Linara was more beautiful than ever, by the light of the dragonstone. It was as if she were caught in a melding of starlight and rainbows. The colors suited her. This mountain suited her.

Pax shook his head. That was a romantic thought, and he was not a romantic being. Linara was a comely woman with an alluring shape and a sharp tongue. She amused and confused him. He wanted her in a way he had never before wanted any woman. All that aside, he could not forget that attractive as she was, she had come here to kill him.

And he had brought her to his home. That was not the wisest thing he’d ever done.

Pax had known many women, but he’d never brought one to this place. No, his nights here were spent in solitude, whether he was dragon or man. Perhaps one day he would find a mate and he would bring her here. This would be their home. But a relationship with a human that went beyond a single night? No. He had never before even considered such a thing.

He saw Linara more clearly here, washed in the magical light that was, in many ways, his own. The darkness he had seen in her was real. The black was not as prominent as that in the demons he had killed, but she was one of them. He must not forget that.

She could kill with a kiss.

She could not kill him, not in that way. Even in his human form, he was far harder to kill than any ordinary man.

He wanted her. He had wanted her since the moment she’d walked into his camp. Perhaps even earlier, when he had faced her as a dragon and she had been bravely and foolishly unafraid.

“Tell me why you search for the dragon.”

Linara had been studying the stone walls of his home but turned to face him as he asked his question. She hesitated before answering.

“Is it not enough to desire to see such a magnificent creature up close?”

“No.”

“What if he is the last of his kind, and I will never again have the chance to see…and—”

She stopped speaking abruptly, perhaps because she realized that he could see the lie in her. Her face fell; her eyes widened. Were those tears sparkling in her eyes? Perhaps. Then again, perhaps it was a trick of the dragonstone.

“You have come to kill him.”

“Yes,” she whispered, the word echoing off the walls in a way their previous words had not.

“Why?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. The tears, if they had ever existed, were gone. “There is a war in the lands below, are you not aware?”

“I am aware.”

“You are capable, why do you not fight? Why do you hide here in these mountains?”

“It is not my war.”

“Well, I fight.” She slapped a hand against her chest. “I am a soldier, and killing the dragon is my assignment.”

“You do not look like any soldier I have ever seen.” He took a step closer to her. The cavern was not a small one, but suddenly the space seemed tighter than before, as if the walls were closing in on them. “Women should not fight the wars of men.”

“It is not entirely a war of men,” she whispered as he stopped directly before her.

Pax took her chin in his hand and made her look him in the eye. What he saw there was a mixture of wonder, horror, and hunger. He lowered his mouth toward hers, intending to kiss her, but she turned her head before their lips met and said, in a tortured whisper, “Don’t.”

He did not move away. “Why not? Surely a kiss is not too much to ask, as you have no gold with which to pay me for my services.”

She turned her head so that their mouths were close, so close. She held her breath for a moment, and then she whispered, “You do not know me. You do not know me at all.” Her hands shot up to touch his face, to hold him in place. She was surprisingly strong. “You want to kiss me, but you do not want that kiss more than I do. I crave it. I hurt with wanting it. At this moment, I feel as if I will die without it.”

“Then kiss me.”

Her eyes met his, and he was surprised to see tears — real tears, not a trick of the light — fill her eyes and then fall down her perfect cheeks. Gods, he could see the pain in her. The wanting and the fear and the sorrow.

“If I kiss you, you will die.” She dropped her hands. “Run.”

Pax did not run, as he should’ve. He gathered Linara close and kissed her cheek. He tasted her tears and felt the lurch of a sob she tried to hide from him.

“You cannot kill me with a kiss.”

“I can and I will, if you don’t…”

He rubbed his beard-roughened face against her soft cheek, then with a hand on her chin he shifted her face so that his mouth was almost on hers. Almost. So close. The air between them shimmered, as if a summer storm lived between them. He whispered, “Prove it.”

She fought him at first, but not very hard. Her lips molded to his and he felt her power, lightning coursing through her and into him. Through him and into her. He had kissed many women in his very long lifetime, but none had felt like this. He did not back away from the lightning, but embraced it. This was a powerful woman, perhaps the most powerful woman he had ever known.

She was cursed with demon blood; she was a killer of men.

But not, apparently, a killer of dragons.

He speared his tongue into her mouth, and she copied him. He sucked gently, and she moaned.

Her body pressed to his; her fingers slipped into his tangled hair.

At this moment she was only a woman. Warm, welcoming, tempting in a way he had never known before. He could lie with her, here and now. She would not object. She would gladly spread her legs for him; she would take him in.

But did he dare lie with the woman who had come to these mountains to kill him? She had warned the man to run, hoping, perhaps, to spare his life, but once she knew he was not entirely a man…

Linara was the one who ended the kiss, jerking away. She looked at him with wonder and fear, shaking her head and backing away one step. Two. “You should be dead.”

He smiled at her. “Your kiss is not so powerful.”

“You don’t understand…”

“Your father was a demon,” he whispered. “I know.” He considered being honest with her, here and now. He could say I am the dragon you seek and show her his back, the one part of his body that never entirely shifted. He wore the annoying shirt to cover the ridges along his spine from any casual glance, but if she saw, she would know. He could bring a touch of the dragon into his eyes. He could show her his true self, filling this cavern from wall to wall and cooking her where she stood.

He did not.

“How do you know?” she whispered.

“You are not the first of your kind to come to these mountains.”

For a moment she was afraid of him. Then the fear passed, and she started asking questions. “What happened to them? Did the shifters kill them? Did you? How do you know so much about the daughters of the Isen Demon?”

“The dragon ate them,” he said. “After a thorough cooking, of course. He likes his women crispy,” he added in a lowered voice. “As to how I know…just because I live an isolated life doesn’t mean I am entirely ignorant of what goes on below. There are travelers to these mountains who escape the dragon’s fire, and they are always eager to talk.”

“Why aren’t you dead? My kiss…”

“Is perhaps not as lethal as you have been led to believe. The others you sucked the life from must’ve been unusually weak.”

Even by the faint light of dragonstone, he saw her pale. “I have never killed a man, with a kiss or in any other way. You were to be my first. I failed.”

He moved closer and smiled. “Care to try again?”

* * *

She was no longer hungry. Somehow Pax had fed her well, and yet he had survived. He had not only survived; he seemed to be entirely unaffected.

Linara tried to make sense of it all. Perhaps the effects of the amulet lingered, and she was not yet at her full strength. No other powers had manifested. Curious, she tried to start a fire on her palm. Many of the Ksana demons could control fire, to some degree. When that failed, she focused on a pebble several feet away, trying to make it move with her thoughts. That attempt had failed as well. She could not even spark a bit of witch’s light on her palm.

Not that she was a witch. Any light she produced would be demon’s light.

Perhaps she’d be better off trying to call the darkness upon herself during the day.

Most powerful of her kind? That’s what she’d always been told, but it seemed to her that she was the weakest of the Ksana demons.

When she’d run away from home, she had been filled with a young girl’s sense of destiny, of purpose. Every hour of every day had shown her all that she could not have. Love. Family. She would never be a part of a loving couple, never be wife to a husband who adored her. So what choice did she have but to become fully demon.

She’d planned to turn on the family who had raised her, and embrace who she was. What she was. As she’d walked away from her home in the dead of night, she had seen herself as a rebel. In the years since, she’d wondered at the wisdom of that decision. Linara Varden was no rebel. In the years since she’d left home, she’d never once thrown off her humanity and become a monster.

Stasio, who had once seemed so dominant and wonderful to her, had proven to be manipulative and power-hungry. He was an almost ordinary man with just enough dark power to make him want more. He might even be called petty. Insignificant. He would kill her if he sensed that thought from her, as he considered himself to be anything but insignificant.

Many of her sisters who followed the dark wizard all but worshiped him. They saw him as a father as well as a leader, and he had fed that image. He liked being worshiped, but he didn’t deserve it. He had certainly not deserved her devotion. She could not deny that he had once been more important to her than he was now.

If he sensed her thoughts… With a start she realized that he could not reach her here. Her mind was protected, her thoughts were her own. She opened her mind, reached for him and found nothing. Instinctively she knew it was the stone, the blessed dragonstone, that allowed her to be free from Stasio, and any other who might intrude into her mind. He would have to be content to harass the other Ksanas while she was here. He said they were her sisters, and in many ways that was true.

She should love a sister, the way her mother loved hers. But Linara felt no love.

So many of her sisters seemed to have no soul. They were not conflicted, as she was. They were content to kill, to take, to deny the human half of themselves.

She sat against the wall, entranced by the dragonstone’s light as she pondered her life. Pax sat beside her, seemingly content to allow her to ponder in blessed silence. He had offered to allow her to kiss him again, as a test. So far, she had refused, but she did want to know if the first kiss had been a fluke.

“If I kiss you again…”

“When,” he interrupted. “When you kiss me again. Such a kiss should not be a singularity.”

“Fine. When I kiss you again, you must promise me that you will move away if you begin to feel ill.”

“Your lips upon mine do not make me feel ill. Quite the opposite, Linara. They invigorate me.” He turned his head and looked at her, and she was reminded again of his great size, of his strength. If any man could fight against the draw of a Ksana, it would be Pax.

“Promise me,” she whispered.

He nodded once.

It might be best to test another kiss now, when she was not hungry. Wouldn’t it be easier to move away if she was not drawing in much-needed sustenance? She crawled onto his lap, surprising him. He was a large man, rough-looking, dark, so strong. If anyone could fight against her, it was Pax. She took his face in her hands and gently, cautiously, placed her mouth against his.

He had such fine, full, firm lips…

Instantly she was drawn in, captivated. How could a man be so strong and yet so gentle? How could a man who at first glance appeared to be a brute, kiss with such tenderness? His arms snaked around her; he held her close. He held her tight, but not too tight. There was a sound from deep in his throat. A growl, of sorts. She liked it.

And then the kiss was not so gentle, not so tender. There was demand in the kiss, heat and passion and wanting. He held her tighter; his heat enveloped her.

It was Linara, again, who ended the kiss. The arms that held her relaxed, a little. She did not immediately leave Pax’s lap, but looked deeply into his dark eyes. She was searching for evidence that he had been affected by her touch. He had been, but not in the way she had expected.

She scooted off his lap and again sat beside him. Pax leaned toward her and whispered, his voice gruff, “When you are ready, say the word. Call to me, and I am yours. Lie with me, be my woman, and I will protect you from those who would do you harm, no matter who they might be.” He touched her face and made her look at him again. “I am not afraid.”

The words caught in Linara’s throat so that she could not say aloud those words that came to mind.

I am.