Dragon Fire (22 page)

Yttresken nodded. “But words don’t speak in quite the same way as actions. And right now, I need a little more reassurance. I like to know that my mates are mine. I don’t share.” Yttresken dropped his knife so that the point rested on T’eng Sten’s Firemark. “So you will have to purify yourself of this before I will honor you by taking your rök.”

Dvara paled.

“Of course,” continued Yttresken, “as you have already said, only his death will release you. Which is a problem. Kairöks can’t just go around killing each other in these troubled times.”

Unexpected hope flickered on Dvara’s face.

“Are you certain that you no longer care for him?” asked Yttresken, running his free hand over her hips. “Could it be that you might actually care for me? In time, perhaps?”

“My heart goes to those I respect,” Dvara said, forcing herself not to pull away. “T’eng Sten said many things, but followed through on none.” Her voice was bitter.

“He has never been known to be dependable,” said Yttresken gently. “And unfortunately, you are not the first to have been deceived by his flamboyant good looks.”

Dvara’s face quivered and she looked away.

“Will you allow me to hope?” asked Yttresken. “Will you one day come to me freely?”

“Yes,” she said, her head still turned away from Yttresken.

Yttresken’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “Then I am confident you will find a way to cleanse yourself of T’eng Sten’s Firemark since it is the only barrier to our union.”

Dvara’s face jerked up to look at Yttresken, her face momentarily vermillion. “I would have hoped that my word be held in higher esteem.” She twisted violently out of his arms. “Especially by a Kairök as… upstanding… as yourself.” Dvara trembled as she tried to control her revulsion, but she lost control and a shimmering wave of vermillion flashed around her, creating a shield of energy.

“If you can’t find a way to free yourself,” said Yttresken, “I will not be able to accept your rök.” He dissolved the shield with a lecherously caressing hand that lingered over her breasts. “Although, since you have promised yourself to me, I will still have the pleasure of taking you.” Yttresken ran the tip of his knife down Dvara’s chest and over her hips. “The fiercer the battle, the sweeter the victory, my dear.”

Yttresken waved his guards off, and they disappeared. “And since I care for what will be mine, my fire flower will allow me to track you.” The Kairök shifted slowly, transforming his image into his pale pink air dragon form. “Should T’eng Sten come to see you, one of my guards will be summoned automatically.”

“There’s no reason to attack T’eng Sten,” hissed Dvara. “I’ve already refused him.”

“Tsk, tsk,” said Yttresken. “Such concern for a dragon you’ve refused, especially when I have absolutely no intention of attacking him.” Yttresken’s ghostly pink illusion swiveled its neck to look Dvara in the eye. “So quick to ignite,” he said, his dragon face nearly the size of Dvara’s torso. “You truly are a fire dragon, aren’t you? But I assure you, my dear, I was only thinking of your protection. We wouldn’t want T’eng Sten to take you against your will, would we?” Yttresken’s saccharine voice emanated from the unearthly pink glow of the fading illusion.

Dvara stood with her chin tilted regally until the Kairök finally disappeared. In a silent cry of fury, she erupted in a mass of vermillion sparks before morphing into her fire dragon form and slithering into the earth, leaving Rakan alone to face the rising sun.

* * *

Anna paced in front of the school lunchroom. Pemba still hadn’t come down from class, even though June and Kristin had come down long ago. Anna looked at her watch again, but didn’t see the time. She flung her bag over her shoulder and headed up the stairs. When she reached the second floor landing, she saw Pemba sitting alone in the middle of the stairwell.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked. She slowed down as she climbed the final stairs to reach him.

“Nothing.” Pemba’s voice was distant.

“Something happen in class?” She sat down and nudged him in the shoulder.

“No. Let’s have lunch,” Pemba said, standing up with a jerk.

Anna watched as Pemba walked down the stairs, oblivious to the fact that she wasn’t following him.

Pemba stopped and turned around. “Anna?” He looked up the stairwell at her, then came back up to where she was sitting. He pulled her into his arms.

Anna stood stiffly, trapped between wanting to respond and her need to know what was bothering him. She felt his mind wrap around her and she wavered. She leaned into him. He was so warm, so deliciously spicy, that all she wanted was to melt into him. She buried her face in his neck and held him close. “Why can’t you ever tell me what’s going on?” she asked. Her lips lingered on his soft bronze skin as her body molded into his.

Pemba let go of her, and Anna gasped in pain as the connection between them ruptured with a sizzling flash.

“Let’s have lunch,” he said and went back down the stairs.

“Pemba…” Anna’s voice trailed after him as she steadied herself against the railing, still reeling from the abruptness of the separation.

“What?” he said, turning around on the stair. His face a blank mask.

Anna started to say something but then closed her mouth. “Nothing,” she mumbled. She rubbed her Firemark as she followed him downstairs. She didn’t want lunch. She wanted Pemba.

* * *

“Why aren’t you getting closer to her?” yelled Dvara from her bedroom doorway. “You spend hours with her at school. You’ve even had a project to do with her. Alone. And then all you do is come home and daydream in the window? What’s wrong with you?”

“Building trust takes time,” Rakan said, struggling to control his anger that was uncoiling like snake. June still wasn’t talking to him, even after their project together. Although she watched him all the time.

“But we don’t have time,” retorted Dvara. “We need to know if Paaliaq is dead or not so that we know what to do with Jing Mei.”

Rakan jumped out of his window seat. “I know that.” He landed in front of his sister. If he could’ve forced June to listen to him, he would’ve done it already.

“Then why aren’t you doing anything?”

“What do you think I’m doing when I’m sitting there?” He forced his rök back into control. “I watch her trail all the time. Maybe you’re the one who needs to get out. You didn’t even go to school this week.”

The air around Dvara shimmered vermillion. She was dangerously close to going wild. “You really are naïve, aren’t you? What do you think Old Pink Eyes gave me this for?” Dvara jerked a hand at her glittering hair. “To
watch
me? Grow up, Rakan.” She slammed the door in his face.

“Dvara?” Rakan reached out to open her door, but stopped when he felt her shift elsewhere. “
Idiot
,” he yelled and exploded her door with a back kick.

He reconstructed Dvara’s door and sank to the couch. The silence of loneliness closed in on him, pressing into his chest. Everything was going wrong. “
Anna
,” he yelled at the oppressive emptiness, as if his voice would be enough to dispel it. “Anna,” he repeated, quietly, gently opening his clenched hands. “Where are you?” He let his mind run over the town and found her in her apartment. He picked up his phone and called her.

“Hi, Pemba,” she answered, but her voice was guarded.

“Can you come over?” his voice broke. He wasn’t far from an uncontrolled morph himself.

Anna didn’t reply, and Rakan felt his rök threaten to break free. “I need to see you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and painfully forced his rök into submission. “Please.”

“Okay,” she said after a pause. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Rakan heaved a sigh of relief and sank to the couch, his rök smoldering in his chest.

* * *

Anna stared at her phone. She wanted more than anything to be with Pemba. But she hated how he never told her what was going on. Snatched hugs here and there weren’t enough. She wanted to be close to him. But he was always pulling back. It made her think he didn’t really want to be with her. And then he’d do things like this. Call her, desperate to see her. And she couldn’t say no. She shoved her phone in her pocket. Her mom would never allow her to go over to Pemba’s. Unless she lied.

“Was that Pemba?” asked her mom, as if on cue.

“Yeah. He asked if I could meet him for coffee.” That was sort of true. Maybe.

“Oh, okay. Just be home for dinner. Ulf should be here around five.”

“Sure,” Anna said. She needed to get out and away from any further questions that would lead to more lies.

* * *

As soon as Anna arrived at the Tibetan House, Rakan jumped off the porch and hugged her close. She was here. He wasn’t alone anymore. His mind-touch enveloped her and he groaned when she responded. He ran his mouth on her neck, his tongue finally tasting the sensitive skin that quivered under his touch. Rakan gripped her tighter. Her taste tingled on the tip of his tongue. The smell of her warm, wet skin filled his senses, blinding him with a passion that chipped away at all of his resolves not to mate with her. He pulled her hat off and ran his hand through her hair, moaning in pleasure as he felt it slide through his fingers.

“Pemba-la,” said Ani-la from the porch, dousing his ardor with her flow of reprimands in Tibetan.

* * *

Anna wrenched herself away from Pemba and looked anxiously at the woman with the shaved head who had spoken. She was dressed in burgundy and yellow robes and seemed to be scolding Pemba. But she looked too young to be his mother.

Pemba nodded his head and took Anna’s hand. “Ani-la is the nun who lives here. She says I shouldn’t leave you outside.” Ani-la continued speaking. “She says I should’ve gotten dressed this morning,” Pemba said, translating what Ani-la was saying. “But I am dressed,” he said to Ani-la before turning back to Anna. “Come inside, you’re cold.” Pemba touched her cheek. “She’s right about that.”

Pemba led Anna up the porch and into the house that was filled with the smell of incense. But it was more mineral than Pemba’s. Anna stopped in the entryway; she could hear people chanting from the open doorway to the room off to the left.

Pemba turned and smiled. “It’s just the local prayer group.” He took her coat. “Leave your shoes here.” He pointed to a dozen pairs neatly lined up along the wall.

Anna looked at Pemba’s bare feet and realized that all he had on was a pair of pants that reminded her of those worn by the black belts at the ju-jitsu club. Except Pemba’s looked like they were made of liquid metal and not stiff cotton. “Do you do martial arts?” Anna asked as Pemba led her to a sitting room that was next to the stairway at the end of the hall.

“No. I was just… letting off some steam.” He walked over to the window that faced the tiny backyard. “We have a punching bag upstairs. In the apartment my father is renting.”

Anna stood awkwardly in the middle of the room that was lined with ottoman-like wooden benches covered in futons, gawking at Pemba’s back. It glowed like bronze in the sunlight from the window. Pemba faced her, his muscles rippling under the surface of his smooth skin. “You smell different,” Anna said, pulling her eyes back up to meet his and nervously saying the first thing that came to mind.

Pemba gave her an inquiring look. “How do I smell different?”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Anna said, wishing she hadn’t said anything. Again.

“I know.” He came closer and touched her cheek. “Just tell me how it’s different.”

Anna closed her eyes and breathed in, aching to touch his skin. “You smell like a fire that’s been put out. Usually you smell like incense. But not like the house.” Anna looked cautiously at Pemba, unsure of how he would take it. “Is that weird?”

“No.” He inched forward. It was the smell of his rök smoldering. And it wasn’t a good sign. “I’m just surprised that you can smell it.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Anna could feel the warmth radiating from his body as the distance between them closed ever so slowly. She trembled in anticipation, but he stopped before touching her. “It sometimes happens when I work out,” he said quietly, his breath caressing her face. Anna stood with her eyes closed, silently pleading for him to take her in his arms, to feel the firmness of his lips on hers, to feel his braid wrap around her as she…

The rustling of Ani-la’s thick cotton robes jolted Anna out of her reverie. Anna escaped to the window, her cheeks burning, while Pemba took the tray Ani-la was carrying, saying something that made them both laugh. Anna turned to watch Pemba. He was different here with Ani-la. He was like a puppy, playfully getting in the way as Ani-la tried to pour the tea. But when they spoke it didn’t sound anything like the guttural language that Pemba and Dawa spoke together. Or Haakon and Torsten for that matter. Ani-la said something to Anna and gestured at the table where she had placed two small bowls. Ani-la put her hands together and bowed before backing out of the room.

Pemba sat cross-legged on the ottoman in front of the table and beckoned for Anna to join him. She sat uneasily on the edge, her feet still on the ground. She looked around at the wall hangings depicting multicolored deities that didn’t look anything like her idea of what Buddhist paintings should look like. One in particular caught her eye, with its dark blue figure that looked like a humanoid monster surrounded by flames. He had serpents around his neck and was dressed only in a tiger skin wrapped around his loins. He felt like raw power, ready to be unleashed in a violent wrath. Pemba picked up one of the silver-lined wooden bowls and offered it to her. Anna fumbled as she tried to take the bowl without touching him. She didn’t want her cold hands to betray her nervousness.