Firebinders: Marek (The Firebinders Book 1)

by Isobelle Cate

  She thought of the fire that glowed inside his veins like tracks of languid moving lava, burning the plague without hurting her. She lay back down and stared once more at the ceiling as though the answers were there. The tears she shed started to dry on her skin. Reality kicked in with such force that she jerked on the bed.

  “Shit.” She sat on the edge to get her bearings feeling more tired than before she went to sleep. She looked down. Her clothes were a crumpled mess. The creases and long lines on her skirt were sharper than an unfolded paper plane. Sweat made her pure silk blouse stick to her nape and spine. Groaning, Gwen stood and padded to the bathroom. Maybe the steam coming from the shower would make it easier to smooth her clothes and prevent a full blown lobby walk of shame.

  She would have wanted to stay under the shower spray longer. She’d forgotten how water beating down gently on her became a conduit for problems to swirl down the drain. If she didn’t step out, she was going to become a walking prune. Turning the tap off, Gwen wrapped the thick bathrobe around her letting her wet hair soak the back. Rubbing the mist from the mirror, she regarded herself critically.

  She used her ring fingers to wipe off the mascara smudges on her lower lids. Very deep green eyes that slightly tilted up at the corners stared back at her. When she was younger, Gwen had wished for longer and curlier lashes. At twenty-eight, she couldn’t be bothered. At least she had long, straight, thick ones. There was a flush on the apples of her cheeks sweeping upward, the same flush that dusted her lips to a blush berry hue. She went back into the bedroom to rummage through her purse, remembering she had a piece of strong mint gum hiding in the black hole. Popping it into her mouth, she took another towel and used it to squeeze her tresses of excess water before switching on the hair dryer. The hum of the dryer and the way her fingers tugged at her strands massaged her scalp that she wanted to go back to bed and sleep. However, the urgency of returning to her apartment made her abandon all thoughts of lolling in bed until check out time.

  She looked at her still crumpled clothes, now annoyed at herself for not removing them. Not much she could do with her skirt but her blouse could be tucked in tightly.

  She had just finished dressing when she heard the knock on her door. Her frown cleared while she remained at the end of the bed facing the door. Her internal alarm took over her movements, her legs refusing to move to see who it was.

  Another knock.

  “Housekeeping.”

  Gwen didn’t answer. At eight in the morning? Tired as she was early that morning, she made sure she placed the ‘Do not Disturb’ sign out. Her pulse ratcheted when someone tried the door. She heard muffled voices, undecided ones that broke her alarm’s hold. She sprinted for the phone, sitting on the unmade bed before her legs gave way.

  “Front desk,” a formal voice spoke.

  “I need security. There are two men at my door and they sure as hell aren’t from housekeeping.”

  Marek scrutinised the men who knocked on Gwen’s door. Housekeeping. Really? The two men were the same goons who had scared Gwen earlier. He didn’t know whether the men were thick or didn’t particularly care they’d make a scene. He sighed. He really shouldn’t care. There were more pressing things to attend to. Finding firebinders for one and getting to New Orleans as soon as possible. Lia had finally texted to say she was game.

  But something kept him from leaving, kept him from turning the other way. His moral compass seemed to have brushed the dust off and made Marek remember one other value that firebinders had.

  To protect.

  A man from Hotel security who was built like a blond linebacker rounded the corner just as Marek stepped forward.

  “There a problem?”

  The three men looked at him. Those he scared earlier that day stepped back but didn’t leave, their eyes wary.

  “None of your concern, sir.”

  “It’s my concern,” Marek looked at his nameplate. “Darren. These two men scared the hell out of the woman inside that room.”

  Darren’s broad frame straightened as his gaze bounced between Marek and the men. “And how would you know that?”

  “Because I escorted Gwen to her room early this morning when these two followed her into the hotel.” Marek arched a brow challenging the men to say otherwise.

  “We’re just here to deliver a message,” one of the men groused.

  A chuckle rumbled up Marek’s chest. “Nice choice of words.”

  “Are you guests of the hotel?” Darren stood taller.

  “No.”

  “Then I think you boys better leave.” Darren stepped to the side so the men could precede him.

  The men glared at Marek but did as they were told. Just as Darren raised the radio to his lips, one of the men pushed his palm against his chin. The impact slammed Darren against the wall and he slithered to the ground dazed. Another punch in the face and he was out cold.

  The men turned next to him.

  Marek eyes gleamed. Two against one. He’d take that.

  “Leave,” one of the men rasped. “This is none of your business.”

  “Like I said it is my business,” Marek corrected softly. “The moment you scared the hell out of my woman last night.”

  One of the men barked with laughter.

  “You sleep in separate rooms,” he sneered. “With that sweet ass you should be fucking—”

  Marek’s hand was around the man’s throat before he finished. Rage flashed like fire and his blood began to simmer in his veins filling him with inhuman strength. The heat of his blood leeched into his eyes turning them to fiery orbs. The transformation inside him caused his skin on his arm to become transparent. Before the man’s companion could retaliate, Marek’s other hand latched around his throat too. They clawed at Marek’s fingers only to singe themselves more, giving themselves no choice but to jerk against Marek’s hold. Their eyes started to bulge, their face a shade closer to an eggplant. Marek’s hell fire oozed out of his skin. The two men gurgled, saliva sputtering out of their mouths amid the acrid smell of burning flesh.

  Marek’s breath sawed in and out of his chest, his nostrils flaring. His eyes burned with the fire that needed quenching and he couldn’t use the hotel floor to siphon the heat out of his body so he did the next best thing. He put it back into himself and forced his hands to let go. He staggered back and the two men fell to the ground, their hands covering the burns around their necks. They looked like angry welts that may have come from being chained.

  “Get the fuck out before I turn you both to ash,” Marek growled, trying to contain his anger and the protesting heat inside him.

  Their fear gave wings to their feet as they stumbled and fled.

  Marek looked around, his chest still heaving to contain his fury. He checked the ceiling. The nearest camera was a distance away and wouldn’t catch what he had done. No one came out of their rooms either to watch what happened in the corridor. Thank God for small favours. He leaned against the opposite wall exhaling deeply and closing his eyes.

  Remorse swept through him. Granted they had returned for Gwen, but he had nearly killed those men. He came close to being the monster a firebinder was capable of. His lips thinned, his gaze narrowing. He wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t going to corrupt Hephaestus’ gift and go against everything his kind stood for. His ability was for healing, not snuffing out a life.

  He knelt towards Darren, nudging him.

  “What happened?” Darren’s voice was thick, his radio belting out some static. He grimaced when he touched his jaw.

  “They’re gone,” Marek said instead helping him get up. “You’ll need to alert the hotel about those men.”

  “Not until I know it’s okay with the lady.” Darren still looked at him warily. He rubbed his neck and touched his chin, frowning a bit as pain flickered across his face.

  “Fine.” The very least Marek hoped for was that Gwen acknowledged him. He stepped back from the door and waited.

  Darren knocked. The doo
r’s latch clicked before it opened. Gwen was not wearing any makeup and her hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves. Marek couldn’t stop his appreciation at her beauty. She wasn’t like the other women he dated who could shriek the house down just because he caught them without any makeup. Gwen looked younger, her skin translucent and Marek had the sudden urge to feel it again.

  To touch the life underneath it.

  Even if Marek was surrounded with a bevy of beautiful women, Gwen would stand out for him. There was something about her that made him want to get close again. Her green eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity. A flash of apprehension flickered in her gaze when it met his, but it immediately disappeared.

  “Good morning.” He gave a lopsided grin through the strain of what he had done. “Sleep well?”

  Darren turned an impatient look at him before addressing Gwen. “Ma’am, this gentleman says he knows you.”

  Gwen hesitated and Marek kept his face blank. There it was again, the flickering in her eyes. He tilted his head, wanting to know what was wrong, but she surreptitiously shook her head as she looked down.

  Marek took a step back, as uncomfortable warmth filled him. The thought of her rejection should embarrass him. Big deal, he’d recover. What he couldn’t understand was the tightness filling his chest. Lia’s admonishment about his conceit floated like bubbles into the forefront of his mind. Marek huffed looking away. His sister didn’t understand that his fucking arrogance was what had kept them alive, and his damn pride was what helped them survive. But right now it wasn’t arrogance or pride that made him scowl. It was the very idea that Gwen didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

  You’ll know when the right woman comes along, my son.

  Marek snorted softly watching Gwen talk softly with Darren. He had believed his father, saw it in the way Atticus had cherished his mother Claudia, and experienced it in the happiness that continuously wove into their lives. Love and laughter had been the threads of the tapestry they covered their children with.

  When Marek found Melanie, the woman of his dreams, he had started to create his own tapestry that he would one day share with her. Until Henry ‘Hank’ Heaton, the private investigator his family retained to find more firebinders gave him a flash drive of Melanie with another man, her real husband. They had been planning on kidnapping Lia for ransom.

  On the night of his engagement party, he and Hank had alerted the police who attended as guests. Melanie had also invited her husband and his men, saying they were her cousins from out of town. Lia and his mother didn’t know about the entrapment or about the plot to kidnap Lia. Atticus did. As Marek gave a toast, the wide screen in the hotel’s ballroom showed the various pictures of Melanie and her husband instead. Melanie paled, her face horrified while recordings of their plans filtered through the ballrooms sound system. Pandemonium broke when the she and the men tried to escape, but the police were ready and waiting, easily cuffing them and herding them out of what could have been the happiest day of Marek’s life.

  It was the last engagement party Marek swore he’d have.

  “Yes, I do,” Gwen said breaking into his thoughts. “He escorted me here earlier.”

  “Ma’am are you sure you’re all right?” Darren remained skeptical. “We should call the police. One of the men at your door attacked me.”

  “Then you should file the report, Darren.” Marek butted in much to the security’s irritation. “After all, you were the one assaulted. Not Gwen.”

  “I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Gwen spoke hastily. “I just want to go home but I couldn’t leave my room with the men waiting for me outside. Please…Darren. I don’t want any more attention than what I have right now. Can I count on your discretion?”

  Darren’s lips flattened and his eyes narrowed before finally giving a curt nod. “Okay. I’ll leave you two and file the report.”

  “Thank you.” Gwen blew out the words with gratitude.

  With a nod, Darren left them, his voice filling the hallway as he spoke into his radio even after he disappeared.

  Marek straightened. “Well, guess I’ll be going.” He gave Gwen a brief smile. His compass was applauding him, his senses screaming for him to stay. “Have a nice day.”

  Gwen made a non-committal sound and her green eyes widened in awe. “Stop. Who are you and what in heaven’s name did you do to those men?”

  If Gwen could retract the words that flew out of her mouth she would. What she saw through the peephole was short of unbelievable. She had covered her mouth, an automatic reflex to stop the sound of her breath catching in her throat. Her dangerous stranger’s hands glowed! A glow she could only associate with intense heat before being consumed by fire.

  At first, she thought he was wearing a pair of special gloves since the peephole distorted her vision. The stranger’s skin became translucent, the highway of veins backlit by the heat inside him that forced its way through his hands and onto the men’s necks. He may not have heard her gasp but Gwen’s nose tracked the acrid smell of singeing flesh that seeped under her door and caused her to step back then move forward again. Her morbid curiosity had got the better of her and she watched the stranger to force himself to relinquish the men’s necks. A sudden epiphany had her letting out a whoosh of air.

  Her dream…was it true? How could she have dreamt of him having fire in his veins and then witness it when she was awake?

  Now that the door no longer posed a barrier between them, she looked at his hands. Long tapered sun bronzed fingers, somewhat callused palms that spoke of hard work, his hands weren’t flaked let alone burned.

  “What do you mean what did I do?” The stranger looked at her in confusion. “It’s Marek.”

  Gwen pulled a face. “You call nearly burning those men’s necks a marek?”

  “No.” He shook his head unsure of whether to look amused or irritated. “My name is Marek.”

  “And what you did, does that have a name too?”

  Marek’s breath came out in a whoosh.. “I really don’t know what you saw.”

  Gwen huffed in consternation. “I saw you singe those men’s throats!”

  Marek’s eyebrow rose a fraction and he looked around the empty corridor. “Too bad they’re not here to tell the tale.”

  She gawked at him before she realized her mouth was open. She snapped it shut, her molars hitting each other like ten pins being run over by a bowling ball. This man was setting her teeth on edge. He made it sound like she was hallucinating and shouldn’t be taken seriously. Been there, done that. Even in the realm of scientific research, she always had to prove herself. And with the most recent theft of her work…

  No more.

  The sensual thoughts she had of Marek loosened its hold on her, though she still couldn’t forget her dream. Maybe that was just her subconscious unable to accept that she no longer had any access to her blood specimen. Dreams did have a way of making the impossible look real.

  “C’mon, after this morning’s excitement, I’ll buy you breakfast.” Marek moved to touch her but stopped when Gwen involuntarily shifted away. His forehead lightly puckered.

  Gwen prevented the rueful grimace that nearly scrunched her face. She could have kicked herself at her lack of tact. Yet she couldn’t take her eyes off his when the heat of his gaze seemed to follow the blush originating on her chest and rising up her cheeks. Marek’s mouth curved to one side, bringing all Gwen’s carnal thoughts rushing back.

  “My hand’s not going to bite,” he said softly.

  “Yes, it just might burn…oh crap. I’m sorry.” Gwen looked away, gripping the doorknob like a lifeline in case she needed to bolt back into her room. Like that was going to help after seeing how fast Marek had his hands on the men’s throats.

  Marek stepped back. Palms raised. “I swear that whatever you saw was a trick of the light. Look, if smoke came out of my palms, shouldn’t they have blisters? My hands would be wrapped in gooey burn ointment and gauze by now.”


  “But I saw what I saw,” she said refusing to back down. “I was just behind the door watching everything that happened.”

  “Gwen, did smoke appear when I held you yesterday?”

  “Don’t patronize me,” she snapped.

  “Well?” He raised his brows, waiting.

  Her eyes flashed but reluctantly shook her head. Marek chose that moment to move back into her personal space and a wave of awareness cloaked her once more.

  Why the hell did she like assholes?

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” he whispered and she had to force herself not to close her eyes while her heart thudded in her ears. She looked up and was reeled back by those blue green depths and Gwen swore she saw the fire Marek denied having. She inhaled his clean shower smell of lime mixed with the light scent of his cologne. She wanted to lean in and keep her nose against his throat.

  “I’m not scared.” She was annoyed at herself when she sounded more like a Marilyn than a no-nonsense Marlena. Marek must be exuding a truck load of pheromones for her to feel such a strong attraction to him.

  Before she knew what she was doing, she had placed her hand on his chest and Marek’s hand had curled over hers. The heat she felt under her fingers brought an electrical charge that buzzed through her arm awakening and warming her. His gaze held her captive, something more…primal was in them that made her insides flip and her thighs squeezing together.

  Marek’s lips twitched.

  “So.” His eyes roamed her face and she swore he was touching her.

  “Yes?”

  “How about breakfast?”

  Just like that, the sensual tension between them muted.

  “I’m afraid, I can’t,” she replied, the tension in her body leaving. “I have to get back home.” She looked away from the disappointment clearly evident on his face but she had no choice. He was a man she’d only just met with a secret she had seen. She was a woman who needed to secure her research if there was any hope of it benefiting the world.

  “Last chance.” He teased.