Kiss of Fire

by Deborah Cooke

  He wanted something else.

  The golden hue of her eyes was the invitation he wanted to answer. He smiled down at her and felt sparks fly between them.

  The dark clouds had continued to roll closer as they talked and now black clouds boiled directly overhead. The next flash of lightning struck close enough to make them all jump at the sound of its strike.

  “We’re going to get wet,” Rafferty said.

  “It’s not that far to my house,” Sara said, but Niall shook his head.

  “We have to report back to Erik. He needs to know about the Wyvern.”

  Quinn cleared his throat, knowing it was possible that he had missed some detail. He was skeptical, but he knew what Sara wanted him to do. “Will you ask Erik to come to me?” he asked Rafferty and felt Sara’s pleasure. “I need to remain with Sara tonight, but I want to hear his version of events.”

  “Fair enough, Smith,” the older Pyr said, his smile indicating his approval. The storm grumbled overhead as the leaves on the trees were tossed and turned. The other two Pyr turned to stride downtown, while Quinn and Sara ran hand in hand for Magda’s house.

  To Quinn’s relief, the smoke he had breathed around it was intact.

  Their haven was safe.

  Sara stood in her shower, eyes closed as the cool water washed over her. She felt a thousand times better as she scrubbed away the muck of that filthy cabin. It wasn’t all bad that Quinn was sitting in her living room breathing smoke to protect her.

  She only wished they’d managed to bring the Wyvern. Quinn couldn’t have carried both of them, though, and in hindsight, she could see his point in getting the two of them to safety first. He, of course, saw his primary (and maybe even his sole) responsibility to be Sara, and there was something more than a little bit seductive about that.

  In fact, there was a lot that was seductive about Quinn. Sara thought of the way he looked so intently at her. He put everything on the line to ensure her safety, without a second thought. It was true that he didn’t talk about love and marriage, but hadn’t she learned enough from Tom about empty promises?

  Quinn’s Pyr nature made planning for the long term somewhat tenuous, after all. Sara could see that he was being drawn back into the world of the Pyr and that his days of quiet isolation were likely coming to an end.

  She thought the Pyr would do better with Quinn in their ranks, but maybe she had a biased opinion.

  She got out of the shower and tried to dry herself off. The humidity had increased to the point that the towel didn’t even seem to be absorbent anymore. The air could have been cut with a knife.

  Thunder rumbled overhead and Sara remembered her mother’s admonitions not to be in the bathroom during a thunderstorm. She combed out her wet hair and knotted it up. She reached for the clean shorts and T-shirt she’d brought into the bathroom, then changed her mind.

  She stood and listened to Quinn breathing slowly. The sound made her feel safe and protected. It also aroused her. She was very aware that she wasn’t alone in her little apartment.

  In fact, her apartment seemed a lot smaller when Quinn was in it.

  It was a good feeling. She thought about how Quinn made her feel, about his integrity and his determination, and wondered why she was resisting temptation so hard. Maybe it would be good for her to be seduced.

  Maybe she was rationalizing what she wanted to do.

  Maybe she didn’t care.

  No, there was no maybe about it: she was rationalizing and she didn’t care. She wanted Quinn. He wanted her. It was simple. In the blink of an eye, Sara’s decision was made.

  She wrapped a fresh towel around herself and stepped out of the bathroom. Quinn hadn’t moved from the chair he had chosen, and still sat with his arms folded across his chest. Once again, he seemed to glimmer around the edges and his eyes glowed like brilliant sapphires. He surveyed her with appreciation, then smiled that slow smile.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt you,” she said. A bead of sweat trailed down her back. Sara remembered Quinn caressing the mermaid door knocker with one strong finger. She could still see him sliding the weight of that finger down the length of the mermaid, and remembered him touching her with the same deliberate, attentive caress.

  Her mouth went dry.

  “All done,” he murmured and got to his feet. Lightning flashed outside the window and a crack close by made Sara jump. The lights went out a second later. The fans in the windows slowly stopped spinning and the streetlights winked into darkness.

  She could see Quinn’s silhouette in front of her, and thought she could still see the gleam of his eyes. She remembered the sight of him without his shirt, the water from the shower beaded in his dark hair.

  He was waiting for her move and Sara knew it. The air between them crackled with desire and she knew that he wanted her. Quinn would make love slowly and thoroughly. It could take all night.

  It would be a night to remember forever.

  “That white towel almost glows, princess,” he said quietly. “Are you trying to tempt me?”

  “I’m no temptress,” Sara said with a laugh.

  Quinn didn’t laugh. He came toward her, the firestorm making the air crackle with heat between them. “Wrong.” Quinn spoke with a conviction that surprised her. “You look like my mermaid, her hair all wild and her eyes filled with promises.”

  He reached and took the clip out of her hair as Sara held her breath. Sara shook her head when he put the clip aside, letting her wet hair fall over her shoulders.

  “Fresh from the sea,” he whispered. He bent and brushed his lips across her cheek, his quick caress leaving Sara breathless. His thumb moved against her skin and she was tempted to drop the towel.

  “Promises I mean to keep or not?”

  Quinn smiled slowly and his fingers slipped around to her nape. “You tell me. It’s tough to tell what a seductress has in mind.”

  “I’m not a seductress. I’m an acc—”

  Quinn placed his other thumb over her lips, silencing her. Sara liked the weight of his thumb against her skin and rubbed her lips against his hand. “Whatever you call yourself, Sara Keegan, you’re welcome to seduce me.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness, lit by a blue heat that made Sara’s mouth go dry.

  “I thought you were seducing me,” she whispered.

  Quinn smiled and Sara thought that her yearning would take her to her knees. “Maybe it’s destiny doing the seducing.” Sara stared up at him, snared by the heat of the firestorm, and watched as he bent his head.

  Quinn captured Sara’s lips beneath his own, and sparks danced along her veins. She rose to her toes to kiss him back, sliding her arms around his neck.

  The towel fell to the floor.

  Quinn kissed Sara deeply, as if he had all the time in the world, as if he were memorizing the shape of her lips. Sara felt his strong fingers in her hair as he cupped the back of her neck. She knew the moment he realized that the towel was gone. He paused in his kiss and drew back ever so slightly, just so she could see the vivid blue of his eyes.

  And his smile. His left hand swept down her back, the side of his thumb launching a line of sizzling flames beneath her skin. Sara shuddered and gasped, and whispered his name.

  This time she reached for his kiss and he was quick to claim what she offered. His kiss was hotter than it had been, potent enough to make Sara dizzy. She closed her eyes and hung on. Quinn lifted her against him and she rubbed her bare breasts against the cotton of his T-shirt. His other hand fell to the back of her waist, drawing her more tightly against him, and she thought he made a low growl of desire. She felt his erection against her belly, the denim of his jeans stretched taut.

  “You have too many clothes on,” she complained. He stepped back, peeled off his T-shirt, and cast it aside. He undressed with quick efficiency, the same way he did everything else. He was direct and honest and straightforward. What Sara saw was what she would get.

  What she saw stole her breath away. He watch
ed her, his gaze simmering, as he cast away his underwear, then stood nude and proud before her. This time, she had a good look and she knew her eyes widened at the size of him.

  “Don’t worry, princess,” he murmured as he caught her fingers in his. His admiration made her feel sexy, special, treasured. The heat between their palms made her give some credence to the idea of destiny. Either way, being with Quinn was right. “We’ll take it slow.”

  “How slow?” she whispered as the first raindrops slashed against the window.

  “Very slow,” he assured her. Quinn laced his fingers into hers and drew her closer as if they were going to dance. Sara stepped into the circle of his arms, as impressed by his strength as by how carefully he controlled his power. He held so much in check, so that he wouldn’t hurt her.

  “Not more than once?”

  “That too,” he assured her. “Over and over again, until we get it perfect.”

  “Just perfect,” she agreed and he smiled. Sara ran her hands over Quinn’s shoulders and felt his muscles flex beneath her caress. She was aware of him watching her, of the glimmer of his eyes, of his bemused smile. His fingers splayed across the back of her waist, holding her captive before him and lifting her to her toes. Sara felt the heat of him beneath her hands and the sizzle that was awakened by the sweep of her fingertips across his flesh.

  She let her hands trail to frame his neck, savoring the smooth texture of his skin. She wanted to touch him all over and she leaned her stomach more fully against him. He caught his breath when his erection pressed against her belly but Sara liked the feel of him.

  She held her hands at his throat, feeling his pulse beat beneath her hands, certain it matched the pace of her own. Her fingertips trailed upward, over his jaw, across the prickle of stubble on his cheeks. Then she pushed her fingers into his hair, losing sight of them in the dark waves, and pulled his head down.

  Quinn bent his head and kissed her. This kiss was more potent than the last, tinged with an urgency that made Sara’s heart skip. Quinn lifted her to the tips of her toes and kissed her thoroughly. She opened her mouth to him, loving how their tongues dueled and danced. Her nipples beaded tightly and she rubbed them against his chest. The wind rattled the windowpanes and the thunder boomed. Lightning struck close at hand. Sara wasn’t sure whether that was why the hair rose on her neck, or whether it was Quinn.

  She didn’t care. He broke their kiss and nuzzled her ear, his kisses making a river of fire across her skin. Quinn’s hand rose to cup Sara’s breast and he slid his thumb across her nipple in a deliberate caress. Sara caught her breath and arched her back. Quinn lifted her fully against him with one hand cupped around her buttock, then bent to flick his tongue across her taut nipple.

  Sara gasped and writhed against him. She wanted more of him. She wanted all of him. She wanted to taste the firestorm fully.

  Now.

  Quinn seemed to guess her thoughts. He swung her into his arms and headed for the bedroom with purpose. Rain slashed against the windows, leaving rivers of water running down the glass. Trees were thrashing in the wind, but Sara had eyes only for Quinn. He laid her across the mattress, then stretched out beside her.

  Mischief gleamed in his eyes as his fingers slid into the slick heat between her thighs. He touched her with surety. Sara gasped and then she moaned. Quinn found precisely the right spot and toyed with it mercilessly. He held her fast against his side, his one arm wrapped beneath her and around her, as his other hand stoked her passion.

  He teased her, his fingertips moving slowly and purposefully. He took her to the brink of release time and again, with relentless ease. Sara was gasping and twisting. She was consumed with desire. She was on fire.

  And only Quinn could sate the flames. She whispered his name and pulled him over her. “Now.”

  “You first,” he insisted.

  “No. Together.”

  “That’s a myth, princess.”

  She almost laughed at the wry humor in his tone, but he moved his thumb and shook her universe instead. “Quinn! I want you inside me.”

  She didn’t have to make the argument twice.

  He loomed over her and she cried out with pleasure when he eased himself inside her. He paused when he was buried in her, but she kissed his shoulder to reassure him. “It feels perfect,” she managed to whisper.

  And he agreed before he kissed her again.

  Sara closed her eyes as he moved inside her, each caress stoking the firestorm to an inferno. There was only Quinn; Quinn and his pounding heart, his undeniable passion, his talent for awakening all that had been asleep within her.

  It was more, far more, than enough.

  Hours later, Quinn, with reluctance, left Sara sleeping. He got out of bed only because he was afraid he would awaken her.

  Or that Erik would, whenever he arrived. He was anxious about the interview ahead, hoping it would give him another increment of truth.

  Hoping he’d be able to tell the difference between truth and guile.

  Sara’s hair was strewn across the pillows, a glorious golden shimmer in the darkness. It had dried and looked like honey in sunshine. Her lips were parted, her lashes splayed across her cheeks. He could hear the faint whisper of her breath despite the steady drum of rain on the window.

  What was the perfume she wore? Or was it the scent of her soap? Either way, it was the perfect scent for her, touched with vanilla, both sexy and sweet. Quinn knew that just the faintest waft of it would drive him wild for the rest of his life. He wondered then whether mortals had their own power to beguile. Certainly, Sara Keegan had wound her way into his heart and soul, making it impossible for Quinn to imagine being without her.

  They’d made love three times and he was ready for more.

  He had a feeling that he was never going to get enough of her.

  Surprisingly, that didn’t bother Quinn, even though he’d spent the vast majority of his life ensuring that he had no reliance on anyone.

  Maybe Sara would be the exception to his own rule. He wanted to make love to her in the grassy fields at his home, in the forest, in his own bed, on the thick rug on the floor of his cabin. He wanted to hear her make that little gasp of pleasure when the sun was shining, when spring rain fell around them, when the snow swirled out of the sky and the fire on the hearth crackled.

  The fury of the thunderstorm had moved east and rain fell steadily, beating a rhythm against the roof. He opened the window slightly and a cool breeze smelling of plants and soil and flowers, wafted into the room. It reminded him of his cabin and acreage. He was less comfortable in cities and towns than in the country and he yearned to show Sara what he had built.

  The street looked slick and black, and the shadows seemed particularly dark with the power still out. Quinn inhaled deeply, missing his land.

  He couldn’t think about the future, not yet. He was still tingling with the aftermath of the firestorm and he wanted to savor it. Sara stirred in her sleep as he stood at the window and rolled to her back, sighing contentment.

  A smile played over her lips and Quinn wondered whether it came from memory or from her dreams. He tugged the sheet over her legs so the draft wouldn’t chill her. He wanted fiercely to be the one responsible for making her smile.

  Forever.

  Quinn could have watched her sleep all night long. The gentle rise and fall of her breasts mesmerized him, as did the insistent beat of her heart, echoing in his ears. His own heart sped up slightly, matching its pace to hers, and it seemed to him that when they beat in unison, he felt a new power.

  She nestled her cheek into the palm of one hand, looking small and vulnerable. Her other hand lay curled against the white sheets, looking as fragile as the rest of her.

  But she was strong, stronger than she even guessed herself. If Sara was a princess, she was from a warrior clan.

  Or maybe she was a mermaid, after all, an undine as slender as a reed and as forceful as the tides.

  He smiled at the unchar
acteristic whimsy of his thoughts and headed for the bathroom. He was restless, impatient, ready to do whatever was necessary to protect Sara.

  The problem was that Quinn wasn’t certain what that was.

  Confident in the power of his own smoke—thrice breathed—he took a shower himself. There was a package of disposable razors in the medicine cabinet, so he helped himself to one and shaved. Quinn always took great pleasure in shaving: for some reason, having his jaw smooth made him more aware that he was human.

  Not a beast.

  Much less a monster.

  He peered in the mirror, checking that he hadn’t missed a spot, and what he saw shocked him completely.

  There was a gray hair on his temple. It winked at him, one strand of silver that had never been there before. It was unmistakable. It hadn’t been there that morning. He knew it. But it was there now, and it was attached.

  It hurt when he pulled it out.

  He was aging, and worse, he knew why. Quinn studied his reflection but there was no other sign of change. He cleaned out the sink, frowning at his own realization. It had happened already. So quickly. He had created an heir, after being only one night with Sara. Her body probably didn’t even know as much as yet, but his did.

  Quinn had often been accused of being purposeful and goal oriented, but on this night, he had a profound sense of having been cheated.

  He wasn’t ready to be without Sara Keegan.

  He wasn’t ready for his firestorm to be over.

  And he wasn’t ready to be alone again.

  He wondered whether he ever would be.

  Then he glared at the silver hair he had pulled out and flushed the traitor down the toilet.

  It was gone.

  Quinn wondered whether three more would grow in its place, just to make sure he got the message. He dressed with impatient haste, unable to quell his annoyance.

  When Erik quietly announced his presence, Quinn’s response was blunt and grim, even for old-speak.

  Chapter 13