Page 1 of Dark Fire

Prologue

In the Age of Dragons, the immortal beasts ruled the skies and the land below. When the Age of Man arose, the prophets foretold a time when dragons would be no more. Desperate to ensure their viability, they chose a great sorcerer to help them save their kind, but magic always has a price.

The strongest warrior from each of the ruling clans retained their immortality as well as being granted life as a human-dragon shifter. Those twelve banded together to form the Phantom Fire—elite warriors and mercenaries who would ensure the survival of their kind.

But in exchange for this boon, magic demanded an even greater sacrifice—the warriors were condemned to live without a mate until they were willing to give up their immortality for their eternal flame.

Chapter 1

Delaney

Issaquah, Washington

Present Day

* * *

“Lucy! Lucy! I can’t get this stupid shapewear thing to fit right. Are you sure we ordered the right size?” called Delaney Pierce to her sister.

Delaney was not having a good day. Oh, sure, she was supposed to receive some kind of civic recognition/award for her re-design of City Hall, but the zipper in the dress she was supposed to wear was irreparably broken, she was behind on the proposal she needed to submit by the end of the week, her hair was having one of its ‘I don’t want to do that’ days, and she needed shapewear to fit into her Plan B dress, only she couldn’t get the stupid thing to go on.

God, she hated her life.

“Delaney,” her sister called from downstairs, “is it beige or black?”

What did it matter what color it was if she couldn’t get into it? She looked down at the offending garment in her hand. “Beige.”

“Sweetie, that one is mine. Yours is the black one. Hang on, I’m coming.”

Delaney had once questioned Lucy about her need for shapewear to which Lucy had responded, ‘There isn’t a human body—regardless of its shape—that doesn’t look better with shapewear. It smooths and shapes—thus the name.’ Delaney had thought it was a crock or a sales spiel but had to admit knowing that shapewear was not just for big or curvy girls had made her feel better about her own body’s shape.

Lucy’s swift climbing up the stairs was just one more irritant. Lucy was everything Delaney wanted to be and never would be. She’d heard that from their mother on an almost daily basis from the time she turned twelve and Lucy was sixteen. Lucy was perfect; Delaney was not—at least according to their mother.

Lucy had straight, shiny, blonde hair that she wore in a stylishly messy bob with bangs that framed her delicate features perfectly. She was of average height and had a dancer’s body—long, lean, toned. She was gorgeous; something Delaney would never be. Delaney, on the other hand, was tall, curvy, and had messy red curls that fell in a tangled mess down her back. Some days she could get them arranged in something resembling a professional look, but today was not one of those. Most days she just pulled it up into a high ponytail with a scrunchy and let it go.

The fact was, she should have hired Lucy a long time ago to be her ‘beard’ and make all of her public and professional appearances for her. Delaney was much more at home in jeans, hiking boots, and a flannel shirt than she was in a business suit or god forbid, a cocktail dress. Lucy was the one who looked the part of a successful architect, which made sense as she was a successful realtor who was thinking of getting her brokerage license and starting her own firm. Delaney, on the other hand, looked like a hoyden. She’d never been really sure what that meant, but the way her mother had said it made Delaney think it wasn’t good.

Lucy wrapped her arms around Delaney, giving her a reassuring hug as she said, “Get her voice out of your head. She was not a nice person. You are not a hoyden.”

“What the hell is a hoyden, anyway?”

“It’s another name for a boisterous tomboy and to our dear, sainted mother—” the last three words were said so sarcastically it almost hurt— “there was nothing worse.”

“She really didn’t like me,” said Delaney, shaking her head.

“She really didn’t know or understand you, and that’s on her—not you. I know this reception tonight isn’t your kind of event, but sheesh, Delaney, this is a big deal. Your re-design of City Hall was huge! The renovation was innovative and incorporated green mechanics, clean energy, and all the other environmental bells and whistles. And you did it by yourself…”

“No, Mike was involved…”

“The hell he was,” said Lucy looking over Delaney’s shoulder into the full-length mirror. “He may have gotten the firm’s foot in the door, but then he had to go ‘find himself’ with that bimbo he hired as a receptionist. The fact that they cleaned out your bank accounts and he sent you a two-page email as he boarded a plane for parts unknown negates any ability he had to claim he had anything to do with the design. You two were friends for years and started the firm together, but you, my darling little sister, were always the real talent. Mike was better at schmoozing with people—it came naturally to him, but that man couldn’t design a commercial building or a planned development if his life depended on it. That was always you.”

Somehow Lucy always made things better and reminded Delaney of who she was at her core. “Do you really think so?”

“I absolutely do. Now, if you want to wear that shaper thing, you can, but—” she said walking over to Delaney’s closet “—I just happened to find this really cute cocktail dress. It’s the most gorgeous color and has a real flirty, but professional, feel to it. It’s midi-length, which I know you like and has a cross-over wrap that gives it sex appeal but is fixed in place. It has a kind of whimsical flounce from the neck going diagonally down to the hem and is in that jersey material that you love. It has long sleeves and is going to make the most of your killer curves.”

“No shapewear?” asked Delaney.

“No shapewear,” replied Lucy solemnly.

---