Aflame (Apotheosis) (19 page)

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Authors: Krissy Daniels

BOOK: Aflame (Apotheosis)
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“Cool.” He turned toward Zander. “Help with what?”

Zander curled his arms. “You see this? You know how I got these big guns?” He flexed and posed, showing off his unreal size. “Chelsea’s cooking. That woman makes way too much food. I can’t let things go to waste, you know. It would be awesome to have someone help me eat it all.”

Too much food? How was that even possible? “Will I get big muscles?” he asked.

“Yeah, little man. You will.” Zander smacked his back.

It hurt, but he tried not to show it. A loud gurgle came from somewhere in the lower region of his body. “I’m hungry, can we go back?”

“Sounds good. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?” Another loud grumble. Stephen wrapped his arms around himself.

Zander stood, lifted Stephen, and held him at eye level. “There are some very special ladies in the house. As men, it’s our job to protect them. So, you can never, ever use your lightning indoors.”

Stephen sagged like a rag doll in Zander’s big hands as he was lowered back to the ground.

Zander bent at the waist and held a palm out. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Stephen grabbed his hand and shook it up and down with zeal.

“It’s pretty fuc—I mean, it’s pretty cool though, your lightning. Maybe we could practice using it outside. Would you like that?”

“Oh yeah.” Stephen’s smile stretched so wide he felt a cut open on his cracked lip.

Zander scooped him off the ground and tossed him over a shoulder. “Let’s go eat.”

A couple of blinks later, they were seated at a kitchen table stacked with turkey sandwiches, grilled cheese, tomato soup, a tray of vegetables and all kinds of crackers and cheese.

Zander chuckled and handed Stephen a plate. “See what I mean?”

Stephen couldn’t remember ever seeing so much food on a table. “I think I love this lady!”

* * * *

The boil now a slow simmer, Grayce attempted to join the others for lunch. Her temper had lost most of its steam. They were safe, for now.

Hip against the door jam, she crossed her arms and watched. Zander and Stephen devoured their lunches together. They laughed. Joked. Shoved unnatural amounts of food in their mouths. Zander was a completely different character around the boy. Playful. Young. Wow, she didn’t even know how old he was. Didn’t know much of anything about this man she was bound to for eternity.

She should’ve pulled up a chair. But that damned mouth of his hypnotized her. It didn’t matter if he chewed, smiled or talked, her gaze settled on those lips and she was helpless to do anything but stare. She craved them now, wet and warm against her skin. She shivered with wanton desire as warmth settled between her thighs. Oh fuck, seriously? Now?

Hatred and fear had been the driving force in her life for so long. What compelled her now? A fucking desire she couldn’t explain or resist, and a lust that overshadowed the repulsion toward physical contact she’d harbored for years.

Now, there was a boy and some crazy connection to him. A few weeks ago, she would’ve left him to die, feeling justified that she’d prevented another male from staining the earth with his putrid soul.

Nikolas entered across the room. He swung Chelsea in a wide circle, kissed her with unbridled passion and didn’t give a shit who watched. Their love billowed around them like a pink haze—hearts, cupids and all. It would’ve been nauseating if it weren’t so pure and unfeigned.

She’d never be able to love like that. Wasn’t capable. Love didn’t live in her heart.

No room.

With Zander, it would always be about need. Her body needed his. It wasn’t enough to carry her into a bright happy future, but damn if it wasn’t the one thing keeping her going.

Zander glanced over his shoulder, his dimples deepened by the wicked smile he wore. With one bite, his third sandwich disappeared. He whispered something to Stephen and excused himself from the table.

In two strides he was at her side, and much to her chagrin, she was breathless.

“Walk?” Tucking his arm under her elbow, he led her to the back door. Her shoes squeaked across the tile as she dug in to hold her ground.

“No,” she whispered, and made a pathetic attempt to free her arm from his grasp. “I’m really fucking mad at you.”

“Really fucking mad?” He let her go. Emptiness replaced the heated flow of energy. “Firecracker, you know how it turns me on when you talk like that.” He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the erection that threatened to make confetti out of his jeans. Male pride shifted the features on his face. His eyes sparkled like marbles set in a windowsill on a sunny day.

Damn. She was helpless to do anything but wipe the drool from her face and nod.

“Can you be really fucking mad later?” Zander lifted Grayce’s chin. She was spellbound, caught in his heated gaze, completely at his mercy.

“You fucker. That’s not fair.” Heat wafted through the air. Her heat, her desire, her hunger for him. “I had things under control with Stephen. You had no right to—”

With a gust of air and a dizzying whirl of color, Grayce was back in bed, pinned beneath hard, heated muscle. His erection pressed against her groin with enough pressure she felt his blood flow in sync with hers.

“You were saying.” Soft lips tickled her ear.

“I don’t need rescuing.” Gulp. “Get off me. I don’t want this right now.” She did want him, in every pathetic, girlie way.

Zander removed himself from the bed and stood by the window. His body cast an eerie shadow across the room. “What
do
you want?”

“How old are you?” Grayce sat up and scooted herself against the headboard.

Zander smiled and crossed his arms, mimicking her. “I’m thirty-eight, almost thirty-nine. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-eight and I’m asking the questions.”

“All right. Fire away.” He gestured for her to continue, then resumed standing like a statue, his erection still putting up a fight against the bind of his clothing.

She strained to keep her gaze above his waistline. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m your man. That’s my only reason for being,” he answered, expression unwavering.

“Be serious, Zander. Do you have a job? You have to make money somehow. This is quite a spread you have here. It didn’t come cheap.”

“First of all, this is our spread, not mine.” Arms still folded, he crossed the vast gap to the bed and sat on the edge. “Nikolas and I have made wise investments. Nikolas is a brilliant businessman. We’ve been partners for years. My parents were well off, so I received a hefty inheritance after they died. I didn’t squander the money.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you don’t have an actual job.” She rolled her eyes.

“No, I don’t. You’ll never have to work either, not if you don’t want to.”

Tyr had spoken almost those exact words to her right before she’d been caught hook, line and sinker into his net woven of lies and deceit, greed and domination. Only difference was, she hadn’t been offered a choice. She was told. “You’ll never work.” Period. End of discussion.

Zander stretched and lay across the end of the bed. “Why all the questions, Firecracker?”

The anticipatory throb, in that most private of places, beat rampant. There wasn’t much time. She’d have to pounce soon or explode.

“I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you.” With a sigh, she leaned forward and crawled to him. “Isn’t that what we are supposed to do? Get to know each other. You say we’re stuck together, but what if we don’t like each other? How does it work then?”

His deep throaty laugh threatened to disintegrate every brick of every wall, plow through each barricade and melt every layer of her protective coating.

“What’s so funny?” Her attempt at scowling proved a challenge when his smile was so effusive, his gaze so solicitous.

“That had been my original plan, you know. Ask you on a proper date or two. Get to know you. Ease you into this new life of yours. Fate had other plans. But here we are and I happen to like you already. Very much.” He trailed a finger up her arm, over her shoulder, across her chest and stopped at the dip between her breasts. “You wanna date? I could take you on a date. We could chit-chat. Have a few drinks, shoot the breeze.”

Grayce reminded herself to breath. He was too close, his body, his scent, his touch, too overpowering. Fuck talking. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went in for the kill.

Before invading his mouth with her tongue, she whispered, “I hate dating.”

* * * *

The floor trembled. Pictures swayed on the walls. Stephen gripped the edge of the table as the chair danced under him.

“This is fun.” Stephen giggled.

A black mist oozed from the center of the coffee shop floor and thickened as it rose. Pictures jumped from their hooks. Glasses and mugs dove off the shelves. The shatter of glass rang in his ears.

The size of Chelsea’s eyes made his heart stop. Uh-oh. This wasn’t supposed to be fun. Danger. Chelsea grabbed his hand and yanked him from the dancing seat. “Grab the back of my coat and don’t let go Stephen.” People screamed. Tables and chairs were thrown about as they pushed and fought to get through the door. Chelsea banged a chair against the window, once, twice before glass sprayed everywhere. “Stay behind me.”

The black mist grew larger. As it swelled, it sucked people in. It surrounded them and they just disappeared. It made its way toward the little girl that’d been smiling at Stephen from across the room. No, he wasn’t about to let it get her. Still clinging to Chelsea’s coat, he raised his free hand and shot his electricity at the black mist. It jerked, vibrated and shrunk. The girl, now in her mother’s arms, smiled and waved as she disappeared into the crowd.

Stephen made a pistol with his hand, pointed his finger to his lips and blew.

Chelsea tugged his arm, pulling him against her side. The black mist turned its attention toward Stephen. As it thickened even more, a mouth shape formed at the center and called his name. It was a loud, terrible screeching sound. “Steeepheennn.”

“Chelsea, Chelsea, we need to go.” A face jetted from the oily mist and stopped inches from Stephen’s nose.

Oh my God. Shayde.

The mist screamed loud and shrill, showing rows upon rows of perfectly sharp and pointy teeth. Black drippy arms grabbed and clawed at him.

“No!” Stephen sat up, throwing his pillow across the room. “Shayde. He’s here. We have to go. We have to leave.” Taking a moment to catch his breath he realized no one was around to hear him. It took great effort to free himself from the mountain of blankets Chelsea had covered him with. When finally untangled, he marched to the room next to his and pounded on the door.

“Little man, what’s up?” Z’s hair was a mess and stood straight up on the top. Stephen fought back a snicker. No time for jokes.

Grabbing Zander’s shovel-sized hand he pulled him out of his room. “We have to train.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Zander squatted and grasped Stephen’s head in his hands. “It’s six in the morning. What happened? Bad dream?”

* * * *

“Z, listen to me. This is important. We have to train. Now.” Stomping his feet and shaking his fist in the air, Stephen looked hell bent and more than determined. Zander glanced over his shoulder to the warm naked body lying under the sheet. His hope for a good morning romp fizzled like a defective firecracker. Shit. He scratched his head and pulled the bedroom door shut. Grabbing the boy’s hand, he let himself be led, half naked and barefoot, away from his love and down the long hallway.

He rubbed the stubble on his chin and squatted in front of the boy. “Mind telling me what this is all about, little man?” The troubled expression on the young sleepy face set off alarms in Zander’s head.

“There’s a bad man. Very bad.” Fisted hands shook in the air. “He’s the one who hurt my mom. I’m dreaming about him. That means he’s coming. He’s coming. My lightning can hurt him. So you need to teach me how to use it.”

The determination on Stephen’s face and sheer force of will in his eyes, told Zander that anything other than a “hell yes” would have been unacceptable.

Zander knew all too well the devastating effect fear and ignorance could have on a child wielding power as strong as Stephen’s. At least he’d be able to keep the boy safe. Stephen grunted a “thank you” as Zander threw him over his shoulder and headed out. Shoes be damned, he wasn’t going to let this young one down.

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