Born of Fire (2 page)

“I’m new to the building. I was just making the rounds, trying to meet my neighbors.” He flashed a heart-stopping grin and asked, “Mind if I come inside?”

He stepped closer, and his eyes moved over the long t-shirt she had slept in. She wore a pair of knit shorts as well, but judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t realized that. His large body filled the crack in her door; the tiny chain glittered meaningfully at the level of his eyes. It was a subtle reminder he had not been asked in, and she hoped he would take the hint.

He extended a hand to her through the small opening. “I’m Fiach, and you are?” She ignored his offering, and he withdrew his hand with a curious expression on his face.

“I’m Cilia Andrews and I’m running late for work,” she lied. “Maybe some other time.”

He rocked back on his heels. “I’ll hold you to that.” Then he did the most surprising thing of all. He turned around and fished in his pockets for a key. He looked over his shoulder and caught her staring as he pushed through the door and into the apartment opposite hers. Stella’s apartment.

That was odd. Max’s father had been out of the picture for as long as Cilia had known them. Between the two jobs Stella held down to keep a roof over her and Max’s head and food in their bellies, she rarely dated and never had casual flings. The idea of a man slipping into Stella’s apartment, with his own key, was immediately suspicious.

Cilia was ashamed to admit it, but more than anything, she felt jealous. This new neighbor, if that’s what he truly was, called to her Phoenix in a way no one had before.

Her body tingled, aware that he was right across the hall. She was crushed by a wave of sadness that he must be someone very important to Stella to have such ready access to her apartment.

Cilia banged her head once against her closed door, then pulled away and went to dress for the day. She hadn’t exactly lied about being late for work, she just hadn’t told the whole truth. She didn’t have set hours, but her new neighbor didn’t need to know that.

The fact of the matter was that she worked hard, and often; her hours flexed depending on her mood and workload.

Her loneliness had driven her to work among humans, but she had to be selective about which jobs she chose. She couldn’t risk close proximity to people or a profession where touching was commonplace. So she had been forced to be discreet about her contributions to human society.

With those requirements in mind, she had taken a job as a paralegal for a pro bono law firm on the low rent side of town. The Dalme and Smith office was small and shabby, but full of heart and the dedication to do better by their fellow man. As a paralegal, Cilia could sit in her cubicle and do case research or filing, safely out of range of the people represented by the stack of paperwork. The bustling of humans around the tiny office made her feel like one of them; just a person, trying to make life a little better for someone else, instead of the solitary creature she was forced to be.

Cilia’s head throbbed. Her eyes burned and watered as her reality tilted. The ground beneath her seemed to shift and she crumpled to the floor. She was still in her apartment, but the edges had blurred and faded into breathtaking alien scenery. A barren landscape, all earthen hues of browns and reds, cracked ground beneath her feet. Large warm arms around her and the echo of laughter floated on the soft sultry air. The image shattered as quickly as it had come, and left a hollow ache in her chest. She assumed it was a buried memory, a partial recollection that had been lost to this incarnation, but it was impossible to know for certain.

She brushed her teeth and pulled on a black knee-length skirt then buttoned a white blouse over the top before adding her heavy black overcoat and matching heels. Twisting her short hair into a bun with the ease and practice of someone used to having much longer hair, she snapped a clip to hold it in place, then grabbed a thin black briefcase by the door and stepped outside. For a moment, she was too busy keying the locks into place to notice, and then the scent hit her.

She wheeled around and found herself flush against her new neighbor’s chest. He steadied her by placing his large, warm hands on her shoulders, which should be safe enough through the heavy wool of her jacket. “Sorry about that, Mr. Fiach,” she mumbled.

“Its just Fiach; no mister required.” He flashed another killer grin, and Cilia wondered if it was personality or practice that had perfected the action.

“Well then, Fiach, I apologize but I really have to be going.” She stepped back and away from the weight of his hands to continue down the hall.

“Could I offer you a lift?”

“No thanks. I prefer to take my own car.” She gave a wave over her shoulder and picked up her pace until she was out on the street and the achingly familiar scent of home and man was behind her.

*

Fiach cursed softly as Cilia trotted down the steps and out onto the busy sidewalk.

He was pushing her, but his arrangement with Arvel gave him only a month. After that, the occupants of the apartment would be returned and his time would be up, unless he wanted to bargain for more. His skin crawled. No, he would succeed within his thirty days. No amusement was worth facing Arvel twice in this decade, or longer, if he could help it.

Cilia had occupied his thoughts constantly for the past two nights. Her scent tantalized and made him salivate for a taste of her. The desire to posses her was so strong he marveled at how he had let her dismiss him so easily. No one had ever tempted him so far, ever cost him so much just to be near them.

He glanced down the hall. Since he was staying here for a while, and it didn’t look like Cilia planned to succumb to his charms any time soon, Fiach walked down the hall toward the apartment where his last conquest resided. It would be hard to explain his sudden residency, but he doubted she was the kind to ask questions. He knocked softly on the door, confident he would be admitted.

After a moment, the door swung wide and the woman inside gave him an appraising look. As though she were surprised to see him, but not so surprised as to waste the opportunity. She wore a short silk robe that parted just enough to hint at the cleavage he had already tasted and measured. She reached out a long pale hand to trace his cheek with her finger, but the touch did nothing to warm his skin. He was tempted to say he had come back for his shoes instead of another sexual interlude, but the decision was taken from him.

A startled gasp sounded behind him. Fiach glanced down the hall and saw Cilia fumbling with the lock on her apartment. Her briefcase slid from its perch beneath her arm and clattered to the floor. Their eyes met and he saw her disappointment clearly before she returned her attention to the keys in her hand.

It was strange that one look from her could make him question his actions. He regarded the tall blonde stroking the buttons of his shirt, picking them free one by one.

His interest in revisiting her vanished and left a cold, uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

The woman smiled welcomingly. When he looked again, Cilia had made it inside her apartment; the grating slide of chain and the clicking of tumblers let him know she had locked herself in and away from him.

He pivoted on his heel and started for his own apartment. A soft hand closed over his arm. “Aren’t you coming in?”

He almost felt embarrassed to have dismissed the woman so quickly and absolutely.

All earlier thoughts of simple pleasures of the flesh and self-indulgence had evaporated the second he saw the dismay in Cilia’s eyes. If Fiach was going to enjoy his month of living here, he needed to keep his activities better concealed. He stared at Cilia’s door. It was still closed and silent. He turned back to the blonde. It looked like her offer was the only one he would be extended today.

“Of course,” he said. He ignored the sick feeling knotting his stomach and escorted the woman into her apartment. Once inside, he let his nature take over. He was half Fae, and he called upon that part of himself now. His mother was the Lady of the Sidhe court, and that meant he had learned the games of sexual intrigue at the knee of a master. He allowed the woman to lead him to her bedroom. She slipped the short robe from her shoulders and paused to allow him to admire her nude body. The move was practiced, and he wondered how often she had gifted herself to others like him. He pushed her gently to the bed, making her kneel on the mattress and face away from him. He undressed with a thought, and shifted between her legs. His cock pushed through her damp folds and she sighed before rocking back against him. He set a steady pace of thrust and retreat, a mindless, pleasurable rhythm.

His demon half meant that he had learned at an early age to separate from his emotions. His father had branded that lesson into his flesh. The result of his mixed heritage was his ability to view sex as a bodily function easily controlled with minimal thought. He called on his Fae half to ensure his body’s readiness and focused on his demon half, his darker self, to have the strength to force his body to complete an act his every cell rebelled against.

He abstained from feeding. He knew the exact vintage running in her veins was nothing he thirsted for. Instead he lost himself in the pleasures of the flesh and tried not to remember why this felt wrong.

As his cock pounded into the tight sheath of the nameless woman below him, his mind wandered. Sex and blood were linked, but he never found the exact combination he was searching for. The woman’s soft cry brought him back into the moment. Her muscles rippled along his shaft as her orgasm peaked, pulling him groaning into climax after her.

“That was amazing,” she said, looking dazed and content.

“I suppose,” he answered. He was already pulling away and getting dressed.

That caught the woman’s attention. “You’re leaving?” she shrilled.

“Yes.” He stepped outside her apartment in time to hear something hard crash against the door and shatter. It hadn’t been his intention to use her and leave her so quickly. He had meant to let her down softly, use a little suggestion to soften the rejection. Instead, he had been so disgusted with himself for allowing Cilia to see him proposition another woman, something even in his limited experience with human females he knew to be a bad thing; he hadn’t thought of anything except that he could have ruined the very chance he had paid so highly to receive.

As fate would have it, just as he left the infuriated woman’s apartment, Cilia stepped back into the hallway. Her quick assessment at his disheveled state seemed to prove the conclusions she had already drawn about him. She clenched her jaw and departed, disapproval surrounding her like a cloud. Fiach was left to watch her rush from the building as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.

* * * *

She had forgotten a file that was up for review today, so she’d gone back to her apartment to retrieve it. The fact Fiach was introducing himself around shouldn’t have bothered her.

She decided she was really offended on Stella’s behalf. After all, if he was anything to Stella, he shouldn’t be slipping into bed with strangers in the middle of the day.

Cilia’s lack of sexual experience didn’t mean that she was oblivious to the signs.

When she spotted Fiach in the hall speaking with Regina, he was neat as a pin, and dressed as if heading to work himself in light khakis and a white dress shirt. Once Cilia had her file in hand, and had gotten up the nerve to brave the hall again, Fiach had stepped out with wrinkled pants and a shirt with misaligned buttons. His feet had been deeply tanned and bare, as if he had forgotten his shoes inside, or worse, planned to recover them later.

She took a deep breath and pushed away from the building and headed for her car.

The air was frigid, but at least it allowed her pulse to slow and cool. That man and his trysts were none of her business, but when she got home from work she planned to make sure Stella knew just what kind of man she had allowed into her home.

The day had been a long, tedious lesson in human cruelty. Cilia had shuffled and researched rape and assault cases solidly for the last ten hours. They always left her feeling drained and pessimistic. On an overcast day, there was no sun to pull her from her melancholy state. As she pushed open the front door of the brownstone, she decided it was time to confront Stella about her new roommate. It had been two days since Max dropped by for a visit, which had to be a record.

She squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine as she prepared to knock on Stella’s door. Just before her knuckles made contact, the object of her intervention swung the door open and leaned against the frame. His pose was casual and natural, as if he spent his days lounging in doorways. For all she knew, maybe he did.

“Is Stella home?”

His face went blank and he shoved off the frame with his shoulder. Now he stood almost toe-to-toe with her, his expression unfathomable. “She’s not home right now.” His voice rang with challenge.

“Where did she go?”

An easy shrug of his shoulders did nothing to calm her nerves or answer her question.

“Max is halfway into the school year. Stella would never take him away this close to semester finals.”

He arched a dark brow. “It was sudden. She asked me to housesit for her while she was away.”

“And you are?”

A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’m her brother.”

Cilia turned that over in her mind. Stella had never mentioned having a brother, but she hadn’t exactly said she didn’t have one either. Stella knew Cilia was uncomfortable talking about family when she had none of her own, so it was a topic they avoided.

“Okay. Do you have a number I can reach her at? I’d like to check in and make sure she and Maxie made it wherever they were going all right.”

“I’ll have to ask my sister if she wants that number released. If she calls again, I’ll find out for you,” he all but purred.

“Thanks.” Cilia turned on her heel and flipped through her key ring. It slipped through her fingers and dropped to the floor. She bent over to pick them up and felt something brush her hip. Fiach had stooped down too, and steadied himself with a hand just below her waist. Flames tickled her insides as heat built to a flashpoint where his palm rested. The scent of charred clothing filled the air. Cilia grabbed her keys and rushed into her apartment, terror and elation surging through her as she did. She ran to the shower and turned on the cold water a second before her body became engulfed in bright blue flame. The icy water sizzled and hissed as it met the halo of heat.