Unleash the Storm (Steel & Stone, #5)

by Annette Marie

“We incubi might claim to understand them,” he grumbled to Ash, “but no male can actually comprehend how a woman’s mind works.” “It’s safer to not even try.”

“Why haven’t you had a baby?” Piper’s mouth fell open. Coby choked on a stifled snort. “A baby?” Ash repeated, sounding remarkably composed. “You need to have a baby,” Netia said seriously. “Like Raum had Yana. You need to have a Taroth baby. If you die, the dragon king can’t get his heart flame back when he wakes up.” “The dragon king’s heart flame is very precious,” Ash responded gravely. “I will protect it carefully until I can give it to the next Taroth.” “Don’t die first.” “I will do my best.”

“You can survive anything. Loss can be like chains holding you in place or a fire pushing you onward. We each choose every day what it will be to us.”

“Ash,” she whispered, “you know I love you desperately, right?” He drew her face up and kissed her, his mouth hot and demanding. Heat dove through her middle and she tossed the Sahar aside so she could slide both hands into his hair. “You know you are my heart and soul,” he murmured against her mouth.

Tenryu rumbled irritably, his tail snapping to one side and smacking a boulder so hard it almost tipped off the edge of the cliff. The dragon rather sheepishly pushed it back into place with his back leg. Piper pretended not to notice.

Three halls led off it, labeled with clear signage: Examination Rooms, Equipment & Supplies, and Subject Occupancy.

“Why is it changing color?” Kiev whispered to Piper. “When it turns red, we all die,” Lyre said flatly. Her eyes shot down to the orange circle surrounding her boots. “I can figure this out,” he muttered. “I should know—ah!” Unceremoniously dropping his bow and arrow, he lunged forward and touched a hand to one spinning symbol. It lit green instantly. He stretched out the other hand and laid it on a second symbol. It turned green too. But the rest of the lines kept darkening, shifting from bright orange to the reddish orange of flames. “Shit,” Lyre hissed. “Piper!” She leaped to his side. “Do you see the small symbol like a starburst by my left knee?” Heart pounding, she dropped to a crouch, eyes scouring the glowing lines. It was so hard to see with everything moving. She squinted as the color dipped firmly into red territory. There: a tiny starburst in the center of one of the smallest circles. She pointed. “This one?” “Yes! Touch it—only the starburst, nothing else.” Her heart rate kicked up. The lines grew brighter red and hissed ominously as she reached out two fingers and pressed them to the center of the starburst. The hot metal singed her fingertips. All the spinning stopped and every line flashed back to green before fading away. The rings around their feet disappeared too. Lyre let out a long breath and pushed gently on the door.