Furious Fire: Grimm's Circle, Book 8

by Shiloh Walker

  She was fast for a human. He hadn’t even felt her reach for it. Now he had to make damn sure she didn’t cut him. If the blade so much as grazed his skin it would burn straight to the bone and incapacitate him.

  “Why are you here?” Wariness flattened her heart-shaped mouth.

  “I told you, to help you.” He had to keep his cool. He couldn’t reveal the extent of his feelings for her or he’d scare her away. She wasn’t the woman he’d once known. She wasn’t his Angie. She was Emma now.

  Reincarnation was a concept he understood well, being what he was. He’d lived for nearly two centuries and had seen countless souls reborn, including his own. But Emma was human, and the human mind wasn’t always open to notions that pushed the boundaries of its limited reality.

  Still, long-buried emotions smoldered to life inside him, heating his blood, making his fingers burn with the forbidden urge to touch, to brand and possess. She felt so good trapped under him. After all these years of living without her, feeling her delicate form strain beneath his body was the sweetest of tortures.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t passion that clouded her gaze but mistrust. “You’re one of them. I can tell.”

  I know what you are. That was what she’d said to him when he’d first entered her motel room. Did she see the darkness within him, the emptiness? How? As far as he knew, no human possessed that ability.

  But he could tell at a glance Emma’s soul was different, similar to Angie’s but brighter, more powerful. If he was a betting man, he’d say twin essences dwelled within her. He’d only come across a life-force this radiant once before—Ben’s, the young boy his father, Marcus, had brought to his doorstep eighteen months ago. The boy who’d mysteriously disappeared under his watch.

  “We’re not all the same.” How could he make her understand that not all members of his race were evil? He ached to have her look at him the way Angie once had, needed her to see the man and not the monster.

  “Get off me.”

  The blade aimed at his jugular should’ve warned him to retreat, but part of him refused to believe Angie would harm him, whatever name she went by now.

  A wave of black energy swept through the motel room, and Adrian stiffened, tension coiling through his body. The Kleptopsychs were here. He felt them. They’d probably followed Emma’s signature the same way he had.

  He stood abruptly, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to her feet. He had so much to tell her, but the time for small talk had passed. He needed to get her out of there. Now.

  Emma struggled to escape his grasp, unaware that a much greater threat closed in on her. Desperate to break free, she sliced him across the hand with her bloody blade.

  Adrian muttered a curse, releasing her. Red-hot agony speared through him. Weakness crawled through his veins, and his senses swam in and out of focus.

  The muted thud of her footsteps as she raced to the door pounded in his head. “Don’t—” He reached for her again, but dizziness swept over him, and he dropped to his knees.

  She directed an apologetic look his way, then grabbed the backpack by the door.

  “You can’t go out that way. They’ll see you.”

  She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “Who?”

  “The guys from the apartment. They’re here.”

  The color leached from her face. “You’re lying.”

  “I wish I were.”

  A slash of pain cleaved her features, and for a second he feared she’d bolt from the motel room, right into the Kleptopsychs’ waiting arms. “Is my mother with them?”

  His senses were dulled thanks to the angel’s blood contaminating his own, but not so dull that he couldn’t feel exactly who approached. “No. There are six of them. And they’re headed this way. If you walk out that door, you’ll expose yourself to them.”

  She ventured a glance out the window, closed her eyes and muttered under breath, “Holy goddamn hell.”

  Sweat sprang from his brow, but he forced himself to his feet. The room wobbled and spun, then settled down. “Get behind me,” he told her.

  She did as he commanded, and he couldn’t help but feel he’d taken his first step toward winning her trust. Concentrating, he scanned the motel room, x-raying the walls, cursing each time his vision blurred. He hated angel’s blood with a passion.

  There had to be another way out of here. The door and window were out of the question, and the place didn’t seem to have an emergency exit. The ceiling snagged his attention. A network of vents snaked overhead, linking all the rooms together. The vents were made of copper, which meant the Kleptopsychs wouldn’t be able to see through them, nor would they attempt to search them. His kind was severely allergic to copper. It sapped them of their strength almost as effectively as angel’s blood did.

  Adrian climbed up on the bed. Using his fingers, he pried the grate off the wall, tossing it aside and gesturing for Emma to join him. She eyed him warily, directed a glance at the door again, then decided to trust him. Clambering onto the double bed, she came to stand beside him. Only a breath of air separated their bodies.

  Adrian briefly lost his train of thought. It was disconcerting, having her here beside him again, her upturned face watching him expectantly, her pulse racing to the beat of his. Before he could stop himself, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. Touching her strengthened him, chased the weakness from his limbs and heightened his determination. “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise.”

  He was born to be a weapon. For her, he must learn to be a hero.

  Phoenix Rising

  © 2011 Corrina Lawson

  The Phoenix Institute, Book 1

  Since birth, Alec Farley has been trained to be a living weapon. His firestarter and telekinetic abilities have been honed to deadly perfection by the Resource, a shadowy anti-terrorist organization—the only family he has ever known. What the Resource didn’t teach him, though, is how to play well with others.

  When psychologist Beth Nakamora meets Alec to help him work on his people skills, she’s hit with a double-barreled first impression. He’s hot in more ways than one. And her first instinct is to rescue him from his insular existence.

  Her plan to kidnap and deprogram him goes awry when her latent telepathic ability flares, turning Alec’s powers off. Hoping close proximity will reignite his flame, she leads him by the hand through a world he’s never known. And something else flares: Alec’s anger over everything he’s been denied. Especially the passion that melds his mind and body with hers.

  The Resource, however, isn’t going to let anything—or anyone—steal its prime investment. Alec needs to be reminded where his loyalties lie…starting with breaking his trust in the woman he’s come to love.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Phoenix Rising:

  “I’m sorry for staring. I’ve haven’t seen your equipment up close before.”

  “Hah!” He sat in an easy chair to lace up his boots. “You know you can see my equipment anytime you ask.”

  “Um, that’s not quite what I had in mind.” Alec had charmed her. Lansing had been right about that. She hadn’t counted on him being so genuinely interested in her.

  At least she’d had the willpower not to touch Alec’s hand and risk that intense jolt of energy a second time. Just being around him was seductive enough.

  Alec shrugged at her refusal, walked back to the bed and loaded a clip into his handgun. Some sort of pistol, though she had no idea exactly what kind. Philip would have known. Alec’s eyes narrowed as he double-checked the weapon. For a moment, he was completely the competent military officer.

  Satisfied, he set it down and turned to face her. He frowned, on uncertain ground again.

  “Did anyone ever show you a life without guns?”

  He raised one of those perfect eyebrows, oozing more confidence than ten men. Who wouldn’t ha
ve that confidence, if fire literally danced to their command?

  “You know, I thought Lansing agreed too quickly to send you. Did he want you to check up on me?”

  “No.” But it would be like Lansing to say that he had.

  “Hah. I think you’re a bad liar, counselor. A life without guns? That’s the kind of leading question that he uses to test me.”

  “I’m not lying.” Not about that. “No, it’s the first time I’ve seen you prepare for a mission. It worries me.” She looked down at the dark carpet and scuffed her feet. “I have doubts about what you’re doing. I think you’re not seeing the big picture.” Like how your foster father is using you to gain power and influence, at the risk of your life. “You don’t have to put your gift to this use. There are so many other things you can do that don’t involve violence.”

  Or the possibility of being killed.

  Philip had been terrified at letting her walk into danger. Looking at Alec, she knew how Philip felt. Just how dangerous was this mission tonight?

  “Only I can do what I can do,” Alec said.

  “Which is all the more reason not to risk your life so recklessly.” She was pushing too hard, out of fear. No choice now. She’d run out of time.

  “I’m not reckless,” he said. “I’m as careful as I can be.”

  “With weapons and body armor? If you’re doing something careful, you don’t need them.”

  He buckled on the body armor and walked over to her, so that they were only a few feet apart. He towered over her, even more than Lansing, but she didn’t feel the least bit afraid of him, not since their first meeting. He wouldn’t hurt her. Despite his work as a soldier, there was no meanness in him. She rubbed her arm, remembering Lansing’s anger. Alec wasn’t like him at all.

  “I like doing this,” Alec said. “I make a difference. It’s what I’m trained for.”

  “Yes, I know. But you never had a say in any of that training. You’ve told me that.”

  “Fighting the bad guys is family tradition.” He straightened. “Lansing’s too old now, so it’s my turn. It happens all the time. Daz has the same deal, on both the American and the Filipino sides of his family.”

  “Daz didn’t grow up isolated in this place.”

  “Yeah, well, Daz didn’t have to worry about accidentally burning down the schoolyard as a kid. I did.” He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you seriously trying to talk me out of going tonight? C’mon.”

  “I’m trying to get you to reconsider what you’ve been forced into doing for your entire life. There’s a whole world out there you haven’t seen.”

  She walked over to the coffee table, reached down and brushed her fingertips over the gun. Her hand trembled. The gun looked like the same kind that her kidnappers had used, years ago. If he stayed with the Resource, Alec might become like those men, using any ends to justify the means.

  “Hey! What’s with the nerves? Where’s my competent, no-nonsense counselor?”

  The gun rose from the coffee table, floating in air. She turned and followed its flight. He snatched the gun out of midair with a smile and holstered it.

  “See?” he said. “I control the guns, not the other way around.”

  “And who controls you?”

  His chest, Kevlar vest and all, rose and fell in a deep sigh. “I know someone in this room who’s trying to control me. What’s wrong, Beth?” He walked to her and lifted her chin with two fingers, his dark eyes crinkling around the edges.

  “This is not a life you chose, this is a life that’s been imposed on you, from birth.”

  “And?” His fingertips moved along her jaw, in a soft caress. I should move away. It feels too good. But he’s listening.

  “I’m scared. About this mission, about you being locked up inside the Resource forever.” Deathly afraid, so afraid her stomach felt like a heavy lump of coal. “There’s so much you don’t know about the Resource and about Lansing, so much you don’t understand. And you need to know it before it kills you.”

  “Hey, I know Lansing can be a bastard. And that he’s overprotective and controlling. I’m working on it. But it doesn’t change the fact that this is my job.” Alec leaned closer to her face. “We can talk about that another time.”

  “Do you really think there’s going to be another time?” Her voice rose, almost panicked now. She wasn’t getting through. “What if you get hurt tonight?”

  “Look, this cell might have a dirty bomb. They need to be stopped, and I’m the one who can do it. I have to do this, right now.”

  “Just that simple?”

  “Yep. I walk away, people get hurt. I do my job, people are saved. That’s the deal, that’s my life. You analyze things too much.” He cupped her face in his hand. “But if it took this mission to find out you care, then good.”

  She shuddered. Wrong, wrong, she shouldn’t let him touch her like this. Yet it felt like he touched her somewhere far deeper than her skin. A shiver, like the one from their first meeting, traveled from her neck to her toes, setting her nerves jangling. “This is wrong.”

  “The mission isn’t wrong,” he said, misunderstanding her. “Relax.” His face was less than an inch from her lips and his breath fell on her cheek. Her skin felt inflamed, sensitive to the slightest movement of his hands.

  He kissed her.

  His lips were softer than she had expected, tender, not at all like his casual, even macho, confidence. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling those strong muscles and pulling him against her, intensifying their contact, even as her mind screamed in protest. This is not what I came for!

  Her body became enveloped in that strange energy, alive as never before. It was like the kiss had a second level, one which she responded to instinctively, creating a living connection between them. He drew her lips apart with his tongue, still tender, still allowing her the chance to back away. But she opened her mouth to him instead, her whole self consumed with wanting to touch him, her face flushed with desire. She grabbed the buckles of his body armor for balance, her equilibrium lost along with her reason.

  He crushed her against him, no longer tender, a bruising kiss demanding conquest. She allowed him full control, despite the buckles digging into her shoulder. He lifted her completely off her feet and brought her up to his eye level.

  “Beth,” he breathed, brushing his lips against her neck before moving back to her mouth.

  Her mind whirled, too lost to remember that she should stop him. She wanted him too much. The air heated up, warming them. The papers on the coffee table began to smoke.

  Startled, she broke the kiss. There was a momentary disorientation, like a soft mental slap. The tingling stopped. Her skin went cold.

  She let her head fall to his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her last chance to reach Alec and she’d blown it. More, she’d crossed all ethical boundaries. Yet his arms around her felt so right.

  Alec spun around and set her into his easy chair. He swallowed, breathing heavily, his face and neck flushed. Staring at the papers on the table, he reached out a hand and they burst into real flame. He twisted his wrist, calling to the fire. It came to him, wrapping itself around his wrist like a bracelet. He smiled, blinked, and the fire vanished.

  He whistled through his teeth. “Wow. You are some kind of hot, counselor, to set me off like that. I usually have to think about creating fire.”

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

 
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  Furious Fire

  Copyright © 2014 by Shiloh Walker

  ISBN: 978-1-61922-502-2

  Edited by Tera Cuskaden

  Cover by Angela Waters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2014

  www.samhainpublishing.com