Inside the Flame (Elemental Mages Book 2)

by Rose O'Brien

  “We were inseparable,” he continued, the words flowing out before he could stop them. “They called us Earth, Wind, and Fire. We were a great team, the best. Nothing could stop us.”

  Until something had.

  He felt his smile dissolve and the laughter in his chest died as the happy image of Bren was replaced with his last glimpse of his friend. The flames hadn’t left much. Theron had found Bren and Jas, their bodies lying together, as close in death as they had been in life. He hadn’t been able to save them. And the flames had been unable to touch him.

  Bottom line, they were dead and it was his fault.

  “Hey,” Jen’s voice cut through the blackened memories. “Where’d you go?”

  Concern filled her dark eyes.

  “Nowhere good,” he said quietly.

  They were silent for a while when she asked, “How did they die?”

  His gaze snapped to her face and he glared.

  “I didn’t say they were dead.”

  “You spoke about them in the past tense, and you look like you’ve been stabbed in the gut. They’re dead and not too long ago, either. I know what fresh emotional wounds look like. I used to interview the families of murder victims. They looked just like you do right now.”

  “A year ago,” he said. “They died a year ago.”

  The silence stretched between them while a clawing pain filled his chest. Bren and Jas had been closer to him than his own brother and sisters. They ate together, fought together, got drunk together, and on more than a few nights, they had slept within arm’s reach of each other, secure in the knowledge that each one had the others’ backs.

  They had been a perfect trinity, perfectly complemented to each other. Where one was weak, the others were strong. They had shared every aspect of their lives and were never apart for more than a few days.

  Now he was the only one left.

  “It was my fault,” he whispered.

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Jen said. “What makes you think that?”

  As memories of that night threatened to overwhelm him, he slammed the mental brakes on, forcing the memories back into the dark lockbox in his mind where he kept them.

  “I can’t talk about it,” he said softly.

  “I understand,” was all she said.

  He looked at her, surprised. He’d expected her to press him on this. She’d bared her soul and he was refusing to even meet her halfway.

  “A good reporter knows when to press and when not to,” she said, her voice gentle as she lay her head back down on his chest. “But, in my experience, the story always comes out eventually.”

  His voice was a little rough when he said, “Tell me another story.”

  “Want to hear about the time I threw up during a violin recital in front of five hundred people?”

  Chapter 10

  Jen came awake slowly. The room she was in was dark, the only light coming from a flickering fire in a grate on the other side of the room.

  The air was chilly against her skin, but she was warm. So warm. Whatever surface she was sleeping on was hard as stone, but as warm as a summer beach. Raising her head, she saw Theron’s sleeping face and the night before came rushing back to her.

  Oh, god. The things she’d told him. What had she been thinking?

  And she’d slept in his arms. Well, arm. His left arm was still bound in the sling and gauze rig she’d improvised. But his right arm was around her middle, holding her gently against his side, even as he was relaxed in sleep.

  His T-shirt was wrinkled where she’d slept with her head on the spot between his shoulder and chest. Her hand still rested on his ribs. Her first instinct was to snatch her hand back like she’d been burned, but she was strangely reluctant to move it.

  He felt good. He was big and solid and so very warm. There was strength and power in him, so much it scared her a little. It was a thrilling kind of fear, like watching a horror movie alone with the lights off, just enough to get the blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing.

  There was also humor in him and, although he tried to hide it, kindness, too.

  Turning her head, she studied his sleeping face. He was actually kind of gorgeous. Long, coppery lashes that stopped just short of being feminine rested against his cheek. His cheekbones were high, his jaw was square and his lips were just full enough to keep his face from being harsh.

  Jen caught herself staring at his mouth and she didn’t care. The truth was that in the two and a half days she’d known him, she’d never really studied him. They’d been running or fighting or she was angry and couldn’t stand to look at him. She’d also been afraid he’d catch her staring, but now, she could look her fill.

  The firelight caught in his hair and it was spectacular. Right now, it was mussed and falling over his brow. There were so many different colors, a deep gold mixed with platinum highlights and red lowlights. Before she realized it, her hand was lifting off his chest like it had a mind of its own and reaching for that hair.

  Would it be as soft as it looked?

  Her fingers gently brushed his hair back from his brow. The strands slid through her fingers, feeling like silk. His eyes opened slowly and his gaze found hers. She stayed frozen for a heartbeat, caught in an embarrassing spot.

  His brows drew together ever so slightly, and his arm tightened around her just a fraction, drawing her closer to him. Something searing flashed in the indigo depths of his eyes, and a shock of electricity jolted through her, sending delicious sensations skittering along her nerves.

  They stayed locked like that for one breath, two. Jen was the first to snap out of it, pulling her hand back and turning her face away, hoping she wasn’t blushing. Pushing off the mattress, she unfortunately had to use his chest to lever herself up. He pulled his arm away as she scooted to the foot of the bed, studiously avoiding his eyes.

  She could feel his gaze, though, as she crawled awkwardly over the carved ebony footboard. It beat crawling over his legs.

  When her feet hit the stone floor, she grabbed her toothbrush and a fresh set of clothes and headed for the bathroom, managing not to look at him.

  The bathroom door slammed behind her and the lock was turned.

  Shit. What was going on here? She was touching him, embarrassed around him, feeling little electric shocks when he looked at her.

  Attraction. She was attracted to him.

  Hold up there, sister. That guy kidnapped you. Thou shalt not be attracted to thy kidnapper. She was pretty sure that was an important rule written by someone smarter than she was being right now.

  But had he really?

  It may have started off as a kidnapping, but if she had the chance to run right now, she wouldn’t. Somewhere along the way they’d become a team. She was on board with the plan now. The thought of going with him didn’t scare her anymore. The thought of leaving her life in Baghdad, not that it had been much of a life, seemed, hell, appealing now.

  What would this Citadel look like? What kind of people would she meet? What kind of creatures would she meet? Curiosity had her excited by the prospect. The idea of something so completely new had a feeling that felt a lot like hope blooming within her.

  She wasn’t scared anymore because Theron would be with her. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her, he’d proven that last night.

  Their conversation floated back to her. She’d talked with men like that before. It was the way two people talked when they’d been dating for a little while, when they were getting to know each other. That thought scared her a little and she pushed it away, dismissing it.

  Lying beside him in the dark, his arm around her, their voices weaving a spell of comfort around them both. It felt like connection. It felt like...intimacy. But was it real? Or was it a product of stress, adrenaline, proximity and physical attraction, at least on her part?

  Jen stripped out of her clothes and showered quickly, brushed her teeth and threw on a fresh shirt and khakis. She wasn’t in a hurry to be i
n the same room as Theron this soon after her little realization, but she was also aware that the sun would be up very soon and they should get on the road if they wanted to make Rutba by nightfall.

  ***

  Two hours later, Theron was nervously drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Highway 1 stretched out before them, disappearing into the horizon. Empty desert stretched out on either side. Rise Against was pumping through the speakers singing about help being on the way.

  Jen rode shotgun, staring out the window at the shifting sands. She’d been quiet since he’d come awake to find her fingers in his hair, her body pressed against his side. He’d been incredibly grateful for the silk duvet that had covered them both. It had hidden his massive erection from her view.

  He normally woke up semi-hard, but the feel of her touch and the look in her eyes had left him instantly like steel. After she’d bolted for the bathroom, he’d had to focus on remembering how to draw protection wards for several minutes to get his dumb-stick to calm down. Wards had always been the toughest area of magick for him. So many symbols and loops and knots to remember. The trick worked, and he was able to stand up before Jen had finished the fastest shower in the history of females.

  He tried to push thoughts about last night out of his head, but they kept creeping back in. The feel of her tucked against his right side, her head on his chest, it was one of the best things he’d ever felt in his life. The skin over his ribs tingled at the memory, and his right arm ached to be around her again.

  He’d never just slept next to a woman. They’d talked until she’d fallen asleep during one of his stories about Academy life. He’d just watched her for a few minutes until he’d drifted off too. He’d never told a woman the things he’d told her last night.

  There had only been two types of women in his life. The female mages knew his story. Most of them had grown up around him. They weren’t interested in relationships. They’d all wanted his body. A few had wanted him to father their children, but he wasn’t going there. All the female mages knew he was a bad bet for the long-term. He practically had “killed in action” stamped on his ass, but his genes were top notch.

  Female mages, particularly the combat mages, were a practical bunch. They knew emotional attachments were not a good idea, but they also understood the need to carry on the subspecies. Mages were the line between the sapiens and the other races, after all.

  The other women he’d been with were sapiens, and he’d never gotten close to any of them. They’d been one-night only affairs when he’d had an itch to scratch and it had been the same for those women. He hadn’t even learned most of their names, and they hadn’t gotten his.

  That was the rule mages lived by. One night with a sapien was all that was allowed. Anything more was strictly forbidden. For both the safety of the sapien and the secrecy of the shadow races.

  That thing last night with Jen was totally new. He’d only ever talked like that with Jas and Bren, trading stories and laughing until all hours. Mixed with the physical closeness, the warmth of her against him, the scent of her surrounding him, it was intoxicating.

  He was hungry for more. It was so bad, he wanted to pull off the road and haul her into his arms. He thought he’d put a lid on his urges where she was concerned, but the way she’d looked at him this morning, the way she’d touched him, it had torn the lid off, blown up the lid and scattered the ashes of the lid to the four winds.

  He just had to hold it together until they got to the Citadel. Then he could get some distance and figure out what this was.

  The asphalt rolled beneath the tires at a much slower rate than he would have liked, but he had to be sure they weren’t going to hit any roadside bombs. This stretch of Highway 1 between Ramadi and Rutba was supposedly a hotbed for bandits and ISIS operatives.

  The big eighteen-wheeler trucks that made the runs between Baghdad, Syria and Jordan had this one highway through the desert. Those rigs looked a bit like something out of Mad Max, with huge spiked grills, run flat tires and a few even had gun turrets.

  He’d give his left nut for a gun turret on the SUV, but if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

  That left them slow rolling so that he could visually inspect the roadway. It also limited them to traveling during the day, which made them targets for bandits. If it had just been him, he might have chanced it and run full out at night without the headlights. He had even odds of surviving a bomb blast, given his immunity to fire. The concussion and force of such a blast was still a danger.

  His passenger changed all of that, though. She was precious cargo.

  Theron’s eyes scanned the horizon alert to the slightest glint of sunlight on metal or glass, the barest hint of movement from people or vehicles, the smallest inkling that danger was ahead.

  Tension had already tightened his shoulders to the point of pain when a vehicle crested the slight rise behind them, popping up in the rearview. A couple of trucks had passed them since they’d left Ramadi around dawn. He hoped to hell this was another one of those.

  As they crested another small hill, Theron saw figures ahead on the road and his stomach hit the floor. There were four vehicles parked, two on either side of the road and makeshift barricades had been set up.

  Slowing the SUV, he pulled the binocs out of the console between the seats, very aware that the vehicle behind them was closing fast.

  “Shit,” he said, his voice sounding loud in the silence of the SUV. “They’ve got tire spikes.”

  Passing the binoculars to Jen, his mind raced with tactical possibilities.

  The vehicle he’d spotted in the rearview earlier, which turned out to be a rusted out 4Runner, was idling about fifty feet back. There were two figures in the front seat, no telling how many were in the back.

  With the number of vehicles ahead, there were at least four potential hostiles, likely armed.

  They had a few options. Gun it and go off road. They ran the risk of getting stuck in the shifting sand, given how heavy the SUV was. They’d be sitting ducks then. There was also the risk that the bandits, and that’s almost certainly what they were, had set up IEDs and landmines in the empty stretches of sand beside the road.

  He could gun it and run down the barricades, but they would almost certainly take some fire, and as good as his run flats were, he wasn’t sure they could stand up to those tire spikes.

  They could turn around, but there were likely magickal baddies waiting for them in Ramadi. They had taken out that sorceress, but it was a good bet the rest of the death cult would be gunning for them, and now they had revenge on their mind. The only way out of this was to get to Damascus and this was the only road there.

  Turning, Theron eyed the explosives, the grenades and the automatic weapons in the cargo area. If he could get close enough, he could light some shit up, mechanically, chemically and magickally.

  His 1911s went in his holsters. He pulled an automatic M-16 across his lap and handed Jen a Belgian P-90. The rifle could churn out the lead and didn’t have much of a kick. It could be fired easily without looking through the sights and he was sure she could handle it.

  “It’s set to semi-auto, three round bursts,” he told her, speaking quickly.

  She tucked the gun barrel down beside her right knee so that she could easily bring it to bear. The woman must have taken careful notes when she was embedded with those Marines.

  Two frag grenades were placed in her lap.

  “Grip and pull the pin,” he said, indicating the bit of metal with a ring on it. “Count to three and throw it or roll it. The kill zone is about fifteen feet. Casualty zone is about forty-five.”

  Her eyes went wide and shot to his face.

  “Shit is about to get real in a very bad way,” he told her, wishing to the gods he’d thought to put a tac vest on her. “Keep your head down and do what you have to in order to get out of here.”

  “What about you?” Her voice was steady but higher than usual.

  He
flashed her a smile as he let his fire out to play, letting tiny flames lick up his hands.

  “I got this,” he told her. It took every ounce of strength within him not to lean in and steal a good luck kiss as he prepared to hit the gas and charge the barricades.

  He’d just released his foot from the brake when she said, “Wait.”

  His foot hit the brakes again. The binocs were up to her eyes, and she lowered them just enough to look at him. She glanced back at the vehicle behind them, which was rolling slowly forward.

  “I think I can get us out of this,” she said, her voice quiet.

  “How?”

  “I’m going to talk to them.”

  “The hell you are!”

  “I’m serious. They’re not organized enough, and their equipment isn’t good enough to be ISIS. They’re bandits. I’ve heard these guys can be bought off. It’s basically a toll booth.”

  She eyed the guns, ammunition and explosives behind them.

  “Not a chance. I’m not going to give them any more weapons than they already have.”

  “They might take something else,” she said, turning and fishing something from her bag. “If we try it and it doesn’t work, we’re no worse off than we are right now, having to fight our way through.”

  A long strip of black cloth emerged and she wound it around her head and face with the ease of long practice. She grabbed his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. Her face, eyes and hair were completely covered.

  “Let me go with you,” he said.

  “Not a chance, Cap. You’re too white. With my Arabic and in a niqab I can pass. This is going to work,” she said, lunging for her door handle.

  “Jen, wait!” he shouted.

  She was too quick and he cursed his decision not to handcuff her. He opened his door just a crack and positioned the M-16 where he could draw it quickly. His fire was coiled just beneath the surface of his left hand.

  Jen walked slowly toward the barricades, her hands above her head. He let the SUV roll slowly about ten feet behind her.