Page 24 of Red Dragon’s Flame

Mikah Changed and followed, kneeling by Shadow to check her condition.

Her torso was still enveloped by the fleece-lined leather jacket he’d conjured for her, but when he opened it he didn’t see any blood seepage, and there was very little on Brock’s hands. Her face was still deathly pale, though.

He reached out and brushed her hair away from her face. The soft, silky strands seemed to reach for his fingers, twining around them as if wanting to hold on. But that was obviously his imagination.

There were dark smudges under her eyes and she showed no signs of waking up, but her breathing was still even.

Michelangela Changed to human, crowding up over Mikah’s shoulder. “How is she?”

Mikah felt her shiver, and absent-mindedly conjured clothes for her. She patted his shoulder in gratitude. He said, “She seems stable, for now.”

Cazbek was watching, his arms folded, Lucinda at his side. “Well, that’s nice, but I would really love to know what the fuck is going on here,” he said.

As succinctly as possible, Mikah explained about Shadowfire, the messages, his visit to Thorne, and what they’d found at the abandoned building.

“So you were right about sensing trouble.” Caz looked speculatively at Michelangela. “Both of you.”

She dropped her eyes. “Lucky guess.”

“Uh-huh.” Cazbek leaned over Shadow, a small frown growing between his eyebrows. “She smells like fire,” he said, sniffing. “Magical fire. Not dragon.”

“She has some kind of flame tattoo on her back,” Michelangela said. “Maybe it’s magical.”

Cazbek raised his eyebrows at Mikah, and the two of them gently raised Shadowfire up and eased the jacket off her, pulling the burned, tattered remains of her shirt apart.

The tattoo was breathtaking. It was a firebird—a phoenix—covering most of her back. Its head rested on the big muscle between her neck and her left shoulder, and its body curved down her spine. The partially spread wings spanned her shoulder blades, and its long elegant tail feathers, glittering with red and gold flames, curled down to her right hip and across the small of her back.

The tattoo was slightly raised, and the ink looked almost metallic, glints of fire gleaming in the starlight. Mikah found himself wanting to smooth his hand down it, aching to trace those curves, feel her warmth. Instead, though, it was Cazbek who reached out to touch it.

Without thinking, Mikah gave a low growl and reached out to pull his brother’s hand away. Before he could, though, flames erupted out of the tattoo, as they had when Mikah found her in the hiding place. The temporary shield he’d put over it had lost its battle with the alien magic, and the fire encircled Caz’s hand. Luckily he was impervious.

Cazbek turned to Mikah. “What the flaming fuck was that?”

“No idea,” Mikah said. “Some kind of magical protection?”

“You could ask Blaze,” Michelangela said. “She knows about magical tattoos.”

Mikah turned to look at her. So that’s what that little secret conference had been about. Blaze was a powerful witch, and ever since she’d discovered years ago that a tattoo she’d been given as a teenager was actually a magical artifact embedded in her skin, she’d made a study of tattoo magic.

Michelangela was learning to design tattoos.

The things Michelangela might think of to do with magical tattoos boggled the mind, but he didn’t have time to worry about that now.

“Or maybe she’s a phoenix shifter?” Cazbek said.

“This woman isn’t a shifter,” Brock said positively. “I was listening to her all the way back here from the warehouse, and I didn’t hear an animal inside her.”

That was Brock’s unique talent. He could see and hear the animal inside any shifter, and communicate with it—even the most fucked-up specimens. He could also find the human inside a rogue shifter, and often draw them back out to sanity.

If he said there was no shifter animal in there, there wasn’t one.

Cazbek said, “So… can I ask what you’re planning on doing with your combustible non-shifter friend? Besides bringing her to my rooftop?”

“Sorry,” Mikah said. “I couldn’t take her straight back to Al-Maddeiri—not without knowing more about her.”

his dragon said, his mental voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

Because she’s not our mate, for one thing, Mikah said. She’s just a friend. Cazbek gave a skeptical cough. A friend who needs help, he added firmly, glaring at Caz. Out loud he added, “I was hoping she could stay here until I can ask her what’s going on.”