Sorcerous Flame (Harem of Sorcery Book 2)

by Lana Ames

  He learned things about me too: that I’d grown up in the city and could not believe how much it had grown in recent years; that I had ambitions of becoming a writer but hadn’t managed to produce much more than bad poetry and some fanfic that I was no-way, no-how showing to anyone; that I had never even had a particularly serious boyfriend, because I always seemed to sabotage things when I got panicked, though I’d been working very hard on trying to change that about myself.

  He did not learn that I’d been to a wild costume party last week where I had met a very strange woman who had told me a very strange story. I was more and more trying to tell myself that none of that had really happened…because, how could it have?

  (Though I still had no explanation for what had really happened last week.)

  But more than the conversations…I just felt so close to Mahlen. The words we said were less than half of what was being communicated. As we talked, his eyes held mine, and I read approval, even desire. Our hands touched often across the tiny table; each time, I felt that little spark of delight, and schemed how to ‘accidentally’ touch him again. I felt a warmth in my belly that I’d never felt with a man before. There was just something so right about this guy.

  I tried not to think about what I would do at the end of the evening. He would likely offer to drive me home…and I didn’t want to decide what to do about that until I absolutely had to. I wanted to stay at this table forever, suspended in this delicious liminal space where anything was possible and nothing was committed.

  The waiter had just left after taking our dessert orders when a voice behind us said, “Mahlen? Is that you?”

  We both turned to look. Two just plain gorgeous guys stood there: tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired and dark-eyed, tawny-skinned, oh my goodness. Why was I even noticing other guys? But these two…they were spectacular. And they looked uncannily alike.

  “The evil twins!” Mahlen cried, getting up with a huge grin and giving each guy a hug.

  Ah, twins, of course. That explained the whole…identical thing.

  He turned to me, still smiling broadly, with an arm around each brother. “Grace, this is Jorge and Javier, my two best friends in the whole world. Guys, this is Grace.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” One of the brothers—was he slightly taller than the other?—reached out a hand to shake mine. I took it, and felt another spark of attraction.

  Oh great. Now somehow my lust-response had been turned up to eleven, and I was reacting to every good-looking guy like I was some kind of starving nympho. “Nice to meet you, um,” I managed, stumbling when I realized I didn’t know which name to call him by.

  “Jorge!” He laughed. “I’m the cute one.”

  “Hey!” said the other brother—Javier. “Just ’cause you’re the artistic one doesn’t mean you’re cuter.” He stepped forward and took my hand as well. At least this time I was braced for the impact. “I’d argue that financial success is a good look on a man.”

  I glanced at Mahlen to see how he was taking this all—in two minutes, these dudes had flirted harder with me than he had all year (well, before tonight, anyway). But he was just laughing along with them. Enjoying their impact on me.

  Too weird.

  Javier’s mention of financial success made me look at them both more carefully. Indeed, even in the dim light of the restaurant, I could see that Javier was dressed expensively. It wasn’t a suit; more like business casual, but every piece fit him like it had been tailor-made. Jorge, on the other hand, was in loose-fitting cargo pants and an aged T-shirt—so aged that I couldn’t read whatever band name had once been printed on it. Over the tee was a plaid flannel shirt that didn’t do much to disguise his powerful shoulders.

  “Hey, sit down for a minute,” Mahlen said, grabbing a couple of chairs from an empty table next to us.

  “We can’t,” said Javier, as Jorge sat.

  “Sure we can,” Jorge said, stretching his long legs out in front of himself. “We won’t stay long, though; we just finished dinner and promised Mom we’d come by and help her with some things around the house.”

  “This late at night?” I asked.

  Javier shrugged and sat down too. “Just a light bulb, but it’s twenty feet up in her entryway and she’s scared of going up on a ladder.”

  “And she’s scared of the dark. So…”

  “So the mighty twins to the rescue.”

  “Wow, that’s very sweet,” I said.

  Jorge gave me a brilliant smile. “So yeah, Javier’s right: we can’t stay long. Just long enough to interrupt our good friend Mahlen’s date.”

  I almost automatically protested It isn’t a date when I remembered that, yeah, actually, it was a date. It had even been called the actual word. So I just smiled enigmatically back at the twins. At least I hoped it was enigmatic.

  The waiter arrived with our desserts—crème brulee for me and a dish of chocolate ice cream with a maraschino cherry on top for Mahlen. “Er, would the gentlemen like to order something as well?” he asked, clearly thrown by our surprise extra guests.

  “Nah, we’re full—we just ate in the other section over there,” Jorge said, pointing. “Thanks though.”

  “Of course.”

  After the waiter left, I picked up my spoon and tapped on the crisp shell of the brulee. Perfect. I tapped harder, cracking the crust, and took a bite. “Mmmmmmm,” I sighed. “Oh, this is a good one.”

  When I opened my eyes again (and when did I close them?), all three men were sort of gaping at me.

  Mahlen recovered first, and took a bite of his ice cream. “Yes, this place knows its desserts.”

  “So you got the simplest thing on the menu?” Jorge teased him.

  “It wasn’t even on the menu,” Mahlen admitted. “I’m not really one for the fancy stuff.”

  “And yet he’s eating here,” Javier observed, then turned to me. “So, tell us all about yourself, young lady. What makes you think you should date our Mahlen?”

  “Dude!” Mahlen yelped, before I could even respond. I knew Javier was teasing—I could see the glimmer in his eyes—but I had no idea what would be a good witty riposte. I’m terrible at that kind of thing. I always come up with something clever three days later. “You guys, I think I can hear your mom calling from here,” Mahlen went on. “Don’t you think you ought to be going now?”

  “Oh, it’s all right,” I told him, and then the perfect response came to me. I turned to Javier and said, “I think I should date your Mahlen because he’s a perfect gentleman and doesn’t ask me impertinent questions.” I gave both twins a sassy grin, and added, “Besides, he’s cute as a button. And I think I hear your mom calling too.”

  “Ohh, I’m wounded, mortally wounded!” Javier clutched his chest dramatically, then rolled his eyes over to look at his brother. “Georgie, dude, let’s away.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Jorge was already on his feet. He yanked his brother up out of his chair, then gave us both a brilliant smile. “Well, good luck, both of you.”

  “Thanks,” Mahlen said, and I nodded.

  They left without further drama. Mahlen and I looked at each other across the table, and then both simultaneously busted out laughing.

  “God, I’m sorry about that,” he said, when we’d recovered.

  I shook my head. “No, I meant it: it’s all right. I liked them.” I took another delicious spoonful of my crème brulee. “I’m glad they’re gone, though.”

  Mahlen’s smile was now a slow smolder. “Me too.”

  Chapter Three

  All too soon, it was time to make that decision.

  And Mahlen made it easy. “You don’t want to take a bus home at this time of night,” he said, as we walked back to his car. “I’m happy to drive you wherever you live—I don’t care how far it is. I’m still so excited about my client and the print and—well, everything.” He shot me a shy, adorable look. “I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep tonight, so I might as well spend the
time usefully.”

  “Driving me home is useful?” I asked with a smile.

  “Of course it is. If you don’t make it home safely, how will I ever be able to buy you another expensive dinner?”

  He unlocked his car and saw me seated comfortably before coming around to get into the driver’s seat. “So: where to?”

  I told him the general neighborhood where I lived, clear on the other side of town. It would have probably taken three different buses to get there, and I was grateful not to be standing on street corners this time of night. “I’ll tell you more specifically when we get closer,” I said. “There’s a trick to it; GPS systems always send you the wrong way.”

  “Got it.”

  We drove in companionable silence for a little while. I was struck once more by how comfortable I felt with him…though ‘comfortable’ really only told about half the story.

  Because I was also completely wound up. Honestly, I didn’t think I was going to be able to sleep either. My veins felt full of the sensation of…I didn’t know what to call it exactly…the fizziness of being near him. It wasn’t the full-on spark I felt when we touched, but maybe a younger sibling of it.

  I just wanted to be near him.

  Sadly, despite the fact that it was all the way across town, it seemed like we were in my neighborhood in no time at all. “Turn left at that next street,” I told him, and then directed him the rest of the way to my apartment building.

  “Oh, that is complicated,” he said, when he pulled up in front of the building. “How did you ever find it to begin with?”

  I giggled. “I almost didn’t. I was forty-five minutes late meeting my landlord the first time; I was sure he’d give up and leave, but he said everyone does it, so he didn’t worry.”

  “Wow.”

  “So, um.” I turned to look at him, here in the dark, in his idling car. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “It was my pleasure!” He also faced me. So close. A million miles away.

  I wanted to touch him. I wanted to invite him in. I…couldn’t think of a reason why not.

  Oh, right. I generally don’t bring men home on the first date. Or the second, or third. (Not that I had all that many dates…)

  But this was a man I’d known for a year!

  Sort of.

  We just gazed at each other. My heart pounded in my chest. At long last, he reached out a tentative, trembling hand, pausing a few inches shy of my face. “Grace, I—can I kiss you?”

  “Yes, Mahlen.” I leaned forward.

  His hand made the rest of the journey, and touched me gently on the cheek, as he also leaned forward. Sparks exploded in me again at his touch, and redoubled when our lips finally met. I moaned with surprised delight, leaning into the kiss even more. Oh, his lips were so delicious—soft and sweet—it couldn’t still be his chocolate ice cream after all this time. No, it was as if he were made of chocolate ice cream.

  He sighed and kissed me harder, pulling my face to his with a hand behind my head. Less gentle now, but somehow not bold enough; I reached up and pulled him to me closer, tangling my fingers in his amazing copper hair.

  My body squirmed in my bucket seat, wanting to be closer to him but confined by my seatbelt. I reached down to undo it, but that only sort of helped, because the gear shift was between us, and why in the world was he so far away from me?

  Mahlen gave a low chuckle and undid his own seatbelt, then reached up and turned off the ignition.

  And that simple act made my decision for me. I pulled away from the kiss for a moment and said, “Would you like to come in?”

  “More than anything in the world.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Of course I fumbled my keys at the building’s entrance and again at the door to my apartment, because I’m me. But eventually we were both inside, with the door shut and locked behind us.

  This was the moment when I was usually awkward and nervous all over again—especially after doing something like that with the keys—but that didn’t happen this time. “What an adorable apartment,” Mahlen said, looking around as I turned on a few low lamps.

  “I know, I love it,” I said. “It’s tiny, but it was the most charming place I saw by a mile. And cheaper than most of the others too. Maybe because half the people who wanted to see it never could find it.” I put my purse down on the futon couch and turned back to face him. “Do you want to see the rest of it? The whole tour takes about thirty seconds.”

  He grinned and nodded. “I think I can spare thirty seconds. But then I want to be kissing you again.”

  A shiver of delight passed over me. “Okay, um. Well, this is the living room and the kitchen and the dining room—all efficiently contained in this one room right here. And the office and the guest room too, when needed.” I waved around the space. “And if you’ll come this way, I’ll show you the rest.”

  He followed me into the little curve of a hallway—actually more just a bent angled space where the two larger rooms met. “The bathroom is through there,” I pointed at a door in the angled space, “and…my bedroom is here.” I led him into the bedroom, silently thanking This Morning Me for having had the presence of mind to make her bed, with clean sheets at that, and actually put most of her clothes away too. Especially since This Morning Me had so recently been Last Week Me, with…with whatever weird illness that had been.

  I shook my head to clear away the uncomfortable memories…and the lack of memories. Because Mahlen was standing right behind me, and now he was putting his soft, strong hands on my shoulders, and turning me slowly around.

  Our mouths met once more in a deep, astonishing kiss. Astonishing because now our bodies could meet as well. I leaned into him, greedily pulling him as close to me as I could, savoring the feel of him even underneath all our clothes. He was a strong, solid man; odd that he should also be so soft and yielding. He was everything I wanted to touch in a man.

  Except for all these dang clothes.

  And Mahlen was clearly thinking the same thing, because his hands were at the buttons on my jacket. I helped him undo them and shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor. Still, though, too much cloth, not enough skin. I tugged at my T-shirt, untucking it out of my jeans.

  Mahlen tossed off his own light jacket, letting it drop; then his hands followed mine, reaching up under my T-shirt. I hissed in a breath: oh, the sparks! We made a live current, the two of us; wherever we connected, I felt zings of pleasure and life and fulfillment—but also of heat and desire and hunger, such a deep hunger. Every touch just made me want more, need more.

  His hands, warm on my skin, moved upward, and now he was touching the bottom of my bra. I reached out for him, even as I tried not to stop him from what he was doing, but I wanted to touch him, I wanted to touch his skin, it could hardly be fair for him to touch me when I couldn’t touch him, could it?

  He gave a grunting laugh when he realized what I was trying to do, and drew back a moment, pulling his own T-shirt over his head and tossing it away, then returned his astonishing mouth to mine.

  My hands ravished his chest—oh, that smooth warm skin, very little hair on his chest, just strong muscles, and the world’s most adorable freckles. I pulled away from our kiss and bent down to kiss his sun-spots, then ran my tongue over his tiny, erect left nipple.

  He shivered at the touch of my tongue, so I did it again, and this time he moaned. “Oh Grace.” His hand caressed the back of my head, and the heat in me doubled and redoubled.

  I stood up abruptly, pulled my own shirt over my head, then took his hand and led him the three steps to my bed. He followed eagerly. I pushed the covers aside, and together we sank down onto the mattress as I pulled him down atop me.

  He kissed me deeply another minute, then raised up off me and scooted my bra straps down off my shoulders, pushing them down my arms, freeing my breasts but leaving the bra still fastened around me, like a lacy straitjacket. I wriggled beneath him, gasping as he lowered his mouth to my left breast, e
choing my action of a moment ago…oh so deliciously. He suckled and ran his tongue over the nipple, filling both hands with my breasts. I’m small, and his hands were huge; I felt lost in him, tiny and lost and so alive.

  He switched to the right breast, running his teeth over my rock-hard nipple before suckling once more. I hissed and gasped again, writhing helplessly beneath him. I could hardly move my arms; they were trapped by my bra and pinned by his weight atop me. All I could do was take the pleasure he was giving me.

  And he didn’t stop at my breasts. When I was about at the point of crying out with ecstatic frustration, he scooted lower, his clever hands caressing my belly for a moment, and covering it with kisses, before he found the button on my jeans. He undid the button and pulled down the zipper and put his hands on my hips and just…smoothed the jeans and underwear off me like he did this every day. Like the clothes themselves had decided to help him.

  I couldn’t even marvel at that before a new shock of electric delight shot through me. His kisses just kept lowering, and lowering, and lowering…and then his lips were at my lips, my lower lips, and his teasing tongue was darting all around my opening, touching and flicking away from my clit, driving me wild. I twisted on the bed, trying to free my arms, trying to do something—but he murmured against my clit, “No, no, lay still, I’ve got this,” and that was so silly and so great that I just moaned and let him pleasure me.

  He licked and kissed and then his tongue pushed inside me. I groaned again and lifted my hips, rising to meet him, to fuck his tongue, rocking my hips against his face. He had one hand underneath me, under my ass; and now those wicked, naughty fingers crept closer, into my crack, just hovering, skimming close to the bud there, not touching…just almost. And his other hand was now busy up front, following his tongue, reaching inside me, probing, finding that little spot of joy that just about sent me over the edge.