Free Kiss of Fire by Deborah Cooke

sounds of activity in the arcade sounded distant and irrelevant.
    The woman before him was the focus of his attention. As their gazes held, Quinn felt their breathing match rhythms. He was aware of the beat of her heart, thanks to his keen senses, and he heard his own pulse synchronize with hers.
    The firestorm was as magical and potent as he’d believed.
    Quinn could smell the heat on Sara’s skin, the mingling of her perfume and her own scent, and it fed the heat simmering in his own veins. She licked her lips and inhaled slowly, a move that made her breasts rise and Quinn’s desire burn.
    She was his mate, his destiny, his prize.
    His princess.
    The weight of Sara’s ponytail fell over her shoulder, making him want to push it back from her neck. Her hair was brushed to a smooth gleam of burnished gold, no less attractive than it had been all disheveled the night before. Her skin was tanned to honey and looked so soft and precious that he wanted to brush his fingertips across her.
    Right under her ear. He’d kiss her there and find out if she was as delicate as she looked.
    Or maybe as strong as she appeared. He wanted to unknot that scarf and caress her neck, smoothing away the bruise there.
    And then, he’d kiss the rest of her.
    Slowly.
    Thoroughly.
    Sara caught her breath and looked down at the books on the counter, her cheeks still flushed. Quinn wondered whether she had heard his thoughts or simply sensed them. “Do you know this prophecy about smiths and seers?”
    â€œNobody says it’s true.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œThat I’m skeptical about some things, too.”
    She looked up in surprise and Quinn shrugged. “I believe in the fire and the forge. I believe in what I see and what I feel. I believe in the firestorm; I believe in duty and loyalty. Prophecies are another thing altogether.”
    Sara seemed to find this persuasive. “Sounds like we have even more things in common,” she said quietly, then tore her gaze away. “So, what’s the prophecy?”
    â€œThe union of one Smith and one Seer is supposed to herald a big change for the Pyr ,” Quinn corrected softly. “If you believe that sort of thing.”
    â€œThe Pyr being…?”
    â€œWhat I am.” He didn’t blink when she glanced at him. Quinn decided to say it aloud. “Dragon shape shifters.”
    Sara thought about this, which was better than her running, screaming, or tossing him out. “ Pyr as in pyromaniac ?”
    Quinn smiled in his surprise. “Not the good guys, anyway. Pyr is the Greek word for fire or heat. We control the elements, including fire, hence the name. As in pyrotechnics. ”
    â€œPyrex,” Sara said thoughtfully. “Because the glass is resistant to heat.”
    â€œPyre, because it burns.”
    Her eyes sparkled suddenly and Quinn was intrigued by the unexpected glimpse of humor. The green in her hazel eyes was more predominant when she laughed. “Pyramid power?” she asked, her tone playful.
    Quinn laughed. “Different section of your bookstore.” He shook a finger at her when her smile broadened. “And no Pyrrhic victories, please.”
    â€œOh, anything but that,” she agreed with mock horror.
    Quinn glanced around the store. “You know, the answer to every question you have about me is probably in here.”
    â€œI haven’t read all the stock yet.” Sara’s lips twisted. “And I don’t believe a lot of what I have read. My aunt Magda, who started this shop, she was psychic. Also a bit of a flake, but a loveable one.”
    Sara sighed and smiled, running her fingertips across the counter. She frowned slightly, and Quinn was touched that she couldn’t hide her affection for her aunt so easily. They must have been close. Quinn remained silent, knowing how such a loss could hurt.
    â€œI don’t know anything about this stuff,” Sara