Winter Fire: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Coldharbour Chronicles Book 3)

by Richard Amos

  “Yep. He said he’ll be in touch.”

  Greg returned with the tea. Rose was with him, carrying a tray of cakes and biscuits.

  “There’s that pretty face we all know and love,” Rose said.

  For once, I didn’t blush. “And there’s my awesome friend.”

  She blushed and beamed at me.

  “Where’s Randy?”

  “Discussing steak with Mr. Douglas.”

  “I see.”

  “I think they might be kindred spirits.”

  Greg handed me a cup of tea. “Cheers.”

  He ruffled my hair.

  “So,” I said, taking an offered jam tart from Rose, “the white eye guy has just popped off again until next time.”

  “That’s what he thinks,” Nay replied. “We have some big news for you, Jake.”

  I took a bite of the jam tart. Eat, sip tea, and listen—the was me.

  “Well, regarding the white eye guy, I put a little tracking spell on him. He didn’t notice—still hasn’t. Turns out he has a flat above a chip shop up near the train station.”

  Coldharbour Station was a quiet spot. It wasn’t far from the coast, about a mile. Unlike the creepy abandoned Wizard Point Station, the trains were simply not running from there. The lights of the carriages were always on, the station staffed and kept clean. Only no trains departed or arrived, a spell compelling people away. Visitors would use the shops, look at the arrivals and departures boards, and then simply leave, pushed back into the city because there was no way out.

  “Nice one!” I high-fived her, spilling my tea a little.

  “Thanks, babe. We finally have some advantage over him.”

  “I love it!”

  “Then you’ll really love this. We’ve got Purple.”

  “Oh, my God! Seriously?”

  “Yes. She’s locked up in the facility.”

  “Blimey.”

  “In a coma,” Greg added.

  Shame. “Oh, well. She’ll just have to die in her sleep.”

  “Karla wants to try something,” Nay said. “We’re coming up with a truth potion. Between me, Karla, Dean and Randy. Yeah, I know I said about truth magic being tricky. In fact, it’s a nightmare. But we at least have to try to get some info out of her. After that, she’s dead. The facility is the safest place to lock her up for now, until we know Lilisian’s next move.”

  A thought hit me. “Shit … the facility could be attacked?”

  “Possible, mate,” Greg replied. “We have to look at it from all angles.”

  “Then all the beasts there need to die.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Why? How many?”

  “Eighty prisoners.”

  “Bloody hell! I can still kill them, though.”

  “Some will kill you before you get the chance.”

  I remembered Dean telling me about beasts in there that should never see the light of day. He’d been a guard there before he replaced the late Wendy as part of my circle.

  “Beasts worse than Lilisian?”

  “Like her parents,” Nay added. “Her mum, as Bennett said.”

  “Crap!”

  “Defenses have increased over there,” Greg said.

  Of course they had. “We need to start by grilling the white eye guy while Purple’s out cold. He knows about this Claec. Let’s figure out how to get the drop on him and finally get some answers. All that shit about me being a gift when the time is right, that’s all linked. The bloody priesthood knew all about me before I came here. Who are they a priesthood for? Who do they worship?”

  Nay grinned. “You took the words right out of my mouth, babe. Aren’t you happy to have me and my little tracker?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Time to plan,” Greg said.

  Nay pushed herself off the bed. “I’ll make a ‘to do’ list. First item is dealing with the white eye guy.”

  Rose cleared her throat. “Would you like some more tea, Jake?”

  “Oh, no thanks, Rose. Thanks, though. I’m gonna have a shower. I proper stink.”

  “You do actually,” she replied. “We can’t have sexy Jake Winter all smelly. You’ll sully my fantasies.” She batted her big eyelashes at me.

  My cheeks were in full blushing bloom as I left the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I finished eating my piece of lasagna that Randy had made, scooping up the last of the sauce with freshly baked garlic bread Mr. Douglas had whipped up.

  All of us, including Karla and Dean, were gathered at the dining table—all of my favorite people in one way or another. Well, maybe not Randy, but I was gonna try and make him at least not look as me as the dirty bloke who took his clothes off for the camera and seduced his wife. Man, he always made me feel like the bit on the side. He hadn’t looked at me all evening.

  It’d just gone ten o’clock. The main discussion had been the whole Hercules revelations, where jaws dropped and heads were scratched.

  “Greg’s the super-strong one,” I commented. “It should’ve been him.”

  “Don’t try and pass your Herculean stuff onto me, Jakey.”

  “Own it,” Nay added. “Just own it.”

  Flip, was I stuffed. I leant back in the chair, good and fed.

  “Would you care to join me in the kitchen for a brandy, sir?” Mr. Douglas asked Randy.

  “Certainly.”

  What the hell? Were they starting some sort of gentleman’s club?

  Off they went.

  “They’re a right pair,” Nay said. “I love it!”

  “Me too,” Rose added. “He hasn’t grumbled about anything since they met.”

  Dean was watching me. I caught him, and he didn’t look away, giving me a gentle smile. He’d come down not long after I’d woken up, hair all over the place and in need of grub.

  He leaned back in his chair, clearly satisfied with the food.

  I smiled back.

  “Want to crack on with the potion in a bit, hon?” Nay asked Dean.

  He turned to her. “Sure.”

  “Let our dinner go down, and we’ll get to it.”

  He nodded.

  “I will join you,” Karla said. She’d not eaten, joining us about ten minutes ago.

  “Cool.”

  Karla sipped her peppermint tea. There was a plaster over her forehead.

  “Fancy a movie?” Greg asked me.

  “Sure.”

  “We’ll jump in later,” Nay added. “You lads just chill for a bit. We’ll bring some sweet goodness in a bit.”

  “Awesome,” Greg replied. “What I really need is a good session with some cricket. I haven’t seen a game in ages. But I wouldn’t do that to you, Jakey.”

  “Thank God for that!”

  Greg was snoring his head off, as was Nay. The pair of them had polished off a chocolate cake between them. I’d opted out, belly too full from the lasagna. Dean hadn’t joined in with the movie. Apparently, he’d wanted to go chill in his room.

  Was he back to avoiding me?

  No! He’d smiled at me at dinner. Bloody hell! The man was entitled to not watch a movie. It’d been shite anyway.

  I left Greg and Nay curled up under their blankets on the sofa, heading upstairs. It was half one in the morning. I was hours from sleep, but was gonna at least attempt to drift off.

  I paused outside my door, staring at Dean’s. He was in there. We needed to talk. Yeah, maybe at a more civilized hour.

  Bollocks! Why couldn’t I be weary? I hated being so wired at this time of night.

  Dean’s door opened.

  My heart leapt in my chest.

  “Hi,” he said, leaning on the doorframe. He was in black shorts and a white vest, his hair damp and swept back. “What you doing?”

  “I was gonna have a go at sleeping.”

  “You’ll be as successful as me by the looks of it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to come in? Hang out?”

  S
hit! My palms were sweaty. “Okay.” It came out as a squeak.

  He disappeared into his room.

  Oh. My. God. Was I really going in there? Was I gonna be alone with him after all that’d happened between us?

  To hang out. To talk. That’s it. So we could sort this out now and stop the angst. And why couldn’t I hang out with him like Greg and Nay? He was my friend too.

  Because you want to bang him!

  I actually blushed at my own inner words.

  “Jake?” he called.

  I entered his bedroom and closed the door behind me.

  Ohmygod!

  He was sitting on the bed. “Come join me.” He patted beside him.

  I swallowed and took a pew next to him. Why was it so hot in here?

  Get a bloody grip!

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I fiddled with the collar of my jumper. It was constricting me. “Yeah, fine. Yourself?”

  “Good. Nice moves on that dragon.”

  “I was mostly shitting myself.”

  “Jake … we need to talk.”

  I nodded, unable to speak, my pulse racing. He was so damned close.

  “You asked me if I was bisexual,” he said.

  I shuffled.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, carry on.”

  He quirked a brow at me. “Anyway, that’s what you asked me. And I don’t know how to answer that because … I don’t know what this is between us.”

  I nodded in response, desperately needing some air but suppressing the urge to stick my head out of the window as best I could.

  Get a bloody grip, man!

  He moved so he faced me, sitting sideways on the edge of the bed. His eyes were so powerful in their ability to utterly rob me of breath.

  “Jake.” A hand went to my thigh. “I’m sorry about all of this, for … I know you’re not over Michael. I don’t expect anything from you. And I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve been a prick.”

  “So have I.”

  He smiled. “Fine, we’ll say we’re even on that one. But I’m serious. Let’s not let this get in the way of our friendship. I don’t want to not be your friend. Can we still be mates?”

  God, he smelled so good. “There’s something here,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he whispered.

  “And I’m a mess.”

  He moved a little closer to me. “You’re in pain.”

  “I’m so tired of the weight, Dean. I can’t stand it.” I put a hand on his cheek. He nestled into it. “Look at the pair of us. I don’t wanna fight, I’m too exhausted. I need … I just need everything to stop spinning. I can’t be lost in the dark, though I’m too bloody afraid to come out of it. How long do I have to stay there?”

  “Jake …”

  “There’s no denying I want you, Dean. How can I say any different? I-I-”

  “What?”

  “I want … I want …”

  Oh, God! I couldn’t say it, fear holding me back, that weight bearing down on me. I should leave and hide in my room and sob and pine for my dead husband who didn’t want me.

  Wham! Wham! Wham! The truth battered me. Fuck! I was shaking.

  Fight back …

  Don’t be crushed …

  I licked my lips.

  “Listen, Jake, we don’t—”

  “I want you to kiss me again.” Boom! There it was.

  He cocked his head a little. “You what?”

  “Don’t you want to?”

  He took my face in his hands as he had before. “It’s all I can think about.”

  Dean pulled me to him, our lips locking. It started out as gentle, beautiful and soft until the desire exploded. The kiss became hungry, full of longing and tongues. A pent up lake of lust broke through the dam, a massive flood of need. He tasted so good, his lips incredible on mine, his hands leaving their own kind of sparks wherever they touched.

  I yanked off my jumper as he removed his vest. His hard-on pushed against his shorts as mine did against my jeans. But I wanted more kissing. I got on top of him, devouring him. The voice of pain and sorrow was caught in the flood. It wouldn’t die, but it would certainly take a battering. I needed Dean—craved him—and I couldn’t deny it anymore. I didn’t want to fight and fall apart and cry. How many more tears did I have to shed?

  We paused, our breath melding.

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  My body was aflame with want. I wanted … I wanted … shit! It’d been so long.

  “I want you inside me,” I said. Blimey! There was that boom again!

  He chuckled. “Wow.”

  “Guess we’ll have to wait.” I’d shifted from A to XXX.

  “We can if you want.” He rubbed my lips with his thumb.

  “I don’t wanna, but, you know, we need some … things.”

  He kissed me chin. “You mean lube.”

  “Yep. And condoms.”

  “Got some in my drawer.”

  “You have lube in your drawer?”

  “Like to use it when taking care of myself,” he whispered and then winked at me.

  I kissed him and rolled off.

  He went to his bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and an unopened packet of condoms.

  I unbuttoned my jeans and Dean came to my aid, slowly peeling the denim from my skin as if he were unwrapping a birthday present and wanted to savor the moment.

  “Tent pole,” he breathed at my cock.

  I laughed, and he pulled down my boxers. “Pa-doing!” he said as my penis sprang free.

  I proper giggled.

  He pulled down his shorts and underwear. There. We were both naked.

  “Let’s slow this down a bit.” He went to his knees.

  “What are you doing?”

  He answered me by parting my legs, kissing me up my inner thigh. I shuddered with anticipation as every kiss climbed closer. Blimey! I was really doing this, on another man’s bed. Me. Doing this.

  “You smell so good,” I said.

  He took me in his mouth.

  I actually yelped, and he laughed onto my shaft. My toes curled as he licked and ran his lips up and down, his fingers drawing circles on my balls.

  “You … sure … you haven’t done this … before?”

  He laughed again.

  “That’s not an … answer.”

  I was heading for the edge. No … I didn’t want to be there yet.

  As if hearing me, he stopped and stood up. He reached for the condoms and ripped off the cellophane, pulling out a foil packet.

  “Here.” He tossed me the lube.

  Butterflies, nerves sparking. “Fuck …”

  “What is it?”

  No. Not now. Don’t fall apart! “You …” Him. Dean. Gorgeous fae guy who wanted me, who sent my head spinning and my pulse racing.

  I used the lube on myself and threw it back to him so he could do the same now that he was sheathed.

  “The piercing …” I suddenly remembered.

  He pointed to the bedside drawers. “Removed it.”

  There it was, in all its glory, that ring—his dick piercing.

  “Oh.”

  “You want me to put it back in?”

  “I want you over here.” I shuffled up the bed into a better position.

  He climbed on top of me and loomed there, my legs spread and wrapped around him. This was a sensation so lost to me, yet so familiar.

  “You ready for this?” he asked.

  No turning back now. “I’m ready.”

  So fucking ready!

  Dean entered me slowly. First came the bite of pain. My body adjusted to him, his movements slow.

  “You okay?”

  I slid my hands down his back to his firm buttocks. “Yeah.”

  We took it slow, our bodies connected, working together. That pain eased and became the most exquisite pleasure. He kissed me, I kissed him. I licked the sweat of his neck, reveled in his heavy breathin
g. My body was alive with pleasure.

  The slow gave way to a quicker pace until he finally started to thrust harder. I lifted my waist to let him go deeper. His cock was amazing, striking my sweet spot over and over like I’d never felt before.

  Harder and harder he fucked me. Man! His breath, his sweet, heavy breath. He was working up a sweat because of me.

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  And harder he thrust his hips, pounding me now.

  I was racing toward that edge again and going willingly.

  “Dean …” My hands gripped his arse hard as the crescendo built.

  I came hard, exploding all over his chest and mine, crying out as it burst out of me.

  Dean grunted as he climaxed, a deep growl so fucking sexy I almost came again.

  He kissed me, panting, and then collapsed onto me, his head snuggling into the crook of my neck. I ran my hands down his sweaty back. We stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow, locked together.

  I waited for the guilt to hit. It didn’t. I waited to panic and get the sudden urge to run away. I didn’t.

  Dean slid out of me and rolled onto his back.

  “That was amazing,” he said.

  “It was.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  And I was. I actually was. Sure, I didn’t know where this would go from here. But that didn’t matter. I’d done what I wanted, what I needed. Yeah, I needed it, to feel … alive.

  Dean rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He stroked my chest. “Stay with me tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “Only if you’re sure.”

  I smiled at him. Fuck the world, and fuck everything else. This was the moment, this beautiful, joyful moment. My head wasn’t full of voices screaming at me. Instead, I was floating with the clouds.

  I pulled him down to kiss me.

  I wasn’t going anywhere until I had to.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I woke up in the dark. Bliss still cuddled me.

  I’d had sex with Dean.

  I’d had sex.

  And I wasn’t falling apart.

  There had been no traumatic dreams of Michael, no nightmares of the beasts, of Lilisian and all the shit that was waiting for me on the horizon. All there’d been was sweet oblivion.