Waltz into Fire

by L. J. Garland

  A wispy groan escaped her, and he savored her reaction to him. But, damn, he needed more—more of her mouth, more of her skin, and the sexy little noises she uttered when he caressed a sensitive spot. He needed all of her—not just her body, but her heart and soul, too. And the only way he could see to get it was to break down one wall at a time.

  In a frenzied motion, he snagged the hem of her shirt and yanked it up over her head, dropping the garment on the steps below, and buried his face between her breasts. She trembled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Zane,” she murmured and grabbed a handful of his hair to yank his head back. “Not here. My brothers.”

  He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, and charged up the remainder of the stairs. A feral hunger hammered through him for the woman he carried. His purposeful strides took them down the long hallway to the room he’d slept in the night before. Once inside, he paused long enough to kick the door shut behind them and lowered her feet to the floor.

  Easing back, he stared at her, drinking her in, wanting to consume every inch of her in a single gulp. But then he paused. “Your injury.”

  She angled her side toward him. Instead of the dark purple bruises that had once ravaged the area, she displayed creamy smooth skin that he desperately wanted to lick. “Better.”

  He reached toward her. “Your ribs were cracked.”

  “Mended.”

  He stared in wonder for a second, processing the fact she had completely healed in so short a time. But then she twisted to face him again, her molten gaze meeting his with a ferocity that caused his heart to trip a beat and then slam into his sternum with the force of a sledgehammer. Damn, she was the whole package, wasn’t she? Her messy hair, wet lips, and heaving chest—defiance blazing in her eyes—it all served to drive his need to possess her beyond his control. He jerked his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. At the same time, Fallon loosened his belt, unfastened his jeans, and shoved them over his hips.

  Kicking off his shoes, he stepped free of his pants and moved close to her again. He returned the favor, unsnapping her slacks and dragging them down her shapely legs. Kneeling before her, he lingered to skim his hands over her calves. Her skin was so damn soft he couldn’t resist trailing his tongue along her inner thigh.

  Before he rose, he managed the presence of mind to snag a condom from his jeans pocket. He ripped the package open and sheathed himself. Unable to wait any longer, he shoved to his feet and, hooking his thumbs through the tiny strings at her hips, yanked the thin scrap of material away—the last barrier between him and heaven.

  She kissed him, assaulting his tongue with erotic strokes that left him wild with need. Pressing her body to his, she urged him back toward the bed. His base instinct rebelled at the idea of allowing her to lead. And when he resisted, she bit his bottom lip.

  Zane jerked back, tasting blood.

  She tossed her head. “You gonna run away, Zane?”

  Adrenaline seared through him, and his last vestiges of control vanished. “Hell, no.”

  She took a step toward the bed, and he grabbed her wrist, spinning her to face him.

  “Uh-uh.” He dragged her across the room and shoved her against the door. “Like on the stairs before you stopped me.”

  He dipped his head and took one turgid nipple between his teeth, laving the tip with his tongue. Holding her in place with one hand, he used the other to force her legs to part in a wider stance, giving him the access he craved. He trailed his fingers up the inside of her thigh to the center of her heat.

  “Take me, Zane,” she begged and dug her nails into his shoulders. “Now.”

  With a growl, he lifted her from the floor and plunged inside her wet, willing body. He buried himself as deeply as he could, and Fallon gasped, clutching him. Never had he imagined their joining would be this raw, this intense.

  He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her heady scent, and gritted out, “You feel so damn good.”

  Kissing her throat, he thrust up into her, setting a possessive pace with long, penetrating strokes. She whimpered, her cry urging him to continue his insistent rhythm, his body encouraging hers to relent, to let go. Writhing in his arms, she rode him with a vengeance, taking all that he offered.

  As he pushed her toward the brink, he dared to watch her, drinking in the details of her wild beauty—her half-closed eyes, her slightly parted lips, the sleek curve of her neck, the flush across her chest. An eternity could pass, and he would never forget the way she stared back at him from beneath her lashes, her bright-gold eyes burning with the same possessive passion that pulsed through his core. In his arms, hurtling toward the point of rapture, Fallon Anderson was truly a sight to behold.

  A moment later, her body tensed. Clawing at his shoulders, she threw her head back and cried out, the sound of her pleasure catching his soul. Her release, combined with the ecstasy enveloping her face, propelled him to a fast, hard peak. Slamming against her one final time, he poured himself into her.

  Light bulbs popped and shattered around them, plunging the room into shadows, the only illumination coming from the murky, storm-riddled sky outside.

  “Oh!” she gasped.

  Satisfaction rolled through him. Seemed their lovemaking had been hot enough to blow the lights. He couldn’t agree more. Spent, legs shaking, he lowered Fallon to her feet. Reaching up, he brushed a lock of red-streaked black hair behind her ear.

  “God, you are beautiful.” He leaned down to brush his lips over hers, but she dodged his kiss, ducking under his arm.

  “Zane, what just happened….” She snagged her slacks from the floor and shimmied into them. “It doesn’t change anything between us.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dropping the used condom in the trash, he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. “What just happened was amazing.”

  “I agree. There’s been a lot of tension, and we both needed release. But don’t make more of it than it was.” She perched on a chair to put her shoes on. “It was just sex, Zane, pure and simple.”

  Just sex? How the hell could she say that after what they’d just shared? He’d seen her love for him—if only for a moment. He padded across the carpet to stand before her. “No, Fallon. That’s not who you are. You’re not that damn cold.”

  She stood and swept her hands over the front of her pants. Unease twisted around his heart. He got the uncanny sense she might be attempting to brush him off as well.

  She met his gaze. “Maybe I wasn’t two days ago, but things change. People change.”

  Clarity roared through him, and, at once, he understood she’d raised the wall between them again. “Damn it, what do I have to do to prove to you how sorry I am? To prove you can trust me? Tell me what you need.”

  “Time.” She strode past him and opened the door. “I need to sort this out.”

  He let her go, her soft footfalls echoing as she descended the stairs. Fate had once again gouged his heart with its icy talon, and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

  “Yeah, but time is the only thing I don’t have.”

  Squeezing his eyes closed, he berated himself for his idiocy. He’d foolishly allowed himself to believe that because she’d clung to him while he’d made love to her, because she’d cried out his name as he’d brought her to orgasm, she’d forgiven him. Opening his eyes, he moved to stand in the doorway and stare down the shadowy hall. Hell, he couldn’t be further from the truth.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fallon ducked into an alcove to wipe her eyes before she reached the library. Oh, dear Lord, what did I just do?

  To say sex with Zane had been better than she’d ever experienced would be an understatement. Her legs still shook from the explosive bout between them. She bit her lip to stifle a moan. Together, they’d felt so darn right—like they were made for each other.

  But it had just been sex. If she had to keep telling herself that over and over until she believed it, she would. Heck, they’d done i
t against the damn door. She’d never done it against the door in her life, or anywhere else other than a bed. Their joining had been so erotic just thinking about it made her stomach do flips. She’d tried to get him to the bed, but Zane had taken total control, showing her exactly who was in charge of the situation, and she’d melted in his arms.

  She inhaled, let it out, and tried to gain back some measure of control—control she’d just lost in a major way. She glanced toward the staircase. And, damn, if it wasn’t killing her to leave Zane up there in that room.

  But, she had to. If she let him, he would work his way right back into her heart where he had all the power in the world. She grimaced. Hell, as if he hadn’t already. She’d seen the love in his eyes, and her heart had answered with soul-deep acceptance. The truth unnerved her.

  Fallon squeezed her eyes closed. Of all the stupid things to do, sex with the man who’d just betrayed her had to top everything. She wanted so much to trust his words, to trust him not to hurt her again. But she couldn’t. He wasn’t the first man to ever let her down, but he would be the last.

  She just wasn’t made to find everlasting love. She could accept that, she really could…tomorrow. Right now, she wanted a good, long cry. But she couldn’t do that either.

  Opening her eyes, Fallon took a deep breath. Regardless of her determination to keep Zane safely away from her heart, his time was running out. And he was right about one thing—they still didn’t know a thing about how to kill the demon.

  Throwing back her shoulders and lifting her chin, she opened the library door. She needed to find some answers. Grabbing the tome she’d been looking through earlier, she sat in the cushioned wingback chair and opened the book before she noticed Erik and Wyatt silently staring at her.

  “Is somebody going to fix the lights? It’s kind of dark out there with the storm.” She glanced toward the windows and back to her brothers. “What?”

  Chuckling, Wyatt stood. “Yeah, let me go do that for you, sis.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “As long as you two aren’t gonna blow them again in the next hour or so.”

  Heat infused her face as she watched him leave. She looked at Erik. “I’m sure I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  Erik snorted. “Uh-huh. By the way, Zane’s T-shirt looks great on you.”

  Fallon peered down and frowned. Shit! She’d never changed back into her own shirt. She glared at him. “Shut up. Don’t you have some research to do?”

  “By God, I do.” He ducked his head, his gaze locking on whatever he was reading, but the grin smacked across his face persisted.

  The lights flickered and stayed on, brightening the room. Breathing a sigh of relief, Fallon flipped through the pages, searching for more information about Haileon, but couldn’t find a thing. What good was all this information if it took them years to filter through it all? There had to be a better way.

  Wyatt slipped through the door, tossed Fallon’s shirt at her, and slid into the desk chair. “Found that lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Thought you might want it back.”

  She wadded the garment in a ball and shoved it behind her in the chair. “Oh, uh, thanks. It must have fallen out of my overnight bag when we got here last night.”

  Erik and Wyatt burst out laughing.

  “Better tell her, bro,” Wyatt said.

  “Um, Fallon, honey?” Erik set his book aside. “You do remember I have an inside track to your thoughts and emotions?”

  Wyatt leaned back in his chair and gave her a knowing grin. “Ditto.”

  Fallon jumped to her feet, the book on her lap sliding to the floor with a thud. Her gaze flicked from one of her brothers to the other. “Oh my God. You…? The both of you…? Oh my God.” She whipped around and paced the oriental carpet. “Good God, is nothing sacred around here?”

  Erik rose, moved to one end of the rug, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look at it this way. You’ll never need a Do Not Enter sign. We’ll know every time not to come looking for you.”

  She spun to face him. “Jesus, Erik, that’s not funny. We really need to find some kind of filter.”

  Wyatt clicked away at the keyboard. “You may not want to hear this, sis, but I think it has more to do with the vibes you’re sending out. Believe me, Erik and I don’t want that in our heads any more than you want it there. We’ll figure something out. Remember, this is new to all of us.”

  Fallon sank down into the chair, bent, and picked up the book. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Erik knelt in front of her and took her hands. “We’ll get it worked out. By the way, you are meant to find everlasting love.” He jerked his thumb toward the library door. “If the vibes I’m getting from Zane are at all accurate, I’d say you already found it. You just need to let go and trust him.”

  She pulled her hands from his. “I did that once.”

  “Yeah, but you heard his story. Surely he deserves some slack.”

  “I know you’re just trying to help, but I don’t want to talk about Zane right now.” She opened the book. “We don’t have much time, and we really need to find some answers here.”

  Erik nodded and stood. “Okay, back to work we go.” He ambled to the bookcase containing most of the older, more tattered books, grabbed one, and crossed to sit next to one of the huge windows.

  Fallon shifted her gaze to Wyatt, who winked at her then returned his concentration to the computer screen. She bit back a sigh, knowing she would have to deal with Zane at some point. She just wasn’t there yet. Though she had to admit, if only to herself, she missed his presence. Missed his warmth. Missed the feel—

  Erik cleared his throat. “Didn’t someone say we needed to get busy searching for answers, Wyatt?”

  Wyatt stopped typing and glanced up from the screen. “She sure did. It would be a hell of a lot easier if she would stop thinking about sex.”

  “Oh, all right. I get it. Sheesh.” Her face heated. “Well, what about Amber? Shouldn’t we call her, let her know what’s going on?

  Wyatt looked at the computer monitor. “I’ll call her after dinner tonight. Time difference and all.”

  “Good.” She flipped a page of the book on her lap. “She’s part of this, too.”

  For an hour, they poured through books and the Internet, searching for answers, for anything that might be a clue to defeating the demon, Haileon. The storm outside raged on, the howling wind echoing throughout the large mansion and endowing the immense house with a more gothic feel than it projected on a sunny day.

  Another hour had passed, and the hurricane seemed to die off. Fallon found herself staring at the door. Zane still hadn’t come back to the library. Setting the book aside, she rose to go check on him.

  “I found something!” Erik hurried to the desk, slamming a large tome next to the keyboard. “Look.”

  Anxiety swirled through Fallon, and she glanced at the door, but decided to see what Erik was so excited about instead. Maybe he’d found a way to kill the demon and save Zane. That could change everything. Crossing to her brothers, she scanned the tattered page Erik indicated.

  “Annaemut?” She frowned. “There’s nothing on this page that tells how to kill Haileon.”

  “No.” Erik flipped the page. “But here it tells how to kill Annaemut.”

  “What is that?” Wyatt leaned closer. “It looks like a shopping list.”

  Erik snorted. “It is, kind of. It’s a list of ingredients needed to make a potion to destroy the demon.”

  Fallon shook her head. “But this isn’t Haileon. I don’t understand how this helps us.”

  Wyatt turned back to the previous page. “Ah, it’s a demon, too.”

  She looked at Erik. “Okay, but aren’t there all different kinds of demons?”

  “Yes.” He pointed to a subtitle beneath the demon’s name. “But here it says—”

  “Soul eater?” A shiver coursed through her.

  Erik arched a brow. “Different names maybe—”r />
  “And different turfs,” she cut in. “It says Annaemut is from a place called Baelinsk.”

  “Right.” He shrugged. “I would think a potion that kills one soul eater would work on another.”

  “Which is probably why the way to kill Haileon wasn’t listed,” Wyatt added.

  Fallon sighed. The idea didn’t feel right. Their reasoning was flawed somehow…she just couldn’t lay her finger on it. “But that still doesn’t explain how to detain him.”

  “Detain him?” Erik gave her a triumphant grin. “Why would we do that when we know how to vanquish his ass?”

  “Damn straight,” Wyatt chimed in.

  “Okay, guys. Wait a minute.” Putting her hands on her hips, she gave them each a level stare. “You forget I’ve already gone up against this thing once before. We’re supposed to sprinkle a potion on him and mumble some words—”

  “Words?” Wyatt looked at Erik.

  “Yeah. Right here.” He pointed at the page. “Some kind of chant or something.”

  “The point is even if you’re right and this potion and chant would work, Haileon’s not the type to just stand around and let us throw goo on him and say some mumbo jumbo shit.” She grimaced, remembering her last encounter. Brushing her fingers across her throat, she said, “He nearly choked me to death last time. He’s strong. We don’t even know the extent of his powers—nothing’s listed in the book—which makes him unpredictable. Not to mention we have no way to protect ourselves.”

  Wyatt grinned, the curve of his mouth sly. Reaching to his back pocket, he pulled out what appeared to be a dog-eared journal. “Must be why I hung on to this little jewel.”

  “What’s that?” Erik snatched the book from him and opened it, leafing through one page after another. “Where did you find this?”