gotten a disturbing phone call—no harm had ever been done to him or his property. And being a shifter in a human world, he found it difficult to know what to do about that. Determined to maintain their anonymity, shifters steered clear of the mortal forces of law and order. Since Torque’s obsessive fans had, so far, limited their activities to strange confessions and occasional threats, he had done his best to ignore them.

  Until now. He had a feeling tonight represented a cross
ed line. Because some of the confessions were very specific. Torque was the person who played a burning guitar. He walked through a wall of flame. He raised a hand and, like the conductor of an orchestra, coordinated a series of perfectly timed explosions along the edge of the stage. And he attracted a small group of people who were unashamed and fanatical about their love of fire. People who looked up to Torque because they sensed something in him that appealed to their fixation. For those very few, it was an infatuation that bordered on worship. They believed he was a fire-god and they offered him their devotion...whether he wanted it or not.

  Not. His expression twisted into a grimace of distaste as he tossed a pebble toward the shimmering water.

  Being a shifter meant that two parts of him lived in harmony inside one body. His inner dragon didn’t just need fire, it defined him. Sizzling through his bloodstream alongside his mortal DNA. But he was also part human, and that side of him reined in his fiery self. He knew what flames could do. He didn’t worship fire, he respected it. While it excited him, it didn’t arouse him. He could play with its force without pressing the destruct button.

  Some of the messages he got suggested his followers—he used the word even though he disliked it—were unable to display the same restraint.

  “If anyone gets hurt, I won’t be able to stay quiet.” That had been his ultimatum to Ged when the tributes first started coming. “That’s my deal breaker.”

  “You think it isn’t mine?” Ged’s reply had reassured him. “If we find out any of these crazies has actually gone beyond the letter-writing stage, we’ll do something about it.”

  As far as they could see, the madness had stayed on paper. It was wild and disturbing, but harmless. Tonight had been far from benign. Tonight, Hollie had almost died. And no matter how hard he tried, Torque couldn’t separate that event from his obsessive fan mail.

  His intuition about the fire at the Pleasant Bay Bar scared him. For several reasons, it filled him with more fear than anything he had ever known. First, it meant he was being watched. It was a possibility he had never considered. He wanted to be more intuitive, to be able to say with absolute certainty that he would know if a malignant presence was tracking him. But he didn’t. He was a creature of legend and mysticism, but hunches and premonitions evaded him. His dragon instincts were all sizzling energy and action. He left the finer detail to others.