Kissed by Fire (14 page)

“Oh, my, my,” he gasped in his heavy French
accent, “Mademoiselle Bailey! What has happened to you? You are all
over blood!” He rushed across the lobby of the hotel exuding
distress and flapping his hands wildly. Well, rushed might be
overstating it. It was more like he minced swiftly.

“I’m fine, Francois. There was an accident,
but ... ”

A string of French interrupted me,
accompanied by more wild hand gestures. To say Francois was
flamboyant was an understatement. “Mademoiselle Bailey, I am the
manager of this hotel! What has happened, it is a travesty!
Something must be done! This is no good! I will take care of
everything!” Every word was punctuated with exclamation. I swear
the man made me exhausted just watching him.

“I thought you were the concierge.”

“Pardon?”

“The concierge.”

“Well.” He clapped his hands together and
looked grim. “That is true. I was concierge. But now I am night
manager!”

Huh. I wondered when that had happened. Who
in their right mind decided to give Francois that kind of
responsibility? The thought made me shudder. He was lovely, but
completely mad. “Right. Well, I sort of need to go get cleaned
up.”

“But of course, of course.” He shooed me
toward the elevator. “You must clean up right away! If there is
anything you need, anything at all, I am here. For you.” He clasped
his hands together dramatically.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.” Fortunately the
elevator doors slid shut before he could get any more carried
away.

As soon as I got in my room, I stripped off
my clothes. Most likely ruined, though I hoped the jacket could be
saved.

I had just stepped out of the shower when
someone knocked on my door. I frowned and grabbed my towel. Most
likely Francois with a fruit basket or some such ridiculous thing.
I wouldn’t mind a bottle of alcohol, though.

It wasn’t Francois.

“Morgan.” Jack stood on the other side of the
door, his long lean body looking way more tasty than it should.
Gods, what I’d give to nibble on those luscious lips of his. I gave
my libido a mental bitch slap.

Jack must have read something of what I was
thinking, because his ocean colored eyes grew dark and hooded and
his tongue darted out to flick against his lips. I bit back a
groan.

“It’s late. Can’t this wait until
morning?”

He ran a hand through his thick hair. It was
a little longer than I remembered. I wondered if he was growing it
out. Knowing Jack, he probably just forgot to get it cut.

“No it can’t. We need to talk. Now.”

I frowned. I hated it when he got all bossy,
but I was too tired to argue so I stood back and waved him in.

“I’ve missed you, Morgan.”

I froze in place for half a second, eyes
closed, before blowing out a breath and slowly turning to face him.
I admit I’d been conflicted, was still conflicted. What had
happened between us, and then his reaction. The whole, “I’m a holy
warrior with a sacred duty so I can’t fuck you” shit. It so didn’t
go down with me. Especially since it was rather like closing the
barn door behind the horse.

Then there was Inigo. Hardly more than a boy,
really, but he made me burn in ways that would make a hooker
blush.

“Your choice, Jack. You’re the one who’s so
hell bent on placing your duty above anything we could have
together.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” His voice was
so low I wasn’t sure I’d heard him.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Screw duty. You’re right. It’s
been over 900 years. It’s time for a change.” He reached out and
snagged my towel. It fell to the floor leaving me standing in front
of him naked and feeling more than a little vulnerable.

“Jack ... ” I wanted to believe him. I did.
Fool me once and all that.

“Shh.” He placed his finger over my lips.
“Just let me look at you.” His eyes traveled my body. I watched him
harden. He sucked in a breath. “You are a wonder, Morgan
Bailey.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d told me that. I
felt my own body grow languid and full, heat pooling between my
thighs. Whatever had gone on between us, I wanted him. I always
wanted him.

I held out my hand and he came, bent his head
and kissed me. His tongue swirled through my mouth, tasting of
spice and musk and man. Of Jack.

He groaned as I slid my hand along his chest,
down over his stomach until it rested over the thick erection
straining at his jeans. I smiled against his mouth. I knew in that
moment I held all the power. I admit I liked it.

I reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt,
slowly revealing inch after inch of beautifully bronzed skin. On
each little inch I laid a kiss.

Jack’s hands slid around to my ass, molding,
squeezing, shaping. I grew more and more aroused, until I had no
more patience and ripped the rest of his shirt off. His jeans came
next and I paused just long enough to take in the beauty of his
body.

The first time we’d been together, I hadn’t
had the chance to notice his scars. There were plenty. Ancient
slash marks across ribs, stomach and arms. Battle scars of a
Templar Knight.

I traced one that cut across his left
pectoral, right above his heart. I pressed my mouth to it, feeling
the strong beat of his heart beneath.

“Enough,” he groaned. “You are driving me to
madness.”

“Oh, goodie,” I whispered, voice huskier than
usual, “I always wanted to do that.”

With a laugh, he grabbed me and threw me back
on the bed, following me down. Legs and arms and mouths tangled
together. Hot, so hot I was burning alive.

I traced the line of his back until I found
his ass and did some squeezing of my own. “I want you, Jack.
Now.”

I felt him at my entrance and then he was
inside me, all that hot, hard length of him. My body tightened
around him as I arched off the bed. Gods, it felt good.

He began to move inside me, every stroke
driving me mad, pushing me closer and closer to the edge until he
pushed me up and over. I came with his name on my lips and fire in
my eyes.

***

“
Welcome Hunter.”

I blinked. The voice was so deep it rumbled
in my chest like stereo bass turned up too loud. Problem was I
couldn’t find a person to go with the voice.

I glanced about and felt my heart lodge
itself in my throat. I was standing on top a rock wall with a sheer
drop hundreds of feet to the valley below. Fortunately, the wall
was wide enough I could take a step back from the edge.

Cold wind tugged at my clothes and hair, just
a hint of snow in its breath. The sun struggled weakly against
clouds heavy with impending rain. Below, the valley stretched for
miles until it became a forest thick with trees. Not the enormous
evergreens of home, but the shorter aspens and birch of Northern
England and Scotland. They were naked now, the trees, but would be
beautiful in the spring, furred with pale green leaf buds.

To my right was a giant tree, bare of leaves,
but I knew it to be an oak. It grew right up through the middle of
the ancient stone wall.

“
Wait a minute.” My voice filled with
wonder. “This is Hadrian’s Wall.”

“
Correct, Hunter. This wall has been
standing for nearly two thousand years and will most likely stand
for two thousand yet. You stand on history.”

He wasn’t kidding, but I still couldn’t spot
the owner of the voice. “Yes, it’s very cool. But why am I
here?”

“
Because, Hunter, we brought you here.
There are things which need to be said. Truths which need to be
told. Lies which need undoing.”

“
OK.” I turned around still trying to find
the speaker. No luck. The wind blew strands of violet red hair
across my eyes. I impatiently brushed them out of the way before
turning back to the view of the valley. Even with winter
approaching, it was a beautiful valley, green and lush with tiny
little white sheep dotting the landscape. “You want to talk? Let’s
talk. But first, I want to see you. It’s kind of hard to hold a
conversation with air.”

A chuckle so deep it made the wall itself
vibrate. “Ever the Hunter. Always you want evidence. Never can you
take a thing on faith.”

“
Faith? What does this have to do with
faith?”

“
Everything. Nothing.”

I growled under my breath. “Listen, mister,
whoever you are, I don’t like riddles. I want to know who you are
and what I’m doing here.”

“
You are here because I bid you here. You
need to know the truth.”

“
And what is the truth?” My voice was just
this side of a snarl.

“
The truth.” The voice moved closer though
I still couldn’t see anyone, just a windswept vista from the top of
the wall. Hot breath puffed against my ear. “The truth is that we
did not do this thing of which we are accused. We would never do
this thing, despite the lies told about our kind. This you must
know and this you must prove.”

“
I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Confusion sent my mind into turmoil. What “thing” was he talking
about? What had he been accused of and who had accused him? And
while we were at it, who the heck was “we”?

“
This.” The word was a sibilant hiss,
strung out on a breath. As the word ended, a picture appeared
before me. A beautiful young woman, blond hair spread across a
pillow. Eyes closed as though in peaceful sleep.

Yet her too white body lay in a pool of
crimson blood. Skin slashed from breast to pubic bone, organs
exposed, spilling from the wound. The stench of blood and death
assaulted me. I gagged and placed a shaking hand across my mouth.
I’d seen worse, smelled worse, but I hadn’t had time to brace
myself. Besides which, I knew the face that lay on that pillow.

“
What is this?” I demanded.

“
You know.”

“
Alison.”

“
Yes.” The sibilance was back in the
rumbling voice, a wisp of smoke chasing away the smell of
death.

“
Who are you?” The vision of Alison
shimmered and shifted until before me stood a horror of another
kind.

“
I am Dragon.”

***

I came awake with a start, the scent of blood
and smoke still lingering in my nose. The dream had been as real as
the others, but one thing was different. In this dream, I’d been
myself. Not a knight or a priest. Not a mage or a princess. Just
me.

I turned to find Jack already awake and
pulling on his jeans. I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” His voice was grim.

My heart stuttered to a halt. “Excuse
me?”

White lines bracketed his mouth and he sank
down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. “You heard me. This
was a mistake. We should never have done this.” With a shake of his
head, he stood up and pulled his shirt on, every line of his body
weary.

Anger burned through me, closely followed by
pain. “Guilt. You feel guilty again, don’t you?”

He said nothing which infuriated me even
more.

“This is bullshit, Jack.” I hauled ass out of
bed. I didn’t even care that I was buck naked. “You can’t do this
to me again. You can’t just come in here, give me some sweet talk
and a fuck and then go back to your high and mighty duty like
nothing happened.”

“I’m sorry, Morgan. This is the way it has to
be. I shouldn’t have come.” His eyes were wells of agony, but
frankly I didn’t give a shit. I was tired of him treating me like a
booty call and then pulling the duty and honor card afterward.

I yanked the sheet off the bed and wrapped
myself in it then stormed to the door and flung it open. “Get
out.”

“Morgan ... ”

My voice was quiet. “Get. Out.”

There was sadness in every line of him, but I
felt no pity. Only fury. I was tired of being thrown away whenever
it was inconvenient. If Jack wanted to have issues with our being
together, fine. But I was done playing the game.

He hesitated in the doorway. “I’m sorry,
Morgan, I ... ”

“I don’t give a crap. I’m done.” And I
slammed the door in his face. This time I meant it. I didn’t care
if he was the Guardian of Atlantis or the freaking Tooth Fairy, I
was done with Jackson Keel.

I was seething with fury. Even a shower
didn’t cool me down, so I threw on some clothes and headed for Hyde
Park. I hoped a good, fast walk would burn some of the edge off the
anger and hopefully allow the hotel maid time to get rid of the
evidence.

Gods, I was such an idiot. I’d let Jack do
this to me not once, but twice. I guess this time it really was
fool me twice.

Under all the anger, though, was pain. I
really didn’t want to look at that pain, but it was there, burning
through my gut like acid. Anger was so much easier to deal with
than heartache, but heartache would eat you alive if you let
it.

I managed to get a short way into the park
before the anger burned out and I dropped onto a park bench. I
swallowed hard, willing myself not to cry. Bad ass Vampire Hunters
did not cry. Especially not over a stupid man without the sense the
gods gave a turnip.

Hot tears trickled down my cheeks. I swiped
them away, but that didn’t stop them from coming. It was a good
thing I hadn’t bothered with makeup.

I don’t know how long I sat there, collar
turned against the chill wind, wrapped in my own misery. Kabita
found me a little while later. She sat down beside me, stretching
her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles, looking for
all the world like she was about to take a morning nap. For a long
time neither of us said anything.

“Jack is an asshole.”

That startled a bark of laughter from me.
“Preach it.” I shifted so I could see her face. “You know what
happened?”