All Fired Up

by Kristen Painter

  Fingers laced through his hair, brushing his ear. Her hands were so soft. Images of them on other parts of his body almost made him smile. He gritted his teeth, determined to push all thought of her out of his head.

  More movement.

  "I know you want to talk to me." Her warm, chocolatey breath caressed his cheek.

  He crossed his arms in response. If she came any closer she would be on his lap. The idea brought more uninvited images into his head and an unwelcome tightness to his groin.

  "Are all Vikings as stubborn as you?"

  When he stayed silent she answered her own question. "I guess they are."

  He heard laughter in her voice.

  "So, you must obey the wishes of your charge. That’s very, very interesting. Makes a girl think, you know?"

  If Calleigh wanted to play games, he would oblige her.

  “Do you have to do whatever I tell you?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it shut.

  “Hah! You almost spoke. You’re not very good at the silent treatment, are you? It’s okay, I know you want to talk to me.”

  Another shift as she moved again.

  Thor’s hammer! She settled onto his lap, wriggling her backside. Having her lush curves pressed against him was definitely not making him comfortable. Women never did play fair. If she did not stop her confounded squirming she would soon feel how uncomfortable she was making him.

  He felt her hands on his shoulders and knew if he opened his eyes, they would be nose to nose. Blasted woman. What was she trying to do? Kill him with unrequited lust?

  She wriggled again, and his body responded so swiftly he gasped. Opening his eyes, he grasped her hips and held her still.

  “Hey! I’m trying to get situated here. It’s not my fault you’re all hard and muscley.”

  She had no idea just how hard but if she moved one more time, he was going to break his oath as a Phoenix, take her to bed and show her. Freya would probably confine him to her chambers for eternity after that.

  “Stop moving!” he barked.

  Grinning wickedly, she touched a fingertip to his nose. “I knew I’d get you to talk to me.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes as he leaned back to put a little distance between himself and his saucy charge. He might as well give in. Not talking was doing him little good. “The mention of requesting a kiss from me and you shrink away, scarlet-faced and shy. How is it you now sit on my lap wriggling your bottom against my loins like a shameless wench?”

  “What did you just call me?” Her cheeks flushed.

  “Do you deny your backside is pressed against me? Or that your behavior has not suddenly become wanton? Where has this new boldness come from?” He watched her, relishing every bit of her that was touching him.

  “I am not…wanton.” The color from her cheeks spread down her neck and, he imagined, across her lovely bosom.

  She scrambled to get out of his lap but he held tight. “I believe I asked you to stop moving. Is that your only response to my questions?”

  She sat still. “You said you had to obey the requests of your charge, right?”

  He nodded. “That is correct.”

  “Then that means I’m your boss. In a sense.”

  No fear of rejection then, was that it? He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile hidden. “Aye, it does. Do you have a job for me, mistress?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed and stared at his chest. “Kiss me again.”

  His groin tightened further at her command and his hands tensed around her waist. “Aye, lass.” With pleasure.

  Her mouth was sweeter this time, not because of the chocolate she had drunk but because she wanted him. He kissed her in earnest, wanting to please her, needing to please her. His charge’s demands were not to be taken lightly.

  Parting her supple lips with his tongue, he explored her mouth. She opened willingly, tangling her fingers in his hair, her palms resting at his temples.

  The murmurs of pleasure resonating from her throat spurred him on. He pulled her closer, one hand on her hip, one hand on her back.

  Sliding a hand into her mass of curls, he eased her head into the cradle of his hand. With soft, nibbling kisses he traveled from her lips to the pale expanse of her newly-exposed throat.

  “Oh…oh…Alrik,” she breathed.

  The sound of his name caressed by her voice cracked the icy wall around his heart. He could have loved a woman like this, in a different time, in a different place, without the constraints of Freya’s bonds to stop him.

  When he reached the neck of her T-shirt, he paused. Although she had asked him to kiss her, she had not given him permission to go further. He hungered to taste more of her but contented himself with the hope that in time, she would ask for that as well.

  Eyes closed, she lay across his lap. As he studied her, he slipped his hand away so her head rested on the arm of the couch. Her hands loosely grasped his shoulders. He lifted one to his lips and nuzzled the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. “I do not understand why any man would choose another over you.”

  She smiled softly and opened her eyes. She cupped her hand to his cheek. “I guess I just pick the wrong ones.”

  Glancing up, she squinted as though she were looking for something. “I’m not the only one with that problem.”

  Her hands slid over the fabric of his shirt, caressing his chest. “What happened to you? Why do you have those awful scars all over you?”

  The wall of ice around his heart stopped melting. “I was betrayed.”

  She scooted off his lap and knelt on the couch beside him. “I don’t believe it was that simple. I was betrayed too, but my skin doesn’t look like five miles of bad road.”

  He stood up and walked to the window. “You should start thinking about your next change.”

  The longer he walked the mortal world, the more he thought about what had befallen his family. It was the same with each charge. Watching them live their lives made him long to fix his. The memories of his death grew more vivid, the pain sharper. His desire for revenge became a palpable thing, like absinth on his tongue.

  “Please? I really want to know.”

  “There is nothing to tell,” he lied.

  “Then I demand you tell me what happened. Please,” Calleigh said.

  “As you wish.” Not that he had a choice now that she had demanded it of him. “I will tell you but I do so unwillingly.”

  “Duly noted. Now sit.”

  He frowned. Another command. Her newfound power had gone straight to her head. That would teach him to give a charge so much control. He did as she asked but sat at the far end of the couch away from her.

  “As I told you, I was chieftain of my clan, clan Gunn. A very wealthy clan. We held the largest port on the coast. There was nothing we could not trade for. Many of the neighboring clans truced with us and for good reason. Our men were fierce warriors who won every battle they entered.”

  How good life had been. “As chieftain, I was highly sought after for marriage. Other chieftains wished to wed their daughters to me, to solidify their treaties. I saw no need to wed. Women were as abundant in my bed as stones along the shore.”

  Calleigh snorted and lifted her gaze skyward. “Go on.”

  He ignored her comment and continued. She had asked, after all. “One day I went out to hunt alone, as I often did. I stopped near a stream to water my horse. By the far bank bathed the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. For a moment, I thought I had happened upon the goddess Freya herself.

  “I hid and watched her until she left. After that, no other woman would do. I did not know who she was, but I knew I must find her. The next time I returned, she was there again. I crossed the stream father up and came back down on the opposite side so I would not startle her.

  “Dagny was even more beautiful up close. We started meeting at the stream. Unlike every other woman I had known, she resisted me. My desire to have her grew so strong, I was sure I
would die of wanting. I thought I loved her. I pledged myself to her and asked for her hand.”

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She agreed and promised she would persuade her father, chieftain of a more northern clan, to bless our union.

  “On the day of our marriage, our two clans gathered for a wedding feast. My men were well into their cups when Dagny’s men struck. We quickly realized her clansmen had only pretended to drink along with us. They were dead sober.

  “While her men held me fast and slaughtered my family and clan around me, she revealed who she truly was. Daughter of the slain Keith clan chieftain, a clan we held a blood feud with since one of my men had accidently killed her father, Geirmund, in a hunt.”

  The memory of the day bore down on him. He stood and fisted his hands in impotent rage. Closing his eyes, he filled his lungs with air and stilled the urge to destroy something.

  “You don’t have to tell me anymore.”

  He opened his eyes. Calleigh was pressed against the arm of the couch, biting her bottom lip.

  “Aye, but I do. You demanded it of me.” His temper flared, not at her, but at what had happened and the enslaved life he now lived.

  “Even with the ale in my blood, it took five of her men to hold me.”

  He yanked his shirt off and pointed to the twin scars above his collarbone. “They used their spears to skewer me to the wall of the longhouse, to hold me while she took her revenge.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in soft O. Whether it was pity or revulsion, he did not know.

  “My men had no chance. It was a wedding feast. We wore no armor or chainmail. At Dagny’s request, all weapons were laid aside in honor of the two clans coming together. She even requested we not exchange swords during the ceremony.”

  He paused to steady his voice. “My da and brother were slaughtered before me as were most of my men. My mother and sister were taken captive along with the rest of my clan’s women.”

  He closed his eyes but the images filled his head. The cries of his family rang fresh in his ears.

  “When the ground ran red with the blood of my clan, Dagny turned her attention to me. She made a great show of taunting me before her men. Then she buried her father’s battle ax here in my chest.” He held his fist over the scar above his heart.

  “Oh, Alrik. Your own wife.” Calleigh stared at his scars, shaking her head slowly. “And I’m whining because Brad cheated on me. I feel like a fool.”

  “You are not a fool,” he muttered as he slumped onto the couch, exhausted by the memories.

  “I can’t believe she did that to you.” Still shaking her head, she moved to sit closer and wrapped her arms around him.

  He pulled away. At any other moment, he would have welcomed her touch but the bitterness that filled him conquered all. “I do not want comfort. I want revenge.”

  “But revenge will lead to more deaths. Is that really going to make this better?” Her fingers outlined the ragged edges of the scar over his heart.

  He flattened his hand over hers, pining her hand and keeping it still. “Revenge is the only reason I became a Phoenix. The chance for retribution, for myself, my family, and my clan.”

  Silence filled the room for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and low. “I don’t know what to say to you to make you feel better but if I had the words, I’d say them. I’m sorry for everything you went through.”

  He stayed silent. Enough words had filled the air this night.

  She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I really am sorry. Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy.”

  Her kiss seared his skin. He closed his eyes, his pain increased by the knowledge she could never be his.

  She stood, the sadness on her face nearly undoing him. “I…I guess I’ll go to bed.”

  He watched her walk around the couch and wondered what life might have been like with a woman who truly cared for him. “Good night, lass.”

  She smiled and crooked her finger at him. “C’mon, I’ve got a room for you, too.”

  He sat up a little straighter, his blood heating at her offer. “You have room for me?”

  “No.” She laughed. “I have a room for you. A guest room. No more sleeping on the couch. This way.” She motioned for him to follow her again.

  Up a flight of stairs and down a hall, she led him to a bedchamber. She flipped on the light. Pale pink walls surrounded a white metal bed covered with a quilt of roses. Shelves held ribboned medals and trophies topped with dancing figures.

  “Sorry about the décor. This used to be my old bedroom. Doesn’t get much use since I don’t have many guests. Or any guests, really. Anyway, you’re welcome to it. The bed’s much better than the couch.”

  “Thank you.” This was not the bed he wanted to sleep in, but he pushed that thought from his head. He worried her kindness toward him was becoming something deeper, something dangerous to her heart.

  “After sleeping on that couch myself, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” She turned to go, then stopped. “I meant what I said earlier. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. I know words don’t make it better, but I am sorry you had to go through that.”

  “You are right. Words do not make it better,” he replied, purposely keeping his voice cool. Do not love me, lass. I cannot stay no matter what you do.

  Disappointment replaced the kindness in her eyes. Just as well. He would not chance breaking her heart. Better she keep herself distant than dream of things that could never be.

  “Good night.” She turned again and headed down the stairs.

  “Good night,” he answered, but she was already gone.

  Calleigh forgave him for being bitter. That was understandable. But he certainly hadn’t seemed like the same man who’d just kissed her minutes before and told her he couldn’t understand why any man would cheat on her. Sweet words but the sweetness disappeared quickly.

  Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d told her. Betrayed then murdered by the very woman he’d fallen in love with. How could any woman do that to a man she had married? How could any woman betray the love of a man so fierce and beautiful? What would it be like to have a man like Alrik pledge himself to you?

  The bedroom above hers was quiet as she climbed under the covers. One hand tucked beneath her pillow, she lay on her side absorbed in thought.

  A man like Alrik could protect her from the world.

  The next morning, Calleigh called and left a voicemail for the Human Resources department so they’d know she was on her way to see them. As expected, the ride on the subway didn’t thrill Alrik but by the second transfer, his knuckles were no longer white.

  She prepped him on how to behave when they got to her office. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t touch anything, and above all else, stay put. The last thing she needed was a missing Viking in downtown Manhattan.

  He carried the empty box she’d brought to hold her personal affects. She wouldn’t miss the job, but she’d miss some of the women she worked with. Especially since Jeana was no longer in her life.

  The elevator scored big with Alrik and only after she promised they’d ride it back down did he finally get out. Heads turned as she walked down the hall to her desk. Without looking, she knew the eyes were not on her.

  She saw the roses before she got to her desk. At least two dozen bright blooms sprouted from a cut crystal vase. A small square box, wrapped in gold foil, nestled among the flowers.

  The woman she’d probably miss most sat at the desk across from hers. Erika glanced up as she walked in. “Girl, you got a gift and if you don’t open it up right now, I’m gonna open it for you. Especially since I see you brought your own gift with you.” She looked over Calleigh’s shoulder and smiled big. “Or is he for me? Please tell me he’s for me.”

  Calleigh ignored Erika’s remarks about Alrik. “When did these get here?” There was no card that she could see, but she was pretty sure she knew who the flowers were from.


  “A few minutes ago. You just missed the messenger.” Erika bobbed her head to the side again to look past Calleigh.

  “Hello there tall, blond, and handsome. Do you have a name or should I just call you gorgeous?” Tossing her micro braids over one shoulder, she stood and stretched out her hand. Her long slender fingers were tipped with fuchsia and white French-manicured nails. A multitude of skinny gold bangles jangled around her wrist.

  Alrik shook her hand, an amused twinkle in his eyes. “My name is Alrik.”

  Erika gave him another appreciative glance then raised her arched brows at Calleigh. “Mmm mmm mmm. Honey, where have you been hidin’ this one? Your fiancé know you’re keeping company with a Greek god?”

  “I am not Greek. I am Norse.”

  “Norse, huh? I’m not big on snow but for you, I’d buy a parka.” Erika giggled.

  “I haven’t been hiding him anywhere. It’s a long story.” Calleigh plucked the gold box out of the roses and ripped off the wrapping.

  “Hmm.” Erika clicked her tongue as her gaze traveled the length of Alrik’s body. “I bet it is.”

  Calleigh opened the box and groaned. The engagement ring. She was going to have to return it again. Which meant seeing Brad again, although having faced up to him during her first change made the prospect slightly less daunting. “Erika, you want these flowers? Otherwise, I’m going to pitch them.”

  “Hmmm?” Erika squeezed Alrik’s biceps and fanned herself. “So what gym do you go to, because I’m thinking about switching my membership.”

  Calleigh tried again. “Hello? Do you want these flowers?”

  “I know I want something. I might have to start datin’ white boys.”

  Alrik held up his hand and squinted. “Am I a white boy?”

  Erika fluttered her lashes. “Yes, sugarpie, you are.”

  “Erika!”

  She finally looked at Calleigh. “I’d love them. Shame to throw out perfectly good roses.” She slid the vase over to her desk.

  “Alrik, I have to go to Human Resources now so why don’t you sit at my desk while I’m gone. Shouldn’t be too long. You don’t mind, do you, Erika?” Things with HR had better go quickly. Erika looked like she wanted to strip Alrik naked with her bare teeth and lick him like an ice cream cone.