She moaned into his mouth, tugging on his hair in a way that made his eyes cross. His fire, that part of him that seemed as natural as breathing, roared to life beneath the taste and scent and feel of her, and filled every part of his being.

“Fire,” she murmured into his mouth, then suddenly shrieked and pushed him back, slapping at her legs.

Constantine, who had been greatly enjoying the kiss, frowned at the little dance she was doing. Yes, his fire was burning up her legs, but since she hadn’t complained when he breathed a little fire on her earlier, he assumed she was capable of taking the full brunt of his passion.

Passion, he pointed out to himself, that she had stirred.

“For goodness sake, do something!” Bee demanded, still slapping at her legs.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Not yet, but I’m on fire! Are you blind? Or do you just not care?”

With a flicker of his eyes, he damped his fire, effectively extinguishing the flames circling her. He stood with his hands on his hips, considering her as she muttered to herself while examining the material of her jeans. “You are a woman of many contradictions.”

“Yeah, well, you’re none too stable yourself. One minute you’re looking like someone killed your favorite pet, and the next you’re lecturing me about the proper way to kiss.”

The heavy burden of reality settled back around his shoulders, threatening to press him into the ground.

“See? You’re doing it again,” Bee said, straightening up to glare at him. “What is going on, Constantine? Why are you behaving this way? I thought you wanted to help the dragons get rid of the curse.”

He thought of many answers to that last question, of the cost of what she asked of him, and his heart sobbed.

“Give me a break,” Bee grumbled, and then with a martyred sigh, she wrapped her arms around Constantine, saying into his neck, “Tell mama what’s wrong.”

He started to laugh at that; he just couldn’t help it. The confluence of his raging erection from the kiss joined with her motherly attempt at comforting was too much for him. He gave her a squeeze, pressed a none-too-innocent kiss to the top of her head, and with a brief but enjoyable fondle of her bottom, released her.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair.

She sat. Amalie was busy entertaining Gary at the front desk, and quite obviously not looking in their direction. Constantine took the armchair opposite Bee, and said simply, “I can’t help you with Bael.”

“Is that what’s causing the problem? Then don’t worry. I’ll get a talisman from him myself—”

“No,” he interrupted, trying to pick out what he could tell her, and what he did not wish revealed. “You cannot. He will destroy you.”

Bee held up a hand for a moment before dropping it. “Look, we’ve had this conversation before, and yes, I know that Asmodeus caught me when I tried to get his talisman—really, Aoife has a lot to answer for in not bothering to keep me up to date about the major players in this little drama—but that doesn’t mean that Bael will do the same. I’ve learned my lesson, there, and will be extremely careful.”

“He will kill you nonetheless.” Constantine was suddenly weary, the sort of weary that built up over centuries of time. He leaned back in the chair, gesturing limply at nothing. “Asmodeus is an amateur compared to Bael. If he even thought you had the idea of trespassing on his private domain, he’d destroy you. There is no leniency in him, no shades of gray, nothing but black and white absolutes.”

Bee tipped her head to the side and gave him a long look. “That sounds like you know him.”

“I do.” His gut twisted painfully.

“How well?”

He hesitated. “Well enough to know that if Bael is the creator of the curse that blights the dragonkin, then it is a curse we will suffer under to the end of days.”

“Now who’s being overly dramatic?” Bee stopped him in mid-protest. “That wasn’t meant to be an insult. But that said, he was overthrown and cast into Abaddon, so he’s not invincible. And even if he were, we aren’t trying to get rid of him, we’re just trying to break his curse.”

For a few minutes, Constantine was tempted by Bee’s spirit to be the hero she clearly needed. She was so positive, so convinced that what they faced was a simple matter of taking one little item from Bael, that he considered going against his common sense and casting in his lot with her.

But then he remembered the last time he had crossed Bael, and the cost of such a folly. “No,” he said, rising, giving her a long, steady look to let her know he wasn’t going to be swayed. “What you ask is impossible.”

He started to leave, pausing when Bee spat one word out at him.

“Coward.”

He turned slowly, the word crawling across his flesh, burrowing down deep into his psyche, and echoing in his head.

He was a coward. At least, that was the word that Bael had last flung at him. He’d wanted to kill Bael at the time, but Bee was not a demon lord. She didn’t even anger him with that accusation, because he knew that were he in her place, he’d do the same.

If only she knew the truth… he wavered for a moment, wanting to bare his soul to her, wishing with a desire that startled him with its intensity that Bee were his mate. If she were, then she would stand by him, no matter what dark secrets he harbored.

He watched her for a moment, the yearning so strong it stung the backs of his eyes. Bee’s eyes glittered angrily. He simply shook his head and said, “If it is cowardly to wish to avoid wholesale death and destruction of both the mortal and immortal worlds, then I accept the name.”

“Constantine, wait. I didn’t mean that. I’m just frustrated—”

He collected Gary, thanked Amalie, and left the shop before Bee could do more than to splutter a few angry words.

Nine

“I can’t believe he just walked out on me.” I stood staring at the door of Amalie’s shop, half expecting that Constantine would reappear, an apology on his really delicious lips. I stomped my foot before I realized I was doing it. “And he took Gary!”

“He is a dragon and a wyvern,” Amalie said, giving me a shuttered look. Her face was placid, as mild as the tone of her voice, giving me no clue to what she really thought. “They do as they please, do they not?”