Fire Maidens: London

by Lowe, Anna

  His eyes twinkled. “All good.”

  Someone shuffled by, and she and Lancelot — er, Liam — were forced to inch closer again. And, wow. The London Underground had been modernized over the years, but Gemma would have sworn sparks crackled in the air. Even Liam seemed to hold his breath.

  “The next stop is Green Park,” the PA announced. “Change for the Victoria and Jubilee lines.”

  Gemma took a deep breath and gave Liam a little space. He motioned to her sign — the one she’d managed not to thump into his groin, thank God — and raised an eyebrow.

  “Say No to Racism?”

  She raised the sign higher. What a pity it would be if Lancelot turned out to be a prick. “You don’t think it’s a cause worth rallying for?”

  Liam stuck up his hands. “It’s a great cause. It’s just that your accent made me think you were a tourist.”

  “Not a tourist,” she growled. “My father is English.”

  He raised his hands higher. “Sorry. Not implying anything. I’m only half English myself.”

  She waited, fully expecting to hear about Viking lineage. But instead, Liam said, “My father was Welsh.”

  She burst into laughter, and Liam grinned.

  “You’re the first Yank — beg your pardon, half Yank — I’ve met who knows the difference between the two.”

  She grinned. “Oh, I know the difference, all right. My dad took me walking in Wales lots of times. I love the Brecon Beacons.”

  Liam’s face took on a soft, sentimental look, and he murmured, “I haven’t been there in years.”

  And, dang. There were those sparks, charging the air around her again. But then the next announcement blared out, and they both looked up.

  “The next stop is Hyde Park Corner. Change for the Victoria and Jubilee lines.”

  Gemma pursed her lips. She really had to get herself together.

  “Well, this is me,” she said at exactly the same time Liam did.

  They looked at each other in surprise. Then Liam chuckled.

  “Fancy that.”

  Every time he smiled, she couldn’t help doing the same. “So, you’re going to the rally after all?”

  And, hey. That didn’t count as flirting, right? She was just rallying supporters for an important cause.

  Liam smiled. “I was heading home, but—”

  His phone rang just then, and he dug it out of his pocket with an annoyed look. “Hello?”

  Gemma looked away, cursing the damn thing.

  “Yes?” Liam listened to whoever was on the line. Probably a gorgeous supermodel asking him for a date.

  The train stopped at the next station, and they both exited. Gemma headed for the Hyde Park exit, and when Liam followed, her hopes rose.

  But his voice dropped as he strode along at her side. “Now? Right now?” He paused. “They can’t wait?”

  Gemma forced herself to look away. That was none of her business, right?

  “I was going to a rally,” he said into the phone. “Say No to Racism. It’s important,” he emphasized, making her grin. But after a pause to listen, he sighed. “Dammit, Sergio…” He listened for a moment, glowering the whole time. “Fine. I’ll be right there.” Then he hung up with an angry jab.

  “Demanding boss?” she joked, telling herself she wasn’t disappointed.

  Liam’s eyes clouded. “Something like that.”

  Still, he remained at her side all the way up the stairs and into the park. When she’d entered the Tube earlier, the sky had been dark and foreboding. Now, the sun was shining in one of those mercurial changes in English weather. Pedestrians streamed in all directions, and a voice blared through a megaphone in the distance. The rally was getting started.

  “Well, I ought to go. Thank you again.”

  Gemma meant it, and yet, she found herself rooted in place.

  Liam’s honey eyes darkened a shade, and his lips moved wordlessly before he finally spoke. “Why don’t I give you my number? Just in case.”

  “In case what?”

  Liam motioned back to the subway station. “In case dragon man there shows up again.”

  She chuckled. Dragon man — that was fitting. The man sure had been intense. But the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous her fear seemed. Nightmares of Petro had plagued her the previous night, so she could have been projecting that on to an innocent stranger. Maybe he hadn’t been a relative of Petro’s at all.

  Still, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Lancelot — er, Liam — wasn’t offering his number for friendship’s sake. Quickly, efficiently, she typed his number into her phone and stored it under L. Liam. God, she loved that name. Then she looked up into those amazing, honey-green eyes one more time and forced a chipper, “Thanks. Bye.”

  “Anytime.”

  His voice was low and mournful, a sound that went with those Please don’t leave puppy-dog eyes. Like her, he stood quietly, not making a move.

  Ask him, her heart begged. Ask him if he wants to meet sometime.

  She rolled to the balls of her feet, and Liam leaned closer.

  Asking doesn’t hurt, she told herself.

  Butterflies danced in her belly as she opened her mouth to speak. But Liam’s phone beeped first, and he scowled. At the same time, a cheer went out from the direction of the rally.

  “I’d better go,” she sighed as his phone beeped and beeped.

  He nodded wearily. “Me too.” Then he flashed a sad smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Gemma.”

  God, was he sweet. And, oops. Was she blushing?

  “Pleasure to meet you.”

  She turned away, intending to hurry off. But three steps later, her feet shuffled to a stop, and she found herself turning.

  Liam was still there, looking at her like he didn’t want her to go. And, heck. She didn’t want to go either.

  “Call me if you need anything,” he said over the incessant beeping of his phone. “I promise to answer faster than I answer this bloody call.”

  He was so earnest, she could picture him in chain mail with his hand on a sword, making a solemn vow. But it was impossible to dwell in her fantasyland with his phone bleating like that. So she waved a second time, clutching her rally sign tightly.

  “Thank you. Goodbye.”

  That time, she forced herself to turn, get real, and walk away. She’d been brought up to believe in civil action, not love at first sight. And if her heart ached as she went, well, she would survive.

  Chapter Two

  “Answer that, for God’s sake,” someone snapped.

  Liam blinked. For a few moments, he’d been an island in a stream of humankind, and time had slowed down as he watched Gemma go. Now, the world rushed by again, and his phone made an earsplitting sound.

  He fumbled with it. “Yes?” Then he frowned. “I’m coming.”

  “You are not coming,” Sergio said in his rat-a-tat-tat, Italian accent. “You are standing in the corner of the park. Mannaggia. Never mind. I’m already here.”

  A limousine pulled up at the curb, and the door swung open. “Get in,” Sergio grumbled.

  Liam didn’t budge. He was still staring in the direction Gemma had gone. One minute, she’d been there with that beguiling smile and long, silky hair that was somewhere between black and brown — and the next, she was lost in the crowd.

  “The Guardians are waiting,” Sergio said.

  Liam didn’t care who was waiting. Not with his inner lion growling the impossible in his mind.

  Mate. Don’t let her go!

  His heart felt like it had doubled in size, squeezing against his lungs. His throat was dry, and little birds sang in his ears. Bloody hell. What was wrong with him?

  Love, his lion insisted.

  Love, an even deeper voice echoed in his mind.

  “We’re already late for the meeting,” Sergio warned. “Andiamo.”

  Liam slid into the vehicle, then cursed himself. Had a decade in the military made him that quick
to follow orders without questioning them?

  “Wait,” he tried, reaching for the door.

  But it was too late. The limousine pulled into traffic and was on its way. Past the row of luxury apartments where he lived, past the crowds of people milling toward the rally. Right past his own destiny, it felt like.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Sergio demanded.

  I just found — and lost — my mate, his lion said.

  Liam frowned. That couldn’t be. Maybe it was just a little lust — something every normal, functioning lion experienced from time to time. And no wonder, given the way Gemma’s trim body had fit so comfortably against his when they’d bumped in the subway.

  Except, he’d felt lust before, and this was not the same. Lust was when the body yearned for physical release. This time, his soul was yearning too.

  He twisted in the seat, looking back. Sergio twisted as well. “What?”

  Liam wasn’t sure. Could that really have been his mate? His destiny?

  He forced himself to face forward. Man oh man. He’d been spending too much time around shifter species who believed in that kind of thing. Wolves crooned on and on about love, fate, and forever, believing with childish certainty that somewhere out there was a single, predestined partner just for them. Dragons were even more enamored of the concept of love, as if it wasn’t just another fleeting emotion but an entire force in itself. Bears were fairly laid-back about the whole fable — until they met Miss Right. Then a perfectly grounded, reliable grizzly would go loopy with love, ready to drop everything and make a fool of himself for the woman he adored.

  Lions, on the other hand, were far more reasonable when it came to matters of the heart. Love was fun. Flirty. And above all, fleeting. It never lasted. Lions formed attachments, dissolved them, and moved on. Any self-respecting male waited until his golden years to settle down. Only then would he find a suitable mate — a pretty young female who could be counted on to take care of him as the years went by. Oh, and to make sure he left a few heirs. So really, the only aspect of fate lions heeded were their expiration dates.

  Love wasn’t written in the stars or whispered on the wind. It came and went, like day and night, the seasons, or an ocean tide.

  And yet, there he was, barely moving, barely breathing.

  Gemma, his inner lion cried.

  Who was she? Where was she from? Her accent said American, but her porcelain-perfect face had a hint of Asia mixed into predominantly Anglo roots. Her father was English, she’d said. But that barely scratched the surface, and he knew it. One look into the depths of her dark, East-meets-West eyes and he’d known she was something else.

  In the subway, she’d looked spooked yet ferocious, as if that stubby stick in her hand could function as a sword. And, hell. She looked like she could — and would — use it.

  “There was a woman…” he started.

  Sergio put his face in his hands. “Mamma mia.”

  Liam shook his head. “Someone was after her.”

  Sergio’s brow knotted. “Who?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  The man in the subway had been a shifter of some kind, though Liam hadn’t been able to identify which — not from that distance, and not with all the interfering scents of the Underground. A dragon? A wolf? Just about the only thing Liam could rule out was feline. Whoever that shifter was, he’d frightened Gemma badly.

  She’s mine, the ass had declared, as if he had the God-given right to claim any woman he fancied.

  She’s mine, Liam’s lion growled in his mind.

  But, wait. Did that make him just as bad?

  Sergio threw up his hands. “Is that significant? I doubt the Guardians will think so.”

  It was significant, and Liam knew it, though he couldn’t explain why. He burned to run after Gemma. To protect her. To get to know her.

  He looked back again. She was going to a rally. Well, he could rally. Say No to Racism? That was a good cause.

  But the Guardians had their own causes, and they would never understand.

  “Not even three weeks in London, and you’re already working on losing your job,” Sergio warned. “My job, too. Did the Legion teach you nothing about responsibility?”

  Liam snapped around at that echo of all the warnings he’d received throughout his life.

  Lions are responsible. Dutiful. Make sure you remember that, lad.

  We live to serve. To protect. To maintain our pride’s power.

  Remember who you are, boy. A lion from the mighty Blackwood pride.

  He stuck out his jaw as the gates of Buckingham Palace flashed by. Ten years ago, he’d signed up for the Foreign Legion, determined to forget who he was — a half-breed, the product of forbidden love. But somewhere along the line, his roots had started calling to him like never before, and here he was — back in London, ready to serve a greater cause alongside the members of his illustrious pride.

  So, get on with it, he told himself. Duty wasn’t about chasing after women. It was following orders for the common good.

  He shot one last look in Gemma’s direction. His mother and father might have felt that kind of irrepressible pull toward one another, but look where it had gotten them.

  But— his lion tried.

  The limousine driver beeped at a tourist who’d strayed into the oncoming lane. Liam’s eyes drifted to the figures surrounding the statue of Queen Victoria. Four men and women in bronze, each with a snarling lion alongside. If that wasn’t a reminder of duty, what was? Lions had protected the kingdom from the very beginning.

  Liam closed his eyes wearily, but all he saw was Gemma. When he opened them again, he spotted Sergio flicking a speck of dust off his sleeve.

  “I was on my way home,” Liam muttered, trying to focus on something other than Gemma.

  “I was already home.” Sergio sighed. “Or as at home as possible two thousand kilometers from Rome.”

  If Liam had been his usual, lighthearted self, he would have poked fun at his friend. The man was as dark, broody, and impeccably dressed as ever. Who dressed like that to relax at home? In the Legion, Sergio had even managed to make fatigues look stylish. When their all-shifter unit had retired from the service, they’d all headed to a bar to celebrate — except Sergio, who’d only joined them after a visit to a tailor. Now, he looked like he’d stepped straight from the pages of a men’s style magazine.

  Liam raked his fingernails over his jeans, imagining the looks he’d get when he walked into the Council meeting. And when he pictured the matriarch who presided over it all…

  He winced and slumped in his seat.

  Sergio, on the other hand, peered out the window with interest. He was new to London and to the city’s Guardians, so he didn’t know what awaited them. Liam, on the other hand, knew all too well.

  The limousine passed St. James Palace, swung around a few corners, and coasted down a side street. One that didn’t look like much from the outside, but inside…

  The driver rolled down the windows for the security guards, and Liam flashed a robotic smile. Then they drove through a huge gate that opened on to a courtyard and came to a halt.

  “Not bad,” Sergio murmured. “Not bad.”

  Liam scowled, determined not to be impressed by Lionsgate Hall — headquarters to the Guardians of London. But the place oozed with history, and power just about hummed from between the cobblestones. Centuries-old Tudor buildings stood around an immaculately trimmed yard lined with statues and fountains.

  “They make it damn clear who’s in charge here,” Sergio noted as they stepped out of the vehicle.

  Liam snorted. There were lion images everywhere, from proud statues of great Guardians to aloof profiles carved into shields. Lion muzzles growled from every door knocker of every building. There was even a frieze of lowly humans, prostrating themselves at the feet of lions.

  Liam sighed and set out for the Great Hall. Sergio followed, looking around.

  “It’s very…royal.” />
  Liam snorted. “It’s London. What do you expect?”

  “Changing of the Guard?”

  Liam pointed to the line of uniformed men staring into the distance at one side of the courtyard, just like they did at Buckingham Palace. “Watch what you wish for. If we’re not out of here in forty-five minutes, we’ll have to endure the whole goddamn show.”

  He led Sergio through an arched doorway, up a flight of marble stairs, and then to a set of massive oak doors guarded by two huge men who crossed — no joke — giant axes, blocking the entrance.

  “Who wishes to enter this grand hall?” a bossy footman demanded from behind the guards.

  Liam rolled his eyes. The Guardians had called him and Sergio in, which meant the guards knew perfectly well who they were. But tradition was everything to the lions of London, and he’d learned to play along, no matter how much it got on his nerves.

  “Liam Bennett asks permission to enter the Great Hall.” He jerked a thumb at himself, then at Sergio. “Sergio Monserratti as well.”

  Officially, the line was supposed to be, Liam Bennett begs permission to enter yon Great Hall, but Liam wasn’t begging anyone for anything.

  The footman scowled and made a show of checking his tablet. That, at least, showed that some aspects of the twenty-first century had slipped into the staid lion world.

  “You may enter,” the footman announced glumly.

  The guards moved aside in two stomping steps. The minute Liam and Sergio were through, the bears stomped back and banged their axes into position.

  Sergio winced, looking back. “Have we been called to a meeting or to a prison?”

  Liam sighed, looking into the Great Hall. “You’ll see.”

  Chapter Three

  Liam led Sergio into the Great Hall, keeping his chin high despite the fact that everything about the place was engineered to make a guy feel small. The soaring cathedral ceilings… The colorful flags hung from the rafters in neat rows… The light streaming through ancient windows made of dozens of circular glass panes. Raised platforms lined each side of the oak-paneled hall, and the shifters gathered there gazed down at him, aloof.

  Liam headed for the middle platform on the right side, trying not to gnash his teeth. The council was run with the same strict hierarchy as everything in the lion world, and everyone had their place. At least he’d worked his way up from the back left corner where he used to stand before he left London. That was a plus.