Up In Flames (Netherworld Series Book 2)

by Olivia Hutchinson

  Seeing the thick pads of paper and the charcoal just waiting for him on the desk made him want to forget the phone call. He had missed the quiet of his cave and doing what he loved to do best. There were so many things he longed to put on paper, but sketching the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen would have to wait. There were other matters he had to take care of first, but he would be sure to take some time for himself when he was done.

  The satellite phone was right where he had left it, sitting in the bottom drawer of a desk that was so large it had to be assembled once it was in the room. He turned on the heavy device and dialed the number to Collum’s phone, a phone he used strictly for communication with Liam and a few other dragons.

  It rang several times before Collum’s thick Scottish accent came over the line.

  “Liam. You caught me at a good time.”

  It was a rarity to find a dragon without some sort of accent. The majority of the dragons, as few as their numbers actually were, hailed from the British Isles. The other twenty five percent came from parts of Asia, but they were considerably smaller than their British counterparts. There were only a handful who chose to live in the United States and Liam could only guess that the American Netherworld Council thought that to be in their benefit. Collum frequently stated the council feared the dragons, which Liam believed. It was almost impossible not to fear a dragon when they could fry a person to a crisp and had scales that were nigh impenetrable. It was suicide to piss them off. The Council tended to tread lightly.

  “I am back,” he told Collum.

  “I assumed. What happened at your meeting with Roarke?”

  “It went as planned, until I had to deviate.” This was the part Liam was not too keen on sharing.

  “Deviate? How so?”

  Liam made the immediate decision not to reveal Heidi’s true race. He didn’t want to take the chance that Collum would issue an order to kill the girl to protect their own secret. “They had a witch tied to a stake in the center of Péine. They were set to burn her at dawn. I could not let that happen.”

  “Of course not. The witches have been nothing but supportive of our efforts here. I’m glad that you did not let her die. An alliance with the fae is not worth the trouble that would cause with the witches if they found out you had the chance to stop it. What did you do with her?”

  “I included her in the bargain with Roarke. He wanted us to join him to go against the shifters.”

  Liam heard Collum’s low growl over the line. “What is he planning?”

  “They are planning an attack on New Freedom.”

  “How did you leave it with the fae?”

  He couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “They were going to force my hand, but I want no part in their war with the shifters.”

  “I will warn the shifter council leader of the plans, although I’m sure they’d be fools to attempt it now. They’d have to know you’d warn the shifters. Did you return the witch to safety?”

  “She is safe.”

  “You didn’t return her, did you?”

  “She is safe.”

  “Liam, you cannot keep a witch. You must return her.”

  “To return her would be to kill her if the fae decide to attack New Freedom.”

  Collum sighed. “Fine. Protect her until you can find somewhere else for her to go, but do not get attached. A witch is not something you can add to your hoard. She will have to be returned to her people sooner rather than later.”

  “I hear you.” But that doesn’t mean I’ll listen to you.

  All of his focus had been on Heidi so that he had almost forgotten to tell Collum of the other issue they had. The real security threat.

  “There is one other thing,” he started.

  “What is it?”

  “Roarke’s second, Cliona, is mated with a warlock.”

  The silence on the other end was deafening. Liam was almost sure Collum had disconnected until he asked, “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. I overheard as much. In addition to that, before she helped us escape, Roarke’s daughter Rhiannon confessed to me that her father had arranged a mating between her and Cole.”

  “Cole?”

  “Yes.”

  A low whistle came over the line. “Staying high in the pecking order. Will she go through with the mating?”

  “I’m not sure now. We were discovered when we were leaving. I don’t know if she got away or if she was caught,” Liam confessed. Rhiannon had helped them escape. He had felt bad that there had been nothing he could do to help her, but he wouldn’t have risked Heidi for the fae princess.

  “Then it’s highly unlikely. If she was caught I doubt her father would risk aligning her with them knowing she was willing to help a witch escape. That is if he doesn’t feel betrayed enough to kill her himself. Let us just hope she escaped with her life.”

  After a second Liam asked, “What do you want me to do now?”

  “I’ll call if there is something else I need you to do, but until then try to stay out of trouble the best you can.”

  “Aye.”

  “And Liam? Don’t let me hear you’ve mated the witch. That’s something even I won’t excuse.”

  8

  Heidi reached for Liam as soon as she woke up. When she found the bed empty and the sheets cold, she sat up. The fire had died down to embers, the light in the room was dim. Pulling herself from the bed, she got to her feet and found the T-shirt he had pulled out for her the night before at the bottom of the mattress. The shirt fell almost to her knees but it was better than traipsing around naked. A minute later she left the room in search of him, the ache between her legs a constant reminder of the night they had spent together.

  She found him sitting on the couch, reading a book. If there was anything Heidi hadn’t expected, it was Liam reading the autobiography of Vincent Van Gogh.

  “Sleep well?” he asked her, setting the book down next to him and folding his arms behind his head. His long legs were propped up on the square coffee table, making him look massive. She was having an easier and easier time believing and remembering that he was more than human.

  “Yes, better than I have in a long time.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Starving,” she said, her stomach choosing that moment to grumble audibly.

  Nodding, he rose from the couch and she followed him through the carved out rock wall and into his kitchen. She sat down at the dark stained oak table and rested her chin in her hands as she watched him pull the plastic wrap off of a large white plate that was piled high with food. He put it in the microwave and filled a glass with water from the sink.

  Candles hung from the wall and three more were lit on the table. “If you have electricity, why do you use candles everywhere?”

  “I like the fire,” he said just as the microwave dinged. “I don’t like the harsh lighting of bulbs.”

  The aroma of steak greeted her nose. When he set the plate down in front of her, her stomach growled audibly. It looked delicious. The thick cut of meat sat in the center of the white plate with scrambled eggs in a small pile next to it.

  She dug in, conscious of his gaze still lingering on her.

  “Why do you fear bees?” he asked suddenly. “I find it odd that you would fall off a cliff just because of an annoying insect.”

  She swallowed before answering. “I’m allergic to them. When I was little I was stung. My throat swelled up and I couldn’t breathe. It took two Epi-Pens—two needles right in the thigh—before I could breathe again. I had to go to the hospital and I was there for a couple days before I could go home. So no, I don’t like bees but I think I have a pretty good reason not to.”

  He leaned back in his chair as he surveyed her. “Are you allergic to anything else?” he asked after a minute.

  “Seasonal allergies and some fabric softeners make me break out in hives. Why?”

  He pushed the now empty plate away from him and sat back in the chair. “I don’t want to put
you around anything that will kill you.”

  She gave him half a smile. “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Yes, I think so,” he said, his voice soft. He was staring at her and all of a sudden she felt naked in front of him again. It was as if he could see right through the flimsy shirt she was wearing.

  When she was finished eating, she got up and washed her empty plate in the sink. She set it on the drying rack and turned around, leaning against the counter.

  “So, what’s the plan? When can I go home?”

  He was still leaning back in his chair, his arms behind his head. Tilting his head to the side, he looked at her.

  “When were you going to tell me you’re not a witch?”

  Her reaction was what he had expected. Her pretty hazel eyes widened and her body tensed. She knew she had been found out, although why she had chosen to hide what she was from him he didn’t know. He hadn’t done anything to her, nothing to make her think that he wouldn’t accept her for what she was—human.

  “I…” she started and then stopped. Taking a deep breath she said, “I don’t know. I was scared and I wasn’t about to argue with the fairies when they were already determined to torture and humiliate me. I don’t know you, not really, and I didn’t know if I should say anything that contradicted what you already believed.”

  He nodded at her simple explanation. It made sense to him. He doubted he would have done differently had he been in her situation.

  “And I was going to tell you after we got here, but I don’t know what happened. I just didn’t. But you obviously know now, although I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means it complicates our situation.”

  She raised a brow. “How so?”

  “We try to keep ourselves hidden from humans. The fact that you now know of the existence of our kind—dragons, fae, witches, shifters—it’s dangerous for you.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think it could get any more dangerous than it already has been.”

  “Trust me. It can.” He wasn’t going to explain the how’s and why’s to her. She knew more than she ever should have, although there was nothing he could do about that now. What he could do was prevent her from learning any more. That in itself would be some protection for her. Not much, but it was something.

  “Why did they think I was a witch anyway? It’s not like they found me over a bubbling cauldron or anything.”

  “I saw Jonah this morning –”

  “Who?”

  “Jonah Cowan. He knows your friend. Maggie?”

  Her face lit up as soon as he said her friend’s name. Her body came away from the edge of the counter and she stood straight, as if ready to bolt up the stairs to see if she was outside. “Maggie? He knows Maggie? Was she with him?”

  “Yes, he does and no, she wasn’t. He was helping her find you. I told him you were here and that you were safe. Then I sent him away,” he said. Disappointment clouded her face and he didn’t know how he felt about that. Did she really want to leave that badly?

  “So Maggie knows I’m okay?”

  “Yes.” Her body relaxed and she leaned back against the counter.

  “Why did you send him away?”

  Because he wanted to take you away from me. “He has his own problems to deal with. But before he left he mentioned something about Maggie saying that you and she had practiced some kind of witchcraft not long ago?”

  “What? That’s insane.” Her face fell. “Oh…”

  “‘Oh’?” He sat forward and leaned his elbows on the table, waiting for her to finish her thought.

  She was shaking her head, her arms crossed firmly over her chest. “Stupid alcohol. Freaking Carey’s brilliant idea. Of course something like this would happen with the kind of luck I’ve been having lately.”

  He tried to follow her rambling, but she had lost him with ‘alcohol’. “I’m sorry, but I’m not following.”

  She pushed her hand through her hair and looked at him, clearly annoyed at the situation. “We got together last weekend, my friends and I, and Carey came up with this great idea that we should cast some stupid love spell or whatever and so we did. That’s the only thing close to witchcraft that I’ve ever practiced. That has to be what it is.”

  “That probably wasn’t the best idea.”

  “No kidding. Serves me right for getting tipsy and thinking it was a wonderful idea. I’m never drinking again. It only gets me in trouble. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ever go to another girls’ night. I love my friends, but I won’t get kidnapped by Tinkerbell every time they want to find themselves husbands. Ridiculous…”

  Heidi was waving her hands in the air and Liam couldn’t help but crack a smile. She continued to rant, but he wasn’t listening anymore. He was more focused on the way her T-shirt lifted every time she waved her arms about, allowing him glimpses of the tops of her thighs.

  What he wouldn’t give to bury his face between them again. Last night had left him anything but satisfied. It was the opposite. He couldn’t get enough of her. Every waking moment was spent thinking of a way to get her back into his bed. Back where she belonged.

  He stood up from the table, the chair scraping against the floor as he did, and her mouth stopped moving. Her hands fell to her sides and she stared at him as if she had forgotten he was even in the room.

  “I think you’re missing the point,” he said as he put his plate in the sink to wash it later.

  “And what would that be?”

  “The fae think you’re a witch and so others will think the same. You even had me fooled for a minute.”

  Confusion clouded her face. “So?”

  “It’s best that you don’t go anywhere without me. At least not until that magic wears off.”

  She nodded. “That’s a good idea. I don’t need to stumble into any more trouble than I already have. You can just take me back to town and then Maggie and I can get out of this place. I’ll be safe at home.”

  He rinsed the plate in the sink and set it down before leaning against the granite and staring at the drain. “You’re not leaving.”

  “What do you mean I’m not leaving? I have to go home.” Her voice rose as she spoke, her words becoming more rushed.

  “The safest place for you right now is with me. Do you doubt that?”

  He turned his head so he could see her face. Heidi bit her lip and stared down at the floor. It was insulting to him that she wanted to leave so badly. He couldn’t understand it.

  “I don’t doubt it,” she said after what seemed an eternity. “But I can’t stay here indefinitely.”

  “This is the best place for you.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes.” As long as it takes for you to realize you belong here.

  She sighed. “Fine. What’s a week, right?”

  He nodded, leaning his hip against the counter. If she was willing to stay for a week without trying to leave, then he would take it. It just meant that he had a week to convince her to stay. He didn’t want to force her to stay against her will, he respected her more than that, but he wasn’t above convincing her that her staying with him was in her best interest.

  “Well, if I’m going to stay here I’m going to need something more than your T-shirts to wear. I don’t even have underwear.”

  “I don’t see why you would need underwear.”

  His heart sped up when he saw her smile and her cheeks redden. There was no way she knew what kind of effect she had on him. She placed her hand on his arm, her fingers absently stroking his skin.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave just because you want to spend some quality time together in your bedroom?”

  That wasn’t why, but it wasn’t a bad idea in his opinion. If distracting her from leaving meant keeping her locked in his bedroom for a while, then he’d do it. He’d be there with bells on.

  “It doesn’t have to be in the bedroom.”

  “Ah,” she said, dropping h
er hand from his arm and taking a step toward the doorway. “So it could be…in the kitchen?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, her fingertips trailing over the tabletop.

  He tried to appear calm, as if she wasn’t getting to him in the slightest. It wasn’t working. She may think she was being playful, but to him she was tearing his insides apart. She had no idea what she was doing to him. He had to force himself to stay against the countertop, the granite painfully digging into his hip. It was all he could do not to launch himself toward her.

  If he fucked her on the table, he was sure they’d break it. How he managed to not break her last night was almost beyond him, especially with the way she had felt when he had first entered her. She wasn’t a virgin, he knew that, but it was obvious that she hadn’t been with many men and probably not in a long time. She was young and beautiful. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t have a man in her life, but it was obvious that she didn’t and for that he was grateful.

  Maybe I can be gentle.

  As soon as the thought crossed his mind he dismissed it. With how hard his dick was at the moment, there was no way he would be able to control himself. All he wanted was to spread her open and bury himself inside her hot, wet pussy. He craved it.

  She looked amazing in his shirt. It only served to tease him rather than cover her. If she stood just right he could see her silhouette perfectly and the outline of her small, pert nipples was enough to entice him to tear the thing off her. The shirt would look better on the floor.

  “I guess you’re not interested,” she said after a moment. He hadn’t realized how caught up with her he’d been.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, you’re just stand—”

  He closed the distance between them. She was in his arms before she could finish her sentence. He swept her off her feet and tossed her over his shoulder. Gripping her thighs, she dangled behind him, her hair tickling his skin.

  To her credit, she didn’t yell when he grabbed her. It was as if she had expected it. He took a step toward the living room, his free hand running up the back of her thigh. He pushed the shirt out of the way and stroked the crease of her ass. She was so soft, so smooth.