Flashfire (13 page)

She looked about as different from her usual practical, tidy, and unobtrusive self as possible. She looked like a wanton nymph.

In the midst of her seduction by a Greek god.

And loving every minute of it.

Cassie was sure she didn’t usually look like this, even in bed.

How did Lorenzo do this to her?

Watching their lovemaking in the mirror was unexpectedly arousing. Cassie reached to fondle Lorenzo’s hair, watching her fingers tangle in his dark curls. She closed her eyes as he coaxed her closer to the summit, then felt his hands beneath her buttocks. He lifted her up, bracing his weight on his elbows, feasting upon her. She watched his tight butt and wanted to grab it.

Her breath caught as his teeth grazed her unexpectedly. Probably deliberately, given his quick chuckle of satisfaction. She’d never felt such pleasure, never had such a determined and deliberate lover.

She was going to have to get even.

Cassie gasped at the power of his tongue. She watched her nipples bead. She saw the flush grow around her breasts as her pulse started to pound. She saw her own breath catch. She saw the flush rise over her skin, suffusing her throat and her cheeks. She saw her eyes sparkle and her toes point. She felt the tide of heat surge through her and heard herself cry out with pleasure.

She opened her eyes to find Lorenzo grinning at her. She crooked a finger at him and he started to ease his weight over her.

“No,” she said, pushing his shoulder. He rolled to his back easily, waiting for whatever she wanted. “You’ll miss the show that way.”

He glanced beyond her, grinning when he spied the mirror. Cassie knelt over him, sitting astride, then lowered herself onto him.

He moaned and bared his teeth at the first touch of her skin to his. “Slower,” he whispered as his hands fell on her waist. “I want this to last.”

“Don’t worry,” Cassie whispered against his throat, stealing a kiss as she took all of him inside her. “We can always do it again.”

He smiled at her then, his eyes startlingly bright at close proximity. He pushed a hand through her hair with possessive ease, then cupped her nape. “Why do I think that twice isn’t going to be enough?” he mused, then pulled her closer for a kiss.

Cassie didn’t answer, because she was starting to think the same thing. Then he moved his hips, filling her with his strength, and there were better things to think about.

The digital clock on the nightstand read four thirty.

Cassie could have been content to stay in bed with Lorenzo for the duration. There was something appealing about his determination to savor every pleasure they could give each other, to take all that life had to offer and be ready for more.

He lived in the moment, wringing it dry of sensation.

It was exhausting, and exhilarating.

It felt real.

She watched him sleep, and let her fingers slide through the darkness of his hair. Even in sleep, he was exquisite.

But it was more than his looks that snared her. She liked that he was clever. She liked that he didn’t mind when she teased him. She suspected that he probably could laugh at himself.

She loved that he’d given her a choice and also that he’d admitted that he was caught in this spell of attraction as surely as she was. She knew that he created illusions, but this desire wasn’t manufactured.

No. He’d as much as admitted that it was inconvenient.

Then he’d seduced her all over again.

Cassie sighed and nestled against his warmth. The sky was starting to change color as the dawn came closer. The strip still twinkled below. They were sprawled across the bed, pink satin sheets smooth beneath them. Cassie turned to her side, facing the windows, and Lorenzo moved to curl behind her, his warmth at her back and his arm around her waist.

As if they’d slept like this a thousand times.

She thought she’d awakened him, but it must have been an instinctive move. She could feel his breath on her neck, hear the slow, rhythmic breathing of sleep.

And no wonder. She recalled their energetic lovemaking and smiled. No sparks. No flames. No beguiling or supposed firestorm.

But fireworks all the same.

Cassie smiled at that. She looked at his fingers, the weight of his hand on her hip, and wished the interlude hadn’t ended so quickly. She didn’t imagine for a minute that there would be a third such interval between them.

Lorenzo had practically told her that he was interested in single performances. This was already an exception for him. Cassie wasn’t stupid enough to expect a man to change for her.

Cassie was also pragmatic. There was no point in making this an awkward parting. They’d had great sex, twice, and it had been a bit of fun for both of them. Unlike Stacy, Cassie didn’t believe in kismet and happily ever after.

She sighed in reluctance, then slipped from beneath the weight of Lorenzo’s arm. He didn’t stir. He must be exhausted. She surveyed him from beside the bed, and thought she saw a glimmer beneath his eyelids, but he seemed to be asleep. His breathing didn’t change either.

She went to the bathroom, shaking her head that it was larger than the bedroom she and Stacy were sharing, then returned to the bedroom to dress. He still hadn’t moved.

He wouldn’t miss her. Not today and not ever.

That was a fact, even if she didn’t like it much.

Maybe he’d remember her.

She was never going to forget him. Lorenzo was larger than life, an epic lover, a man no woman would ever erase from her memories.

Great. She was back to being a groupie.

On the other hand, it was better to leave at a high point, to part with a good memory, than to descend into all the fighting and disagreements that characterized an ill-fated match.

As theirs had to be.

Cassie picked up her boots, then paused on the threshold to look back. She could just see the sculpted muscles of one calf from here and the sight was enough to make her reconsider leaving.

Cassie shook her head and slipped quietly into the corridor.

Maybe Stacy wouldn’t notice her late return to their room.

As soon as the door closed behind Cassie, Lorenzo rolled to his back. He folded his arms behind his head and considered his reflection.

How could one woman be so irresistible?

How could he have achieved precisely what he’d hoped to achieve and be disappointed? He wished Cassie hadn’t left.

The firestorm was supposed to make a
Pyr
desire a specific woman, but his firestorm was satisfied. And the memory of this woman was still tormenting Lorenzo. He could have spent the entire day in bed with Cassie, inundating himself with her scent, caressing every increment of her skin, making her eyes dance with unexpected humor. He liked that she wasn’t afraid of him, or even entirely under his spell.

She surprised him and intrigued him.

The firestorm was trying to tempt him to make a mistake.

He thought of Caterina and the lesson she’d taught him, the way she’d tried to trap and expose him. It was no coincidence that the firestorm tempted him to make the same mistake, right before a similar disappearance.

Lorenzo reminded himself that he never made the same mistake twice.

Humans were deceitful. Humans lost their conviction in key moments—when they felt the heat of the fire, for example—and betrayed whoever they so chose. Or whoever they had to betray to save their own skins. Humans were unreliable.

Diavolo
.

In the bathroom, Lorenzo reminded himself of all of those things, repeatedly, and to no avail.

He still wanted Cassie.

He was still in big trouble.

This particular human was enticing.

And simultaneously dangerous. Was that her appeal?

What spell had she cast over him? He had no desire for a connection with a human woman, much less to make a partnership of any kind. He had obligations and responsibilities and deadlines. He was scheduled to die in less than three days, to be reborn in a new secret identity and disappear from the world of the
Pyr
once and for all. The success of that endeavor relied upon a lack of personal ties.

Or distractions.

But still. He could have followed her scent to her room; he could have found her in this massive hotel in ten minutes or less; he could have persuaded her to go home with him. He could have confided in her, precisely as he had confided once in Caterina, but he knew what the result would be.

All the same, it took everything he had to resist the urge to follow her.

He was losing his edge.

The firestorm was, he reminded himself savagely, just sex.

Even if JP was here.

Even if Balthasar was here.

Even if Erik was here.

At least none of them appeared to know about the flashfire. Or had come demanding the darkfire crystal. He decided to be grateful for small mercies.

Lorenzo took a scaldingly hot shower, telling himself that none of this was his responsibility.

He didn’t believe it.

He could take her with him, invoke the flashfire, have something like a normal human life together. The idea was enticing beyond expectation.

It was insane that he was even tempted. Confiding in others was a risk. It was a loss of control. It opened the door to the possibility of betrayal.

Of failure.

He knew better than that.

Diavolo
.

Lorenzo marched out of the bathroom, impatient with himself. He had been sure that another seduction would satisfy him. He had been positive that he just had to get Cassie out of his system, that repeated exposure would diminish her allure.

But as Lorenzo dressed, he was haunted by memories of the lush tangle of her hair—the way she gasped when surprised, the way she flushed with pleasure—and he wondered whether he was wrong. He thought of the contrast between her outward manner—tough, practical, pragmatic, blunt—and her attitude in private—coy, seductive, soft, feminine.

They had at least one thing in common—they both loved lingerie.

Lorenzo could sense a huge error on his own horizon. His plans always included every eventuality.

But he hadn’t planned for Cassie Redmond. She excited him, distracted him, turned him inside out and upside down. And each time they parted, he just wanted more.

Not just sex, although that was fabulous. He wanted to get to know her. It had taken everything within him not to stop her from leaving, not to linger over breakfast together, not to learn more about her.

But he didn’t do long-term connections. He didn’t do intimacy and he didn’t do entanglement.

Lorenzo did sex.

Then Lorenzo moved on.

That was Caterina’s lesson to him, that expecting more—given what he was—was impossible. He wasn’t going to forget that simple truth now.

Lorenzo had worked his system for centuries and it was fine. No, it was
good
. It gave him what he needed from humans and risked nothing. Every few decades, he staged a disappearance, preparing with his usual care, then started over again with a new identity. It worked.

Even if this time, he meant to slide even deeper into obscurity than ever before.

Why a firestorm now? Lorenzo had the startling thought that Cassie could have been sent to distract him right before his big spectacle. Could Balthasar or the other
Slayers
deliberately spark a firestorm?

No, that was nonsense.

It wasn’t encouraging that he was getting paranoid.

He paused, glanced out the window. He was being manipulated. The firestorm had occurred of its own volition, but other dragon shifters were using it against him—each for his own agenda.

Lorenzo didn’t like that Balthasar had arrived, that Erik had come to nag him, that JP had made Cassie’s acquaintance already. He felt as if the entire
Pyr
world—the one to which he vehemently didn’t want to belong—was gathering around him, conspiring against him.

But it was just that. It
was
a conspiracy, a plan to throw his game right before he disappeared forever. Everyone was gathering to take one last shot at cornering Lorenzo. Perhaps somehow they sensed his intent, even though he had confided in no one.

And somehow, Cassie was a pawn in that game.

Well, Lorenzo had never done what was predictable. He’d never been malleable, and he’d never subscribed to the
Pyr
perspective.

He would not create a partnership out of his firestorm.

He would not change his plan.

He could still hear Caterina spitting that word.

Routine was key. He had to get home. He had to check on his plans. He had to secure his perimeter and guard his valuables. He had to persuade his father to pack, and he had to get some sleep. He had to continue with his scheme and not be distracted.

Cassie had made her choice. She had left this morning.

And Lorenzo told himself that that suited him just fine.

It was perfect, in fact.

Best for everyone.

Even though he guessed that, this time, the person he was trying to persuade was himself.

There was someone in Lorenzo’s car.

The valets had been sleepy and disorganized. Lorenzo had demanded his keys when his impatience reached the tipping point, then marched out in the early morning to the valet lot. His car was distinctive enough—with the custom paint job done at the factory, there couldn’t be two.

He’d paid to ensure the specific shade of orange was never used again.

He was just acknowledging that he was going to miss this car after it was destroyed, when he saw the silhouette in the passenger seat.

Lorenzo tried the driver’s side door, but it was still locked. The man in the passenger seat glanced idly in Lorenzo’s direction, as if he broke into locked cars, sat in them, and locked them again all the time.

One breath proved that he was
Pyr
.

Of course.

Lorenzo should start an appointment calendar. Or a waiting list. A convention, maybe. If nothing else, they could form a line.
Pyr
to the right;
Slayers
to the left. He wasn’t joining either team, and the sooner he disappeared from their view, the better.