Wild Fire (52 page)

He bent his head to the temptation of her mouth. Once he touched his lips to hers, it was the same flaring heat, lighting a match to an explosive. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck to anchor her to him while he lost himself in the exquisite taste of her.

“Oooh. That’s gross,” Mateo said. “Are you going to be doing that all the time?”

Conner grinned at him. “All the time,” he confirmed.

Mateo’s answering grin was slow in coming but when it did, it reached his eyes. “Guess I can live with that.”

“Guess I can live with one of those kittens then,” Conner conceded and watched the joy burst across the boy’s face. “But I don’t know about Isabeau. It’s a family decision, right?”

Mateo turned his attention on Isabeau, and there was glee there, as if he already knew he had her wrapped around his finger.

Isabeau winked at him and turned her face up to Conner’s. There was love shining in her eyes. “I think the family is all in agreement. We definitely need one of those kittens.”

Mateo flung his arm around her leg and one of Conner’s. Conner dropped his hand on the boy’s head as he kissed Isabeau again. Somehow it felt like Marisa was right there, in the barn with him, sharing his happiness.

Keep reading for a special preview of the upcoming book in a new series from #1
New York Times
bestselling author Christine Feehan

WATER BOUND

A Sea Haven Novel

Available in August 2010 from Jove Books

FLAMES raced up the walls to spread across the ceiling. Orange. Red.
Alive
. The fire was looking right at her. She could hear it breathing. It rose up, hissing and spitting, following her as she crawled across the floor. Smoke swirled through the room, choking her. She stayed low and held her breath as much as possible. All the while the greedy flames reached for her with a voracious appetite, licking at her skin, scorching and searing, singeing the tips of her hair.

Chunks of flaming debris fell from the ceiling to the floor, and glass shattered. A series of small explosions detonated throughout the room as lamps burst from the intense heat. She dragged herself toward the only exit, the small doggy door in the kitchen. Behind her the fire roared as if enraged by her attempt to escape.

The fire shimmered like a dancing wall. Her vision tunneled until the flames became a giant monster, reaching with long arms and a ghastly, distorted head, crawling after her on the floor, its hideous tongue licking at her bare feet. She screamed but the only sound that emerged was a terrible choking cough. She turned to face her enemy, felt its malevolence as the flames poured over her, trying to consume her, trying to devour her from the inside out. Her scream finally broke past the terrible ball blocking her throat and she shrieked her terror in a high-pitched wail. She tried to call out, to beg for water to come to her, to save her, to drench her in cool, soothing liquid. The shriek of the sirens in the distance grew louder and louder. She threw herself sideways to avoid the flames . . .

Rikki Sitmore landed hard on the floor beside her bed. She lay there, her heart racing, terror pounding through her veins, her mind struggling to assimilate the fact that it was just a nightmare. The same old familiar nightmare. She was safe and unharmed—even though she could still feel the heat of the fire on her skin.

“Damn it.” Her hand fumbled for the clock radio, fingers slapping blindly in search of the button that would stop the alarm that sounded so like the fire engine of her dreams. In the ensuing silence she could hear the sound of water, answering her cry for help, and she knew from experience that every faucet in her house was running.

She forced herself to sit up, groaning softly as her body protested. Her joints and muscles ached, as if she’d been rigid for hours.

Rikki wiped her sweat-drenched face with her hand, dragged herself to her feet, and forced her aching body to walk from room to room, turning off faucets as she went. At last, only the sink and shower in her bathroom were left. As she went through the bedroom, she turned on the radio and the coastal radio station flooded the room with music. She needed the sea today. Her beloved sea. Nothing worked better to calm her mind when she was too close to the past.

The moment she crossed the threshold of her bathroom, cool sea colors surrounded her with instant calm. The green slate beneath her feet matched the slate sea turtles swimming through an ocean of glossy blue around the walls.

She always showered at night to wash the sea off of her, but after a particularly bad nightmare, the spray of the water on her skin felt like a healing wash across her soul. The water in the shower was already running, calling to her, and she stepped into the stall. Instantly the water soothed her, soaking into her pores, refreshing, her personal talisman. The drops on her skin felt sensual, nearly mesmerizing her with the perfection of shape. She was lost in the clarity and immediately zoned out, taken to another realm where all chaos was gone from her mind.

Things that might ordinarily hurt—sounds, textures, the everyday things others took for granted—were washed away with the sweat from her nightmares or the salt from the sea. When she stood in the water, she was as close to normal as she would ever get, and she reveled in the feeling. As always, she was lost in the shower, disappearing into the clean, cool, refreshing pleasure it brought her, until, abruptly, the hot water was gone and her shower turned ice cold, startling her out of her trance.

Once she could breathe without a hitch, she toweled off and dragged on her sweats, not looking at the scars on her calves and feet. She didn’t need to relive those moments again, yet night after night the fire was back, looking at her, marking her for death.

She shivered, turned up her radio so she could hear it throughout the house, and pulled out her laptop, taking it through the hallway to her kitchen. Blessed coffee was the only answer to idiocy. She started the coffee while she listened to the radio spitting out local news. She dropped into a chair, stilling to concentrate when it came to the weather. She wanted to know what her mistress was feeling this morning. Calm? Angry? A little stormy? She stretched as she listened. Calm seas. Little wind.
A freaking tsunami drill?

Not again
. “What a crock,” she muttered aloud, slumping dejectedly. “We don’t need another one.”

They’d just had a silly drill. Everyone had complied. How had she missed that they had scheduled another one in the local news? When they conducted drills of this magnitude, it was always advertised heavily. Then again . . . Rikki sat up straight, a smile blossoming on her face. Maybe the tsunami drill was just the opportunity she’d been looking for. Today was a darned perfect day to go to work. With a tsunami warning in effect, no one else would be out on the ocean—she would have the sea to herself. This was the perfect chance to visit her secret diving hole and harvest the small fortune in sea urchins she’d discovered there. She had found the spot weeks ago, but didn’t want to dive when others might be around to see her treasure trove.

Rikki poured a cup of coffee and wandered out to the front porch to enjoy that first aromatic sip. She was going to make the big bucks today. Maybe even enough money to pay back the women who’d taken her in as part of their family for the expenses they’d incurred on her behalf. She wouldn’t have her beloved boat finished if it wasn’t for them. She could probably fill the boat with just a couple of hours’ work. Hopefully the processor would think the urchins were as good as she did, and would pay top dollar.

Rikki looked around at the trees shimmering in the early morning light. Birds flitted from branch to branch and wild turkeys were walking along the far creek where she’d scattered seed for them. A young buck grazed in the meadow just a short distance from her house. Sitting there, sipping her coffee and watching the wildlife around her, everything began to settle in both body and mind.

She’d never imagined she would have a chance at such a place, such a life. And she never would have if not for the five strangers who’d entered her life and taken her into theirs. They’d changed her world forever.

She owed them everything. Her “sisters.” They weren’t her biological sisters, but no blood sister could be closer. They called themselves “sisters of the heart,” and to Rikki that’s exactly what they were. Her sisters. Her family. She had no one else and knew she never would. They had her fierce, unswerving loyalty.

The five women had believed in her when she’d lost all faith, when she was at her most broken. They had invited her to be one of them, and although she’d been terrified that she would bring something evil with her, she’d accepted, because it was that or die. That one decision was the single best thing she’d ever done.

The family—all six of them—lived on the farm together. One hundred thirty acres, which nestled six beautiful houses. Hers was the smallest. Rikki knew she’d never marry or have children, so she didn’t need a large house. Besides, she loved the simplicity of her small home with its open spaces and high beams and soothing colors of the sea that made her feel so at peace.

A slight warning shivered down her body. She was not alone. Rikki turned her head and her tension abated slightly at the sight of the approaching woman. Tall and slender with a wealth of dark wavy hair untouched by gray in spite of her forty-two years, Blythe Daniels was the oldest of Rikki’s five sisters, and the acknowledged leader of their family.

“Hey, you,” Rikki greeted. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Blythe flashed her smile, the one Rikki thought was so endearing and beautiful—a little crooked, allowing a glimpse of straight white teeth that nature, not braces, had provided.

“You’re not going out today, are you?” Blythe asked, then nonchalantly went over to the spigot at the side of the house and turned it off.

“Sure I am.” She should have checked all four hoses, darn it. Rikki avoided Blythe’s too-knowing gaze.

Blythe looked uneasily toward the sea. “I just have this bad feeling . . .”

“Really?” Rikki frowned and stood up, glancing out at the sky. “Seems like a perfect day to me.”

“Are you taking a tender with you?”

“
Hell
no.”

Blythe sighed. “We talked about this. You said you’d consider the idea. It’s safer, Rikki. You shouldn’t be diving alone.”

“I don’t like anyone touching my equipment. They roll my hoses wrong. They don’t put the tools back. No. No way.” She tried not to sound belligerent, but she was
not
having anyone on her boat messing with her things.

“It’s safer.”

Rikki rolled her eyes. How was having some idiot sitting on the boat not diving alone? But she didn’t voice her thoughts; instead, she tried a smile. It was difficult. She didn’t smile much, especially when the nightmares were too close. And she was barefoot. She didn’t like being caught barefoot, and in spite of Blythe’s determination not to look, her gaze couldn’t help but be drawn to the scars covering Rikki’s feet and calves.

Rikki turned toward the house. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Blythe nodded. “I can get it, Rikki. Enjoy your morning.” Dressed in her running shoes and light sweats, she managed to still look elegant. Rikki had no idea how she did it. Blythe was refined and educated and all the things Rikki wasn’t, but that never seemed to matter to Blythe.

Rikki took a breath and forced herself to sink back into the chair and tuck her feet under her, trying not to look disturbed at the idea of anyone going into her house.

“You’re drinking your coffee black again,” Blythe said, and dropped a cube of sugar into Rikki’s mug.

Rikki frowned at her. “That was mean.” She looked around for her sunglasses to cover her direct stare. She knew it bothered most people. Blythe never seemed upset by it, but Rikki didn’t take chances. She found them on the railing and shoved them on her nose.

“If you’re diving today, you need it,” Blythe pointed out. “You’re way too thin and I noticed you haven’t gone shopping again.”

“I did too. There’s tons of food in the cupboards,” Rikki pointed out.

“Peanut butter is not food. You have nothing but peanut butter in your cupboard. I’m talking real food, Rikki.”

“I have Reese’s Pieces and peanut butter cups. And bananas.” If anyone else had snooped in her cupboards, Rikki would have been furious, but she just couldn’t get upset with Blythe.

“You have to try to eat better.”

“I do try. I added the bananas like you asked me. And every night I eat broccoli.” Rikki made a face. She dipped the raw vegetable into the peanut butter to make it more edible, but she’d promised Blythe so she faithfully ate it. “I’m actually beginning to like the stuff, even if it’s green and feels like pebbles in my mouth.”

Blythe laughed. “Well, thank you for at least eating broccoli. Where are you diving?”

Of course Blythe would have to ask. Rikki squirmed a little. Blythe was one of those people you just didn’t lie to—or ignore, as Rikki often did others. “I’ve got this blackout I found and I want to harvest it while I can.”

Blythe made a face. “Don’t speak diving. English, hon. I don’t have a clue what you mean.”

“Urchins, spine to spine, so many, I think I can pull in four thousand pounds in a couple of hours. We could use the money.”

Blythe regarded her over the top of her coffee mug, her gaze steady. “Where, Rikki?”

She was like a damn bulldog when she got going. “North of Fort Bragg.”

“You told me that area was dangerous,” Blythe reminded.

Rikki cursed herself silently for having a big mouth. She should
never
have talked about her weird feelings with the others. “No, I said it was spooky. The ocean is dangerous anywhere, Blythe, but you know I’m a safety girl. I follow all dive precautions and all my personal safety rules to the letter. I’m careful and I don’t panic.”

She didn’t normally dive along the fault line running just above the Fort Bragg coast because the abyss was deep and great whites used the area as a hunting ground. Usually she worked on the bottom, along the floor. Sharks hunted from below, so she was relatively safe, but harvesting urchins along the shelf was risky. She’d be making noise and a shark could come from below. But the money . . . She really wanted to pay her sisters back all the expenses they’d covered for her, helping her with her boat.