Feline the Burn (The Firehouse Feline Book 3)

by L. A. Boruff

  James looks between Fran and me with a worried expression. "I don't know. I can't say no, though. He was determined in school and very smart. Anything is possible."

  “Okay,” I say. “So, we tread lightly with this Benny guy. Does anyone else have anything to say?”

  Theresa steps forward. Today, her dark hair has been braided down one side, and between her leather outfit, and the way she holds herself, she looks every bit the bad ass witch. "The solstice ceremony is fast approaching."

  There are some murmurs from her men behind her.

  "We all know you will need to be there to claim your place as heir, and we’re going to do everything in our power to make sure you get there. But...” Theresa hesitates. “I want to remind you that there is a chance the magic will not choose you. It seems unlikely, but I wanted to make certain to remind you. I personally believe if you were not meant to rule the coven, you wouldn’t be such a natural, but we have to be ready for the possibility."

  I tense. The looming solstice had been bothering me, but what if the magic doesn't choose me? My Uncle will surely kill me, then. And nobody would ever be able to stop him. Once the magic chooses, either me or my baby cousin, it’s cemented. The only way to depose him would be if another coven killed him and took over power forcibly.

  And that’s easier said than done.

  "Her uncle certainly isn't a natural at least," Timothy mutters.

  I give one of Theresa’s lovers a sharp glare. "What do you mean?"

  He looks taken aback as the room's attention shifts to him. But the big bond man draws himself up taller. "I mean... he has to steal power. He's done it for years. I thought that was common knowledge. He uses Objects of Power, steals people's powers, and manipulates it from them. If he was really that powerful, he wouldn’t need to do any of that shit. Right?"

  “Right,” I say, kind of surprised. I knew he was taking powers, but I assumed he was just a power-hungry asshole.

  “That’s another thing,” Anton, the older gardener says, nervously touching his dark mustache. “Hasn’t anyone wondered why the king gave Callie her powers back?”

  His words drop between us like stones, and my stomach turns.

  “The King isn’t a fool. Everything he does is for a reason...,” Anton says, his dark eyes meeting mine.

  "He gave my powers back so he can steal them," I whisper.

  And now I'm more worried than I was before. If my uncle is really as smart as everyone says he is, and if he gave my powers back to me to steal them, is all of this part of his plan?

  Which means we’re falling right into his trap...

  “We just need to keep Callie safe a little longer,” Will says, and there’s steel in his voice as he runs a hand gently down my back.

  He’s right. But how many more people will be hurt before then?

  Too many.

  Chapter Seven

  Hank

  Several days after we got the letter from James's friend Benny, I find Callie sitting on the back porch, alone. For a second I stay as still as possible and just stare at her. I would’ve thought the last few weeks would have worn her down the way it has done to me, but if anything, she looks even more alive than before.

  Her blond hair flows down her shoulders, and her skin almost glows. I've always been told that magic changes people in some ways, and for the first time, I'm seeing it happen. Most people I know have had magic their entire lives, so haven't changed appearances because of it. With Callie, it's different. Despite whatever went on with her cat-self, magic has become a part of her like it never has before.

  And it makes her radiant.

  But that doesn't mean she doesn't need caffeine. I turn back to the kitchen side and fix her a drink.

  Grabbing a cup of coffee, I go out the back door, hating to interrupt one of her few quiet moments. With so many people around, it's important to grab those whenever any of us can. But it’s almost time to start her training, and I want her to have some time for a hot cup of coffee... given that I’m pretty sure she loves the dark liquid more than me.

  “Coffee?” I ask, hesitating in the doorway, suddenly unsure about what I'm doing. I should leave her be for a little longer. That would be the right thing to do.

  She turns her head around to face me and sighs, though thankfully, it doesn't seem to be in annoyance.

  "Thank you. I needed another cup."

  I hand her the mug and enjoy the true smile which stretches over her face as she inhales the aroma. "Coffee was my first love after all."

  I grin, sitting down on the wooden step next to her. Great minds think alike. “First love or greatest love?”

  She looks at me beneath her lashes and laughs. “I don’t think you want to know that answer," she teases. Though I have no doubt of the truth. She looks at the three of us in a way coffee can never achieve.

  Unable to help myself, I lean closer and kiss her. The taste of coffee on her lips is somehow fitting. It’s sugary and sweet, just like her.

  Her hand travels up my thigh sending sparks through my nerves.

  “Whoa,” I say, catching her wrist. “You already thinking about round two?”

  Her cheeks turn red, and she draws her hand back, sipping from her mug again.

  And damn it if I don’t hate myself a little for stopping her. Flashes of the night before move through my mind. I’d gone in to tell her goodnight, and she asked me to stay.

  Before too long, we’d been shedding our clothes. Beneath the light of the moon, she’d climbed on top of me. And damn it if she didn’t know exactly how I liked it. She took me hard and fast, and we’d kissed often to try to keep ourselves quiet enough not to be heard by the entire house.

  When we’d come, we’d both stayed tangled together for hours. These days together felt rare and precious. And the feeling of being inside her like a gift.

  “You’re hard again,” she says, and there’s a teasing note to her voice.

  I look down to see my erection tented in the front of my basketball shorts. “Fuck.”

  "I thought you said not now." Her tone is deep and husky, revealing how much she wants me. But instead of pursuing it further, she simply laughs. “You always know just how to cheer me up.”

  I look at her again and realize there’s something behind her eyes. Worry. Maybe even fear. And I’m just over here wondering if we have enough time to sneak off upstairs.

  "You okay?"

  "I'm not okay, but I'm okay." She laughs and bumps me with her shoulder.

  "That I understand completely. What's got you worried?"

  "At the moment, the solstice. What if the magic doesn't choose me, or worse, what if it does and I make a terrible queen? I wasn't even raised in this! I don't know much about magic, just what I've been able to cram, like studying for a test after not paying attention all semester."

  I hide my smile. I know she must be worried for her to ramble like this.

  "Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be okay,” I say, and try to mean it. “You're a natural! We all agree on that. We have zero reason to believe the magic will choose them. Magic is peaceful. It's harmonious. And, I believe your uncle knows that. He knows if you show up, if you make it alive to the Solstice, he doesn't stand a chance."

  But instead of Callie looking relieved, she just looks more worried. "I don't know what to do."

  Instinctually, I wrap an arm around Callie and pull her closer. She curls into me, and I have this strange moment when I think of my parents together. They’re two people who fell in love at first sight and have loved each other more every day of their lives. I have this feeling things will be the same way for Callie and me. Even if two of my best friends are also in a relationship with her. That's not the way I thought I'd find love, but now it's happening, I can't bring myself to resent it. The two men are the worthiest ones I know and will treat her with the respect and love she deserves more than anything.

  Right now, we’re going through something horrible, but every
day I just seem to love her more. Every day I seem to understand what she needs more, and everything inside of me just wants to give her what she needs, no matter what it costs me.

  This has to be love. Right?

  Tears spill from her eyes and splatter onto my t-shirt. "I'm scared.”

  Damn it. I hate that she’s scared. Did my dad ever feel this way with my mom? Like he just wanted to protect her from anything and everything in this world?

  "We're with you,” I promise, hoping it's enough. The three of us will do anything and everything for her, but if that doesn't mean the same to her, then I'm not sure what we can do about it.

  “I know, but—” She doesn't finish her sentence. She probably can't. This isn't an easy thing we're asking her to do, and we all know it.

  “When this is over, and you're Queen, you'll have me, James, and Will. And if that’s not enough, you’ll also have Fran and her vast wisdom. and you know she'll keep you down to earth."

  She giggles through her tears.

  “Fran wouldn't care if you were Queen. She'd jerk a knot in your tail in a heartbeat.” I don't know the Dowager's former partner very well, but even I know every word I'm saying is true.

  "Yeah."

  I rub my finger across her knuckles. "And Sugar. She'll be here with you. Theresa and her guys, even though they don't say much." They were a quiet bunch, but they'd helped us. It's clear to me who wears the trousers in that relationship. I'm glad ours is more even.

  She seems to relax in my arms, and her voice comes, really soft. “I have a tribe. I've never had one before. All my life, it was me. Me and my cat. But now, she's gone.” She smiles sadly and sighs. “I’m just glad to have you.”

  I touch her chin, so she looks at me. "We won't get you on the throne then abandon you. We're in this together now."

  She leans in and touches her lips to mine. I want to do more. I want to lay her down on these steps and make love to her. I want to watch her eyes widen and hear the way she chants my name.

  But I keep my kiss gentle, and draw back, shaking with need. There will be time for that. Later. When Callie isn’t so fragile.

  I hope.

  Chapter Eight

  Callie

  I look at Hank, and somehow, I know he’s holding back. It drives me nuts when he does that, or any of them.

  With all the stress of trying to become who I'm expected to be, protect people, and learn my magic, the last thing I want him doing is treating me like I’m made of glass. Or anyone, for that matter. I'm not going to break at the slightest touch, I'm not some wilting flower in danger of being picked. With everything that's been going on, everyone seems to have forgotten that I looked after myself for twenty-something years. Without magic. I'm perfectly capable.

  "Come on," I whisper as I move my hand closer to him.

  Hank studies me carefully. “Where?"

  How cute. He has no idea what I'm on about.

  I run a finger along his erection and lift a brow. Now he'll understand it.

  “Now?” he asks, but the word comes out breathless. He's seconds away from giving into me, I'm certain of it.

  I give him a mischievous grin. "Why not?"

  Facing all the events unfolding at the speed of light in my life will be hard. I might as well do it with a body full of sex hormones and endorphins. Life can't be all stress, even when an evil uncle is trying to destroy me.

  I get to my feet and hold out my hand.

  Hank scrambles after me, taking my hand in his.

  I’m pretty sure we’re both trying not to look guilty as I set my mug beside the sink, planning to wash it out later, and walk past Theresa. I'm sure she understands what we're up to. She has three men around her; she knows what that means.

  “We training?” she asks.

  “Later,” I tell her in way of explanation.

  I’m pretty sure she grins as she turns back to the sink.

  In the living room, Will and James are shining weapons. Beside them, one of Theresa’s men is instructing them on the proper care of daggers and swords. I want to roll my eyes. Do witches really need blades? But they look so damn excited. I should expect that. I wonder if all men are so easily distracted by short objects.

  In another part of the room, a rousing game of Monopoly is taking place. Everyone is so focused that no one looks up as Hank and I sneak up the stairs. My heart hammers a little. I hope this means the first floor isn’t too crowded, and that hopefully we won’t have ears listening in on us.

  But then, I’m also finding it hard to care, even if everyone hears. At the end of the day, I'm a healthy young woman with appetites that need sating. We're not under direct attack right now, and neither is anyone else we know. Which means I don't have to do anything specific. I can take some pleasure with this.

  I back into my room and whip my shirt over my head, not caring about anything but getting as naked as possible with Hank. It's been too long since I've felt him inside me, and I'm desperate to feel it again.

  He follows my lead, and soon there's a pile of our clothes crumpled on the floor. I'm sure we'll look like we've just sneaked away for sex when we put them back on, but I don't care. The only people who matter when it comes to my sex life, are the three people who are doing it with me. And none of them mind.

  "Want me to show you something cool?" Hank asks, a twinkle in his eye.

  My brows knit together. I'm not sure now is the time for him to be doing that. Should I be worried that the two of us are in my room, naked, and all he wants to do is show me something?

  "Sure," I say, despite my reservations.

  "Lie back."

  Huh. What is he planning?

  I push any concerns away and settle myself back on the bed. I watch him stalk around to the side, his cock hard and proud. A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down. I'm not sure what he's up to, but my guess is that it's something to do with sex after all.

  "What are you going to do?" I ask, excitement zinging through my blood.

  "Just relax. And tell me if you want to stop."

  "Okay..." Should I close my eyes?

  Before I can consider that, tiny flames erupt over my skin. I glance at Hank, but he's watching me with hunger in his eyes, completely unconcerned by the fire. Which is when I notice that it isn't burning. Far from it. The flames are almost tickling me.

  Except, that isn't right either. They're like thousands of tiny kisses peppering my skin all at once. My eyes widen as I realize what he's doing. I meet his eyes, and see triumph lingering in them. Has he done this before? Or is he experimenting on him?

  Before I can think about that any deeper, the kisses increase in intensity, sending shivers down my spine. Pleasure coils up inside me. It's hard to keep my eyes open, but before they close for good, I catch sight of the flames moving across the soft skin of my stomach. They circle my nipples, and I cry out in pleasure.

  And then they're between my legs, licking against my clit with as much attention as one of my firefighters would pay.

  Except it's different to when it's one of them. Almost as if I'm using a vibrator. I've never done that in front of anyone before.

  A new thrill of pleasure washes over me as I writhe on the bed, knowing Hank is watching my every move. I crack my eyes open just enough to confirm he's watching me with hooded eyes and one hand stroking his hard cock as he drinks in my every move.

  "Don't come without me," I get out, the words hoarse and full of desperation.

  He chuckles. "Don't worry, I won't."

  My eyes flutter closed again, and the pleasure emanating from the flames increases in intensity. I try to resist the orgasm I can feel is about to rip through me, but it's impossible. The flames are too much. They're unrelenting, eager, determined.

  A scream rips out of me as my whole body begins to shudder and shake from the excruciating, but undeniable pleasure that takes over me. My vision blacks out, and the world fades away until it's only me and the fire. Even Hank's presence b
arely registers in my mind.

  As I come back down to earth, the bed dips. I open my eyes to find a satisfied man climbing onto the bed. He crawls up between my legs, hovering over me. His lips meet mine in a surprisingly tender kiss. I deepen it within moments. If he thinks I'm not going to give as good as I get, then he has another thing coming. I'm going to show him what pleasure really means.

  Chapter Nine

  James

  I stand, holding my breath, as Callie points her finger at the bowl of water on her desk. This is her fifteenth try, and I can feel her frustration as if it's my own. Sweat beads on her forehead, and I swear the air in the room crackles with her powers.

  This shouldn't be possible. She's a half-witch, like I am. Her powers should be much weaker than they are. Perhaps it's because she's from the royal line. I dismiss the thought as soon as I've had it. Magic isn't like that. She should still be weaker. The only explanation is that she's gained her powers from somewhere else. Or her father isn't who everyone thinks he is. I suppose that's always a possibility, though it'll also be a minor scandal.

  Papers on Callie's desk lift into the air. Pencils fly onto the ground. The books slide to the side, all of them trying to escape her raw power.

  But the water doesn’t even ripple.

  "I can't do it." Callie throws herself backward onto the bed in frustration.

  She's so cute when she's like this. I keep the thought to myself, not wanting to think about what she'd do to me if she knew what I'm thinking.

  "You'll get it." I try to sound encouraging, but even I'm starting to doubt she'll achieve water manipulation. "This is the only thing you've had trouble with so far, and I think that's great."

  She glares at the bowl of water on her desk. “Stupid liquid. Maybe it’s broken.”

  I chuckle and sit down beside her. “The water isn’t broken.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she stares at the ceiling. “I don’t really need water control anyway. If I need to fight my uncle, I need some stuff that can really hurt him.”

  Laying down beside her, I turn on my side. “Take my advice, from someone who isn’t all that great at magic, it’s good to struggle sometimes. If everything came easy to you—”