Open Flame (Dragon's Fate) (4 page)

His lips sealed her mouth, and he sucked in. He stole her breath. How dare he? Sweet spicy peppers and something earthy danced along her taste buds. Oh no. Delicious. She wanted more. She kissed him back, searching out his mouth with quick, strong strokes. A quiver of delight peaked her nipples, and an ache spiraled down to her sex. She stiffened. Her nightmare came to life. Her head grew light.

He tore his mouth from hers, and his hot fingers yanked her chin to the side. She sucked in a big breath. Not too late. She could do this. She just needed to focus on the anger, not how her body betrayed her will.

His mouth came down hard on the side of her neck.

Piercing pain ripped through her body. He bit her!

Frantically, she slapped against his shoulders. He would not yield.

Her vision darkened, and the sun created bubbles of light in her view. The cloth of his vest iced her fingers, and she clutched the fabric for fear of toppling over. His mouth and hands pressed down harder on her body. He sucked her flesh deep into his mouth, a starved animal, and she the delicacy placed before him to ravish. The pressure increased and then eased with a pulsing sensation from where he bit.

She opened her mouth to scream and a delighted moan came out instead.

Fire rushed from that spot to the top of her head. Tingles raced over her scalp, and her hair felt as though the strands stood straight on end.

The burn raced through Fina’s veins to every inch of her body. She screamed again, but no sound left her throat. Her arms trembled so hard that she would have bruises tomorrow where her elbows rasped against the wall behind her.

He released her neck. She blinked, trying to clear the stars from her vision, then forced her eyes open wide.

Blood ran down his chin, and long fangs protruded over his lower lip. She touched her neck. Warm sticky wetness coated her fingers. She pulled her hand away.

More blood. Her blood.

Oh dear God. He was a monster.

Tremors shook her body. She tried to control her hands enough to grasp for the knife tucked up her sleeve.

“Get away from me.” Her voice came out stronger than she expected. Thank goodness. The sound of her heart pulsed in her ears.

“Pardon me. I should never…” He shook his head as if shaking himself back to normal.

She reached her knife, yanked the handle out and thrust the blade against his neck. “Back away from me, sir.”

He laughed. “That won’t hurt me.” The knife bit into his flesh as he spoke. Red spilled onto his lacy collar like poisonous red berries landing in the pure snow.

Her stomach roiled, and her grip on the knife slipped. The blade clattered on the cobbled walk.

“I am afraid I did something unforgivable to you.” He raised his hand and cupped her chin and cheek. “So feisty.”

He talked madness. “Step back!”

“I can’t. You will die.” The red line on his neck cleared. Nothing remained but smooth skin with drips of red blood beneath. Impossible.

“More pig slop. Remove yourself from my person.” He had certainly harmed her pa, and now he injured her too. Never again would he harm another. Why had she provoked him instead of getting Jonathan?

He stepped back, but not far enough for her to pick up her knife.

The cool air surged between them and misted. Her body shook, and fever sweats rushed her. She needed to get away from him. “Let me go.” Her voice came out as a steely whisper.

He stared down at her, and her vision hazed. The world around her bobbed and rippled in a kaleidoscope of colored light. Where was she? She gulped in humid air that scorched her lungs.

“Where are you staying? I will take you there.”

Who said that? The colors burst into sparks of normalcy. A man with long black hair stood before her. She stepped forward, and her knees wobbled. She grasped his cotton shirtsleeve. She would not get far without assistance. How did she get here?

He licked his lower lip.

“Can you help me to Hotel De Masson, sir?”

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms about her. Numbness slackened her limbs, and she glanced up.

Amber eyes. The man from her Pa’s shop.

She tried to move her hands, to push herself away, but each attempt beat like a butterfly wing against glass. He yanked her up and cradled her in his arms. “A thousands apologies, miss. Let’s hope you will live.”

You will live…

She jerked in his arms.

He tightened his hold. “I won’t let you drown in this.”

Something had happened to her, something that was his fault.

“I won’t let you drown in this.”
His words sloshed around between her ears. He would fix what he had done.

He strode through the arch and out onto the street. Each jostle and sway made her head spin.

She laid her sweating cheek against his vest. Underneath the cool fabric, his heart beat beneath her ear. A strong and steady pulse, like the tick-tock of the clocks in her pa’s shop. Did monsters have hearts that beat? Her thoughts drifted to the way the sun had glinted in his waist-length hair on the day she met him. A beautiful monster… The rainbow light consumed her vision again, and she slipped into the black.

Chapter Three

Madoc stood with his back to the wall, mere feet from her as she lay in her rented room. The blackness before his eyes seeped into his soul. He had been careless. Out of control. He had promised himself he would not bite again until he had the power to undo the death. He couldn’t remedy this. All he could do was stop time for her, and he could not do that indefinitely. What a useless power he had. His jaw tensed.

The echo of her heartbeat in the dark pounded in time with his own.

“The death always comes with haste.”
Ilmir’s mocking tone echoed in his memory.

Dare he hope succumbing to the urge to bite again had been correct? That he had found his mate? His throat tightened, and he shook the thought from his mind. A foolish fancy.

The vision of her standing before him in the Spectacle of Time’s hall kept coming to his mind.

Her fire-blue eyes burned his soul. A playful companion.

“Are you enjoying the Spectacle of Time?”

“More like a skeptical of time, don’t you think?”

Yet there was sadness in her actions.

What was her grief about?

They had met before, and he could not place her. If she was his mate, wouldn’t his reaction to her have been the same then?

Her breathing leveled out, and she slept.

Madoc sighed. The air, heavy with dirt and the stench of the unwashed floorboards, choked his nostrils. How long had he been standing here in the dark?

He pulled his watch from his pocket and flipped the case open. He squinted, barely able to see the clock hands. Five to one.

Hudson. He couldn’t leave his friend alone in this city for the day. He couldn’t leave her here.

This waiting was agony. He blew out a breath.

She tossed her head to the side and moaned a gutter-cat sound. His stomach tensed. She would die. That sound alone said enough.

He fisted and then shook out his hands. He wouldn’t stand here and watch her die. Striding to the small table by the window, he stared at the unlit candles.

Fire.

Would she still listen? Would the flames tell the truth or be as a jealous lover one came back to after a time? “Ild.” The Nordic word for flame.

The candlewicks flared to long, flickering orange flames. He placed a palm over the warmth. He closed his eyes and reached with his mind to the flames. Fire always held the answer.

In a burst of orange light, the image of him tucked behind her on a bed as he bit her again flickered in the candles glow. His hands wrapped about her body as she trembled and arched her body to his. Beneath the covers, they moved as one. Joined in every way.

The vision faded. He continued to hold his hand above the flames. Poisoned blood filled his cheek pouches, and he gently caressed the swelling with his teeth. The flame wished for him to bite her again. He stared harder into the fire’s dance.

Her warm, creamy skin against his lips had assaulted his senses as his teeth sliced into her pulse. The acrid smell of warm blood and the taste of salt on his tongue…

Maybe he had not released enough of his poisons into her blood to mark her. Maybe he had set her fate by biting her only once.

He needed to bite her again.

He shut his jaw and clamped his teeth tight. Pain ripped through his gums as his fangs slid down. He turned from the table and sat on the edge of her tiny bed. The wood protested his weight with a loud creak.

His fingers brushed a lock of sweaty, fine, curly brown hair from her forehead. Pale skin, as dim as the atmosphere of this dreary room. Simple features as plain as the color of her brown hair. He traced the smooth, arched brows above her eyes and trailed his finger down the bridge of her nose.

A small bump met his finger at the center. A break, or at least an injury that had healed with a scar as a reminder. He needed to know her story. Would he ever get that chance?

A bite could save her. A bite could kill her.

He pushed her hair away from her neck. Fevered skin met his caress. She burned hot, too hot for a human to stand.

Madoc closed his eyes. A horse whinnied out on the street, a bell rang in the distance, and something shuffled up the hall.
Concentrate only on her.
He opened his eyes and stopped time for all living things within his reach… Except her. He slid his hand down her neck until the beat of her heart jumped against his fingers. She lived. The flame said to bite her again.

His body tensed. What if she died? He could not risk another bite. No. He released his hold on time, and the noises came crashing back.

He leaned in and inhaled the scent of nutmeg and vanilla.

Helplessness rushed him, and his stomach cramped. Since the moment he’d bitten her, his world had spun off its axis. Nausea thickened his tongue. Fate would decide. He never did anything careless, yet he could yield to the urge again. To bite her.

He traced his lips with his tongue, and his fangs protruded from his gums. Indeed. His breath labored, and he swallowed hard. He needed to bite her again. The fire said so. Saliva flooded his mouth, and his jaw jittered.

Knock knock knock.

“Fina. It is Jonathan.”

Madoc froze and twisted to stare at the plain wood door.

They couldn’t stay here to be found by another.

Daft. His wit had also fled when he’d brought her back to her room. But, he wanted her to be comfortable, surrounded by her things if she died. It was a dreary room. She deserved better than a grim place to die.

She might not die.

He needed to remove her from this place until he knew the outcome of his rash behavior.

Knock knock.

“Fina. The exhibit was splendid. I tried to find you there. Are you well?”

Madoc continued to stare at the door. Jonathan’s footfalls did not sound. He had not left. Madoc didn’t know who Jonathan was, but he would not stay here to find out this day. He needed to get her out of this room with haste. Heat filled his body, and he slowed the ticks of the clock down and stopped time for Jonathan and any other humans beyond the door.

He glanced around. A journal lay on the small stand by the door, and a muslin satchel next to that. He grasped the satchel, shoved the journal in and then pulled the two dresses he found from the closet and put them into the bag.

Madoc spun back to the bed, slipped the handles of the satchel down his arm to his elbow and lifted Fina. Her slender frame hung limp in his arms.

She didn’t wake. She didn’t make a sound.

But her heart beat.

This woman was special. Why else would the urge to bite her so overwhelm his senses?

He had had one long-term companion in his life and had carnal pleasure with more than he could count in his five hundred years. Only one other time had he lost control and had the urge to bite. His chest tightened. Caroline had died in her sleep the night he bit her. Fina might still pass this day.

He cradled her against his chest, inhaled the scent of vanilla and nutmeg once more and then placed a small kiss to her soft hair. He lingered there, his face caressed by the fine brown curls, the lovely warmth. He inhaled and wanted to stay just there forever. “Am I a monster for losing control this way?” he whispered into her hair. “I am just as the rest of my brothers. Zir.”

He turned to the door and with his right hand rotated the knob. The door swung open.

A young man with copper-red hair and green eyes, dressed in a gray suit, stood two feet from the door. A pinch was frozen between his eyebrows, and his lips tipped down in concern. He cared for Fina. Was he her brother? Or a person more dear?

Questions didn’t matter. Maybe none of his thoughts did. He slipped past the young man and out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. He took the stairs down the three flights to the lobby. Heat filled his limbs, and he froze time for all in the hotel. He rushed past the café off the lobby and out into the busy street, letting time slip back into motion. The sunny day held no warmth, and the crisp air chilled his body.