backpack and walked toward them.
“Wait!” I shouted. Like him, I wasn’t entirely sure the fire wouldn’t annihilate Nash the same as it had the boulder. As much as I wanted his help, I didn’t want to witness his fiery death.
Nash ignored me. He reached toward the flame as though mesmerized, fingers extended. I scrambled to my feet, ran at him, grabbed him around the waist, and tried to yank him back.
Nash had good instincts. He grabbed me and swung me out of the way, and the momentum put him squarely into the flames.
The fire flared with glee. Nash was lost inside it, the flames covering him like a blanket. I watched in horror, and so did Mick, me cradling my arm that had come too close to the fire. Both of us knew we couldn’t help him; we could only wait and see what happened.
After a few long, sickening minutes, Nash’s form became a solid silhouette inside the fire, pushing the flames aside.
No, not pushing them aside. Absorbing them. Yellow fire outlined his body, and flames streamed from the walls and ceiling into his core. Mick and I watched in astonishment, but Nash stood still and took it; he didn’t scream, and he didn’t die.
As soon as the fire began pulling away from the cavern walls, Mick moved. His dragon body shrank in on itself, the sinuous curves unwinding in fast motion, his long snout flattening down to a human face. And then he was Mick, the tall man I loved with glittering dragon tattoos curling down his arms.
Mick burst out through the hole in the fire, grabbed me, shoved me back through the crack in the rock, and hauled ass back up the shaft.
For a naked man who’d just been a dragon, Mick could move. I let him half carry, half drag me down the narrow tunnel, the beam of my flashlight bouncing crazily off the walls. My arm hurt like hell, but my skin was red, not black. Nash had tossed me out of the way just in time.
“What about Nash?” I shouted.
We reached the vertical shaft. Mick grabbed the harness and snapped it around me, not listening to my breathless protests. He grabbed the rope that hung from above and started to climb out, hand over hand, feet moving on the wall, as though he was born to climb, even bare-assed naked. I had a very good view of his bare ass as he scrambled up the shaft.
Mick gained the top and started to pull me up. I braced myself against the wall and tried to help, but I was exhausted and burned, and my head throbbed like fury.
Mick mercilessly dragged me upward. Finally the rope, harness, and I went over the lip of the shaft without impediment, and then Mick ripped open the buckles with strong hands and hauled me against him.
Oh, gods, it felt so good to have him hold me again. Mick was a big man, made of muscle, his flat face and once-broken nose so damn beautiful to me. I wrapped my arms around him and held on, loving the heat of his body and the salt scent of it.
He started kissing me, lips rough, hands roving my body as though he wanted to feel all of me at once. I kissed him back, my tongue in his mouth, stroking him, tasting him. I’d never get enough of him.
The rising sun touched my face, and I finally pulled back, panting and breathless. “What about Nash?” I repeated.
Mick buried his face in my neck. “If the fire didn’t get him, he’ll be coming.”
“If the fire didn’t get him, he’ll be pissed at me.”
His chuckle warmed my heart. “That too.” He held my face in his hands, studied me with dark blue eyes. “I missed you, baby.”
We heard a grunt and a grating of rope, and Nash appeared in the shaft, clinging to the rope Mick had tossed back down. He looked unburned, his clothes in place as though nothing worse had happened to him than a hike through an old mine shaft.
“I hate to break up the happy reunion,” he said, voice as dry and sarcastic as usual, “but you need to let him get dressed before we go down, Begay. I don’t want his bare ass on my new seats.”
I’d hoped Mick would turn back into a
“Wait!” I shouted. Like him, I wasn’t entirely sure the fire wouldn’t annihilate Nash the same as it had the boulder. As much as I wanted his help, I didn’t want to witness his fiery death.
Nash ignored me. He reached toward the flame as though mesmerized, fingers extended. I scrambled to my feet, ran at him, grabbed him around the waist, and tried to yank him back.
Nash had good instincts. He grabbed me and swung me out of the way, and the momentum put him squarely into the flames.
The fire flared with glee. Nash was lost inside it, the flames covering him like a blanket. I watched in horror, and so did Mick, me cradling my arm that had come too close to the fire. Both of us knew we couldn’t help him; we could only wait and see what happened.
After a few long, sickening minutes, Nash’s form became a solid silhouette inside the fire, pushing the flames aside.
No, not pushing them aside. Absorbing them. Yellow fire outlined his body, and flames streamed from the walls and ceiling into his core. Mick and I watched in astonishment, but Nash stood still and took it; he didn’t scream, and he didn’t die.
As soon as the fire began pulling away from the cavern walls, Mick moved. His dragon body shrank in on itself, the sinuous curves unwinding in fast motion, his long snout flattening down to a human face. And then he was Mick, the tall man I loved with glittering dragon tattoos curling down his arms.
Mick burst out through the hole in the fire, grabbed me, shoved me back through the crack in the rock, and hauled ass back up the shaft.
For a naked man who’d just been a dragon, Mick could move. I let him half carry, half drag me down the narrow tunnel, the beam of my flashlight bouncing crazily off the walls. My arm hurt like hell, but my skin was red, not black. Nash had tossed me out of the way just in time.
“What about Nash?” I shouted.
We reached the vertical shaft. Mick grabbed the harness and snapped it around me, not listening to my breathless protests. He grabbed the rope that hung from above and started to climb out, hand over hand, feet moving on the wall, as though he was born to climb, even bare-assed naked. I had a very good view of his bare ass as he scrambled up the shaft.
Mick gained the top and started to pull me up. I braced myself against the wall and tried to help, but I was exhausted and burned, and my head throbbed like fury.
Mick mercilessly dragged me upward. Finally the rope, harness, and I went over the lip of the shaft without impediment, and then Mick ripped open the buckles with strong hands and hauled me against him.
Oh, gods, it felt so good to have him hold me again. Mick was a big man, made of muscle, his flat face and once-broken nose so damn beautiful to me. I wrapped my arms around him and held on, loving the heat of his body and the salt scent of it.
He started kissing me, lips rough, hands roving my body as though he wanted to feel all of me at once. I kissed him back, my tongue in his mouth, stroking him, tasting him. I’d never get enough of him.
The rising sun touched my face, and I finally pulled back, panting and breathless. “What about Nash?” I repeated.
Mick buried his face in my neck. “If the fire didn’t get him, he’ll be coming.”
“If the fire didn’t get him, he’ll be pissed at me.”
His chuckle warmed my heart. “That too.” He held my face in his hands, studied me with dark blue eyes. “I missed you, baby.”
We heard a grunt and a grating of rope, and Nash appeared in the shaft, clinging to the rope Mick had tossed back down. He looked unburned, his clothes in place as though nothing worse had happened to him than a hike through an old mine shaft.
“I hate to break up the happy reunion,” he said, voice as dry and sarcastic as usual, “but you need to let him get dressed before we go down, Begay. I don’t want his bare ass on my new seats.”
I’d hoped Mick would turn back into a
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