Phoenix Burning

by Patti O'Shea

  It made her even crazier when, mouth on her pussy, he would look up the length of her body and meet her gaze.

  “Don’t make me come,” she pleaded breathlessly. “Not like this.” Inside me, Ivar. I want to come with you inside me.

  His grip held her mostly in place and not being able to move her hips the way she wanted, not being able to push herself up to his mouth, left her—

  Insanely aroused, he told her and she felt the smile against her thigh.

  “Ivar.” She dragged out the second syllable of his name as he thrust his tongue inside her just at that moment.

  “Yes, I know.” He moved over her, covering her body with his. His goatee glistened with her juices for the second time that night and the sight had her arching up into him. That pressed the wet head of his cock into her belly and Phoenix growled—half in frustration, half in desire.

  “I know, I know.” Eyes locked on hers, he slipped a hand between their bodies and she felt his cockhead slide up and down the lips of her sex and hitting her clit with every upward motion.

  She cursed at him, not sure what she was saying anymore, just trying to convey her urgency.

  More sweat was running from his temples as he fought for control. She didn’t need that; she just needed him. Phoenix tried to tell him that, but words drifted from her brain. It didn’t matter. He knew.

  Ivar’s cock penetrated her, barely entering her pussy. Her attempt to force him deeper was preempted and he moved at his pace—slow. So slow she swore he moved millimeter by millimeter deeper. She undulated, not to hurry him, but because the pleasure of him entering her like this was so intense, her body couldn’t contain it, couldn’t handle it without moving.

  It seemed to take a very long time before he was fully seated within her—and then he didn’t move. Phoenix wanted to glare at him, wanted to curse at him again, but instead she said, “Please, please, please, please—”

  His mouth covered hers, cutting off her begging. When he ended the kiss and his lips returned to her throat, she moved her head back, giving him room. She knew what he wanted, needed then. Ivar’s fangs were gentle as they pierced her skin and she barely felt it over the riot of sensations he raised in her.

  Finally, he moved. Slowly. But he released her hips, allowing her to move with him. His cock thrusting in and pulling back and thrusting again made her whimper. So good. So damn good.

  Phoenix increased the pace gradually, hoping he wouldn’t notice and stop her. Instead, Ivar’s motion became more urgent. He was close to coming, she knew it, and the part of her she’d been trying to hold back broke free. Her receptors came out, and like his teeth pierced her flesh, they penetrated his aura.

  Her orgasm made her cling to Ivar and arch harder, trying to get his cock deeper inside her. It pushed him over the edge and as he jerked inside her, she drank greedily, taking all the energy she could draw from him.

  Chapter Eight

  Phoenix tapped her foot against the leg of her chair and stared at the words on the screen in front of her. She hadn’t worked on the screenplay she was supposed to be writing. Instead of the cute romantic comedy that was her project in progress, she’d written some kind of paranormal suspense story—one with so much sex, it would be suitable only for the adult entertainment industry.

  She heard the shower shut off and sighed. Ivar was going to be a problem. Or more accurately, her inability to say no to him was going to be a problem.

  Show me how much you want me, she’d told him. She’d expected hard and fast and crazed. That wasn’t what he’d given her. No, Ivar had made love to her and stolen her brain cells with every soft caress. Why else had she allowed him to hang around and protect her the last three days? Not because of any ongoing threat, that was for sure.

  That also explained why she’d spent hours writing vampire porn with a hero who bore more than a passing resemblance to Ivar and had cast herself as his intrepid and highly sexed heroine. Stupidity also covered why she worried over him while he slept, fearful of how out of it he was. If a vampire hunter ever showed up, he would be helpless, staked without ever waking up.

  After saving her file, Phoenix closed the program and shut down the laptop. She needed to tell Ivar to go home. For three nights she’d fed only from him—not just once, but multiple times. She’d kill him if she didn’t convince him to leave, but she hadn’t dressed like a woman about to send a man packing. No, she’d put on close-fitting yoga pants and a matching sports bra, and while the gear was casual, it was also sexy.

  Yep, she’d definitely lost her mind.

  “Perhaps it’s only your common sense,” Ivar said from behind her.

  Phoenix swiveled in her seat, but her glare lost all its heat when she saw him wearing nothing except jeans. Damn, his body was perfect, all lean muscle and hard angles. His damp hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes and it underlined his intensity. She wanted to run her hands over his broad chest and shoulders, explore each ridge of his abs, and then push the denim out of her way and—”Put the rest of your clothes on!”

  He gave her that slow, sinful smile of his. “Why? You’ve seen me wearing less.”

  She had and she’d run her hands all over his body and kissed him everywhere, too. And when she’d gone down on him—damn she wanted to do that again.

  “We can arrange that.” Ivar reached for his waistband.

  “Keep your pants on and stop delving into my head. I don’t like it.”

  “Sorry. I’ll try. It’s hard because there are times you broadcast at full volume and I can’t find a way to block it.”

  Phoenix scowled. “You shouldn’t be able to read my thoughts or send your thoughts to me. Tantric vampires don’t have telepathy.”

  “My kind of vampire does as soon as we get past our fledgling stage.” Ivar leaned his shoulder against the wall. “My picking up your thoughts while we make love doesn’t seem to bother you and that’s been much more intimate than now.”

  Phoenix decided to ignore that observation. “Go home.”

  That knocked the lightness off his face. “I’m protecting you.”

  Phoenix stood and crossed her arms over his chest. “Nothing has happened since that first night. It looks as if I was right and I was nothing but a target of opportunity.”

  “Lying low doesn’t mean giving up and what if I told you that I recalled an old story? It happened centuries ago, so it took a while to come to mind, but a tantric crossed a member of my clan and killed a human under his protection.” Ivar hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “It made me wonder if the attack you faced was related to this.”

  “That vampire was a woman. Besides, I had nothing to do with what occurred however many centuries ago.”

  Ivar shrugged a shoulder. “Tantric vampires are few and far between. You might be the first one this vampire has encountered since the incident and revenge can drive someone to an irrational act, like murdering you to even the score.”

  “Wrong place, wrong time, wrong type of vampire?”

  He nodded.

  She wanted to go to him, but stayed near the chair, not trusting herself in touching range. No matter how hard Phoenix tried to ignore it, his bare chest was a definite distraction. “So you have an answer for part of what I said, now how do you explain that the vampire who we tangled with was a woman?”

  That earned her another shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s a friend of the vampire involved and decided to right things for him?”

  “That seems pretty weak,” Phoenix said.

  “If I’m correct, she’ll attack again. You might have the same powers my kind of vampire has, but you’re young yet and they’re not fully developed. The one we fought last night? She’s older than I am. You still need my protection.”

  “If I’m at such a disadvantage because of her age, why are you any better off than me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Because a vampire’s strength comes from more than years.” Ivar straightened and walk
ed toward her until he was close enough to hold her shoulders. “I’m an enforcer for my clan lord—that means I’m among the most powerful of my kind. I have to be because my job is to hunt down vampires who don’t obey the canon and turn them over for judgment.”

  Phoenix took a deep breath, lowered her gaze and forgot what she’d planned to say because all she saw was bare skin. It was Ivar’s fault. Stepping away from him, she said, “I’ll go get one of your shirts.”

  It wasn’t fleeing, she told herself as she hightailed it to her bedroom, his laughter following her. Sometimes it was smarter to retreat and regroup. Everything would be so much easier if she could have a normal relationship with the man without having to worry about killing him if they had too much sex.

  He’d left everything in the bag he’d dragged over to her apartment and she found a clean shirt on top. Phoenix grabbed it, took a deep breath and headed back to the living room. She tossed the shirt at him when she got there, not trusting herself close to him. Ivar caught it one-handed and pulled it on without commenting. “Better?” he asked after tucking it into his jeans.

  “Yeah.” Sort of. It was snug enough on him to pull across his shoulders, but at least he was covered. “I don’t need your protection,” Phoenix said, returning to the conversation they’d been having.

  “Yes, you do. Whatever is going on, it’s not over yet.

  “Okay, let’s try this then. I don’t want your protection.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’ll keep having sex if we’re around each other.”

  “Damn, I hope so.” The look on his face made her heart race.

  “Then you have a death wish.

  “No, I don’t. I’m simply not as easy to kill as you think I am.”

  They’d argued about this more than once and she’d gotten nowhere with him. His words now brought to mind something he’d said the first night, when he’d told her about the incredible self-control he’d learned while he’d been human. “This toughness comes from being a warrior monk?” she asked.

  Ivar tensed and he appeared wary. “Some of it.”

  “I have a hard time picturing you as a monk. How the hell did that happen?”

  “The oldest son inherits the estate. The second son goes into the military. The third son is sent to the church.” He spoke without inflection and Phoenix wasn’t sure if she was still treading on shaky ground or if he just didn’t want to talk about this.

  “Did you have any other siblings?”

  With a grimace, Ivar moved to the couch and leaned back, eyes closed. “I had five sisters—their fate was to be married off to build alliances.” He must have seen something on her face because he said, “Don’t judge. The world was a different place back then and people lived the way they knew, besides it wasn’t only them. My older brothers both had arranged marriages as well.”

  Phoenix sat on the coffee table. That had to be safer than joining him on the sofa. “You avoided that because of your vow of celibacy?” He nodded, but didn’t comment, so she asked her next question. “How do monks become warriors? It seems contradictory for a man of the church to fight.”

  Ivar’s eyes opened and he stared at her for a moment. “My order was founded at the end of the first crusade to protect the pilgrims who came to Jerusalem. That wasn’t my mission, though, as a member. The city had been lost again before I was born.”

  The dots didn’t connect for her. “You said the inquisitors couldn’t break your control. How does the inquisition come into this?”

  Ivar’s entire body when rigid, and without a word, he got up and left. The door closed with a sickening finality and Phoenix feared she might have done it after all—gotten rid of her vampire lover for good.

  Chapter Nine

  Ivar made it to the door of his apartment before he muttered a curse. He’d overreacted to something long finished and it had occurred long enough ago that it shouldn’t affect him any longer. But it did. He shook his head. He had to go back; he couldn’t leave Phoenix alone, not when her life was at risk. Three days might have gone by with nothing more happening, but the danger wasn’t in the past, he knew it.

  The story he’d given her today about why the vampire had attacked had left her skeptical and he couldn’t blame her. His heart hadn’t been in telling lies, but there was a partial truth involved. The clan lord wanted one specific tantric vampire—Phoenix’s father—and Ivar had been assigned to find him and bring him to the estate. If part of the story had leaked, some vampire might have thought it was Phoenix herself the clan lord wanted dead and that this vampire was trying to curry favor with the lord by completing what she believed was Ivar’s task.

  Or maybe not. Perhaps he had it all wrong and there was some other reason entirely. It didn’t matter. Only keeping Phoenix safe was important.

  Reluctantly, Ivar turned and trudged back up the hallway. He didn’t bother to knock. Phoenix remained where she’d been when he’d left, and when their gazes met, he saw relief and something that looked very much like joy.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly and resumed his seat on the couch. “Your question took me by surprise and I reacted without thought.”

  “It’s okay. ‘No one expects the Spanish inquisition.’“

  Phoenix grinned, he guessed because of the Monty Python quote, but he didn’t smile in return. Ivar couldn’t help sounding stiff when he said, “Trust me, there was nothing funny about the inquisition.”

  Her hand rested on his knee. “They tortured you.”

  He wanted to get up and leave again. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and distract her with his hands and mouth. He wanted her to suggest they go out and see a movie instead, but it wasn’t going to happen. Closing his eyes, Ivar leaned his head on the back of the couch and tried to decide what to tell her. Only one person knew what he’d gone through, what he’d endured at the hands of the inquisitors. His clan lord.

  “It’s okay,” she said, squeezing his knee. “We can talk about something else.”

  She was giving him an out and he wanted to take it, but part of him suddenly balked at the idea. What he’d gone through had ended up defining so many areas of his life and she was his lover. She deserved to know what was at the core of the man who shared her bed. Ivar surprised himself with how detached he sounded when he said, “I wasn’t merely any warrior monk. I was a member of the Templar Knights.” He paused, and opening his eyes, asked, “You’ve heard of them, right?”

  Phoenix stiffened. “Of course I’ve heard of them. Who hasn’t?”

  Ivar raised his head. “What have you heard?”

  Her blank look told him she didn’t know much and he wasn’t surprised when she said, “The Templars found and hid the Ark of the Covenant.”

  He shook his head. “You watch too much television. The Templars had amassed great wealth and great power. We even created a banking system and made loans and that was our ultimate downfall, I think. You see, King Phillip of France owed us a great deal of money and decided it was quicker to get rid of us than to repay us. He made up lies, said we spit on the cross, that we worshipped idols, that we had participated in acts of great debauchery. It was untrue.”

  “Of course it was,” Phoenix said, the scowl on her face as fierce as her tone. “You would never do such things. No one believed him, did they?”

  Her naivety brought a sad tilt to his lips. “Of course they did. He was the king and many other powerful people owed us money. They were happy to go along with the story. There was no evidence of any wrongdoing because there’d been none, so they needed confessions. All the Templars in France were rounded up and faced inquisitors. Phillip got what he wanted—some confessed with just the threat of facing an inquisition—but then torture was an art form in the fourteenth century.”

  “How badly were you hurt?”

  Ignoring the question, he continued, “I might not have been surprised by the nobles going along with the king, but I believed our pope would come to our defens
e. We’d served him and the church loyally for centuries. He didn’t. I’d put my faith in my king and my pope and both betrayed me and my brethren for their own ambitions.”

  “Bastards,” Phoenix said and moved to sit beside him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. Some how, some way, that cut through the ice that filled him whenever he remembered that time and slowly he returned her embrace.

  “I was lucky. Before I faced torture that would have maimed me for life, a vampire came and offered me a deal. He’d bring me across in exchange for my working as an enforcer for him. He wanted my skills as a knight and he wanted me to help train his other enforcers in the fighting techniques I knew. If he’d come to me before the arrests, I would have told him no, but his timing was perfect. I agreed.”

  “Who was that vampire?”

  “My clan lord. I owe him my life. I owe him more than that.”

  Phoenix nodded and rested her head against his chest. Ivar sighed and put his chin on the top of her head, content to be close to her.

  It was a while later, when he said quietly, “There’s only one person on this earth that I trust absolutely.”

  “Me.” Phoenix hugged him tighter.

  He opened his mouth to correct her, but realized that he did trust her that much. If he hadn’t, he never would have talked about his past. “There are only two people that I trust absolutely,” he corrected. “You and my clan lord.”

  That earned him a kiss, but Ivar’s heart was heavy. He lived by a code of honor and it meant something to him. He also knew what it felt like to be betrayed by someone he’d trusted with his whole being and he’d vowed he would never do that to anyone else. And yet it had become inevitable that he’d do that very thing.

  If he kept his word to his clan lord, Phoenix would feel he’d betrayed her and she’d hate him forever, especially if her father was sentenced to death.

  If he played true with Phoenix, his clan lord would feel betrayed and Ivar owed the man more than his life and allegiance. He owed his clan lord his soul as well, for it would have been lost had he not come that night to Ivar’s cell and offered him a form of salvation.