“And?”
“They correspond to the element of fire.” She peered at me with a curious glint. “I suppose that makes sense, considering your profession.”
“Right. Fire prevention is often on the mind.”
She pursed her lips. “Yes, that’s likely it.”
The other thing it could mean was “Roderick and Maddie,” the fake names of a couple I’d testified against. Over a year ago, I’d made the disastrous decision to go with the couple to their house. I was curious about their couples’ parties, thinking Tristan and I might partake, and went alone. Stupid, I know. Spontaneity is not my best attribute, and it’s gotten me in trouble many times. It sure keeps life interesting, though.
Anyway, they tried to drug me and tied me up before doing some nasty things to me. I did what I thought was the best option for someone with my abilities with fire—burned their house down. Not all the way, but enough to signal a call for help so I could escape. Tristan had found me, so technically it had worked, but I’d had to deal with the aftermath of that horrid night.
The trial was over, and they were serving time. Yet, the uncomfortable reminder of the fire convinced me to prod Isabella for other potential interpretations of my fiery card associations.
“Could the wands indicate anything else? I mean, what would you think for someone who wasn’t a firefighter?”
“It could mean things of a fiery nature,” Isabella said. “Think about what happens near fire. It’s hot, passionate, dangerous. It could also be passion for a hobby or a cause.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Or for a person. Perhaps it indicates that you and Tristan will have a passionate relationship.”
We were already in the heat of it, but eek, I didn’t want to talk sex with my mother-in-law—especially about some of our kinkier experimentations. A slow burn rose in my cheeks, which I hoped she didn’t notice. I turned my head, focusing on the details on the tarot cards until I got my embarrassment in check.
Still, something about this reading didn’t sit right. I tapped my index finger on my thigh. “Would it ever mean a more literal indication?”
“Like what?”
I pursed my lips. “An actual fire?”
Isabella tapped her index finger on the table. “Rare, but I suppose.” She examined the cards. “With your career, it’s more likely than for most. Overall, I’d say it’s a positive reading. It’s life, it’s passion, it’s change—full of action and reaction to the elements in your life. Fire just happens to be your strongest influence.”
After I left her house, I tried to put the reading out of my mind. It bothered me. I’d been in that field for too long and fire wasn’t something to underestimate. It was dangerous, destructive, and devastating, devouring everything in its path.
Shake it off.
Right. I was a firefighter. The odds were higher than most that I would face fire soon. The question was would it be a small fire easy to contain, or one more dangerous?
I couldn’t predict it. My connection to fire didn’t include premonitions. But it was time to focus on a happier topic, like my upcoming wedding.
As I pulled up to our house, a pale yellow Victorian with brown accents and trim, I pictured myself in the backyard standing across from Tristan as we’d take our vows. He’d been so tormented when I’d met him. He’d considered himself cursed for his ability to see darkness and shadows around people. The bleakness dragged him down and he avoided interacting with others.
Until he’d met me. For some reason, he’d seen me with a white glow rather than the usual doom and gloom. It had astonished him, drawing him closer. It led to some amazing nights together and somehow, we’d managed to work together to break through the darkness. He could now see more colors around people—their auras—and he could use it to help them. Tristan had grown from the dark, brooding bad boy who’d attracted me to a powerful healer whom I admired.
And I loved him for all of it. In fact, the fires had yet to cool, and we were still as hot for each other as we’d ever been.
So, maybe what Isabella had seen with the Tarot cards meant what she’d alluded to—Tristan and I would be blessed, continuing our fiery relationship with lots of delicious hot sex.
I went inside and poured myself some coconut water over ice. Raising it as if in a toast, I declared, “I’ll drink to that.”
Nike
When I returned home, Michel was sitting in the living room. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand and was staring into the fireplace. I was surprised to see him sitting alone in front of a fire. It was his one fear—the only one he’d ever mentioned to me. And I think it was exacerbated when he became a vampire, as it was one of the few things that could truly kill him.
But he also had reservations about turning me. Perhaps it was a night for him to face his fears.
“How was it?” He put the glass down on a side table and walked over to me.
I removed my jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. “Fine. It pretty much went as I expected.”
“Tell me.” Michel cocked his head with eagerness.
Of course. He hadn’t seen a sunset in centuries and hadn’t enjoyed a savory meal in that long, either.
“It was…” I pursed my lips as I searched for the right word, “…magnificent.” I drew on not only this sunset, but others I’d seen in the past to paint a picture for him. “The colors in the sky were almost unreal. Some were so vibrant they hardly seemed possible in nature. Like the reds and pinks—and purples, too. And others were so faint, like a whisper of color. Some of the yellows are like that. They’re so pale that they blend in with the light.”
Michel’s lips parted as he nodded. “And your dinner?”
“I ordered a few delicious Italian dishes and drank a lovely chardonnay.”
“It sounds like you had the perfect last night in this form,” he pointed out.
I peered at him. “No. Not yet.”
“What’s missing?”
I stepped closer to him and ran my fingers over his cheek. “You.”
“Oh?” His face twisted in question.
“I want one more night with you like this. Our love life has been fantastic. And that’s one thing I don’t want to change. Once I’m not human anymore, I’m afraid it will.”
“Why do you think that, Nike?”
“Because maybe whatever it is that draws you to me is my human side. If I’m a vam—nightwalker like you, I won’t have that anymore.”
“Ah.” He nodded in understanding. “I’ve considered this in the past as well.”
“You have?”
“Yes. You know how I loathed being forced to become what I am, so naturally I considered what would happen if you were also like me.”
When he didn’t say anything after a couple of seconds, I prodded, “And?”
“It’s not what you are that I love. It’s simply you.” He took my hand and kissed the palm. “And the core of you won’t change with the physical changes.”
My heart clenched. Michel had a way of sweeping all my doubts away. “Okay. How should we do this?”
He caressed my palm. “Exactly as you’d just professed.”
I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”
“I should bite you while we make love. The desire for sex and bloodlust is often intertwined. I think it will be less painful or terrifying if you’re distracted by other sensations.”
I bit my lip. Pain and terror—two things I wasn’t looking forward to experiencing.
“Yes,” I agreed. “I’m going to take a bath and then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”
In a superhot, sudsy bath, I lathered myself until I was sparkling clean. Who wanted to start immortality feeling like a wreck? I’d already felt that way far too often lately.
After I toweled off and brushed my hair, I put on a white silk robe and entered our room.
Several candles bathed the room in a warm glow. A vase of red and white roses stood on the nightstand that hadn’t been the
re when I’d left. Michel leaned back on the bed with his white shirt unbuttoned, revealing a mass of enticing chest.
“Quite the romantic setting,” I remarked.
“I want to make it enjoyable for you.” His rich accent dripped with sensuality.
The familiar flutters returned, the way they often did when I was around him.
“It will hurt at first,” he warned. “You may struggle. But the pain will soon succumb to pleasure.”
I gulped and nodded.
“This is your last chance to turn back, Nike.”
Shit, he was right. A shudder rippled up my spine.
No, I’d made my choice, and I wasn’t going to chicken out.
I willed my feet to walk to him. “I’m ready.”
His nod was almost imperceptible. He leaned closer to the edge. “You look beautiful tonight. Even more so than usual.” He trailed his fingers to wrap them in mine.
I smiled. Even if he was saying it just to help me relax, I appreciated it.
He lowered his hand and sat up, so his face was at my midriff. He ran his hands behind me, over my butt, and to the back of my thighs. He pulled me closer and nuzzled against the silk below my breasts. I sucked in a breath.
“You smell so good.” He unfastened the tie on my silk robe and kissed above my belly button. He then trailed a string of kisses along the line down my middle.
I curled my fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “Oh, Michel.”
He placed one hand on my thighs and he trailed his fingers higher, blazing a fiery path. After opening the robe wider and exposing my breasts, he moved up and circled one nipple with his tongue. He took it in his mouth, so warm and velvety. I dropped my head back with a sigh.
He dragged his fingers up, teasingly close to my pussy. I moved against him, encouraging him to go further, but he switched to the other thigh. I whimpered, but when he captured my other breast in his mouth, I swallowed my protest.
My desire for more grew ever stronger and I press my mound against his hand.
He finally stroked my slit, and I panted.
“Is this what you want?” he crooned in a low velvety voice.
With the slight lisp edging his French accent, it was clear his fangs had emerged, the way they often did when he was aroused. They titillated me as they always did—a reminder of my lover’s predatory nature.
“Yesss,” I purred, not caring how wanton I came off. He’d drugged me under his spell and I wanted more.
He played me with his fingers as he suckled my breasts, driving me higher and higher. The stirrings inside me rose, enrapturing me, until I was bucking against him. With his hot mouth on me, he gently ran his fangs along the nipple. That slight scrape sent me over the edge and I crashed with a strangled cry.
As my senses returned, I blinked, surprised by my reaction. He’d distracted me so well, I’d forgotten about the impending bite for a moment.
Michel pulled off my robe. “Lay back.”
I complied, sliding up against the silky cotton sheets of our bed. As he slid over me, I ran my hands down the hard planes of his chest.
Unbuttoning the remaining buttons on his shirt, I said, “I want to see more of you.”
He pulled his shirt off and then unbuckled his pants. Helping him tug them off, he was soon as naked as I was, standing erect before me. I ran my fingers over his impressive shaft, biting my lips. When a bead of liquid appeared on it, I bent down and licked it.
Michel let out a low growl of pleasure. “Not yet. I need to taste you.”
Pushing me back on the bed, he kissed his way down my torso. When he reached my sex, he released another animalistic growl, which was so primal, it sent a wave of wet heat below. He licked along the length of my slit and an aching sound of relief escaped me.
“You’re already so wet,” he murmured against my inner thigh.
“From you,” I said. “The things you do to me.”
He then swirled his tongue against my flesh. “Like this?”
“Yes,” I cried. “Yes!”
Michel knew my desires so well and understood my body probably better than I did; he quickly had me writhing on the sheets for him. He claimed me with his mouth and fingers and I grasped the sheets. He increased the friction and detonated my explosion.
“Oh God, Michel,” I cried as wave after wave of pleasure soared through me.
As I came down, Michel moved up against me. He positioned his cock at my entrance, teasing in and out.
“Please,” I begged.
When he slid the tip in, I grabbed his lower back to coax him in further.
“Oh Nike,” he said. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
He slid all the way in and paused. Cupping my face in his hands, he kissed me. The taste of me on his lips struck an erotic note in me. His gentle kisses relaxed me as he rocked within. Back and forth we glided in this sensual grind. His scent washed over me, a wild masculine musk that was his alone and always roused my lust.
He moved his hand down to caress my breast and then beyond, sliding his fingers to rub my clit. I cried out at the sensitivity, but then leaned into it, eager for more. He rubbed me as we rode higher. And then I was climbing again so soon.
Michel moved quicker, escalating my need until I grabbed at the sheets. I climaxed with a cry that caught in my throat. At that moment, he plunged his fangs into my throat.
The pain was sharp and savage. A strangled sound escaped me. My lower body squirmed beneath him, but not where he was fastened to my neck. I was pinned beneath him.
Terror raged like a violent uprising with my heart pounding fierce as fuck. This was my lover attacking me. At this moment, it was clear he was no longer human, but a predator wired to kill—and the target was me! I pushed at him, but he was as heavy as a fucking boulder pressing me down.
Michel ran a hand from my face down over the other side of my neck, a gentle caress indicating it would be all right. Right, he’d warned me it would feel this way. I ceased the struggle and counted. When I reached seven, the pain began to subside. A strange sensation followed, like the earliest tingling of desire. A rush of endorphins then flooded me, spreading heat to every centimeter of skin.
Michel was still buried in me and he resumed thrusting. Small, jerky ones at first. As the pleasure rose, we found our rhythm again with me arching against him from below. He continued to drink from my neck, but it no longer terrified me. The fear had passed, eclipsed by this heady new pleasure I didn’t want to end.
His thrusts grew deeper and more urgent. Sensual moans mixed in between guttural growls. My vision narrowed and grew dimmer as my body weakened from the blood loss. But the pleasurable sensations sparking all my nerve endings eclipsed anything else. Heat coiled in my core again as he struck my sensitive spot over and over. And I was rising and rising with him, desperate to reach that dizzying peak again.
He pounded into me with three harsh thrusts and spilled his seed deep inside me. It sent me over the edge with him. I exploded with fiery light, bursting with flames like fireworks over an otherwise black, starless night.
And then the fireworks faded.
Before I slipped under, Michel detached his fangs from my throat and bit into his wrist.
“Drink, Nike.” He curled his wrist toward my mouth and drops of blood fell onto my tongue.
The familiar copper taste woke my taste buds. I tried to rise to grasp his arm, but my strength was depleted. There was nothing left of me but this—hovering on the brink of two worlds—and the only way I’d transition to his was with his blood.
“Drink,” he repeated.
I fastened on, gulping what I could before the darkness blanketed me.
Maya
At the firehouse that evening, we chatted while we ate a meal. Tonight’s dinner was a salad, rice, and rotisserie chicken. We generally took turns cooking, something to do and to vary up the shifts with some spice.
Bob, the lieutenant on our team, was telling us about college visit
s with his daughter and the associated sticker shock when he saw tuition and fees.
“No wonder kids are in debt for decades,” he said. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Does she want to live at home?” I asked.
“No, of course not. Like almost every teen, she wants her independence as soon as she can grab it. But she doesn’t realize how expensive it is.”
The alarm sounded, jolting us.
“Time to hustle,” Bob said.
With few words, we grabbed our gear and jumped into the fire engine. After working together on so many calls, we responded seamlessly to whatever call. Rarely a snag in our routine.
When we arrived at the house, the smoke led us to the location, which looked like a kitchen. A woman paced in her front yard, clutching her dog.
“I don’t know what happened,” she stammered. “I was cooking and then the pan was surrounded by flames.”
It was likely grease, the most common type of kitchen fire.
“Is there anyone inside?” Bob asked.
She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. “My cat. An orange tabby.”
As we ran to the house, she called after us, “But she’ll find a way out, right? Animals sense when they’re in danger—”
“We’ll do what we can.” I donned my air tank and mask and rushed in with the hose.
Smoke billowed into the hallway from the open kitchen door. Orange flames had leapt from the stovetop to capture cabinets and window drapes. While Bob made the call to pump water, I willed the fire to retreat. After directing a hose at it, I continued to speak to it in my head, coaxing it to listen to me. It was hot and smoky as fuck in there, but eventually we doused all the flames.
And then I found a scared orange tabby under a bed.
When I met up with Tristan at home that night, I told him about what had happened. My voice came out in a strange monotone, as if I’d distanced myself from the situation—it probably shook me up more than I’d realized.
He rubbed my shoulders and let out an audible sigh. “Even with your abilities, I can’t say it doesn’t disturb me. Especially after I found you that time and feared the worst. It still haunts me when I think of what could have happened.”
Combust: a vampire and firefighter paranormal romance (Underground Encounters Book 7) Page 4