Born of Fire (3 page)

Water wouldn’t extinguish Phoenix fire, but it could keep it from spreading away from her body. She was tempted to laugh. She hadn’t lost control of herself like this since

… something drifted across her mind…a memory of sorts, but nothing she could put her finger on. Part of reincarnation was having a thin barrier erected to separate each new beginning from previous lives. She carried all the essential information she needed for survival into each rebirth but to cut down on confusion; some parts were glossed over and locked away just out of reach. She was grateful the memory hadn’t fully surfaced this time. Forced recollection always made her head ache and her stomach pitch as she was assailed by the reminiscence of actions and emotions she no longer recalled.

Something about Fiach made Cilia smolder and her Phoenix stir, which made him dangerous in a way no one ever had been. And now he was living across the hall, a temptation within easy reach.

*

Fiach sniffed the air. Something was burning. He looked at his palm. The flesh was pinked and a little warmer than usual. He closed his eyes and inhaled again. Cilia’s cinnamon spice filled his head. His cock jerked as the scent whispered over his skin and filled him with longing. He leaned his forehead against her door, just breathing in the subtle fragrance.

When he looked down, he saw her briefcase stood by the door. In her rush to escape him, she had left it there. He was tempted to knock on her door and return it, but curiosity won out and he carried the case back into his borrowed apartment.

He dropped it onto the coffee table and circled around it. From the outside, it looked like any plain black leather case. Cilia’s scent overrode the faint trace of leather, but stronger than either was the smell of humans. Wherever she worked must employ a great many of them. Then again, the scent might be more concentrated if a human was allowed access to her property. He puzzled over that and her obvious affection for the neighbor whose home he had temporarily invaded. He decided that for whatever reason, Cilia genuinely cared about the lesser race and had even developed affection for them.

He pushed in the gold clasps on the front of the case. The lock released and the lid popped open. He lifted it further and looked inside. Yellow legal pads, pencils, and file folders filled the interior. He grabbed a stack of papers and flipped through them. Her neatly printed notes filled the margins of what looked like case dockets. This type of drudgework was below a lawyer, so she must be a paralegal or secretary. A slow perusal of her notes proved she was wasting her time as an underling when she clearly had the knowledge to be much more.

He patted the heavy pockets sewn into the lining of the case. He reached inside and pulled out a business card. Dalme and Smith, Attorneys at Law. Cilia’s name and address were printed below that heading, along with the expected title of paralegal, and a contact number complete with after-hours help line. He memorized the address. It was on the low rent side of town. He felt a flicker of fear over her returning there. Crime was higher in poor communities and that would put her at risk, something he found he didn’t like to think about.

He snapped the lid closed and decided to return her property before she noticed it was missing. He crossed the hall and knocked softly on the door.

*

Cilia really didn’t want to invite Fiach into her apartment, but it wasn’t as if she couldn’t protect herself, and her earlier behavior was pretty embarrassing. She closed the door in his startled face and unchained it before swinging it open. His smile slid back into place.

She stepped back to let him enter. He brushed past her and the scent of him surrounded her. It was intoxicating, rich and earthy, hot and ashen, and strangely familiar.

She closed the door only to find herself caught between her new neighbor and hard wood behind her. He advanced on her slowly, his eyes curious and hungry. He lowered his head, intent on claiming her lips. She almost allowed them to touch before she pulled herself together. “I’m not that kind of girl, Fiach.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you were.” He extended the hand holding the briefcase.

Cilia stepped around him and took the case by the sides, instead of risking a touch by grabbing the handle, and sat on the couch. She leaned back and crossed her ankles, waiting to see if he would join her. “Can I get you anything? A drink perhaps?”

His tongue smoothed along his teeth. “Perhaps later.” He stepped to the couch and plopped down on the cushion beside her, his size dwarfing the dainty furniture. He looked around the room with marked interest and reached out a finger to smooth over the head of a black ceramic kitten she kept on the side table. It had been a gift from Stella the Christmas before.

As she watched his large forefinger stroke over the sleek black glaze she felt a damp rush between her thighs and crossed her legs tighter. Fiach grinned, as if he knew the effect he had on her and enjoyed it. She rose from the couch. “I need something to drink.”

His brow lifted, but he said nothing as she entered the kitchen and started a pot of the coffee she kept on hand for Stella’s benefit. She took the time to take a few breaths and prepared to face her guest again. She stepped into the living room and right into his chest.

The force pushed her backwards, but he grabbed onto her bare upper arms and steadied them both. Heat suffused her skin, spiking her temperature through the roof.

She ground her teeth and forced her Phoenix to subside. She jumped free of his embrace, but not before his eyes lit with knowledge. He held his hands out, palms up, and flexed them. Cilia stepped closer and was amazed that his flesh was flushed pink, but not scorched. His energy sampled, but not consumed.

*

“Interesting.” Fiach gauged Cilia’s amazement over his relatively unscathed palms.

Clearly she expected much worse than pink skin and slight tingles. He wondered what would happen if they dared prolong that contact. What it would feel like to make her as hot and needy as she made him with no more than a touch.

Fiach pinned her against the kitchen wall. His hips pressed into her, his cock aching to know her secrets. Cilia fought, kicking and squirming in his hold. He caught her face between his hands and lowered his lips, tasting her for the first time. She froze, one hand on his chest, the other braced on his hip. His lips began to heat and when he opened his eyes, he saw that hers were full black with only a thin red line circling the rims; she didn’t seem to notice the change.

Interesting. No wonder he wanted her. His earlier assumption had been correct. She wasn’t human. She was something else. But what, he wondered? Not a demon. Nothing in his world was as like this; so hot, so alive.

“Fiach?”

“Hmmm?” he asked, his mind racing ahead to which part of her he wanted to taste next.

“Back off now before one of us gets hurt.” Her tone was serious, if not breathless.

She meant what she said, but he hoped to make her forget that.

He reached between their bodies and slipped a hand inside the loose shorts hidden beneath her oversized sweatshirt. Her skin was fevered as his fingers trailed to where he expected a tangle of curls. Instead, his hand brushed over smooth flesh and he growled before slipping his fingers inside. She was hot, wet, and everything he wanted.

Cilia’s breath caught on a startled moan. Her fingers danced across his stomach, searching. He eased away so she could reach between them and palm his erection. He pushed against the pressure of her hand and thought he would die if she didn’t touch his bare skin soon. In response, he impatiently unfastened his pants and freed his erection.

Her hand wrapped around his length and she stroked him, almost driving him to his knees. She released his cock to search lower until her hands cupped his balls and massaged them gently between her fingers. She applied pressure. At first it was good; really good, then it occurred to him that it hurt. He tried to pull back, but she had him caught and they both knew it.

“Ouch,” he said with uncertainty.

She laughed in his face. His fingers were still buried deep in her core, and he knew she wanted him, and that she held him captive despite her wants.

“I asked you to stop, Fiach.”

“I planned to.”

Her derisive snort filled the air between them. “When?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Eventually.”

She rubbed his sac. This time softly enough that he groaned and pushed into her palm.

“If I let you go, will you promise to behave?” She still rubbed him tenderly.

“Don’t stop.” He panted. It was shameful to let her humiliate him like this, but he was so desperate to come with her he didn’t care how it was achieved.

Cilia used her free hand to remove his from her shorts, from her core, then grasped his shaft, working him while she continued to cup and knead his balls.

“If I let you have me, I would be no better off than Regina.” Her strokes quickened.

“You’d probably pick up your next plaything out in the hall, the same way you found me.”

“No, Cilia…” he grunted. “You’re different.”

She increased the pressure fingers on his sac while she ran her palm up and down his shaft. The skin darkened and flushed with the added heat and the friction. He threw his arms out to brace against the wall on either side of her head. She pinched his balls and Fiach cried out his release. Warm, sticky cum pulsed from the head of his cock, lubricating her hand as it slid up and down his moistened flesh.

“I am different.” She ducked out from under his arms. “I’m not going to be anyone’s forgotten amusement.” She walked into the sink and began washing her hands.

Fiach dropped his arms and tucked his spent erection into his pants. He should be energized; Cilia had brought him to orgasm, but instead it felt hollow. He wanted nothing more than to go across the hall and take a long hot shower. His powers were such that he could be cleaned and dressed with mere thought. This humiliation called for something more; he needed the bone-deep absolution only hot pounding water could give.

He saw Cilia’s hands covered in bubbles, as if she couldn’t wait to wash away the evidence of his desire for her.

“Cilia…”

“Just go, Fiach.” Her voice was coarse and tired. “Anything you have to say has been practiced on too many women to be original.”

He ran a hand through his hair. His fingers were still coated in her juices, the subtle fragrance making his mouth water. “You’re right.” He knew the truth of the words even as they left his lips. “I’m not worthy of you. I never was.” He wasn’t sure why he added the last part. His own confusion was mirrored in Cilia’s face.

He turned and left her alone with her hands in the sink. He needed to think about what his next move should be, or if there would even be one. When he entered the borrowed living room, he plopped down on the couch and regarded his damp crotch. The need to shower was still with him, as strong as it had been a few moments ago.

As a sexual being, he couldn’t explain the dirty feeling Cilia’s hand job had left him with. He should be thrumming with power, delighting in the charge of relief. Instead, he felt debased. Perhaps much as Regina had felt. Turnabout wasn’t fair play. It was a bitch.

“I trust I find you well, my Lord?” A high voice chimed, startling him from his reverie.

Fiach covered himself with a pillow and looked around to locate the familiar sound.

“Hello, Arabella.”

A twinkling sphere of luminescence hovered just behind his shoulder. It moved closer until it dissolved and a tiny fairy balanced on the pillow over his lap. Her dragonfly wings flittered with nervous energy. “Your mother has sent me with a message.”

Fiach shifted and watched as Arabella hovered easily in the air until he had settled.

“Well? What news have you brought?”

The tiny fae wrinkled her face in concentration. Fiach almost laughed, but knew it would only upset her. Bella had the temperament of a five-year-old human, as most of the smallest fae did. “I have it!” she trilled. “The Lady wishes you to come home for a visit.

Since you reached the age of majority you have refused to visit her. She wishes to know why you prefer the company of humans to that of your own mother.”

Fiach rolled his eyes; he’d been expecting this form of attack for some time now.

“Would you please tell the Lady I only want some time for myself? I would like to enjoy freedom for a while before she and Father find some new way to chain me.”

The little fae glowed brilliantly. “How dare you mention Him and the Lady on the same breath? He is demon spawn; Lord or not, he was never the equal to our Lady!”

“I’m his son too, Bella. What does that make me?”

Bella flew to his shoulder and embraced the side of his face. “I am most sorry, my Lord. You cannot help your parentage. That vile monster should never have been allowed to touch a hair on your glorious head.”

Fiach snorted, but covered it with a cough so as not to hurt her feelings. “You are very kind, Bella.”

“I know. I have worked most hard at it.” She grinned devilishly. She patted her tiny pockets until she found a small vial with silver and sapphire liquids swirling through the center. She offered it to Fiach, who accepted it hesitantly. It was rarely a good idea to take anything the fae offered, but it was equally dangerous to refuse their gifts. Even though his mother was the Lady of the Sidhe Court, these smaller fae were less easily ruled than their larger cousins, and his half-demon blood was a temptation few of them could resist.

Bella noticed the slight hesitation. “My Lord, I would never trick you into thanks or favors.” She grinned a pointy-toothed smile. “Besides, you mother forbade me to. She said to deliver the vial and ask you to visit as soon as possible.”

“What does it do?” Tiny fissions of light mingled in the strange swirling mixture.

The vial swelled until it stretched across his palm, almost the size and length of one of the pencils from Cilia’s briefcase.

“It is a beacon, of course. The Lady says if you are to live among humans, she needs a way to keep you safe. If you crush the tube, the magics will mix and allow the Lady to locate you anywhere. It is in case of extreme danger only.”