Fire Me Up Page 11

  'The police are going to detain you for several hours— is that what that man said?" Marvabelle asked at the top of her lungs, shooting a triumphant glance toward the policewoman. "Could that be because they realize that you, Aisling Grey, were the very last livin' soul to see that poor Guardian alive? What is it they say about the last person to see a person before they are killed, Hank?"

  The policewoman pulled out a notebook and riffled through the pages before snapping it shut and starting toward us.

  Hank had the grace to Look ashamed as he sidled past me. "Come along, Ma. There's that panel on water scrying you wanted to see."

  'Tm sure it is somethin' about the last person to see a murder victim bein' the likeliest person to have killed them," Marvabelle said as Hank led her away.

  Despite the policewoman bearing down on us, I felt obligated to set Marvabelle straight on a few things. "Look, I've been a murder suspect before, so it's nothing new and exciting. Been there, done that, figured out who the real killer was." Jim's cold nose nudged my hand. I turned to face the policewoman. "Urn. Hi. I expect you'd like to talk to me, huh?"

  "You are Aisling Grey? You will please to come with me. We are wishing to question you about the death of the woman named Moa Haraldsson."

  I'll say this for Paolo—his interpersonal skills might not ever enchant me, but he's damned uncanny when it comes to predicting my immediate future.

  By the time the police released Jim and me (the former having been ordered into silence, since I was not up to explaining to non-Otherworldians just how I came to have a wisecracking Newfie), a pale moon shone weakly in the night sky.

  "I am so hungry, I could eat a skrat," Jim complained as we emerged from the depths of the police station. Worn out by the five hours of questioning, I stopped on the steps outside, sucking the tiny puncture wound on my thumb. Jim slid a glance at me. "How's the finger?"

  "Fine now that Detective Lakatos finally trusted me with a needle so I could dig the sliver out." I stopped sucking my thumb and looked around, my stomach growling audibly. "I'm hungry, too. Since we've long since missed the dinner banquet, I suppose we could stop at a fast-food place before going back to the hotel. What's a skrat?"

  "House spirit. Looks like a wet chicken. You'd think that Detective Lakatos could have fed us."

  I shrugged and started down the stairs. "I didn't expect food, but a cup of coffee or tea might have been nice."

  Jim snickered as I hesitated on the sidewalk, unsure of which way I'd stand the best chance of finding a taxi. "Maybe she didn't offer anything because she was Lakatos intolerant. Lactose. Detective Lakatos, Get it? Ha! I kill me sometimes."

  "If only," I said at the same moment a long black limo purred to a stop beside me. A tinted window slid downward with a soft electric hum.

  "Would you, by any chance, be looking for a ride?" Drake asked.

  I made a little face at him. "Why am I not surprised to see you?"

  He smiled as the door nearest me clicked open. Inside I could see that Drake was not alone—Gabriel grinned at me from where he sat, next to a haughty Chuan Ren. "Perhaps you know it is because I would never leave my mate in a position of vulnerability? Then again, if you did not persist in following this foolish course of action, you would not have found yourself in such an untenable position."

  I froze outside the limo. "Being a Guardian isn't foolish, Drake. You're the only one who has a problem with it. And you know full well that I had nothing to do with Moa's death—"

  He waved away my protest. "We will discuss it at a Later time."

  "No, we will not. There is nothing to discuss." I gave him my best squinty eyes to let him know I meant what said.

  He wasn't at ail impressed. "Come. Join us. We are going to Klub Fekete Halal. You will enjoy yourself."

  "Is that a nightclub?" I asked, following Jim into the limo, doubling over into an unattractive crouch as I looked for an empty seat. Pretty much everyone but Fiat and his boys was in the limo, leaving little space for one gigantic Newfie and me. Pal, sitting next to Drake, shifted over a couple of inches. "I'll go with you, but you have to promise to feed us. We haven't had anything to eat since lunch. Um. There doesn't seem to be much space. Maybe I should sit on the floor with Jim—"

  Drake stopped my waffling by pulling me half onto his lap, the remainder of me squished up against Pal. I thanked my stars that it was him and not Istvan, who was at that very moment glaring at me, and arranged my arms and legs so that I was not draped quite so much across Drake.

  "The police were not abusive to you, were they?" Gabriel asked, leaning forward to scan me for signs of police brutality. "They held you a long time for just a questioning."

  "No rubber hoses or hot lights, if that's what you mean, although they weren't exactly hospitable. The reason it took so long was the seven male policemen that fell victim to the amulet."

  Gabriel looked amused. "Fell victim? Did they... ah..."

  "Throw themselves at my feet?" T nodded. "And not just metaphorically, either. By the time the policewoman who had me brought in got there, things had pretty much reached critical mass. Most of the policemen in the station were trying to get an orgy going, while the policewomen stood around and made what I assumed were snarky comments. Not that I blame them. The men were acting like dogs."

  "But they were under the influence of the amulet, and thus they were not responsible," Gabriel argued, laughter lighting his gray eyes.

  "Mmm." I rubbed the tip of my still sore thumb. "It ended up all right. The policewoman who spoke English got through with the hotel people and interviewed me, then let us go."

  "Good. I worried on your behalf," Gabriel said, sitting back with a dazzling smile.

  "You have injured yourself, mate?" Drake's voice, hot with innuendo and desire, swept over me as he examined my thumb.

  "Yeah. But it's really that pest Paolo's fault—he predicted it just before the cops took me away. I'm really going to have to have a talk with him the next time I see him."

  A wicked light entered Drake's eyes, one that had the parts of me that had never seen the light of day standing up and getting ready to party. "Would you like me to kiss ii for you?"

  "Hoo," I said on a breath, too tired, hungry, and exhausted to fight the attraction that always flared between us. My brain made a last-ditch attempt to point out that allowing Drake's lips near any part of my body was a bad idea, but I'd simply been through too much to fight him any more.

  Luckily for my good intentions, the presence of others kept him from doing more than merely caressing the pad of my thumb with his lips. And tongue.

  I don't suppose I need to mention that by the time the limo pulled up outside a tall glass-and-metal building in a chic area of town, I was a mere puddle of want and need laced with great huge dollops of desire.

  Here's a little tip for those of you seeking entrance at hip nightclubs: Go with dragons. No doorman in the world will stand in their way. The line that snaked around the block outside the club meant nothing to the dragons, and who was I to complain? I walked next to Drake, his hand warm on my back as we strolled past the waiting crowd as if they weren't even there. I tried to adopt the elegant, powerful movement that was Drake's natural walk, but stopped when Jim asked in a loud voice if I had to use the bathroom.

  The doorman took one look at Drake (black silk shirt, black leather pants), Chuan Ren (floor-length glittery dress, split to either hip, stilettos that could put an eye out at five paces), and Gabriel (dark khaki pants, silver net transparent shirt bearing elaborate designs in pale green) and almost swooned with joy. He couldn't get the door open fast enough, waving the rest of the dragon entourage in, including Jim, without blinking an eye. The music from the dance floor swept out and caught us up in its lithe grip, pulling us into a smoky high-ceilinged hall filled with the standard dance club metal pillars, crisscrossed by girders laden with pulsing laser lights arcing above and through the mass of humanity that covered every square inch of the floor.
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  "Would you like to dance?I' Drake asked, his breath skittering down my spine, sinking deep into my blood.

  "No, we'd like to eat. As in now." Jim didn't wait for me to answer. It just marched off in a very determined manner to find a table.

  I grimaced, then gave Drake half a smile. "Jim's a bit testy because it missed its dinner."

  "And you?" he asked, his hands sliding up my arms, his head tipped toward mine so I could see straight into bis beautiful forest eyes. Heat shimmered between us. "Are you testy as well?"

  I gasped, looking around nervously, as his dragon fire flickered out to lick my skin. Although we stood on the fringe of the dance floor, the club really was packed. Most of the floor space was taken up by a dense collection of people who bounced, swayed, and twirled in time to the low, pulsing music, but along the outer edges small round red tables and chairs had been scattered. Most of mose were claimed, too.

  "Drake, you can't. Not here. Not where someone might notice that you're not exactly human."

  "Aisling, this club is owned by a nymph. No one will think anything of us being here." The heat of his desire and need rippled around me, teasing me, touching me just iong enough to awaken the fire that Drake had started in me. which never seemed to go entirely cold.

  "Oh. Well, if that's the case—" I threw myself on him. Drake rocked backwards with the force of my body slamming into his, every last shred of my good intentions shriveled and blown away on a wind of arousal that left me breathless even as I sucked the air right out of his mouth. His fire roared to life around us, through us, a shared flame that I not only embraced but celebrated. His mouth and hands were hard on me, softening as I relaxed against him, knowing he loved to dominate and finding little to complain about when I let him have his way. The touch of his tongue on mine drove my temperature even higher, his mouth a heady banquet of sensations that left my head spinning, my body tight and aching, and my soul burning bright alongside his in an erotic conflagration.

  It wasn't until the overhead fire sprinklers turned on that I realized that what I had assumed was only an emotion shared between us had materialized physically. I pulled my mouth from Drake's and glanced up at the sprinkler, then around in surprise. We stood alone, the dancers and music having stopped, everyone giving us a wide berth. And we were on fire. No, that's not quite accurate—we were the fire. Flames leaped up around us, as if we were standing in the middle of a bonfire.

  "Drake," I said, my eyes getting big as I watched flames lick down my arms to him. "I'm on fire."

  He nuzzled my neck. "I burn for you, as well, mate."

  I blew experimentally on the fire burning merrily on my shoulder. I couldn't feel anything other than the power of his dragon fire, but it was extremely unnerving to see my body fully engulfed in flames. "No, I mean I'm really on fire. Big yellow and red tlamey things on my arms." I stepped backwards, out of his embrace, looking down at myself. "And my legs. Both of them. They're burning, Drake. So are yours."

  A woman in a spangled white and gold miniskirt pushed her way through the watching crowd.

  "Is this normal? I've felt your dragon fire before, but it's never actually done the barbecue thing on us. Why am I not screaming in agony? Why doesn't it hurt?"

  "It is a sign of your passion, of the passion we share, a manifestation of your true nature. My fire cannot hurt you so long as you accept it," Drake answered before turning to greet the miniskirt. "Flavia, how lovely you look this evening."

  The woman stopped next to me, hands on her hips as she glared up at him. She was a good foot and a half shorter than Drake, but her steely glare packed a wallop that had me backed up a couple of steps until Drake grabbed my arm and pulled me up close to him. "Drake Vireo! I might have known it was you causing all this trouble. Look what you've done to my dance floor!"

  I looked down, slapping at the flames creeping up my thighs. The floor had a sooty, singed look where we had been standing.

  "Do you have any idea how expensive it is to refinish this floor? I insist that you stop showing off this mstant,"

  Drake bowed and reclaimed his fire, the flames around as dying into nothing. "Naturally I will pay for any damage my mate has caused."

  "Excuse me?" I poked him in the chest. "I'm not Torchy the Dragon, You are! Don't go blaming your lack of fire control on me."

  The nymph named Flavia turned on me, giving me a furious look. "And you—what sort of a Guardian are you who would endanger the lives of others? You are supposed to protect people, not be so selfish that your own needs come before the good of others. You disgust me! I spit on you!"

  And she did, she spat right at my feet. Luckily I moved aside before it could hit me. "But—but—it was his fire—I didn't do anything other than kiss him—"

  Her eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared. Her lips curled in scorn. "You are the mate, it is you who triggers his fire. You will never again do so in my club or I will ban you from the premises forever!"

  My jaw worked soundlessly a couple of times before I turned to Drake and tried to glare the hair right off his head. "Don't you want to say something? Don't you want to explain that it was you who started this, not me? Don't you want to take the responsibility for anything you do?"

  He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "What will you give me if I do?"

  "Arghr

  Drake pulled me away at that point, which was a good thing because I was about ready to throttle him. Everything had a price with him. Every time I needed his help, it was only available if I had something to trade for it. The man was entirely untrustworthy, unreliable, and thoroughly maddening. What had I been thinking to allow myself back into a position of intimacy with him?

  I fumed all the way to the table Jim had claimed. The red dragons were in the quickly re-forming mob on the dance floor, but Gabriel and one of his guards sat next to Jim, drinking and watching the crowd.

  'That was a dirty trick, lighting me up and making a scene, then letting me take the rap for it without one single, solitary word of explanation," I muttered to Drake as he held out a chair for me. I leaned into him so the others couldn't hear. "I swear, Drake, this time we're really through. It's over. There is no passion. There is no touching, no kissing, no more of that mind-melting ly-fabulous sex, and no dragon fire. It's over. You got that?"

  Drake just smiled, his fire still visible in his eyes.

  I growled to myself and slumped back in the chair, hungry, tired, and angry at my own stupidity. Well, twice burned, well learned—or however thai phrase went. This time I was serious. This time it was truly over.

  Drake came to me in a dream. He'd done it before. using some tenuous psychic connection between us to parade his seductive self around in my dreams, turning them into erotic experiences that left me jerking awake with my heart racing, my skin sweaty, the taste of him still on my tongue.

  Not to mention other places.

  I knew the moment I dipped my toe into the warm water that I was having a dream, one of Drake's dreams, the kind that would end up with me more confused than ever

  "This isn't going to work," I said aloud, my voice echoing shghtly, the rustle of my clothing as it fell to the floor the only other sound. I stood on the steps leading down into a big square pool of water, scented and warmed so it lapped around my toes like a lover's tongue. Surrounding me were classical white columns, the walls of the room—if there were any—hidden in shadows, the floor of black-and-white marble cool against the soles of my feet. Lining three sides of the pool were statues of couples locked in intimate embraces. I couldn't see into the shadows beyond the statues, but I knew Drake was there. I could smell him. I could feel him. He was everywhere. I stepped into the water, shivering a little when it touched my sensitized skin. *'You can't just waltz into my mind and seduce me in a dream world because I've rejected you in reality. I will not play this game again."

  I sank deeper into the waiting embrace of the water, swimming out to the middle of the pool, a thousand little touches lapping against m
y skin, arousing me.

  "Drake, I know you're there. I don't have these sorts of dreams on my own. You're the only one who makes me feel this way, so you might as well stop hiding and show yourself."

  Beyond the edge of my vision, something moved Something large. A breeze whirled around me, accompanied by the sound of what could only be very large wings. I turned, treading water, trying to see into the darkness. From the comer of my eye a sinuous green object caressed a marble column, sliding like a snake into the darkness when my head whipped around to look at it. Deep in the shadows a darker shape rose, a long, thin neck arching back along a powerful body before twisting itself deeper into the darkness. "I'm not seeing this. It's just a dream. I'm not about to be ravished by a really gigantic four-legged scaly lizard with sexy eyes. Your eyes are still green when you're in dragon form, aren't they, Drake?"

  "Perhaps someday you will find out the answer yourself," a voice answered. It was Drake's voice, but it wasn't—this voice was deeper, with more resonance, a voice that seemed to fill the room.

  I shivered again in the water, aroused by his nearness despite my intentions to resist him. "Let me see you.

  You've never let me see your dragon form. Come out here and let me see you. Let me see what you really look like."

  The shadows moved, shifted, seemed to part as if they were as tangible as a curtain. From the depths strode a man, long-legged, broad of chest, hips narrow and powerful. He was also stark naked, a fact I didn't miss, nor did I neglect looking at the part of him that was leading the way. I've always thought the sight of a fully aroused man walking was a bit comical—the engorged bits of flesh bobbing with the rhythm of the walk—but Drake didn't walk. He glided. His muscles rippled in a beautiful symphony of power as he approached, his hands relaxed at his sides, the long, thick muscles of his thighs capturing my gaze. I loved Drake's legs. I loved the strength in them, the ability they had to move with all the grace and power of a very large panther.