The Fire Within

by Marie Harte

  Chapter Two

  Samantha Brooks shifted a hunk of drenched hair out of her eyes and sneezed. She hadn’t been back through Seattle in months and now thought she should have postponed this trip until the weather warmed.

  February usually brought snow, but on this unfortunate Thursday night—no, she amended as she checked her watch, make that way-early Friday morning—the weatherman had correctly predicted freezing rain. Too bad she hadn’t unpacked her heavy winter coat or even an umbrella.

  Shivering in a thin leather jacket, not in the least waterproofed, she sighed and stared at the blazing neon sign of Seattle’s newest nightspot, Outpour.

  “Catchy title,” she murmured and banged on the front door. Checking her watch, she noted the hour had passed closing time, almost four a.m. Damn, she’d wanted to see the club in full swing but her flight had landed later than expected, there’d been that haggling over the location of her luggage, then the rental car agency had lost her reservation and she’d had to fight for their very last car, a compact beer can on wheels. Well, she was here now. Maybe she could plan a workup of what the club was like after-hours, get a fresh feel for the place without bodies before she started her improvement assessment for Gerry.

  A rivulet of water managed to sneak under the collar of her jacket, sending a frisson of cold down her spine.

  She knocked harder. Surely the staff remained behind to clean up. She thought she heard music. After standing another minute in slushy rain, she pushed on the door, surprised when it opened.

  Once inside she felt instantly warmer and wandered down a darkened hall to the low hum of music and the dim glow of lights.

  Stripping out of her sodden jacket, she carried it to the nearest bar, looking for a hint of anyone present.

  “Hello?”

  Her only answer was the muted thrum of Prodigy pulsing through surround sound speakers. Someone had been cleaning, she noted, seeing the massive trash bins staged at various points in the overlarge room. The smell of stale beer lingered in the air, mixed with a hint of citrus cleanser that made the stench almost pleasant.

  Chrome tables and matching chairs with neon coloured cushions littered the main floor that surrounded the dance area. Throughout the room several higher platforms housed booths and tables, designed, she imagined, to hint at exclusivity.

  Staring around her, she spied a second bar across the room. She gathered her jacket and approached the barstand, looking behind it in hopes of finding someone to talk to. This area appeared recently cleaned, the countertops shining and devoid of debris. Leaving her sopping jacket and satchel on a barstool obscured by the bar, she resumed her study of the area.

  Someone had to still be here. She wandered around looking for signs of life and noticed a door reading ‘employees only’ cracked open. Much as she longed to go to her hotel and deal with this later, she needed to find out who had left the doors unlocked and the floor untended.

  She entered cautiously, feeling like the dim-witted victim in a horror movie who searches an abandoned warehouse only to find death in the arms of a deranged serial killer. Samantha despised those films for portraying the victims as so hopelessly stupid. But as she descended step after step, she wondered at her own intelligence.

  Maybe I should just come back tomorrow. Her footsteps sounded like thunder on the cold concrete of the basement floor, and she hesitated as she reached the end of the stairwell light’s perimeter.

  “Hello? Is anyone here?” She flicked the light switch at the bottom of the stairs, not surprised when nothing happened. “Damn.” Gerry could deal with the absent employee tomorrow. There was no way she was going to tramp around a dark basement, especially one that felt this eerie. She couldn’t be sure if her imagination ran wild, but she swore she could feel someone, or something, watching her from the dark.

  “I’m outta here.” She turned around and put one foot on the steps when the stairway light flickered and died. Goosebumps crawled over her skin, making her shiver with more than just cold.

  Reaching for the railing, she had ascended the second step when a hand settled hard over her shoulder, pulling her back into a large body.

  She shrieked and flailed, trying to free herself from the strong arms suddenly caging her to a steely male frame.

  “Hold,” a deep voice sounded near her ear.

  She immediately froze, her heart beating a mile a minute. Her breath caught as the arms around her loosened. A hand tugged at her wet hair, then trailed over her face and down her chest, lingering over her breasts.

  Her face heated and she tried to yank herself from his grasp, terror gripping her hard, yet he continued to pat her down. His hands felt uncomfortably warm, stirring both fear and a curious ache in her loins that made absolutely no sense.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to come back here?” the deep voice asked. “I’m not your plaything.” His hands returned to her breasts and tightened almost painfully. Odd, but his tight grip only excited her further.

  As his words dawned, Samantha breathed deeply and sought some control over her off-kilter emotions. Okay, so the guy wasn’t some psycho killer. He thought he knew her.

  “Look, there’s been some misunderstanding. I don’t know who you are, but the owner invited me here.”

  His hands slowly left her body, grazing her nipples and shooting sparks through her already overloaded senses. She turned cautiously, ready to run at any moment. A sudden light lit the room and she blinked at the glare of flame in his hand. Odd, but she couldn’t see the source of flame. If she didn’t know better she’d swear his fingers were on fire. He cursed softly, breaking her stare on his hand and drawing her attention to his face. And all thoughts of nonexistent matches and lighters vanished.

  Her eyes widened as they took in the dark-haired Adonis standing before her. Black hair grazed his shoulders, framing a face steeped in sensuality. Fathomless black eyes gazed at her, from her head to her toes, making her want to cover herself from his brazen inspection. Yet his study wasn’t the least bit leering. It was full of male speculation, and downright dangerous.

  Samantha couldn’t help returning his study. The man had surprisingly arresting features, from his straight, aristocratic nose to his stubborn, squared jaw. And his body…tall and muscled, he could have appeared right at home in a muscle magazine.

  “You aren’t Janet.” His voice oozed sex appeal, dark and husky, like the rumble of thunder that passed overhead.

  “No, I’m not.” She took a small step back, needing to regain her senses. Adrenaline coursed through her system, as much from the fright he’d given her as from his luring attractiveness.

  He sighed and lowered his lighter. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “Obviously,” she muttered and sneezed. She saw his full lips quirk into a smile and her heart beat double-time.

  “As you can tell, the lights are out due to the storm. Perhaps we should head upstairs, where you can introduce yourself and explain what you were doing down here.” He nodded to the stairs behind her, his words clearly an order rather than a suggestion.

  She didn’t care. Samantha wanted heat and more distance from the man rousing her sleeping libido. As she turned and quickly climbed the steps, she could feel his gaze on her back like a physical caress.

  Shaking her head, she reminded herself that too little sleep and this weather had made a muck of her sensibility. Stiffening her spine as she entered the warm atmosphere of the club once more, she headed for her things behind the bar and turned once she had a firm grip on her satchel.

  She hadn’t heard him move and gasped to find him standing right behind her. Had this guy never heard of personal space?

  She swallowed audibly. Was it her, or did he seem even taller than the six-four she’d earlier estimated? “I’m Samantha Brooks, the assessor Gerry Barnham hired. I take it you work here.”

  “Let’s see some ID, sweetheart.”

  She clenched her jaw. When he crossed muscular arms over a massiv
e chest and leaned against the back wall, unmoving, she removed her wallet, flashed him her driver’s licence and waited impatiently while he examined it.

  Finally he nodded. Stuffing her wallet back into her bag, she turned to face him again, disturbed by his arrogance and his larger-than-life sex appeal. “And you are?”

  “I bartend here for Gerry.”

  Not a bouncer. That surprised her. With his stature he could easily intimidate those not playing by the rules. But if he was one of the bartenders…he had to be Darius Storm. Gerry had mentioned the amazing draw his newest employee had, bringing in more women than the club knew what to do with. Seeing him, she understood the attraction.

  The man raked her up and down with an assessing gaze, his eyes returning to her face and roaming over her as if committing her features to memory. “I’m Darius.”

  She released a pent-up breath, hearing him confirm his identity. He really did work here. Unfortunately, her evil twin, the sexual imp dwelling inside her, lamented that he wasn’t a sexual lunatic bent on ravishing her. She cursed her treacherous imagination and the blush that inexplicably stole over her cheeks and focused on the here and now.

  His left eyebrow rose, clearly telling her he’d noticed the blush. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight. Gerry mentioned you’d arrive sometime this weekend.” He leaned closer to her, his arm moving around her and she tensed. He smelled of rain and spice, a scent she couldn’t place but one that made her want to kiss the arrogance from his lips.

  Instead of grabbing her, as he appeared ready to do, he pulled his hand from behind her back and handed her a towel with a smirk. “You’re soaking wet.”

  Irritated that he made her nervous and that he knew it, she released her satchel and grabbed the towel from his hands, stifling a breath when her fingers touched his. A flare of heat raced up her arm from the contact and she couldn’t help the shiver that passed through her.

  He frowned. “You must be freezing.” Moving swiftly, he wrapped her in his arms, much more gently than he had earlier.

  “Hey! What the hell—” She paused as heat radiated through her. “Ah,” she moaned, warmed by his unnaturally hot body. Hot in more ways than one, she amended.

  With tenderness she wouldn’t have credited him, he pressed her face against his chest. She could feel his heart beating rapidly against her cheek and wondered if she wasn’t the only one affected by their proximity. But he made no other move than to hold her while her shivers passed.

  Belatedly, she realised her hair and jeans were drenching him. “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice more husky than she’d like. “I’m getting you all wet.”

  He rubbed his hand over her back in slow swirls, making her melt into his rock solid frame. Then he shifted slightly, making her aware of something else rock-hard against her belly.

  My, oh my, was all she could think of the ridge that seemed to grow as he held her. Before she could say or do anything, however, he released his hold on her, putting some distance between them.

  “You should feel better now.” His eyes blazed, a strange hint of colour seeming to swirl within the black depths. Then he blinked and the oddness vanished.

  “I feel much better, thanks.” Samantha couldn’t stop staring at him, now understanding Gerry’s comments about females visiting the club in droves.

  In less than ten minutes in Darius’ presence, she wanted to jump his bones. Her nipples ached and her loins throbbed, and he’d done little more than hold her.

  Time to go, right now.

  She frowned and scooped up her bag and jacket, containing a shudder as the coat soaked through the sleeve of her shirt. “Well, sorry to have disturbed you. I see you’re still busy so I’ll just be on my way.” She looked around for a phone. “I just need to call a cab.”

  “I’m about finished here. I’ll take you home.” He made the suggestion sound like a command.

  “No.” She must have said it too forcefully for he raised a brow. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t want to put you to too much trouble. Just point me to a phone and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  He pointed her to a phone and watched her as he finished cleaning the tables in the club. “Do I scare you?” His mouth twisted into a wry smile.

  She bristled. “No. But I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he said with a suggestive grin, his eyes focused on her stiff nipples. “But I’m more than willing to give you a ride…home. After all, it’s probably my fault you’re all wet.” He paused and stared hungrily at her body, resting on her groin.

  She couldn’t believe his nerve, but when she opened her mouth to blast him, he added oh-so-innocently, “Had I been upstairs when you first arrived, I could have spared you the rain and told you to come inside.” His eyes gleamed, knowing full well she’d understood his sexual undertones.

  The jerk! Unfortunately, his words stoked her imagination into almost forgetting her self-imposed celibacy. Despite his comments and his arrogance, she sensed he’d make her forget any man she’d ever been with before. It was all she could do not to run for the door when the taxi finally blared its horn.

  “I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder in a warning, intending to adjust his attitude once she collected her thoughts after a good night’s rest.

  “Yes, you will,” came his definite reply.

  * * * *

  Darius watched the woman go with blazing eyes. Arousal, strong and true, flared within him, surprising him at the sheer scope of need flooding his system.

  In the endless days spent in this tedious world, he’d not once felt such intensity about a female as he did this one. And he didn’t even know her. Obviously his body recognised their perfect chemistry.

  He shook his head as he cleaned the rest of the club. Perhaps fortune finally smiled upon him. What else but fate could be responsible for his decision to switch clean-up shifts with Michelle then to stay late so Mike could leave early to be with his girlfriend?

  Darius had thought to leave a half-hour ago but for some reason had delayed returning ‘home’. He grinned, recalling the full breasts he’d recently felt against his chest.

  Returning the large trash bins to their places, he threw all the cleaning supplies back in storage and locked the door behind him as he left.

  As the cold rain pounded from the heavens, he walked to his truck. Once inside the ‘89 Chevy Blazer, he quickly radiated enough heat from his body to warm the entire truck and melt the ice from the windshield.

  Couldn’t Arim have sent them to a place where the weather was at least comparable to Tanselm’s warm temperatures? In the miserable year he’d been in this Seattle, he had yet to see a day’s temperature near that of Tanselm’s growing season. He sighed and pulled out from the parking lot. Heading for the house that he shared with his brothers, he felt another bout of homesickness coming.

  In his mind’s eye he breathed the pure air of his homeland, saw amidst the clear blue sky canopies of the western territory’s legendary rilk trees. Funny, but the glorious leaves dotting Tanselm’s sky were the same shade as Samantha Brooks’ eyes.

  His thoughts took a swift turn as he drove towards Greenlake. At this rate, Tanselm would be all but destroyed before they returned. Not for lack of trying, but because not one of them could find a woman with the fortitude or mindset to accept their way of life.

  In the beginning, Darius had figured to use sex as a means to find a mate. Unfortunately, his many couplings left him physically sated but spiritually drained. At least in Tanselm the women he slept with fed that natural part of him needing a deeper contact, an awareness of life around them.

  Here on this plane, the women he’d joined for sex had given him physical pleasure and little more. And truth be told, the sex hadn’t been that great. There had been no mental stimulation, just games and more games, especially once they realised he had three identical brothers.

  Grimacing, he pulled into the drive of
a monstrous house overlooking the lake, an abode barely befitting the Royal Four, but it seemed the best they could hope for in this world.

  He parked his truck behind Cadmus’ Jeep and next to Marcus’ BMW. Aerolus had yet to purchase a vehicle, and considering his new penchant for teleportation, Darius didn’t see his oddball brother buying one.

  Much as he was glad for the respite from the rain, he couldn’t help glaring at the insides of his truck—a mechanical monstrosity shielding him from nature. What he wouldn’t give for a horse.

  Climbing down from the bulky vehicle, he headed for the front door. He entered to find the house dark and made his way quietly to his bedroom on the second floor. Having lived his first few months in this realm in the wilderness, living off the land, he freely admitted to liking the comfort of this house, as small and feebly constructed as it was.

  Not made of rock or steel, the house had been built of wood and brick, all substances that would melt under his blistering touch. In fact, nothing here could withstand a sorcerer’s attack, save him and his brothers. They never used the odd security device previously installed in the house. As if four Storm Lords needed protection from any of these inhabitants.

  In his room, he discarded his clothing, draping his coat on a chair but dumping the rest on the floor. Moving into the adjoining bathroom, he gratefully removed the contacts clouding his vision. Setting the brown lenses in solution, he looked up at his reflection, glad to see himself once again.

  His hair and face looked the same, his crimson irises dull with fatigue. His body however, had begun to thin. With critical eyes he perused his upper body. The heavy muscle that he’d exercised daily at the castle had disappeared, leaving him leaner than a true warrior of Tanselm should ever be.