All Fired Up (3 page)

“Tha’ musta hurt.” Her words slurred, her lids fluttered downward.

“Aye.” He had a feeling he was not going to explain much tonight. “What is your name, lass?”

“Calleigh,” she mumbled. “Calleigh Siobhan McCarthy.” Her head bobbed. “You’re just a dream, aren’t you?” she whispered.

“Aye. Go to sleep now.” Perhaps it was best she thought that until he truly knew he was supposed to be here.

Her eyes closed, and her head tipped back against the cushions. Soft, sighing breaths slipped from her rose-colored lips.

He looked at the goblet on the table and grinned. How much wine had she drunk? More than she aught.

Calleigh Siobhan McCarthy.
A daughter of Eire, yet she claimed not to have summoned him. Another of Freya’s tricks perhaps? The goddess’s strange and oft cruel sense of humor was well known among the Brotherhood. Either she or Eros would know if this woman was really meant to be his next charge.

Alrik scooped the slumbering lass into his arms. She smelled so sweet his mouth watered. Did all the women of this time smell like confections? She nuzzled against him. Her robe shifted, revealing the creamy swell of her breast. He looked away too late. His groin tightened. The goddess of love had a hand in this, that much he was sure. Foolish Freya, always amusing herself with the lives of mortals.

Once Calleigh was tucked into her bed, Alrik shut the door to her bedchamber. Time to confront Freya and see what game the goddess played.

He went back to the room he had first entered and stood before the fireplace. He spoke to the air, his lips quirked in a knowing smile. “How kind of you, Freya, to give me such a beautiful charge, perhaps even more beautiful than you—”

In a soundless flash of light, the room around him disappeared, replaced by the glorious halls of Valhalla.

“You would not dare speak such a thing, Viking. Not if you ever wish to fulfill your service to me.” Freya reclined on a chaise in her throne room. Thick waves of rose-gold hair spilled over her alabaster shoulders. Jeweled brooches fastened the slip of pleated white silk she was almost not wearing. So sheer was the fabric of her gown, the blush of her nipples showed through. She was more Venus today than Freya. Despite her blatant display, he felt nothing. The goddess’s charms came at too high a price.

Behind her, on a perch of gold and jasper, roosted the Phoenix bird. Feathers the color of a sunset adorned the hawk-sized creature. He knew well the powerful magic in those feathers.

“Goddess, I did not mean to imply—”

“You most certainly did.” She tipped her face up, the brilliant lazuline of her irises as startling as every other shade her changeable blue eyes were capable of. “You sought my company. Now you have it. Do not waste my time, Phoenix. I am busy.”

Propped on pillows on the marble floor alongside Freya’s chaise, a naked Eros scowled, obviously less than pleased at being seen in such a subservient position. He yanked a silk coverlet over his hips.

Alrik nodded to the demi-god and averted his eyes in what he hoped Eros would understand as respect. Under no circumstance did he wish to invoke the lesser god’s wrath.

His chieftain blood revolted at her haughty tone, but he thought of the day he would have his vengeance on Dagny. The day when Freya would grant him his freedom and his own second chance. The promise of that day calmed him but not enough to unclench his jaw.

“Aye, goddess,” he ground the words out, fists tamped against his thighs. “I would ask a question of you.”

She leaned back on her chaise and trailed one delicate foot across Eros’s tanned hip, dragging the coverlet off. He yanked the silk back, but Freya seemed not to notice. She dropped her hand to his head and lazily combed her fingers through the demi-god’s blond curls. “So ask.”

“My charge claims not to have summoned me, and I think she speaks the truth. Perhaps there has been some mistake?”

“Are you implying I make mistakes, Viking?” Her hand fisted in Eros’s flaxen locks, causing him to grimace.

“Nay. Never. But it has been almost a century and a half since my talisman was stolen and I was summoned. I think it came to this new charge accidentally.” As much as he wanted time away from the goddess, he did not want to burden a mortal unnecessarily.

She relaxed, again petting Eros. “So the talisman has shown up.” She shrugged. “Your duty remains the same, no matter who summons you. Three changes must be granted before you may leave.”

He nodded. He would do his job, as he always did, without question, without issue, always focused on the day he would be free. This time would be no different.

The goddess spread her fingers possessively over Eros’s chest and gazed at the god of love like he was a sweet to be savored. Completely occupied, Freya waved her hand. “You are dismissed.”

Alrik again stood in front of Calleigh’s fireplace.

The goddess was doing this on purpose. He knew it with every bit of warrior’s intuition in his bones. She would not forgive his rejecting her and most likely, would continue to make earning his freedom a most difficult task. He clenched his hands. No one would stop him from getting his revenge.

Especially not a woman.

Chapter Three

Calleigh was sure Snickers had spent half the night jumping up and down on her head and the other half stuffing fur balls in her mouth.

She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and squinted at the clock. 10:53 a.m. A pretty good start to spending the whole day in bed. At least she’d managed to get into bed after drinking an entire bottle of wine on an empty stomach. She lifted the covers. Even if she was still wearing her robe.

What a dream. What a hunk. That body. Oh my. She wiggled her toes with the sheer pleasure of remembering. And all that smoke…so bizarre. And fun. Even dinner at Thai’d Up had never given her such erotic dreams, and their curry was hot enough to strip wallpaper.

She yawned, rubbed her eyes and sat up. Bad decision. Her stomach pitched and the throbbing in her head made her moan. The bathroom seemed very far away. At least Snickers wasn’t on the bed to give her one of his famous disapproving looks.

Speaking of which, where was the furry little dictator? He should be yowling his head off from starvation by now. She got up slowly, making her way to the kitchen without flipping light switches. The candle on the coffee table was out but a fire still flickered in the fireplace. Last night’s storm lingered, casting everything in a deep gloom. Perfect. Right now, dark was good.

Still no Snickers. Maybe he’d caught another mouse. She opened the fridge, scrunching her eyes at the light, and grabbed a diet Pepsi. Nothing else appealed, but she knew she should eat something.

If she’d learned anything at all from her nightlife-loving Uncle Seamus, it was that a good coating of grease was just the thing for a hangover. What she needed was a big cheese omelet, a side of crispy home fries, and some of the black sludge the diner two blocks down called coffee. She shut the fridge. After a long hot shower she’d head to Little Joe’s.

Oh…a hot shower sounded fabulous. For being hungover and throbbing like a beating heart, her brain was working remarkably well. Better turn the fireplace off first. Her gas bill would be through the roof.

Setting her soda on the counter, she shuffled into the living room. She grabbed the key off the mantle, knelt and turned the fire off, swaying slightly.

“A-ha. I thought there was magic in that fire when the wood did not burn away.”

The key fell from her hand and clunked onto the hardwood floor as she pivoted. Her robe twisted underneath her and she plopped onto her backside, barely managing to keep her legs together. She swallowed, praying her stomach wouldn’t embarrass her.

The fantasy man from her dream wasn’t a dream. He was still here, sprawled on her sofa, the blue flannel sheet still draped around his waist.
National Geographics
littered the floor, and Snickers snoozed on his chest like a fat fluffy traitor. Her fantasy man was real and even hotter than she remembered.

She pointed, her finger shaking. “You…you shouldn’t be here. You’re a figment of my imagination. Why aren’t you gone?”

“I tried to explain that to you last night before the wine bested you. And I told you, I will not leave until the three changes have been granted.”

“You mentioned that.” She rubbed her temples. “
Go
away.”

He shook his head. “I am the Phoenix you summoned.”

“I can’t believe you’re real. I thought you were a dream.” She groaned softly. “My head hurts too much for this. I need a hot shower and something to eat. Don’t move. I mean it. We’ll discuss this later, okay? Because I have the sinking feeling that ‘later’ you’re still going to be here.”

He smiled. “Aye. I will be here.”

“Don’t smile at me. I’m not in the mood for that either.”

“As you wish.” His smile disappeared.

She stood and tugged her robe a little tighter. A wandering thought made her skin tingle. She narrowed her eyes. “How did I get into bed last night?”

“I carried you.” His big hands massaged Snickers, who rolled over onto his back and kneaded air biscuits into space.

The sight of his hands on her cat and the knowledge that those hands had been on her made her shiver. “Quit doing that to my cat. He doesn’t like men.”

One dark brow arched up. “He likes me well enough. Perhaps he just does not like the men you have brought home thus far.”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I am not discussing my love life with a…a naked stranger.” Calleigh snatched the Pepsi off the counter and stomped down the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door to the detriment of her aching head. She locked the door. The nerve of that, that…man thing.

She cranked the shower knob toward hot then got the aspirin out of the medicine cabinet. Popping the top, she dumped three little white pills into her hand. She tossed them into her mouth and washed them down with the diet Pepsi. The fizzy liquid burned her throat.

Closing the toilet lid, she sat and waited for the water to heat. What would her mother do if a strange man suddenly appeared out of a pillar of smoke and fire? Probably set out tea and cookies. Calleigh sighed. She’d always winked at her mother’s beliefs in the “little people”, Irish white witches and the Fae. Maybe her mother hadn’t been so far off.

Steam poured over the top of the glass door. She hung her robe and stepped beneath the blissfully hot water. Tipping her face into the spray, she relaxed. No more thinking until after breakfast.

She emerged from the shower feeling a little better. A few minutes later, she padded back into the living room, dressed in a grey sweatshirt and faded Levi’s, her damp curls pulled through a Yankees baseball cap.

Alrik still sprawled on the couch, one brawny arm propping his head up. Snickers hadn’t moved either and now snored, upside down, feet in the air. Calleigh rolled her eyes as she tugged her sneakers on. Dumb cat.

She didn’t really want to leave this guy alone in her apartment, but she was not taking a naked man to breakfast. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Don’t touch anything, don’t answer the phone, don’t answer the door, just stay right where you are. Understand?”

Alrik jumped up, dumping Snickers onto the couch. “I am going with you.”

“Oh no, you’re not.”

“In this, you cannot stop me. A Phoenix must stay with his charge to protect them from those who might influence their decisions.”

“No one knows about you and these three changes so no one is going to influence anything. And I don’t have to stop you. The police see you walking around in nothing but a sheet and they’ll do the stopping.”

“Police?”

“You know, the law?”

“Aye, the law.” He rubbed his chin and stared at her curiously. “What year is this?”

She frowned. “It’s 2009, why?”

His brows shot up in surprise. “The war is over, then?”

“What war?”

“Between the northern and southern clans.”

“You mean the Civil War? That’s been over for a long time.” She shook her head. Apparently they didn’t get CNN in Phoenixland.

He ignored her response. “I am going with you.”

“I think I covered that already. No shirt, no shoes, no service.” She crossed her arms.

“You will give me clothes.” The sheet slipped down around his hips, exposing lush curves of muscle.

Her mouth felt like the Sahara. “Hah! What makes you think I have anything that will fit you?” She winced at the loudness of her own voice and pressed her palms to her temples. So much for the aspirin.

“Then I will go as I am, law or not.” He folded his arms across his chest. The sheet finished its descent to the floor. He didn’t seem to care that he was naked again.

Oh my.
A new, more intimate part of her body started throbbing. She threw up her hands. “Fine! Wait here.”

Mumbling under her breath, she went to her bedroom, returning a few minutes later with a bundle.

“Here.” She tossed a football jersey in his direction without looking, even though she wanted to. “These were supposed to be part of the bonfire so I don’t care if you stretch them out. These sweatpants are gonna be small but they’re all I have.” Eyes on the wall, she flung the pants in the same direction.

“
Sweat
pants?”

She glanced over her shoulder. He held the pants out with two fingers and sniffed at them.

She turned around, hands on her hips. “For Pete’s sake, that’s just what they’re called. They’re perfectly clean, just put them on already.”

He laughed softly. She was staring again. And not at his face.

Her cheeks went supernova. She spun back toward the wall and tried to think about baseball and math. “Hurry up, I’m hungry and hung over and in no mood for your games.”

“I am not playing games, Calleigh lass. You will know when I am playing games with you, trust me.”

The tone of his voice implied things she didn’t want to think about. Or maybe she did want to think about them.
Focus!
“Are you dressed yet?”

“Aye.”

She pivoted to face him. Tight didn’t accurately describe the sweatpants. The peel on a banana fit looser. He filled out the jersey like he wore the proper padding underneath. People were going to think he shopped in the kid’s department.

A bead of sweat trickled down her spine. The temperature in her home seemed directly connected to the tightness of his clothes. She stared again but he had clothes on now, and there was no sin in staring at a clothed man. Not much sin, anyway.

“Um, okay, let’s go.” After grabbing her purse off the sofa table and her umbrella from the corner, she pulled the door open. The cool blast was a refreshing change from the hot, cinnamon-scented air in her apartment. She glanced over at him. “Can everybody see you or is this my own personal mental problem?”

His mouth quirked slightly. “I am visible to all.”

“Great. Fabulous. Just what I was hoping for.” She rolled her eyes. “Try not to draw attention to yourself, okay? I grew up here. People know me.”

“Aye.” He stood on the landing, looking down the block.

Thanks to the steady drizzle, the street was empty. Calleigh opened the umbrella and handed it to him. She turned to lock the door and dropped her keys in the process. Bending to pick them up, she saw his bare toes.

Groaning, she locked the door and pointed at his feet. “Those are not going to work.”

He scrunched his brow and looked down. He flexed his toes. “My feet work very well.”

“Not barefoot, they don’t. You can’t go in the diner like that and besides, it’s rainy and cold.”

“Cold?” He held his hand out as if feeling the air. “This is not cold.”

“Well, it is to me. C’mon, we have to get you some shoes.”

They walked three blocks over to the Dollar Discount, where she bought him socks, a pair of sneakers, a sweatshirt and jeans. He came out of the restroom wearing his new clothes. Even in cheap duds he looked hot. She balled up the jersey and sweatpants and stuffed them in the store bag as they headed for the diner.

She calculated what she’d just spent. Lunch for a week. “You know, when I thought about getting a roommate, I imagined one with a job.”

“I have a job. I am a Phoenix.”

“So you’ve told me.” Why didn’t the cute ones come with brains?

Ahead of them, an elderly couple entered the diner. The man opened the door for the woman, letting her in ahead of him.

Alrik watched the couple, curiosity knitting his brows. “Why did the man do that?”

“Because a gentleman holds the door for a lady. Didn’t they do that in the other times you visited?” Or after that many years, she had him trained.

“I was not there to study the customs, just to grant the changes and be gone.” Alrik shifted the bag and umbrella to one hand and reached ahead of her to open the diner door.

She gave him a weak smile as she went by, denying the impulse to lean in and inhale his spicy scent. “So you’re a quick study. Whoopee for you.”

“Aye, whoopee for me.” He said it with such seriousness that she laughed in spite of her aching head.

They settled into a booth and a heavily made-up, bleached blonde in her late fifties handed them menus and filled two cups with hot, liquid caffeine. Calleigh set the menu down, knowing exactly what she wanted, and picked up the steaming cup of black coffee.