Master of Smoke

to her, the better to loom. “We’re talking at least seven feet tall, with fangs, claws, and a tendency to disembowel people. And they shrug off magical lightning bolts like snowballs. You won’t stand a chance.”
    “I’m touched by your concern for my well-being.” She gave him a smile sweet enough to give cavities to an entire dentists’ convention. “I had no idea you cared.”
    “I don’t. I just don’t want to get killed trying to keep your hapless ass alive.”
    The hapless thing stung. “You won’t. I can take care of myself.”
    “With what? That ridiculous cap gun?” He pointed a contemptuous finger at her pilot case and its pistol. “All bullets do to werewolves is piss them off.”
    Belle marched over to the corner, picked up the long bag lying there, and tossed it on the bed with a leaden thump. Unzipping it, she drew out a five-foot great sword, admiring the way the massive weapon gleamed in the firelight with lethal grace. If it hadn’t been enchanted, she wouldn’t have been able to lift it. “Actually, I figured this would do a pretty good job of discouraging anybody the gun didn’t.”
    Narrow-eyed, he considered the weapon. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”
    That qualified as “asking for it.” She swung the sword in a flat, hard arc, stopping it a fraction of an inch from his throat.
    Tristan raised an eyebrow over the gleaming length of the blade. “I repeat, do you know how to use that thing?”
    “I’ve used it rather effectively before.” She glared at him. “And I’m strongly considering using it now.”
    “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you go find some pretty Latent boy and fuck him into the Gift? It would be so much more pleasant for all concerned.”
    “Tristan, I’m not really interested in making anything pleasant for you.”
    “Yes,” he gritted, “I noticed.”

    Eva had no idea how long she lay on the floor with David, a heap of dazed, exhausted flesh. At last she managed speech. “We really need to get up.”
    “Yes.” He blinked at the ceiling. “The floor is very hard.”
    “And I’ve got this bed. It’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable.”
    “It would have to be.” He sighed and rolled to his feet, lithe as the cat she’d dreamed about. Reaching down to take her hand, he helped her to her feet.
    For about two seconds, she considered showing him to the guest room, but that would be like closing the barn door after the horse won the Kentucky Derby. Instead, she led the way to her own bedroom, flipped back the covers, and crawled between them as he joined her.
    He pulled her into his arms and curled his big body around her like a boy with a teddy bear.
    Lying on her side, her head pillowed on his brawny biceps, Eva felt surrounded by him—not just the muscular power of his body, but the in-and-out puff of his breath on her cheek. A thick lock of his long hair lay across her face, mixing with her own chocolate strands. It felt ... good. She hadn’t slept with a man since she’d broken up with Joel. Being what she was, her nightmares could have ugly consequences for the man in her bed. Luckily, tonight had proved that David could take care of himself. It was safe to cuddle into him and drift off to sleep.
    Dreams would do no harm tonight.

    He ran with her through the rain forest, his big paws thudding over the ground as she raced at his side. He’d never felt such pure joy.
    Shooting through a tangle of brush, David plunged into a tendril of mist on the other side. The mist instantly thickened, going as impenetrably dark as a burning house. He skidded to a stop, afraid of colliding head-on with a tree.
    He listened to his breathing rasp in the blackness until it suddenly melted away. He was human again.
    Carnage surrounded him.
    Corpses lay sprawled among blazing huts, bodies twisted, horribly burned. Men, women, children, orbited by clouds of flies. Crows hopped among the bodies, pecking at flesh, cawing and squabbling and plucking out eyes.
    He turned in a slow, horrified circle. Grief tore at him, sharp as a vulture’s beak. He knew these people. They weren’t random victims of a horrible disaster. They were friends, relatives, brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews.
    Yet he didn’t remember them. How could he have forgotten his people?
    “This is on your head.” The woman’s voice was as chill and acid as iced poison.
    He turned to find a Sidhe female standing naked among the bodies. Blood smeared her