Aiden looked at her. “I’m curious where you get the inspiration for your dragons.”
Kenna hesitated. Strange that he waited two weeks to ask that. “I suppose where all artists get their inspiration. We find beauty and magic in the glass.”
“Magic? Yes. Your dragons are magical.” He faced her. “Together, we could create so much more.”
Her heart sank. As flattering as his attention was, she’d hoped his interest in her art was sincere. “Magic as in…” Please don’t let him spout poetic verse about making love or burning passion.
“I just meant we could heat it up in here.”
The sudden urge to bludgeon him with the thickest of her glass pieces forced her to clasp her hands behind her back. She couldn’t halt the mental picture of her melting the glass so that the cops never found the murder weapon.
It didn’t matter. She didn’t need Aiden Stiles. Despite the fact that she was no Chihuly, she was doing well. The Michael Laird Gallery had international contacts. International interest could push her career to the next level—if she could get Aiden out of her shop. Any sexual energy she wanted to tap into fizzled into annoyance.
“I want to get some work done. If you would—”
A blast of wind whipped open the door, slamming the wood into the wall with a bang. Dust swirled in a vortex of churning air that swept through the garage.
“The door!” She rushed to the table in the rear of the garage and steadied a fragile fourteen-inch vase.
A howl echoed through the rafters. Flames arced from the furnace, then snuffed out.
Kenna blinked. “What the—” Another gust of wind whipped through the garage. “Close the damn door,” she ordered an instant before Aiden slammed it shut.
She hurried to the open face of the furnace to find only a red glow. What had happened? Furnaces didn’t blow out. She checked the damper. Open. She straightened and caught sight of Aiden standing near the door. Rage glinted in his eyes. Kenna stilled. How much did she actually know about this man? Until now, he’d always seemed eager to please. Too eager, maybe?
Wind whipped past her. She turned, caught sight of the open window at the back of the garage, and hurried to close it. The room went silent. Warm air settled on her skin like a protective blanket. A tingle started in her nipples and spread through her. Just like when she’d awoken earlier, the earthy scent of rain and woods hung in the air. Kenna inhaled, and her anxiety morphed into a calm yet arousing tranquility like…a gentle tropical breeze against her naked flesh.
Damn, she needed to blow. She swore she heard a man chuckle and faced Aiden. His lips were set in a tight line. At least the anger was gone. Maybe she’d misread him. This day, short as it had been, was one long string of weird. Whatever Aiden’s problem, his attitude would spoil her flow. Her fingers twitched with renewed desire to channel this creative energy. Hallelujah.
“Thanks for stopping by, Aiden, but I need to get to work. You understand.”
He nodded toward the furnace. “Your furnace isn’t working.”
“I’ve dealt with finicky furnaces before. No need to worry.”
He took a purposeful step toward her. Air blasted between them. “I do worry about you, Kenna.”
She strode to the door. “I’ve taken care of myself for twenty-seven years. I don’t mean to be rude, but really, I want to be alone.”
He stepped to her side. “If you need anything, call.”
She couldn’t deny a measure of relief. This was the sweet man she’d known the past few weeks. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kenna opened the door. A soft breeze kissed her cheek, but the force of a few minutes before had passed. A twinge of regret tugged at her. The wind was exhilarating—when it wasn’t threatening to knock her on her ass.
Aiden paused in the doorway as if to say more, then left. She closed and locked the door. Turning her attention to the crucible, she crossed the room, dropped to her hands and knees, and checked the valves. Well, hell, a broken valve. A trip into downtown Denver for the part would do the trick.
She shut off the gas and glanced at the clock. Three fifty-one. The art store opened at eight. Kenna grabbed the coffee cup, crossed to the door, and peered through the peephole. The walkway was empty. Thank God. The last thing she needed was Aiden’s enthusiastic offer to accompany her to the art store. She opened the door and stepped outside. Another gust of wind blasted from within the shop. The door sucked from her fingers and slammed shut. She jumped back, her gaze glued to the handle. Had she left a window open?
Leaves from the giant maple behind the garage rustled and drew her attention skyward. Clouds edged with moonlight moved as shadow against light and slowly morphed into a distorted version of Drakaura’s image, wings spread, thin tail whipping behind. She stared, her mind slipping back to that first childhood dream of Drakaura, colors so deep and rich, they filled the room as the dragon watched her in silence. The clouds overhead darkened, and the vision vanished.
Kenna shivered, then hurried inside. She set the mug on the kitchen counter and climbed the stairs to the old attic pull-down in the hallway. The familiar creak of wood as she pulled the string that unfolded the stairs brought a rush of emotion. She hadn’t been in the attic since Grandmother died six years ago, when she had stored her keepsakes alongside the older woman’s trunks.
She climbed up, crossed to the trunk, knelt, and ran a palm across the lid. Dust roiled up among the murky shadows in a turbulent dance. She chuckled. Grandma would give a scolding if she saw such a mess. Kenna opened the lid and lifted the linen-wrapped frame from on top of the other mementos, then settled back and unwrapped her first drawing of Drakaura. Despite chips in the Indonesian teakwood frame and the fading of the dragon’s red and yellow head feathers, the intensity in his eyes remained.
Kenna envisioned herself astride his back as they soared high above the earth. He dipped, and she hugged his smooth neck, her legs tightening around his belly, wind whipping her auburn hair into tiny lightning bolts. A gust of wind rattled the rafters, startling her from the dream. The breeze gentled, yet the hairs at her nape tingled. Despite knowing the thought was foolish, she quieted her breathing and listened for footsteps on the stairs.
The scent of wood and rain unexpectedly floated on the air. Desire coursed through her, and last night’s dream returned of the tall, broad-shouldered man who had thrust his cock deep inside her. Her pussy tightened. She released a slow breath, then refocused on Drakaura and flipped over the picture. Taped to the back were the two yellowed newspaper clippings about her fifth grade win that her grandmother had saved. Aiden asked about her inspiration. This secret belonged to her alone. It wasn’t the oddity she cared about concealing, but how the dragon called to her. She turned the frame back over and stared at the drawing. The image radiated off the page with the intensity of a desert mirage.
Discomfort brought a flush to her skin. In those final months before her mother died, Kenna’s stories of Drakaura standing over her bed had come with the admonition, “There are no such things as imaginary friends.”
Kenna exhaled an unsteady breath. Her mother’s dogged belief in only the things she could see had widened the rapidly growing gulf between them. Of course, Mother had been right. Dragons weren’t real. But Kenna didn’t understand that until it was too late, and her parents died in a car crash when she was fourteen. Thank God, Jared had understood.
Sisterly affection brought a smile. Though they were twins, Jared became the parents they lost when their grandmother was awarded custody. He took care of them. Six years later, he joined the Navy.
She missed him. But that’s how it was for the family of a Navy SEAL. Still, he made sure she got a good education and spent every moment off duty with her. Nearly two years had passed since their last visit, and ten months since his last letter. Some of the joy went out of her. He wouldn’t be there for her first major showing.
What would he think about the way she’d brought her childhood dreams to
life inside the glass?
Chapter Three
Erion paced the kitchen. Tension knotted his shoulders. Pressure tightened his chest. He’d fucked up. He shouldn’t have been there, shouldn’t have stayed, and most certainly, shouldn’t want to return. Yet he did.
He sat at the table and stared out the bay window into the woods that butted up against his condo. Dawn crested the trees. The clock ticked, the sound a hollow echo as he tried to make sense of what had happened.
Kenna had yet to metamorphose into her element. Yet he’d burned as fire inside her. His cock thickened with the memory. Never had he experienced such force with another Element—and before the Giris. How was this possible?
“What of me?” Airiana whispered from deep within his psyche.
Pain slashed through him. The veil of memory lifted, and the years rolled back to 1930, the Chicago speakeasy the Harrison, and Hailey Hopewell. Her sultry voice poured through the microphone as smooth as the fifteen-year-old rum Erion kept aside for his best customers. He’d stood behind the bar opposite the stage, mesmerized as he had been every night for the past six months. The low-cut, white flapper dress Hailey wore glittered against the soft light around the crowded dance floor in contrast to her dark Nubian skin. He’d never known a woman like her—young, wise, and beyond beautiful. His elbow jostled, and Erion shifted his attention to Burt.
The head bartender grinned. “You been drooling over that dame for six months. When you gonna make a move, boss?”
He’d made a move, all right, that very night, only to discover the young singer was Airiana, an eighty-year-old, full-fledged Air Element. He’d been only twenty-nine, a man old enough to recognize a woman he wanted, yet too young an Element to recognize the physical clues that gave away one Element to another. She had recognized his Air Element, but hadn’t understood his strength. She, along with her gift, had been snuffed out when he’d consumed her during their merging.
Darkness drew the memory back into the corner of his soul where Airiana’s core remained. Erion swallowed the lump in his throat. Her call had commanded him—he felt as if he’d taken a hit to the gut. Airiana had commanded him, but Kenna could own him. Which explained why he’d made the mistake of answering the call of her fire.
“Fool,” he snarled.
Until tonight, no one had moved him as Airiana had. He’d seen to that. He’d known other Elements, had loved other women, but none of them were Airiana. No other Element would be risked because of him.
Yet, if he didn’t return, Aiden would claim Kenna’s fire and worse, enslave her. Wind raged in Erion’s core. As Element, the compulsion to claim her and partake of her fire would be too Herculean to resist—he’d proved that last night. Could he resist even in human form?
What would it be like to touch her as a man? To caress her supple flesh, alive and heated, beneath his fingers? His hands clenched, the weight of her smooth breast filling his palm still so real. As air, he’d caused her nipples to pucker. But to tease with nips and tongue, to seal his lips around the raised peak and feel her fiery flesh heat within his mouth…
He closed his eyes. How easily he could feel her power…the pleasure. A vision of him sweeping out the window, headed for her bedroom, relaxed his body into the sense of weightless separation of body from element that preceded transformation. His atoms began to fall in on themselves, and his clothes loosened on his body. Erion jerked from the trance, heart racing.
He jolted from the chair and grasped the coffee cup sitting on the counter, then paused, the same chill he’d experienced last night when the Fire Element had arrived, creeping over him. She needed him. Erion shook his head. Not him, just someone. When Aiden showed up last night, he should have withdrawn, but the thought of Kenna with another man only minutes after he’d left her bed had filled Erion with unreasonable jealousy. Yet he had no right to her, was dangerous for her.
Despite the fact the current of his wind had shifted when Aiden arrived, Erion hadn’t recognized Aiden’s element. He’d been too damn caught up in her. Aiden’s predatory reaction when he sensed Erion was what had revealed his element and his intentions. Aiden. The Fire Element flaunted his arrogance by being called by his Element name within society. He should protect his secret.
The eddy of wind in Erion’s core swirled faster. Aiden meant to possess Kenna. No fully formed Element took from a youngling before the Giris. The first metamorphosis into Element had to be free of energy drain. To absorb the emerging Element’s energy enslaved their element in psychic bondage.
Erion dumped the now cold coffee from his cup and poured a second one. Kenna was young, an infant not yet formed in her element. Yet their brief connection had betrayed her potential. That strength must have been what drew Aiden, just as she had pulled Erion to her during the night. The fact that her emerging element naturally called to Elements didn’t curtail the sudden jealousy. Had she summoned Aiden the same way? Had Aiden touched her as he had?
Erion’s fingers tightened convulsively around the cup. He shouldn’t have gone to her, shouldn’t have savored the sweet essence of her body. He had no right. Neither did Aiden. Coffee swirled faster and faster until the liquid splashed over the rim and onto his hand. Erion cursed and tossed the coffee into the sink, then set the cup on the counter and snatched up the folded towel on the counter. In one swipe he cleaned the spill, then wiped his hand and tossed the towel aside.
Aiden couldn’t be allowed to imprint upon Fiera. Erion would blow him to the far side of time if necessary. No other Element could be permitted to interfere with her natural metamorphosis. She had a rare gift that she couldn’t yet conceive. Erion stilled. He would protect her from the Fire Element. Who would protect her from him?
Anguished regret squeezed his chest. He would never be more than an elusive breeze caressing her simmering flesh, making her come with a stolen touch in the night. Blood rushed into his shaft with the memory. His hardened flesh resonated with an echo of the fire that had singed him. Kenna had offered herself to him without reserve.
Erion’s heartbeat spiked. Legends whispered of their ancestors commingling in unnatural ways. He wanted like hell to commingle with Kenna—in every possible way. His cock throbbed, and his balls ached. He closed his eyes, the feel of her nipples as he swirled around them vivid. Blood pounded in his ears. The fragrance of her cream had driven him higher.
He unzipped his jeans and eased the tight pressure on his cock. He slid a hand into his briefs, wrapped his fingers firmly around the base of his shaft, and stroked the heated length. Beads of moisture seeped from the tip of the engorged crown. Erion shoved jeans and briefs past his hips and widened his stance. Would her eyes glint with desire at the sight of how aroused he was for her?
Another firm stroke.
He pictured Kenna kneeling before him, her eager mouth watering for a taste of him.
Faster. He squeezed, intensifying the pleasure, yet holding back the orgasm. His fingers were rough. Hers would be long and slender, caressing his cock while she worked the rigid shaft and sucked the head, lips and fist meeting in the middle.
Erion thrust forward. He pressed his thumb along the thick bulging vein running the length, imagining it was her hot, soft mouth taking all of him. With his free hand, he cupped his sac and rolled his balls in his palm, wishing it was her sweet lips surrounding them, flicking them with her tongue.
If she were kneeling before him, he’d tunnel his fingers into her fiery hair. Ah fuck, he was close to coming. He stumbled forward, barely catching himself on the counter before he crashed to his knees.
Erion thrust again. The tang and musk of his desire scented the air. He pumped harder, faster. The fantasy vivid—real. Her fire would blaze in a swirl around him, rubbing, massaging his nipples, the tip of his cock. Erion groaned. He drove into the fire, caught and consumed in the current. He threw his head back, clenched his jaw, and hissed out a sharp breath. Jets of hot cum spurted and drizzled over his fingers as his cock pulsed with pleasure.
He collapsed against the counter, gasping for breath. His heart pounded too fast. He fought the urge to shift so he could escape the rushing roar in his ears.
Fuck. Erion shook his head. He had to pull himself together. He had to forget her fire. He thought of her, alone in her shop. Aiden would return for her. So would Erion. He had to. She wasn’t safe.
****
Heat crashed over Erion in a wave. He swirled the energy in his vortex, his wind sucking oxygen from Aiden’s fire in a tight string. The drag unexpectedly went slack, and Erion spiraled backward across the parking lot behind the art store and slammed into an SUV. The monstrous vehicle shuddered, and the car alarm blared like a sick heartbeat as he bounced off.
The shimmer of heat that was Aiden rocketed toward him for another strike. Erion shot upward, the rim of his wind funnel narrowing as he climbed higher. Aiden neared, and Erion yanked the tip of his funnel up, then drove the sharp point into the now glowing blanket of Aiden’s heat. Fire blazed in a howl of fury, the fringe of flames snapping around Erion as if freed from ties that had held it taut. Translucent orange and yellow banded around him and squeezed.
Erion bucked in resistance to the sudden vacuum. Pain ripped through him, his edges singed by fiery licks. The eddy slowed. Fingers of fire snaked around the outer rim of his funnel, climbing higher, tightening and choking like a massive python. Erion relaxed his shape and began to slip through the thick spider web of red-orange tendrils. Aiden intensified his heat. White-hot blues appeared in the thick mass.
A door banged open, loud enough to be heard over the incessant rise and fall of the car alarm. “Whose goddamn car alarm is that?” a man said. “What the hell?”
Aiden flickered. Erion sucked his air inside the whirlpool, yanking the Fire Element into his churning center. Aiden snapped back in a shimmering wall of heat and slammed down onto him. A dizzying current sucked air from his center. Erion gasped for breath.
Born Into Fire Page 2
