Aflame (Apotheosis)

by Daniels, Krissy

  AFLAME

  Apotheosis, Book One

  By KRISSY DANIELS

  LYRICAL PRESS

  http://lyricalpress.com/

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/

  For those dispirited, who battle demons in the shadows, too weary to cry for help, you are not alone.

  Acknowledgements

  To my Sexy Boyfriend, thank you for the laptop and the ginormous leap of faith it represents. And of course, for rockin’ my world every day in every way.

  My babies, who wholeheartedly believe I’ll be rich and famous, your imaginations and sense of humor inspire me beyond reason.

  Mom and Share-Bear, thank you from the depths of my soul for your beautiful spirits and unwavering faith in me. I love your poochy lips to the moon. We can’t kick the asses we need to in real life, so let’s do it through stories.

  Jen, the greatest storyteller I know, your relentless encouragement means the world to me. It’s because of you this book exists. Now it’s your turn.

  Thank you Lyrical Press, for the YES. Corinne, thank you for holding my hand through this, my first rodeo, and kicking my arse when I needed it. Your comments made me giggle and guided me through the soul-sucking edits with a bit of hair left on my head.

  And thank you Jesus, the one true superhero. I’ve been uplifted, humbled, educated and challenged. This awesome journey is your story, not mine.

  1

  Two more minutes. Two more minutes of torture, then adios amigos. Grayce out. Tired? Not a chance.

  Grayce hopped off the elliptical before it stopped, grabbed her bottled water and glanced around the massive room.

  No sign of him anywhere. Thank God.

  On shaky legs, she forced herself to head to the weight machines. If luck was on her side, she’d get through an entire workout without running into the obscenely attractive, gargantuan blond who tracked her every move. The beast was a sight to behold. She pretended not to notice. She’d die before ogling him like the other women. Problem was, he ignored everyone. Except her.

  He was the only man who could make her blush and that pissed her off beyond measure. Rounding the corner, a familiar, heated flush pulsed through her body. The warning, however, did not come soon enough. It didn’t allow her enough time to run the opposite direction before her face acquainted itself with a brick wall disguised as a chest.

  “Ouch, shit.” Her ass narrowly avoided a painful introduction to the floor when a pair of strong hands caught her mid-fall and set her upright. Tears threatened to surface. No need to look up. Grayce cupped her nose and forced her gaze to the far wall, painfully aware of who she freight-trained into.

  “You all right?” His deep silky voice cut right through the heavily guarded walls she’d built around herself, and melted a layer, possibly two, of the hardened steel protecting her most vital organ. And that was precisely why she needed to get as far away from him as possible.

  Without a word, Grayce turned on her heel and jetted the hell out of there.

  * * * *

  Heart in his throat, Zander watched her walk away. She hadn’t uttered a word. As per her norm, she looked at the wall, his shoes, the old lady riding the recumbent bike. Everything but him.

  Stunned by the energy burst searing his veins, unsteady legs refused their command to follow her. Instead, he enjoyed the view. As she huffed away, blood rushed to his cock. A baggy cotton ensemble hid her form, which made her all the more tantalizing. Large breasts, curvy hips? Small waist with a firm tight ass? Made no difference to him. When he finally had her good and naked, she’d be perfect, because she belonged to him.

  Full of hellfire and fury, she marched her petite frame toward the exit, shouted an obscenity, then backtracked to the locker room. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Saucy little lady.

  They’d get along just fine.

  Being a descendent of an ancient warrior race planted on earth by fallen angels had its perks; superhuman abilities, immunity from illness and extended life spans to name a few. But there was a downside. Males of his heritage could never reach their full potential until they’d found and bonded with their other half, or soul mate as he preferred to call it.

  Zander’s search spanned almost twenty years. He was one of the lucky ones, knowing his one true mate existed. Most of his kind hadn’t a clue. Finding their better halves was the hard part. He’d done it. Yet, there he stood, watching her walk away again.

  Moments passed before Zander realized he hadn’t moved an inch. As he glanced around the gym, it was no shock that everyone stared in his direction. Ladies flashed him their brightest smiles, men straightened their backs in attempt to make themselves taller and boys simply scurried to clear a path. Common reactions. None of it mattered. What was important? After years of tireless searching, his future was within reach.

  Shit. He didn’t even know her name.

  Fuck the taking-it-slow approach. It was time to get the girl. He forced uncooperative legs to move. At the same moment, she stormed from the locker room rubbing her nose. An impressive combination of profanities followed her through the exit, drawing gasps and sneers from anyone within earshot. With a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and trailed a few paces behind.

  “Hi, Mr. Vascos,” Carrie shouted from behind the counter.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Leave me alone. I have a lady to claim,” he grumbled under his breath, waving her off as he passed.

  Carrie’s deflated sigh pulled at his heart strings. He was such a sappy bastard. Abruptly, he turned toward her, forced the biggest smile he could muster and took a moment to be kind to the only other person in the gym he gave two fucks about. “Carrie. How are you today?”

  Blushing violet, Carrie leaned toward him. “I’m wonderful, Mr. Vascos. I met someone.” Sunshine poured from her smile. “He’s tall, dark and handsome and drives a Porsche. My first time in a Porsche. Absolutely amazing.” Her grin grew even wider as she stared glossy-eyed at the ceiling.

  “That’s great.” He didn’t roll his eyes, but damn it was tempting. Porsches were for pussies, or men who needed help getting pussy. “He better be good to you or he’ll have me to deal with.” Zander winked, jogged toward the exit, and left Carrie in her state of bliss.

  * * * *

  Tyr Collins leaned back, rested the heels of his A. Testoni shoes on the windowsill and plucked lint from his slacks. It became impossible to hold back a smile. Worried that the stretch of his cheeks might add wrinkles to his near flawless skin, he concentrated on relaxing the major muscles in his face.

  Grayce, his little dove, was finally coming back to him. The wait had been torture, but he’d set the wheels in motion, and soon her addictive energy would be his again. Unable to ignore the annoying erection that strained painfully against his trousers, he reached down for a quick rub and adjust.

  Three years had passed. Slippery little slut. His spine tingled with anticipation at the imagined look of horror on her face when she’d realize he’d claimed her once again.

  God, she was going to pay. Dearly.

  Binoculars raised and focused, he scanned the gym parking lot to make sure his latest game piece was in place. This was going to be fun. It would’ve been much easier to grab her himself. But why? There was much more pleasure to be gained in toying with prey before you strike. And the fear, oh yes, the fear made it so much more satisfying in the end.

  * * * *

  Certain the steam screaming from her ears was visible to everyone, Grayce stormed toward the exit doors. Distance is what she needed, and mere miles wouldn’t be enough. The familiar ache ignited by his presence consumed every inch of flesh. Intense attraction, need, lust. Emotions not welcome in her world
forced their way through an obsessively guarded wall.

  Her long lost libido had come back with vengeance and completely betrayed the memory of the hell she’d lived through at the hands of men. With temper rising to near nuclear proportions, she struggled against shaky fingers to unlock the door to her rundown VW Rabbit.

  “Don’t turn around.” A sour stench filled her nostrils before the words registered. Tobacco and skunk. A heavy hand weighted her shoulder. “Get in the car and slide over.” The raspy voice and wheeze with each breath were a dead giveaway the man had held a thousand too many coffin nails between his lips over the course of his lifetime.

  Oh hell no. Bravery, fueled by intense anger, filled Grayce with an unexpected sense of power. With a quick turn she swung her right arm at the man. Damn gym bag. Its weight slowed her momentum, and the strike barely fazed him. No way in hell was she going to allow the fat bastard to bully her into the car.

  Before her bag hit the ground, her foot met his shin with force enough to evoke profanities. Freak may as well have been Superman and she a toddler for all the good it did. Putrid stench brought the sting of tears to her eyes as he grabbed both shoulders and shoved her into the front seat.

  Scream damn you, scream. “You fucking bastard, get off me!” The strength in her voice came as a surprise, as did the new wave of adrenaline that pumped through her veins. Desperation guided her movements as she batted, kicked and successfully thwarted his efforts at getting a solid hold on anything other than her clothing. What had the self-defense class taught her? Crap, who could remember? Should’ve paid better attention.

  Frenzied attempts at kneeing his groin had her awkwardly positioned, half in, half out of the car. Four kicks in, she found her target. The man wore a fearsome grimace as he doubled over, spit, and stumbled backwards in pain.

  Pure evil flooded his bloodshot eyes.

  Seizing the opportunity, Grayce lifted her legs at a feeble attempt to strike again. Her butt slid down the edge of the car seat and landed with a thud on unforgiving pavement, knocking the wind clean out of her lungs. Stunned and struggling to regain her bearings, she looked up in time to see a dirty, hairy-knuckled fist shoot straight for her nose. Except, it didn’t make contact.

  Playing out like a slow motion scene from an action movie, the perp was violently jerked back by the nape of his neck. Arms and legs flailed in front of him as he was lifted off the ground, eyes wide with disbelief. Tossed like a rag doll across the parking lot, he bounced off the chain link fence, wrapped around a street lamp and landed with a thud. His body twitched, then lay ragged and motionless, slumped in a heap on the cement.

  Grayce fought to draw breath as her gaze traced the length of the figure towering with protective intent. Hmm, muscles and more muscles. Horrified and dazzled simultaneously, she stared into the face of the man she’d tried so hard to avoid.

  2

  Well Z, helluva way to make a first impression. Nothing like bringing out the big guns on a first date.

  Acting on instinct, he squatted to brush tangled hair from his woman’s face. Intense, powerful vibrations passed between their flesh. He didn’t flinch. Knew it was coming. She however, did not.

  Holy hell, she felt it.

  Wild eyed and bewildered, she cowered and backed away. Definitely an inappropriate time to smile, but shit. What else could he do? For years he’d waited for this moment. “Did he hurt you? Can you move?”

  “Yeah. I mean, no. I mean, I think I’m okay.” Liar. Attempts at pushing herself up had her wincing in pain. “Fucking bastard.”

  “I love a girl with a potty mouth.” God, did he ever. In fact, it hadn’t dawned on him until right then and there how much he loved it.

  “I’m sorry, I’m pissed right now.”

  Palpitations, rapid breaths, sweaty palms. Every cliché hit him at the same time. As he bent to help her up, vanilla scented hair ticked his nose.

  Reminded him of home.

  Lifting her wasn’t such a good idea. Blood rushed to his sex and he’d never been more thankful for an oversized hoodie. “Can you stand?”

  She nodded. A hazel-eyed glare traveled the length of his torso and width of his chest.

  Pleasured by her perusal, excited by the red glow dusting her cheeks, he bit hard on his lower lip. The urge to taste her, the need to claim her fleshy pink mouth nearly short-circuited his brain.

  “Wow. Workout much?” Cringing, Grayce placed shaky hands on his forearms. With all the tenderness he could muster, Zander attempted to set her upright, straighten her clothing, offer some comfort.

  Big mistake.

  With a sharp intake of breath, her body tensed and terror filled her eyes.

  Fear was not the reaction he’d expected. Sure, he was huge and most people stayed the hell out of his way, but she wasn’t most people. This woman was his missing half, created by the heavens for him alone. If anything, his presence should calm her. She should crave his touch, not recoil from it.

  Something was terribly wrong.

  He tilted his head to catch her gaze. Glassy-eyed, she stared past his shoulder. Then she started to shake.

  * * * *

  As the beautiful giant set her on her feet and straightened disheveled clothing, Grayce’s brain shifted into auto pilot. Shutdown process initiated. She hadn’t been touched like that in years. By anyone, man or woman. Not since her escape.

  The tremble started in her chest, spread to her limbs, threatened to rattle her teeth.

  To lose control and slip into her dark place was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Not now. Not in front of this man. Desperate for a distraction, anything to wrench her from panic mode, she scanned the parking lot. Her search came to a halt when her eyes rested on the lifeless heap on the ground. Holy fuck, was he dead?

  “You’re shaking. Do you have a coat?” The undeniable concern in his voice made it harder to pull her shit together.

  Throat dry and tight, Grayce couldn’t manage to choke a word out. She blinked up at him, reluctant to meet him eye to eye. Before the next blink, he’d wrapped a sweatshirt around her shoulders. That’s when the waterworks began. A floodgate opened, releasing a surge of wracking sobs and a heavy flow of tears. Two heartbeats and she found herself tucked gently against warm, hard muscle, face buried in his chest, while he tenderly stroked her hair.

  He lowered her to the ground, rested his back against her car and held her snug and tight. Despite obvious differences in size, she fit against him perfectly, like the last piece of a puzzle. His caress soothed, his touch brought solace, not pain. She’d never felt so fucking safe and warm. So she let tears fall and allowed him to go through the comforting motions. When composed enough to form a coherent thought, she realized his lips were pressed firmly against her head.

  What the? Defensively, with a sharp shiver, she pulled away.

  “Um, thank you, I’m sorry. I just—” God. Just what? What the hell was happening?

  “No, don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. But damn, that fucker’s going to be sorry he messed with you. That was a mean knee to the balls.” A low chuckle vibrated his chest. “You’re a tough little cookie, brave too.” Awkwardly, he offered his hand. “I’m Z by the way.”

  Grayce tried to sit up. His arms tensed, held her tighter, then relaxed. A vise gripped her heart and lungs simultaneously. “I’m Grayce. Thank you. I think I’m better now.” She wasn’t. All the up close and personal made her want to scream.

  “Of course you are.” Like an air mattress with a slow leak, his taut muscles softened beneath her. He lowered his arms in a slow drag down the length of her body and let them drop to his sides.

  Grayce dislodged herself from his lap, handed back his sweatshirt and climbed into her car.

  “Can I call somebody for you?” he asked. As he rose to stand, his physique commanded her full attention, sucked the air from her lungs and one by one, brain cells fizzled and popped inside her cranium.

  “Like the police?” Grayce asked.
Morgue perhaps? A quick glimpse toward the man lying motionless on the ground had her fighting back the urge to scream.

  Z shot a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” His jaw tightened. “Please don’t go anywhere.” He leaned so close, his breath warmed her lips. He clapped her thigh with a hint of warning. “I mean it, don’t go anywhere.”

  “I won’t, I promise.” Shit. Couldn’t move a muscle if she wanted to.

  * * * *

  Z crouched over the man, checked his pulse, cursed under his breath. Motherfucker was still breathing. Not good. The shithead deserved nothing but dead. If Grayce hadn’t been watching, the man would’ve already been shaking hands with Satan himself. Against every instinct, he pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed 9-1-1. At the same time, a group of boys exited the gym and made their way toward him.

  Perfect timing. Cocky, over-pumped teenage pricks would be all over this. “Hey guys.”

  As if on cue, the gang stopped dead in their tracks with jaws opened as wide as their eyes. Pathetic as hell. They still hadn’t noticed the man lying almost dead at their feet. Zander resisted the urge to slap them silly and instead enlightened them by looking down and poking his foot at the fat lump on the ground.

  Not a single one of them spoke a word while Z finished the call.

  “Listen, I called for help. Nearly tripped over the guy, think the drunken fucker’s passed out cold. Can you dudes do me a solid and stay with him until the paramedics arrive?” Zander tucked his phone into his pocket.

  After a long bout of blank stares and dead silence, one kid managed, “Yeah, no problem.”

  Idiots.

  “Thanks. My wife is sick. I have to get home.” Camera flashes lit up the darkening sky as he jogged back toward Grayce’s car. Hell yeah, punks were eating it up. They’d take credit for saving the man. Worked for him.