Flames of Hope

by Cassandra L Shaw

  The man pacing in the room stopped. “We have no facilities capable of accepting any more. Before we risk another or many more kidnappings, we need to have a compound ready. Keeping them in private homes is too hard, and too dangerous.”

  A seated man, his hands gripping his knees as if he thought they might run away, shook his head. “No. Compounds are too hard to find and set up. I say we all keep one or two locked in our homes, milk them there.”

  Father Morgan turned to Fiona. “Not going to happen. I said houses were too easy to escape from. Trying more is foolhardy. Escapees can track back.”

  Fiona rolled her wedding band around her finger. “We recaptured him. At great personal expense. But I agree, not in our houses. They’re too strong.”

  “Injuries are to be expected. Think what might have happened if you hadn’t recaptured the male. Our whole program would be compromised. I agree with Talon and yourself. Compounds are needed. Now, onto the next issue. We need to make another delivery of gold and silver dust.”

  Father Morgan turned to Scarface. “Jasper, I’ll expect you to coordinate collection tomorrow. Deliver the result to the usual drop-off point. By 10 pm tomorrow.”

  Scarface cocked his head to one side, a considering expression on his face. “When will you deliver it?”

  “Once I’ve been given contact coordinates, but that is not your concern.”

  “Scarface doesn’t like not knowing everything. Not being the boss.”

  “Someone to watch as he might go off on his own.” Xylvar answered.

  The meeting broke up, and Jasmine guided the fly into the car. “I think we have our cell.”

  “And just as I expected, Father Morgan is its leader.”

  Their eyes met, their beasts’ silvery bloodlust for a capture swirling behind their contacts. “You shouldn’t sound so pleased.”

  Xylvar showed his teeth in a predatory grin. “We have a target, and he’s a dick. I’ll be very pleased to take him out.”

  Jasmine ran a finger along Xylvar’s beard-rough jaw. “Your silver blooms strongest along here.” She stroked higher along his cheek bone, enjoying the smoothness of warm skin. “And here.”

  Silver bloomed on his cheeks. Her heart jolted at the Eli emotional tattle even though she could see the tell embarrassed him. The softest waft of mating pheromone drifted off him.

  Her eyes locked with his.

  He slapped her hand away, turned to the front, tapped the vehicle’s start disc, and eased the vehicle onto the road.

  Did this male ever allow any feeling through? “You know, emotions and physical attractions are fine. They tell you you’re alive.”

  He ignored her.

  “You, Xylvar, are very much alive.” She slid her hand up his arm, molding her long fingers up and around his delightfully hard biceps.

  Feeling a bit desperate for more physical contact, she leaned over and nuzzled his neck. “Of course, sex doesn’t always require emotions.” It didn’t, though such a statement was a sad lie when it came to her own heart.

  He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles almost glowed white. “Sex needs working parts. Now stop touching me.”

  “You have plenty that work fine. Put the car on Auto.” She licked his neck, bit his ear.

  #

  “What’s the point of what you’re doing?” He growled at Jaz as his body, the part that could feel, begged with aching need to be stroked and touched. He wanted to be held, to be loved. She licked his neck again, scraped long nails across the back of his shoulders. Scoring his flesh through his shirt. His beast rolled under his skin, released more mating pheromones. He puffed out breaths, trying to control it, not wanting to mark her, to let her know how he reacted to her. “You know I can’t do….”

  “Ah, Xylvar, my damaged, asshole, proud, stubborn man. If you’d let someone in, truly let them in, there’d be more than enough pleasure for everyone involved.”

  She ran her hand up his arm and across his shoulder, brought her mouth back to his ear. “Your tongue, your fingers…all of you, as you are, is enough. All you need do is show me how to pleasure you. I want to pleasure you.”

  And then it hit him. She was also emitting mating pheromones. His heart skipped madly around in his chest, his beast roaring in delight.

  A delight Xylvar did not want to feel.

  “Control your pheromones. They offend me. There is no pleasure for me.” He lied. He had to. “After our assignment ends, so do we. You walk away, and you don’t look back. Find yourself a real man, mark him as yours.”

  Jaz slumped back into her seat, her fiery glare of anger burning into his soul. “Wow, What a jerk. Always sure you know better, that you know it all. That somehow because you state it, you have the power to decide how people do and will feel about you.”

  He grabbed her hand, shoved it onto his groin, then slammed it against his heart. “See? Nothing, either end.” He pushed her hand away before she had a chance to feel the pace of his pulse. The lurch of his long-dead heart when she merely looked at him.

  When they pulled up at the duplex, he still gripped the steering wheel as if he’d float off. “But if you are so desperate for an orgasm and want a tongue-lashing, I’ll give it to you.” More pheromones, from him and her. Jesus. What the hell was he saying?

  He turned and met her gaze. “Get inside, take out your contact lenses, strip naked, and spread yourself on the bed. I’ll tongue and finger-fuck you ten times a day if you want it, until this mission is over. Then find yourself either a man with a dick or a battery-operated sex toy.”

  She got out of the van. “Fuck you.” Slammed her door and strutted into the duplex without waiting for him.

  #

  Huh, he thought she wouldn’t do it. Jasmine slammed the bedroom door and hit the remote for a halo music channel. A deep bass beat throbbed into the room, matching the thundering pulse of her need. She strode into the bathroom, slipped out her contact lenses, and then marched into the bedroom. She’d do it, all right. But not so he had the upper hand.

  No, she’d make sure he, too, desired, wanted, couldn’t resist touching—her.

  The door flew open

  Dark and brooding, Xylvar sat in the doorway. “You’re still dressed.”

  She stared into his eyes, put her hand on the zip of her tight-fitting fighting vest until the top of her breasts surged out. Then stopped.

  His eyes flashed silver fire.

  She moved closer, put her left foot on the arm of his chair, and waited. He looked at the boot, then at her breasts, then stared into her eyes before slowly unzipping her boot and pulling it off.

  It dropped to the floor with a soft thud. Her heart jumped with triumph and heat. It wouldn’t be any fun if this didn’t light his fire.

  Foot back on the ground, she turned, leaning backward. “Undo my braid.”

  With swift fingers, he released her hair, his fingers shaking as he raked them through her hair until she groaned.

  Warmth spread over her as silver coasted her skin. She slowly turned to face him once more, and slid the vest’s zip further south, until it parted to reveal her breasts and red lace bra.

  He blinked, and silver swirled as masculine musk pulsed into the air. Yeah, he felt nothing. She pulled the pheromone-laced air in deep, her beast vibrating at the lust and desire it signaled.

  With her brow cocked, she leaned forward. Hand on the back of his chair, she paused, her breasts an inch from his face, while managing to bring her mouth close enough to nip him hard.

  Her own scent bloomed richly in the air, throbbing out in time to the music’s beat, blending with his, filling her lungs and the room.

  He might think he would be the doer, the giver, but she could find ways to share pleasure. Xylvar deserved pleasure, and she wanted to be the one to give it.

  Kisses followed, trailing down and around his thick, strong neck. The earthy scents of musk and sandalwood and Xylvar swamped her senses, sending her beast wild. When she came
to his mouth, she bit his lip, soothing the sting with her tongue. She pulled back to stand again, putting her other boot on the other arm of his chair.

  And waited.

  High silver streaked his jaw and cheek. She grinned in not a little triumph. A beat of time passed, then another. Xylvar sucked in a breath and unzipped the boot, letting it drop to the floor.

  She turned giving him her back. With a flick of her fingers she unclipped then unzipped the fly of her soft stretch pants. Thumbs hooked in the waistband, feet spread about a foot apart, she pushed the fabric down over her hips to her thighs.

  Bent and pushed them to her ankles and pulled them off.

  Leaving behind a tiny red thong.

  Still bent, she looked through the gap between her knees. He swallowed, and she gloated silently.

  After slowly running her hand up her inner thighs, until she stood straight, she turned, backed up to the bed before she slid her vest’s zipper down, letting it unclip and part. She tugged off the top, and let it fall.

  Almost drowning in their combined mating scents, she sat on the bed, pushed herself back, unclipped her bra—and almost came when she saw the savage look on his face, and the angry, hooded heat of his eyes.

  Ah, yes, he felt nothing.

  Leaning on an elbow, she twisted her nipple before sliding her hand down her body to hook her thong and push it down and off.

  “I’m soaking wet. You coming or am I doing all this myself?” If he said go for it, she’d cry.

  The wheelchair hit the edge of the bed hard enough to almost throw him onto the bed. He hand-walked up her body until he came eye level with her lips. She licked them and smiled at his shudder.

  “You smell so good, we smell good together.”

  His nostrils flared, his eyes closed. “I wish I could be more.”

  “You’re everything. Now shut up.” She wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him.

  A wide, callused hand landed on her left breast, kneaded it almost cruelly. She arched into the touch, wanting more. “More, I like a little pain to heighten the pleasure.”

  Xylvar growled, silver streaking over his hands.

  “So did I.”

  “And you will again.”

  He gave a bitter laugh.

  She edged out her beast, allowed her nails to become silvery claws, ripped his T-shirt to shreds, flicking the pieces away until his glorious flesh lay bare to her touch. She scraped her claws over his lower rib area, up his back, across his shoulders. She bit his lips, swallowing his deep growl of pain and the shudder of his pleasure.

  She ran her smooth palms over the scratches, biting his ear. “Tell me, tell me how to pleasure you.”

  Arms wrapped around her, he rolled, putting himself beneath her. “Work it out.”

  She kissed him, hard, their lips bruising, their tongues clashing, as she alternately raked and soothed his fevered skin. Breaking their kiss, she trailed nips and kisses down his neck, over his shoulders, then down over the scars of his chest to his nipples, and bit.

  As he surged up in pain, she licked and suckled until he gripped her neck, holding her in place as he panted.

  His hand slid down her body until he cupped a cheek of her ass. “Sweet lord, I like a tight ass. Yours is like fucking steel.”

  She gave a snort of laughter. “Damn, that’s romantic.” She spread her legs so she was over his body, her wet core pressed to his skin. His fingers slid into her slit from behind, his thumb teasing her while his other fingers slipped through her moisture to stroke her clit.

  She slid farther up his body and he pressed in his thumb into her clit, still stroking, while his other hand skimmed up to knead a breast. And then she was on her back again, and his fingers slowed. She bucked.

  “Faster.”

  “No.”

  “Deadshit.”

  “At your service.”

  He slowed even more, pushing himself down her body, trailing tiny bites and wet kisses down her until he came face-to-face with her clit. He used his fingers to spread her as wide as she could go, put his mouth to her clit and suckled.

  She came so hard and so suddenly, she screamed, and clamped her legs around his head, thrashing against the waves of painful pleasure ripping through her.

  Afterward, she lay spread on the bed, too exhausted to move, even enough to make herself less on display. Xylvar’s breath, as harsh and savage as hers, made her wonder if he’d exhausted himself or did in some way experience pleasure.

  “Show me how to make you feel like I feel.” She wanted to share the body melting sensations in some way.

  “I already do.”

  “There must be more than touch and visualization.”

  “The visual sizzled. The rest is more than I’ve experienced since long before my accident. Now leave it.”

  He rolled, pulled himself to the end of the bed and threw himself into his chair.

  “You use your chair like a sanctuary or a prison.”

  “Comes with its own bars.”

  “It shouldn’t be your defense. You continually sell yourself short.”

  “Leave it. I’m nothing more than a distraction, because you’re trapped with me.”

  “Do you hear yourself. Hear how pompous that sounds? Hear the jerk you are? You’re telling me my desires and wants are of no true consequence. That my feelings are false. Like I’m such a whore, I can’t live without sex of any kind.”

  “You’re lying to yourself. You still remember the old Xylvar. I’m not him, Jaz. Don’t you see that? It isn’t just my body I blew apart. I exploded my mind, seared my soul. The Xylvar you knew doesn’t exist, if he ever did.”

  “He existed, as do you. Both Xylvars are good men, but I think this Xylvar, this man before me, is the man this version of Jasmine needs.”

  “Then Jaz, you need mental help.”

  She stared at him. “Your pity party shouldn’t include thinking you know what other people want or need.”

  He shook his head, and wheeled to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

  Jasmine slid off the bed, threw on a robe, tied it tight, and kicked the bed.

  She hated being told what she felt, what she should feel.

  Nobody ever listened to her.

  To her needs

  To her heart.

  28

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Xylvar scratched his unshaven jaw. His sensitized skin, tingling with remembered pleasure, kept him awake all night, as if demanding an encore. His mind, buzzing with memories, replaying her strip scene over and over in his head, hadn’t helped.

  He stared at the tracking lines, waiting to see where Jasper, or Scarface the van driver, might go to collect the gold and silver dust the group discussed last night. At each point where the man stopped, whether for a hamper drop-off or a gold and silver pickup, Xylvar noted down the location. He’d have some of the Katoom’s clan assigned to this operation check all stops later. If the people in any of the houses had gold or silver, then somewhere they had access to a Crea or Eli.

  The Crea holding cells that didn’t exist were apparently very full.

  His blood boiled to think of how these soulless bastards came by their bounty. But going in and killing the lot of them, not following protocol, could well mean losing this small thread of connection to the Pure movement. And this thread would hopefully lead to the recovery of the missing Crea and Eli, and Jaz’s friends.

  Shame. A good fight, some broken bodies, and pools of blood, might ease some of his tension.

  Jaz sat at the dining table, her back to him, while she busily followed a new cyber thread she thought might be somehow linked to an anti-Crea and Eli movement. It must be panning out, because she hadn’t done more than grunt at him all day.

  To be expected, since he hadn’t spoken to her either.

  They were more like a married couple than he’d realized.

  She wanted a connection, reassurances he’d try for a future. But even if the proc
edure healed his spinal cord and other nerve damage sufficiently, if, after the months of rehab he walked once again, the supernova black holes in his mind and soul couldn’t be cured.

  No nano-biotech for those.

  Assassins often lost much of their humanity. You couldn’t spend any amount of time killing people for no reason other than a cyber message ordering you to, and return to being a real Todd Law. A whole man, with a loving wife, and a house with a lawn for the kids to play on.

  Assassins simply existed. They did not get to live.

  No woman deserved to be left with what little Xylvar still had left to give. And Jaz, even this harder, more jaded version of her, or because of those changes, deserved far more. Far far more than a man who blew himself nearly in half one cold night.

  He wished he could be the man for her. But he had lived with unfulfilled love for many years, had survived heartbreaking hardship, and once more, he’d do the right thing by Jaz.

  He already planned to move away from Bozeman at the end of this mission. He only moved here to hunt Devlin Dempster, the man Xylvar had been given the mission to assassinate and ultimately failed, blowing himself up instead.

  He glanced back at Jaz and frowned. Silver streaked up and down her arms, as if she couldn’t control it. That she’d stem the flow, and it would rush past her barriers, over and over again.

  Was he the cause of her unrest, or what she hunted on her link? There’d be no asking, because he hungered to hold her, to tell her she was enough to bring him back to life. That she alone was capable of his redemption. To ask just might be to give in and truly fail the woman he loved.

  Jaz sighed, stood, and went to the sink to make yet another cup of coffee. A fresh cup in hand, she walked to the living room window and stared out at the street.

  “I’m thinking we should go inside Vanessa and James’s unit. Check out what they were really into.”

  Xylvar turned at the sound of her voice. “I think we should leave it alone. With them gone, I don’t have to worry about them bugging us. It’s a problem solved, as I see it. At the moment, we have other people to worry about.”