Blood and Fire

by McKenna, Shannon

  She nodded, swiping angrily at the tears rolling down her face.

  “It does matter, what your feelings are,” he said. “And this is why. Remember that first conversation we had, in the diner? I offered to kick asses for you? And you said, ‘you are my champion. ’”

  “Yes.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “King told me that phrase triggered my programming,” he said. “Later on, Seth and Con and Davy went through the diner, and they found remote-activated sound gulpers attached to every table. He had a record of our conversation, Lily. That’s where he got that phrase.”

  “So?” She opened her eyes, glassy and glittering.

  “So? My error was in assuming that it was impossible that we could have been overheard in the diner. If we weren’t, then there was no other way he could have known that phrase.”

  She shrugged. “I fail to see how it changes anything. You were wrong. Why does it matter what the reason for your wrongness was?”

  His scarred knuckles turned white. “What matters is how I felt about it,” he said. “It blew my mind. That I could know for a fact that you were one of his, and still love you. Still be willing to die for you.”

  Her mouth quivered. She looked almost scared.

  “I thought, at the time, it was because he’d programmed me. But it wasn’t that, Lily. It was my heart that knew the truth, all along.”

  She shook her head, eyes squeezing shut. “That’s not fair.”

  “I don’t give a shit about fair. King messed with my head that day. But he never touched my heart. My heart never faltered, Lily. I don’t have to make excuses for it. I don’t have to apologize for it. It loved you all along. Only you. I always will.”

  Lily rubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I don’t know if I can do it again.”

  “Do what?” He grabbed her hands, kissed her wet, salty knuckles.

  “Trust you,” she said. “It’s not like I have manual controls. It’s an ‘open sesame’ kind of thing. It’s magic.”

  Hope leaped up, hot and eager. “That’s no problem,” he said. “I like magic. I go for challenges. I’ll make you trust me again. Let me give it my best shot. You can give me regular updates on my progress, say, every fifteen years or so? Sound good?”

  She dissolved in giggles, sniffles. “You are so full of shit.”

  “Not about loving you.” He cupped the back of her head, pulling her into the kiss he’d been dying for ever since he jumped out the window of that inferno.

  And she didn’t pull back.

  It bloomed, hot and wild and beautiful, warping them into that magic place, out of time, out of this world. He’d known they could make it back here, to this wild, secret verdant place where their souls were joined. That in this place, he would be able to show her how deep the roots of their love penetrated. To the ends of the earth, and beyond.

  He offered himself to her, and joy exploded in him as she did the same. Her heart had never faltered, either, beneath it all where the real truth lay, like a secret pearl.

  They twined together, trying to get inside each other.

  Her dress was down to her waist and her bra undone before he knew what he was doing. He was cupping, suckling, licking, and worshiping her sweet, kissable tits with frantic tenderness while his other hand was busy under her skirt. Stroking and petting for those velvet hot inches of soft bare skin above the gartered hose.

  He lifted his head to admire her, glowing against the black lace underwear, thighs wide. His heart was going to crack open. She was so beautiful.

  He plucked the panties aside and stroked the tight, furled folds of her pussy, glowing, gleaming with lube. Cherishing her, hungry and breathless and reverent as he kissed her, mouth, fingers, and tongue delving, dipping into both sweet-hot wells of sensation at once.

  He could have made her come right off, but he danced around it. This was too important to rush for a quick thrill. This moment would seal their bargain, for all time. He could wait and wait. Every sweet stroke a message, a poem. A song of love and longing.

  After a whole lot of that, she was lifting herself against his hand, her pussy clenching around his fingers. Pawing the front of his pants.

  “Damn it, Bruno,” she panted, crabbily. “Give it to me!”

  “But I wanted to make you come before I—”

  “Now!” she snarled.

  Oh, well. That worked for him. He helped her with the pants and whipped it out. He was hard as cast iron, hot as a brand. He hoped he’d last long enough to bring her off. Please, God. At least that long.

  She grabbed his forearms, her nails digging into the coat of his tux. Their eyes locked, jaws clenched at the terrifying significance of every gasp, every sigh. He fitted himself against her. They moved, seeking the angle . . . found it . . . and oh, God. The heat. The wetness.

  The long, tight, blissful slide to oneness.

  They paused. He was terrified to let her move, afraid he’d explode, that it would be over too soon. Then Lily touched his face and brought her fingertips, wet with his tears, to her mouth.

  His fear vanished, drowned in a swell of emotion. Her legs wound around his, and they surged and moved. Her bright gaze was the thread that held him to the world as he knew it. He never wanted it to end, but it wasn’t up to him. It was life itself, swelling up huge and glowing.

  Until it burst its bounds and carried them away.

  Some time later, he felt Lily’s hand in his hair, gently stroking the scar. She smoothed the mark on his cheekbone with her thumb.

  “There’s something you’ve never said to me,” he prompted. Not giving a shit if he came across as needy or grasping. “I said it to you, but you never said it back. At least, not directly.”

  Her lips curved. “Well. You know me. I’m a cast-iron broad.”

  “Right,” he murmured. “So hard, you’ll run into a burning building to save two little kids who aren’t even yours.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “You did, too.”

  He shrugged. “They were my brother and sister. And you were in there, too. I couldn’t live without you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I figured you were too good to be true,” she admitted. “And when it all fell apart, suddenly you were. Part of me wasn’t surprised. I never quite believed it could be real.”

  “It is too good to be true,” he said. “It’s fucking amazing, Lily. But it’s true, too. And you know what? I’m still waiting for you to say it. Spit it out. First time’s the hardest. Go on.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “Um, Bruno. There’s something I need to talk to you about first. It’s—”

  “I know,” he broke in, staving her off. “I know what you’re going to say, and I knew this was coming. It’s because of Tonio and Lena, right?”

  She bit her lip. “Ah, actually—”

  “It’s true,” he admitted. “My place is a madhouse. My bathroom stinks of the diaper pail, my sink is full of bottles, I’m drowning in laundry, I’ve got Zia Rosa smeared all over my life. It’s not like before.”

  “Um, I knew that,” she said. “Actually, I was going to say—”

  “It’s not like I can whisk you off to Paris on a whim, like before.” His voice was tight. “It was my decision to take Tonio and Lena. I made it alone, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to—”

  “Bruno, I’m pregnant,” she said.

  He stared at her. He gasped for breath. “Pregnant?”

  “Six weeks. We played with fire, remember? More than once.”

  Lily cupped his chin, pushed it until his jaw clacked shut. She waited for his reaction, soft lips pressed flat. Bracing herself.

  The sun was rising inside his chest. “You, ah . . . you want to . . .”

  “To have this baby?” she finished. “Yes. I do. I plan to.”

  “Ah,” he said, helplessly. “I, uh, see.”

  “I was going to give you the same spiel you just gave me. That I’d understand, if Ton
io and Lena are enough for you to deal with. I made this decision alone, and I don’t hold you responsible if you don’t want—”

  “Oh, no,” he burst in. “Oh, no, Lily. You got it wrong. I want it. I want it so bad.” He hid his face against her belly and lost it.

  It took a long time for it all to work its way through him. His feelings ran so deep. They were entwined with everything else. Mamma, Tony. The lost brothers and sisters.

  And now, suddenly, his future, too.

  She curled herself down around his head, kissing his hair, stroking his shoulders. He pressed his face against her belly, tears soaking into her dress. He was amazed, humbled, at the idea of new life, flickering into being inside her. Making them one. Oh, yeah.

  He loved it. A little brother or sister for Tonio and Lena.

  He snorted back tears, lifting his head. “Oh, shit,” he said, appalled. “I think I trashed your dress.”

  She laughed silently and dug a tissue out of the purse that lay on the carpet by her feet. “I don’t care,” she said. “So. Your life is all diapers and bottles. By a funny coincidence, mine will be, too, in a few months. So I guess it makes se to just—”

  “Marry me?” he blurted. “Immediately?”

  She froze, midword, mouth still open. “Ah . . . ah . . .”

  “I was raised a bastard,” he said. “I want my kid to have my name. I feel very strongly about it. I hope that’s not too antique for you.”

  She shook her head, eyes wide. Speechless.

  “Good,” he said, with feral satisfaction. “Mine. All mine.”

  “Oh, stop it.”

  “Let’s go tell everybody,” he urged. “Right now.”

  “Um, no,” she said, primly. “Not yet. I need to clean up first.”

  There was a bathroom attached to the little library, oh joy and rapture. He stood outside the door while Lily put herself back together.

  So happy, he was terrified of it. It was too good. It couldn’t be real.

  He didn’t take his eyes off the door, and even that wasn’t enough to soothe his nerves. Like she might vanish into the mirror, dissolve into smoke, slip out a ventilator shaft.

  But a few minutes later, the door opened, and there she was, dress straightened, makeup refreshed, lips crimsoned. She’d taken the pins from her hair. It rippled and swirled. The fuzz above her crown backlit by the light was illuminated like an angel’s halo. She made his eyes ache.

  “My God, you’re beautiful,” he said.

  Her lashes swept down, the lips curved up. “Thank you,” she said demurely. “So are you, incidentally.”

  “I’m so happy, I think I’m going to faint,” he warned.

  “No problem,” she assured him. “I’ll just get one of those ice buckets and dump it over your head. Since it seems to be our God-given job to provide entertainment for this event.”

  His chest shook. “You know, the second we step out there, they’re all going to know,” he said.

  “Of course,” she said, steadily. “I am so ready. And by the way?”

  “Yeah?” he said.

  “I love you, Bruno.” Her smile made his eyes water. He felt his chest puff out. His feet floated up off the floor.

  They went into the corridor, pausing at the door to the ballroom. They could hear music. The swing band was playing the first dance. The tune was “Stand By Me.” How fucking perfect was that?

  He offered her his arm, gallantly. “May I have this dance?”

  She went up on her tiptoes, branding him with a lipstick mark.

  They shoved the door open, letting in noise and color, the racket and the chatter. The music and the laughter and the chaos.

  They stepped out together, into the light.

  BRAVA BOOKS are published by

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  Copyright © 2011 by Shannon McKenna

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be r

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  ISBN: 978-0-7582-7401-4