Fire Maidens: London

by Lowe, Anna

  “Are you coming?” she called while he stood staring.

  A minute later, they sprinted into a departing subway car. Then they stood, gulping for air as the station blurred past.

  “Okay. Where to?” she panted.

  The destination was easy. The question was how best to get there.

  “Richmond,” he said, trying to think it through.

  “Wait,” she protested when he indicated the exit a few stops later. “This is too early. Richmond is at the end of the line.”

  “It is, but we’re driving the rest of the way, and my car is here.”

  His heart rate should have settled down by then, but it hadn’t. Though he’d carried out dozens of operations that paralleled this, he’d always had an earpiece and a team to back him up. Above all, there had been someone giving orders. Now, it was all on him. Of course, like every other man in his unit, he could operate on his own. But this was the point when a team ought to regroup and strategize their next moves.

  He looked at his phone. Nothing from Sergio, and that was all the team he had. His friend Tristan was in Paris, and the other members of their unit were spread throughout Europe. It was all up to him.

  With every step, an intimidating, What if I fuck up? feeling haunted him, but he shook it off, concentrating on his next moves.

  “Four minutes,” he murmured, checking his watch.

  Gemma tilted her head. “Four minutes?” Then she waved her hands, seeing his haste. “Never mind. Just go. I’ll follow.”

  And she did, all the way up to his penthouse, where he scrambled for his car keys and a wad of cash. No time for anything else.

  “Wow. Nice apartment.” Gemma stared at the view of Hyde Park. The Serpentine was a long, curved line, glittering with moonlight. The lawns were pools of darkness, while Marble Arch was brilliantly lit.

  “Not as cozy as a boat,” he pointed out.

  That coaxed a grin out of her, though he didn’t have time to enjoy it. Instead, he hurried her back down to the building’s subterranean garage.

  “Over there.” He rushed for his car.

  Gemma halted in her tracks. “That one?”

  He motioned her in, revved it up, and peeled up the ramp.

  She ran a hand along the dashboard. “Wow. An Aston Martin. 1964? ’65?”

  “1962 Zagato. It was my father’s.”

  One of the only reminders of his father he kept around, actually. One of the few the lion side of the family tolerated, now that he thought about it.

  She turned to stare at him then finally murmured, “Mr. Bennett, you are an enigma.”

  He burned to take her hand, kiss it, and say, Ms. Archer, everything about you fascinates me. It has from the very start.

  Instead, he hit the blinker and roared down the road.

  “How fast does this puppy go?” she asked.

  He threw the Zagato into the next gear. “Let’s find out.”

  With the windows down, the wind whipped his hair, and the lights of Knightsbridge blurred past. Harrods… The Oratory… South Kensington with the Victoria and Albert Museum… All in all, it would have been fun if he hadn’t had to crane his neck to check for dragons. He itched to turn around and take Gemma for a joyride past London’s newest skyscrapers and oldest landmarks. Instead, he pursed his lips and drove west.

  “What’s in Richmond?” Gemma asked when they crossed the Thames.

  The streets were empty, and the sleek car raced along, alone and unchallenged.

  “My family.” A silent moment ticked by. “My aunt and cousins, I mean. Where I grew up.”

  She nodded, all matter-of-fact, but he could see her throat bob. “Your lion family.”

  He tapped on the steering wheel. It would have been easier to explain if she still thought he was crazy. Then he could have just rattled it all out. They’re the only family I knew from the time I was seven. I owe them everything. Then he frowned and rubbed the leather stitching of the steering wheel. His aunt and uncle had shown him every kindness, but they’d never uttered a positive word about his father, the dragon shifter who’d wooed his mother away from her tightly knit lion clan.

  “They’re all right,” he said at last. “Maybe a little stiff. A little old-fashioned. A little…” He searched for the word, then sighed. “Posh. Imagine a distant relative of the queen.”

  Gemma’s eyebrows jumped up.

  The phone rang, thank goodness. And better yet, it was Sergio.

  “Ça va?” Liam asked, trying to play it cool.

  Gemma whipped around, and he nearly said, Old habits die hard, like speaking to his buddies in weak, slangy French.

  “Ça va,” Sergio replied in that understated, I nearly just died, but that’s okay manner they’d developed in the Legion. “And you?”

  Two minutes was all it took to brief each another. Sergio had shaken off the dragon in a series of tunnels, having gotten a fairly good look at the bastard. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell which direction the dragon had flown off in.

  “What about the Guardians?” Sergio asked.

  That was the tricky part. The Guardians would want a full report, especially if the Lombardis had grown bold enough to stage an aerial ambush in central London. But Liam was in no rush to divulge too much either, not when it came to Gemma.

  “Wait until morning, all right?”

  A long pause told him what Sergio thought of that idea, but a moment later, the wolf shifter signed off. “À demain.” Talk to you tomorrow.

  By the time Liam clicked the phone off, he and Gemma had passed Kew Gardens, on the outskirts of Richmond. Not long after, they came to the winding lanes of Petersham. Finally, he coasted up to a massive golden gate at the end of a long, tree-lined road.

  Gemma sat very still, eyeing the lion statues adorning the entry.

  He took a deep breath, second-guessing his plan. It was almost two a.m., and everyone would be asleep. Did he really want to rouse the entire household?

  He eased the car into first gear and cruised a little farther down the lane to the service gate, then cut the engine and reached for his phone.

  “New plan?” Gemma asked.

  He nodded as the phone began to ring. “New plan.” Or so he hoped.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, he finally exhaled. “Thanks, Brianna.”

  His younger cousin bounced on her heels, far too peppy for that late hour. But that was Bri.

  “You owe me, big guy. May I suggest a drive in that sweet car of yours?” Then she sighed theatrically. “Anything else?”

  Liam looked around the guest cottage Brianna had helped them slip into. “All set. Thanks again.”

  “Thanks,” Gemma called as Liam walked his cousin to the door.

  Brianna waved then whispered in his ear. “She’s cute. Is this your hot date — on the run?”

  Liam snorted. If only Brianna knew. And wouldn’t she like to, as a sixteen-year-old who was far too curious for her own good.

  He pushed his cousin out the door. “Good night, Bri.”

  She shot him a mischievous look. “No, you have a good night.”

  He shut the door firmly, then turned to Gemma, hoping she hadn’t heard.

  “This is beautiful.” She waved around the thatched cottage.

  There were fireplaces at both ends, each big enough to roast a pig. Windows set in the foot-thick walls let in a little bit of moonlight, augmenting the flickering candles Bri had lit.

  “My aunt had it redone. When I was a kid, it was all cobwebs and mice.” Then he winced. “No need to worry about mice these days.”

  Gemma cocked her head. “You mean, with all the cats around?”

  He grinned. She meant lions, and he knew it. Either she was coming to grips with the idea of shifters or she was as exhausted as he was.

  “Bedroom’s this way.” He led her up the stairs.

  They halted at the top, staring at the queen-size bed. The only bed.

  Liam looked at Gemma, but w
hen she glanced his way, his eyes hit the floor. Now what?

  She cleared her throat and motioned. “I call this side. You get that side. Okay?”

  He smiled. Thank goodness for assertive Yanks.

  He could have offered to take the couch, but he was too tired for the polite argument that was sure to ensue. Instead, he made a quick bathroom run, then stripped down to his boxers and slid into bed. There, he lay perfectly still with his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  Gemma had gone into the bathroom after him, but a few minutes later, he heard the door softly open and close. The air in the room swirled with every motion she made, and he sniffed her flowery scent. His mind matched every sound to a gesture as she took off her sweater, shuffled around, and unclipped her bra. Then she rearranged her shirt, removed her hair clip, and shook out those long, silky strands.

  He inhaled deeply, dreaming of finger-combing it for her. Then she sank down on the mattress, making him roll ever so slightly as she took off her shoes and pants.

  Nice, his lion hummed. Nice and close.

  Not only that, but he was fairly sure she was down to just a shirt and knickers — er, panties, as she would call them. He fought to keep his thoughts clean when she blew out the candle. The sweet scent of beeswax drifted around the room, and the sheets rustled.

  “Good night,” Gemma whispered.

  “Good night.”

  Liam lay stock-still, listening to the familiar sound of the river gurgling past. And for a moment, everything was silent.

  Then Gemma turned to face him — he could tell without looking — and slid her hand over his shoulder. “Liam…”

  He did his best to sound half asleep. “Hmm?”

  It came out pretty well, too. And thank goodness, because if Gemma knew how little it would take to push his inhibitions away…

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  He tried not to open his eyes, but he couldn’t help it. Worse, he found himself gazing into those deep, amazing eyes with their little hint of Asia that only showed at times. “My pleasure.”

  Definitely my pleasure, his lion said.

  Her eyes remained on his, steady and sure. Glowing, if he wasn’t mistaken, like a shifter’s would. Not red with anger, but with the warm hue of arousal.

  He clenched his fists. He should not — could not — touch her.

  But dammit, he found himself tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek. She leaned into his palm like a cat, slid closer, and nudged his legs with hers.

  No, no, no, he ordered his lion side.

  He might even have succeeded in leashing the beast’s instincts through sheer willpower, too. Gemma, on the other hand, didn’t let up.

  “We shouldn’t—” he tried.

  “Shh.”

  She pressed a finger to his lips, then drew it along the seam. Her eyes twinkled, and her lips twitched. Then she leaned in and kissed him. A sweet, slow, honeycomb kiss — the type you took your time with, savoring every pounding heartbeat. A kiss that had to be real because his imagination couldn’t produce anything that rich. It was soft, yet yearning. Grateful, yet bold. Practiced, but as innocent and breathless as a first kiss.

  Gemma slid closer, and he nearly reeled her in. They were so close to tipping completely over into desire. He could picture it already — the flurry of clothes tossed over each side of the bed, the rush of raw need, the surrender to sheer instinct.

  “Gemma,” he whispered, trying to find his emergency brake.

  She murmured into another kiss, making him teeter over the edge. “Need this… Want this…”

  He tried telling himself it was wrong. That they were too exhausted to think straight, and that Gemma was too vulnerable after all she’d been through.

  Then why does it feel so right? his lion growled.

  It did feel right. Desperately so, as if he’d found an oasis in the middle of a desert and simply had to drink. Circumstance, instinct, destiny — they were all ganging up on him. And, hell. Gemma definitely knew what she wanted. She slid a hand down his rear, then swept her tongue over his.

  From that point on, his mind shut down, and the deal was sealed. Everything unfolded just as he imagined, only better. The silent whoosh of clothes tossed to either side of the bed. The quiet little whimpers Gemma made. The soft goodness of her body, begging him to explore. Suddenly, nothing was off-limits, and he could touch — taste — smell her anywhere he desired.

  “Yes…” Gemma breathed. Her hands were just as busy as his, and when she gripped his cock, he hissed.

  So good, his lion rumbled, eyeing her neck.

  All he had to do was plant a love bite there, and Gemma would be safe. She would be his mate, and he would protect her forever. She would be safe from the Lombardis, from Archie and his swaggering friends, and from the influence of the Guardians.

  But, damn. Would he be able to live with himself? He had to talk to her first, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to try that now.

  So he forced his aching canines not to extend and shut away the thought of a mating bite. As it was, everything was a heated blur. Their bodies, grinding against each other. The insistent tug of Gemma’s hands.

  “Liam…”

  He was about to roll and take the top, but she beat him to it, straddling him. Which, together with everything else — the dragon attack, the exhaustion of the late hour, and his latest rush of adrenaline — made his mind go blank to everything but that moment in time. Gemma gasped, slowly taking him in.

  When she started to rock and moan, the back of his mind issued urgent warnings, but the sensual haze kept those faint. Wasn’t it too soon to get intimate with Gemma? No, it couldn’t be, because she was his mate. And as for using a condom — well, that warning faded just as quickly. He and she were destined for each other, so what did that matter? At that moment, his world was pure sensory experience, not consequences or reactions.

  Gemma’s breasts swayed as she leaned back, and her mouth moved in silent cries. How was he supposed to think of anything at a moment like that?

  His soul sang, and a whole happy future played out in his mind.

  “Yes…” Gemma moaned, moving faster.

  The heat inside him became an inferno, and his whole body ached for release. Gripping her hips tightly, he thrust upward again and again. Gemma pushed down at the same time, and a wave of ecstasy built inside.

  If it had been any earlier — or his mind any clearer — he would have drawn out the pleasure. But he was a puppet to destiny — and to Gemma’s out-of-control desire. On the next hard thrust, he hissed, and Gemma cried out. One more thrust, and he exploded inside her. Gemma shuddered and yelped at the very same moment. A wave burst, roaring through his ears and sweeping his mind around and around. Nothing had ever felt better, nor had he ever felt less in control of his own fate. But somehow, that wasn’t as terrifying as it might have been.

  Gemma shuddered again, then went limp over him, murmuring. His chest heaved with deep breaths as he held her tightly.

  Mate, his lion mumbled again and again.

  “So good,” she whispered, melting against him.

  They were a mess, as was the bed, and he still couldn’t think straight. But, hell. She was right.

  So good, his lion echoed.

  Rolling slightly, he shifted to his side and used a corner of the sheet to clean up. Then he spooned Gemma against his chest and lay still, listening to her heart beat. His eyelids drooped as exhaustion caught up with him again, and soon, he couldn’t tell if it had been real or just a dream.

  Real, his lion murmured. The real deal.

  Chapter Ten

  Four hours of sleep shouldn’t have felt that good, but Liam woke feeling so, so satisfied. Gemma was still looped in his arms, and he snuggled her a little closer.

  To think, you nearly ruined everything, his lion grumbled.

  Well, he’d been trying to do the right thing. But raw need for his mate had gotten the better of him, and he’d been
a goner from that point on.

  Thank goodness Gemma knew what she wanted, his lion huffed.

  His lips curled up. She certainly did.

  He rubbed his chin gently over Gemma’s shoulder, marking her with his scent. Then he kissed her cheek, and after that, her shoulder, holding her close while a glorious dawn broke.

  Then he eased away again, remembering where he was. Not in his own bed in his own place where he could lock the world away. He was at his aunt’s and, bugger. His presence — and Gemma’s — wouldn’t go unnoticed for long.

  “Gemma,” he whispered.

  She snuggled deeper into the sheets. “Too early.”

  He sighed. “You don’t know my aunt.”

  Gemma didn’t react, which was just as well. He slipped out of bed, then stood quietly, taking it all in. Her bare back. The twisted sheets. The sweet scent of sex that perfumed the air. His lion wanted to strut around and roar, showing off his amazing mate to the world. And although creeping worry invaded his human side — What would the repercussions be? — it was too early to think straight.

  So, first things first. He forced himself to shower — thoroughly. Then he brewed two coffees and sat on Gemma’s side of the bed, swirling one of the mugs.

  Gemma’s nose twitched, and she blinked. She smiled, and for a moment, his world was twice as bright as it had been in the early dawn light. Then a blush spread over her cheeks, and she sat up slowly, looking adorably mussed.

  “Morning.”

  “Good morning.” He handed her the mug.

  She rearranged the sheet to cover her bare body and took the mug, then looked at him.

  “As good as last night was…” she started, making him grin. “What makes me think I’m going to need this?”

  He sighed and sipped from his mug. “Because you will. We’d better find my aunt before she finds us.”

  Gemma lifted one eyebrow as if to say, That kind of aunt?

  He sighed. If only she knew. “She’s okay, really. Just a little…domineering, I suppose you might say. She’s always trying to save me from myself.”

  Gemma considered that for a moment. “Seems to me you can take care of yourself.”