With shaking hands, I gather my box and walkie talkie, and as calmly as I can head for the main exit. There’s a horrific roar a split second before it hits, a massive explosion that throws me to the floor in the middle of the lobby. I feel rather than see the fire ball rip through the dining area into the lounge, bursting windows out into the portico.
The security chief lifts me to my feet. I clutch my box and we run, no holds barred into the night.
Breathing hard, we’re among the first to reach the designated phase five evacuation area beyond the yellow fire line tape.
“You’re cut,” the security chief says.
Reaching up, I touch my temple. There’s just a touch of blood. “It’s fine. How are you?”
“Fine, I think.” He turns so I can look him over. I nod at him. He, then, goes to confer with the firemen.
I get back to the task at hand. “Desk lead to all, check in evolution phase five.” Needing to be heard over the alarms and not afraid of startling guests at this point, I speak loudly into the radio now.
In front of me, every wing of The Avalon burns. Windows burst from the heat, thick black smoke plumes through the fresh ruptures, humans — staff and guests pour from all exits while firefighters rush in. Two more engines arrive as do ambulances and emergency vehicles.
Michael checks in first. “Main kitchen to lead. All staff evacuated. No injuries.” It’s a relief to hear his Cajun voice given the fire ball that originated in his kitchen.
On my evolution list, I check off the names of employees and guests who make it to the evacuation area. In an excruciatingly slow trickle, every team checks in with me either by radio or in person — every team except the master, Victor’s team.
“Desk lead to master, check in phase five reporting, please.” I wait and wait. Nothing. Not even static.
“Master!” I shout into the walkie talkie. “You’re the only team unaccounted for. Check in, please.”
Someone taps me on the shoulder. It’s the security guy who was with Victor.
“Where’s Mr. Santana?” I grill him.
“He separated from me on three in the south wing.”
“What?” I gasp. “You left him?” That’s totally against the rules. Evolution teams stay together.
He opens his mouth to elaborate further. Before he utters a sound, there’s a horrific boom as the top floor of the south wing crashes down to the floor below it. Then, in gruesome slow motion, the entire wing collapses as one by one each floor, unable to take the weight of all those above it, drops.
When the hideous domino effect reaches three — the floor where Victor was last seen, abject terror wipes all rational thought.
“No. No. No. Nooooo!” I charge under the yellow fire line tape. An arm shoots out, painfully halting me mid stride. The firefighter’s arm tightens across my ribs.
“Victor!” I beat at his arms. “Victoooooooor!”
Black smoke and wispy ash billow, engulfing the grounds of The Avalon. Large pieces of fiery debris fall from the facade.
The firefighter hands me off to the security chief and an EMT. They force me back, back and farther back. My legs won’t function. I drop to my knees, gripping the walkie talkie so hard my knuckles turn white.
“All companies, evacuate. All companies, evacuate,” comes the nauseating call ordering firefighters to pullout of an unsafe structure.
No. Please. Oh, no. This can’t be happening. Tears flow, unbidden and unchecked. I gag on the bile burning my esophagus.
I press the talk button on the radio and force my raw throat to make sound. “Please, Victor. Check in. Please, please. I need you, baby. I need to tell you that I love you.” My voice breaks. I let go of the button and wait. Again, there’s nothing. Painful radio silence.
“Spirits and ancestors, keepers of fire and flame, the raging inferno before me tame. I beg of you, let my love live another day. Bring him to me safely, through the danger please clear the way.”
“Oh my God.” It’s Gabs’ voice. Gabby’s here? Where? I glance behind me. There she is.
The fire has brought what looks to be all of Telluride out of their beds. They, staff, guests, even firefighters stare helplessly as the grand dame of southwestern Colorado burns to the ground.
Desperation and despair try to choke me, but I’m unwilling to let them take over.
Through a gap between the trucks, I watch the north wing collapse much like the south did. The stairwells. They still stand. If Victor made it into one of the sealed concrete tubes, there’s hope.
“Bruja, help him please,” I beg and continue my chant in a whisper.
I have to keep hope. Through the chaos of smoke, people and fire apparatus, I laser in on the steel doors at ground level, back and forth keeping watch as best I can on the three columns.
Open. Open. Open.
“Let my love live another day, through the danger please clear the way.” I whisper my prayer, my hope, my chant over and over to one door before moving on to the next.
Open. Open. Open.
And the far south door opens! And then there’s movement through the smoke.
I hold my breath, pleading with the bruja, goddesses, gods and fate.
And then a figure in yellow, a fireman carries an unconscious woman and right behind him — oh, god — right behind him is Victor, my Victor, carrying a small child.
Overcome by relief and gratitude — in a magnitude that saps my soul, I put my cheek to the blacktop and sob uncontrollably.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whisper to the night. “Thank you spirits, elders, guardians and elements, thank you all for helping me. So mote it be.”
chapter forty-seven
THROUGH THE ROAR of the fire alarms and the sounds of my feet on the stairs, I could’ve sworn I heard Cherie’s voice calling me baby and saying she loves me.
Fuck, Santana. It’s just adrenaline. Focus and get out alive.
My chest hurts. I tuck my nose and mouth deeper into the wet towel draped around my face. I follow the yellow jacket in front of me through the belching smoke. I follow him right to waiting EMTs. I lay the child on a gurney next to his mother. Someone shoves an oxygen mask in my face. Doubled over, I suck it in greedily. The same hands force me to sit on the back of the truck.
My security chief emerges from the smoke. I raise the mask to ask, “All accounted?”
“Yes, sir. Guests and staff.”
“Well done.” I muffle through the oxygen mask, give him a high five.
Once I saw the size of the evolution in south and how fast it was spreading, my instinct told me two things: it was arson and it was going to be bad. I glance up at my hotel, now a pile of fiery rubble.
Smartest thing I did tonight was put my girl on lead. She’d be close to several exits and as long as I heard her voice on the radio, and knew she was safe and unharmed, I could function.
Cherie? Where are you, peaches? I want to see with my own eyes that you’re okay.
I look up, search through the smoke, squint at the harsh flashing lights burning my retinas.
There she is, kneeling, straight ahead, two engines down. Coated in soot, cheeks streaked with tear tracks, sunshine hair dulled by a layer of ash, a red scratch on her forehead above her left eye — all in all, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
She stands, head tilted, looking at me, mouth trembling, fat tears streaming down her sweet cheeks.
I suck in on the oxygen.
Aw. It’s okay. I’m okay, sweetness.
I hold out my arms in invitation.
Come to me, Cherie.
Her steps are tentative at first. Then, runner girl takes over and she sprints, hurling herself at me with such a force that we topple over into the truck.
“Oh, Victor.” She sobs at my throat.
I rub her back, sit us up so I can look at her.
She won’t let go, though. Arms and legs wrapped around me, she clings so tightly it’s actually painful.
“Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that, again.” She beats my back with her tiny fists, still sobbing into my neck — big convulsing tremors.
Caressing her back, I just hold her, let her cry it out.
“Why didn’t you check in?” She whispers.
“My hands were kind of full carrying that kid.” I chuckle.
“It’s not funny!” She beats me more, which simply makes me laugh harder.
Easing her arms apart, I pull back to see her blue eyes. They’re ringed red and bloodshot, still pretty as hell. She uses her sleeve to wipe her nose, smearing snot and soot. Even filthy, she’s fucking adorable.
“I’m okay.” I lightly kiss her lips.
The light touch isn’t good enough for Cherie. Her fingers tangle in my hair, yanking by the roots to bring my mouth to hers. Ow. Fuck. That hurts so good. Her kiss oscillates wildly — hard, soft, frantic and, finally, tender.
Her fingers ease up on my scalp. “I love you, Victor,” she whispers in my ear.
I freeze. “What? What did you say?”
She sniffles through her tears. “I said, I love you.”
I unwrap her arms, cup her face in awe.
“Say it again,” I demand.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” she says between kisses all over my face.
Fuck!
I stand, swing my dream girl around. Over her shoulder, flames shoot into the sky. I don’t give a flying fuck. Let it burn. If I’d known Cherie needed a roaring fire to burn away that anxiety, I would’ve lit this place up in a heartbeat.
“I love you, too, sweetness, with every cell in my body.” I kiss my sooty peaches. “When are we getting married?”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s an audacious question, Mr. Santana.” But she smiles.
“Does that mean never or someday?” I grin at her.
“Maybe.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Someday.”
I’ll take it.
— The End —
Please enjoy this sneak peek of Soft Pleasure, book four in the Wolven Moon series coming soon.
Chapter One
Something’s different and I shiver. The whispers get super excited. They talk fast. I don’t want to enter the door I just opened. The whispers, though, they urge me to go in.
I’ve got an arm full of groceries and a giant tote slung over my shoulder. I ignore the odd sensation, tell the whispers to shut the hell up and step over threshold. The whispers are happy and go away.
Carine’s two small children run to me and accost my legs. “Soph! Soph! Soph!”
“Holy smokes, kiddos! Let me put this stuff down.” I giggle, because I love these kids and enjoy being their unofficial auntie.
“Fay. Oscar. Get off her,” Carine says. My very pregnant friend takes the groceries from me and puts them on her kitchen island. “They’re so excited because they don’t see you that much anymore.” A disapproving squint comes with the scolding.
The strange vibe I felt outside surrounds me in here. It’s stupid. I try to shake it off.
“Come here,” I say. Fay is four and I can still lift the girl in my arms for a super tight hug.
Her brother is another story. He’s a healthy seven. I gather him to my waist, kiss his forehead and hug him, too.
“Are you ready for a barbecue throw down?” I say in my best Bobby Flay imitation.
“Bring it!” Oscar hops up and down.
Fay bounces excitedly in my arms and, with a lisp, mimics her brother. “Bring it.”
“Outside,” Carine says. She unlatches Fay’s hands from around my neck and shoos the kids out the sliding doors.
Smiling, I watch the kids run to the play structure in the backyard and that’s when I see him on the terrace.
Piercing ice blue eyes pin me down with an intense stare. His perfect lips with a deep cupid’s bow on the upper lip and a full bottom are parted like he’s in shock and he holds his beer like he’s forgotten about it.
He’s what’s different here. He’s responsible for the unease I feel.
Moving with incredible grace, he follows Alexander, Carine’s husband, from the terrace into the kitchen. The man has blondish hair cut very close to his head which makes the receding sides a little less prominent.
Do I know him? He looks familiar.
His limbs are corded and lean. Not much, if any, fat covering that muscular bod. It ripples as he moves and, unbidden, I imagine what it would look like naked. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Aside from being sea-blue, his eyes are intelligent and bright. Rosy cheeks complement that full mouth. The face is a beautiful one, but formidable at the same time.
Maybe it’s not the face that scares the hell out of me, maybe it’s the acute response that he stirs with that stare — with his presence alone. The potent attraction is almost overwhelming.
I push the fear away as nonsense. After all, the first time I felt this kind of attraction it turned out to be nothing — turned into a good friendship is all.
Still, staring into this guy’s eyes is intense. Some powerful pheromones this guy has.
Carine points to the stranger and then to me, and makes the introduction.
“Soph, this is my second-cousin Gunnar Bodolf. Gun, Sophia Soft, my best friend in the whole wide world.”
I sense he’s holding his breath, just like I am. And I get the feeling he’s being extra gentle with my hand as he shakes it. But that doesn’t stop the electricity that sparks between us.
“Hello, Sophia,” he says softly. His deep voice with a sexy Euro-accent resonates into me, into my being — if you believe in that sort of thing.
I mentally order myself to say something coherent. His intense inspection of my eyes, face and body make it tough. That and my heart beats ten times its normal rate.
“I’ve heard a lot about you from Carine and Alex,” I say.
“Don’t believe a word of it.”
I laugh, which makes him smile. The smile softens the angles of his face and makes his eyes sparkle to a deeper blue.
“It’s all good, I assure you. They tell me you’re a soccer player.”
“Was a soccer player. I retired this year.”
“Oh.”
He doesn’t look to be that old. He can’t be more than in his early 30s, max. My surprise must have shown on my face.
“Injury.” Gunnar fills in the mystery.
Alex lifts a tray of barbecue tools from the counter and heads back outside.
“Some help, Gun.” Alex points at jars on the counter. “Grab the sauces.”
Gunnar flashes Alex a not so nice glance. “Sure, Alex.”
The former soccer player turns his attention back to me, smiles and lightly licks his left canine tooth like I’m tonight’s dessert.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophia.”
“Same.” I smile back as he steps through the patio door.
“A pleasure.” He repeats and continues to stare at me as he closes the screen. I let myself take a breath when he moves to the outdoor kitchen on the far side of the terrace.
“Whoa, girl. Is it hot in here or what?” Carine faux fans herself with an oven mitt.
I bite my lip and turn away from his hypnotic eyes. Taking an apron from the hook on the wall, I tie it on.
“You could have warned me,” I say.
“I told you he’d be here.”
“Yeah, but you failed to mention that he’s drop dead gorgeous and laves that wolf magic attraction full-on.”
“I thought I’d surprise you, shock your libido out of your self-imposed celibacy.” Carine slips into the walk-in pantry.
There is nothing wrong with celibacy. I just got out of a relationship and I’m not ready to jump into another one – not until I figure out how to actually have a relationship given my issues.
Freaks like me have to be careful. We can’t let others get close enough to see that we’re crazy. It’s tough to have a relations
hip when there are huge parts of yourself you can’t let anyone see.
From one of the grocery sacks I hauled in, I pull out a bag of potatoes and take them to the sink. Vegetable brush in hand, I scrub the spuds to within an inch of their lives.
The whispers come back. They’re low and slow, and they approve of Gunnar Bodolf.
I’ve heard whispers in my head for as long as I can remember. Though I’ve never completely understood their Gaulish language, they get their gist across rather well. Most times they’ve been a great help, steering me away from trouble and toward the right path. Even though they make me feel insane, especially the last few years with their increased chatter, I’ve learned to heed their opinions. There’s hell to pay when I don’t.
Carine returns from the pantry with an armload of onions, tomatoes and packages of buns.
“He’s still staring.” She draws out the word staring, winks and smiles at me.
Ignoring her is easy. Not looking back at him is harder. I feel his stare, feel a tremendous pull — me to him, him to me.
“How much potato salad do you want me to make?”
She places a big glass bowl in front of me. “This should be enough.”
I peel the potatoes, then take a chopping board and chef’s knife to the island. It takes everything I’ve got not to glance sideways to the man on the terrace.
WOLVEN MOON SERIES
SOFT SHATTER
SOFT FATE
ACCIDENTAL LOVER
SOFT PLEASURE
coming in 2017
For sneak peeks and other fun goodies, join Dany Rae’s reader list by clicking here.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hey there, I’m Dany Rae Miller.
Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3) Page 36