Raised in Fire (Page 36)

“You wouldn’t sabotage me,” he said toward the ceiling.

“That line of thinking nearly got you killed the last time. You need to learn your lesson. But seriously, let’s get those fangs in my neck, yes? I want to hit the hay.”

His head turned toward me slowly. Hunger flashed in his honeyed eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yep. Let’s do it.” I stood, because I didn’t want to be too comfortable. “Where, over here?” I backed toward the wall next to the door dividing our suites because it was available wall space and also a good exit plan.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“If you wish. Or would you rather lie down? Get more comfortable?”

“Nope. I would not, no.” I pulled my hair thing from around my wrist and lifted my hands to tie my hair back.

“Please, no.” Darius stood. “It is so rare I get to see your hair falling around your face. Leave it, if you would.”

I pulled the band back around my wrist. I didn’t care where my hair was; I cared where his fangs were.

He stalked toward me slowly, purposefully.

The expected tingles were overshadowed by an unexpected dump of adrenaline. My stomach fluttered, not because of possible sexual relations, but because a lethal predator was sizing me up. My fight-or-flight reflexes roared to life, and very rarely did I choose flight.

“This is probably the wrong way to go about this,” I said in a strong voice, hot with the anticipation of battle. “If you want to actually make it to my neck, that is. I’m not the normal girl you do this with.”

He smiled in a feral way, showing his elongating fangs. “Would you kill me, Reagan?”

“I’m pretty sure we covered that.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It kind of does, though.” I watched as he slowly walked parallel to me. He was looking for an in. Most predators did this when they were sizing up a food source, and deep in my gut, I didn’t like knowing that someone was higher on the food chain than me. I didn’t like being a source for anything. It felt like a challenge, and everyone knew I went crazy for challenges. Considering the way my fire had lashed out randomly at that poor cat, this might be a very bad idea, both for him and the wellbeing of the hotel.

“I am invigorated like I’ve never been,” he said quietly, his eyes sparkling. I had to strain to hear. “Excited in a way I can’t remember. Anxious. Desperate. I must have you, Reagan.”

“What do you think I’m waiting here for?” I grudgingly angled my head to the right. “Get to it.”

He shook his head slowly and stopped, facing me. Analyzing me. “That wouldn’t be enjoyable for you. Would you rather fight and be overpowered?”

Suddenly he was right in front of me, his hands reaching.

I punched out, startled and unable to help it. My fist connected with his midsection. I grabbed his shirt and yanked, trying to throw him away, but didn’t manage to move him far. His hand nearly got a hold of my neck, and he leaned closer.

A shock of fear coursed through me. I peppered him with punches, pushing down the fire inside me that wanted to blast the whole room. In its place, that cold thing within me swelled, filling my body. Tingling my fingers. I shoved him, trying to get him away.

His body flew backward through the air. Shock smacked into his features. He crashed against the wall before falling to the floor.

I froze. I’d moved stuff before, but it had never felt like that. It had never been so easy, or so powerful.

“There is something you are not telling me,” he said, running a thumb across his lips as he straightened up slowly. He eyed me, still predatory.

I shivered and desperately tried to regain composure. “Yes. It’s about your personality. Trust me, you’re better off living in ignorance.”

He rolled his shoulders. “Could you do that again?”

“I honestly have no idea. I’ve moved rocks—”

“The rocks in your backyard?”

“Yes. I can usually only get the littlest as high as you just flew. But that takes a lot of concentration.”

“That mage yesterday picked you up with a similar power.” He stalked toward me.

“You noticed that, did you?”

“You’re practicing incorrectly.” He stopped a few feet from me. I flinched, ready to punch out again. The guy was making me antsy. “When it comes to fighting, you work best when under pressure.”

“This isn’t about fighting; it’s about trying to figure out this new power. It feels and acts differently than my manipulation of fire.”

“How did you learn to use your fire?”

“I studied. My mother taught me how it should work, and I figured out how it actually worked, which was very different.”

“And how did you figure that out?”

I opened my mouth to answer that I had diligently focused for long periods of time each day, but that wasn’t true at the beginning. Memories crowded in—of cold, crisp mornings when my mom would hurl things at me, willing me to defend myself with my power. If I couldn’t protect myself, I’d get hit, often with wooden objects that hurt a lot, or spells that stung my skin. Of warm, humid nights when I’d walk through the shadows, my night vision doing little to protect me from her sneak attacks. The amount of spells she’d lobbed at me would make normal people cry “child abuse,” but my mom had known exactly what she was doing. She’d guided me through the beginning, helping me learn to shape my abilities. It wasn’t until I understood what burned inside of me that I was turned toward the more diligent, thoughtful approach, refining and manipulating.

I stared at Darius with glistening eyes, the tightness in my chest reminiscent of the pain when I first lost her. Of my sudden plunge into uncertainty. How would I learn this new power without her? I didn’t even know where to start.

“We will do it together,” Darius said softly, as if reading my thoughts. He was doing that a lot lately. “I can help you.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“May I?” he asked, his eyes dipping to my neck.

So many emotions were flying through me at that moment, with him and my mother and the sense of impending doom, that I couldn’t do much more than nod.

His movements were slow, syrupy. He was taking the opposite approach this time, giving me time to adjust. To get used to his closeness so that I (probably) wouldn’t fling him across the room again.

“It is a joy being in your presence, Reagan,” he said quietly, his face now inches from mine. “Relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. I miss you when you aren’t near.”

My eyes fluttered as his sweet breath fell across my face. As the warmth of his body, so near, cocooned me.

His eyes scanned my face before stopping on my lips. I felt his hands settle low on my hips.

“Just blood,” I said in a husky voice I didn’t recognize.

“I am at your mercy,” he said, his lips getting closer. “I have always been at your mercy.”

His scent, spicy and masculine, delighted my senses. The power in his large body, the strength, made my mind buzz from his proximity.

When he bent, I was prepared for his face to dip to the side, and for the sharp pinch of his fangs as they entered my skin. I was prepared to fight the chemical effect of his saliva, as potent as the drug ecstasy. I was even prepared for my heart to thump madly, begging me to relent, to enjoy his perfect body and the rise and fall of each hard, defined muscle.

I was not prepared for his kiss.

When his lips touched mine, a jolt of sweet ecstasy cut through me. The fire within me boiled, and the excitement of battle mixed with the sweet heat of desire. I opened my mouth to him. He filled it in a rush, his tongue swirling around mine in an erotically teasing sort of way.

My moan was soft and deep. Liquid fire dripped through my middle and pooled below. Struggling with myself, I clutched his shirt front to push him off. Instead, I pulled him closer, willingly trapping myself between the hard warmth of him and the unyielding wall behind me.

His kiss increased in urgency, our shared fervency rising. I splayed my fingers across his chest, the logical side of me still urging me to push him away, but desire made me dip my hands lower.

I moaned again as his fingers slid up the curves of my hips and dipped under the fabric of my shirt. His touch sizzled against my skin and then sent a flush of goosebumps across it. The woman in me, that sensual beast who loved the feel of leather and lace against my skin, who was warm-blooded and yearned to show it, gripped the lapels of his jacket and pushed them over his shoulders.

His hands came away from me as he shed the jacket, but his mouth stayed connected to mine, his taste wild and exciting. His mastery with delicious, teasing, oh-so-sexy kisses was better than anything I’d ever experienced.

This time his hands connected at my shoulders before sliding up to my neck. One stayed there, curving around that vulnerable area, and the other glanced off my chin as his kiss deepened still.

I yanked the ends of his shirt out of his pants and slid my hands along his smooth skin, lost to his touch. To the ferocity of my desire for him. To this moment.

His hold on my neck firmed up and his other hand dropped down to my butt, squeezing my lower half toward him. My core ached, my logic quieted, and my body keyed up, surprising me by wanting this with everything I had.