Immortal Flame

by Jillian David

  “Can I drive you home? I’d like to help,” his low voice cut through her thoughts.

  She blinked. “I can’t impose—”

  Being cared for by a man was alien to Allison, but the thought of sitting home alone with that creepy guy from the soccer fields lurking out there, that shook her to the core. For a moment, she considered going to Sarah and Bryce’s house, but her presence could lead a stalker to her family. She couldn’t place them in harm’s way. Maybe for a short period of time, she could pretend to have a nice man in her life. Only he wasn’t exactly a man, was he? Still, having Peter around could be a rare opportunity to experience normal companionship.

  Normal? With him? What a joke. If you looked it up in the dictionary, right next to the listing for “abnormal” would be her name and Peter’s.

  Better to end whatever twisted … God knows what … that was between them now.

  She repeated herself and pulled away from him. “I won’t impose.” The air in the car stagnated.

  Good. She hit the right balance between politeness and flat-out rejection. No need to be a jerk to this guy. It wasn’t his fault her brain had short-circuited.

  He slid his hand out from under her hair. “It’s no imposition. I’d like to keep an eye on things tonight.”

  “No, but—” Damn this guy. He wasn’t following the we-have-no-future script.

  Apparently oblivious to her expanding irritation, he continued. “I’ll rest better knowing you’re safe.” He ran a thumb over her cheek, and damn her mutinous nervous system, but she shuddered.

  He put his hand back on the steering wheel. “First, I’d like to go by the hotel to pick up a few things.” He put both hands on the wheel and studied the sky through the front windshield. “It’s threatening to snow, temperature’s dropping.”

  An inappropriate giggle bubbled up. “If I need someone to cut wood, I know who to ask.”

  A joke. How appropriate, since her entire life was one big chuckle.

  Forget her freak-of-nature power. Forget domestic bliss with a normal man. Who was she fooling? Peter was not exactly human. Not only did she need to avoid relationships with normal men on a regular basis, she now had to add supernatural killers to the list of bewares. How fabulous.

  He pulled into the hotel parking lot and left the car running. Leaving her to stew in the morass of her unhappiness, he re-emerged with a small bag and a laptop.

  Arriving at Allison’s house, he parked her car well away from the house and clicked the garage door open.

  “Stay put. Lock the car doors. I’ll check the house.”

  Allison nodded. She pressed the lock, scooted into the driver’s seat, and peered out into the early evening. Nothing appeared out of place.

  Peter paced in front of the house, stooping every so often to touch the ground. He disappeared around the corner.

  She held her breath, straining to hear anything outside the car, searching the shadows.

  Her heart thudded in her chest. He’d been gone too long.

  He finally re-emerged on the other side of the house, his tall frame illuminated by the headlights. The breath she’d been holding came out with a whoosh. He entered the house through the garage door. After what felt like hours, the house lights came on, and then Peter returned and waved her in. As if this was something he did on a regular basis, checking for a stalker. He must have had some military training if her visions about him were true.

  In the kitchen, Allison tried to pull out a few items to make a passable dinner but couldn’t focus. A spoon dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. When she stooped down, her hand met Peter’s.

  Connection zinged along her fingertips.

  She froze.

  He wrapped his hand around hers and gently pulled her up. She felt only buzzing and no pain now with their contact. So much better.

  “Stop.” His gaze bore into her.

  Her heart flipped. “Okay.”

  “You’re exhausted. Why don’t you rest for a while?”

  His deep voice was a balm to her frayed nerves. His rough thumb rubbed against her palm, sending delightful swirls into her gut, making it hard to think.

  “Do you have a frozen pizza?”

  Her brain felt like sludge. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Then go to sleep.” His dark brown eyes were warm. “If it’s a matter of heating something in the oven, I can manage.”

  Holding her hand, he led her across the living room and gave her a light push into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She eyed her bed like a castaway spying a rescue ship. She changed into flannel pants and a tank top and fell onto the covers, asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 12

  Peter listened at the bedroom door. Silence. When he glanced into the room, he could barely make out Allie’s small frame engulfed by the duvet, her long hair spread over the pillow. Hell, the entire bedroom smelled fresh, flowery and outdoorsy, just like her. The desire to slip into the bed and wrap himself around her soft body flared. With what he hoped was better judgment, he eased the door closed and walked back to the living room.

  In the past twelve hours, his priorities had changed. No longer could he focus solely on his assignment and the Meaningful Kill. Now he had a bigger mission. He had to keep Allie safe and destroy her stalker.

  The pizza had finished heating a few minutes ago, and he indulged in a slice of still-steaming pepperoni and cheese. Normally, he didn’t care what he ate or even if he ate, but he had heightened senses after meeting Allie, something else he’d have to ask Barnaby to explain.

  Another wave of desire to breathe in her sunlight scent swamped him. He fought the compulsion to go back into the bedroom and slide under the covers.

  Get a grip.

  He sank into the couch cushion, flipping through channels until he dozed off, relaxed. TV shows murmured in the background of his drifting thoughts.

  Until a scream pierced the silence.

  He reached the bedroom in two steps, wrenched open the door, and flew into her room. The only light came from the living room. Allie sat bolt upright on the bed, her fear echoing in his own mind. He shook his head to clear her residual emotions.

  “Allie?” he said softly, not wanting to alarm her further. “I’m going to turn on the light, okay?”

  She had drops of sweat on her forehead and upper lip, and her unfocused eyes stared up at him. Another scream looked about to erupt from her lips. The sound of her harsh breaths rasped across his nerves. Nothing and no one else was in the room, but her panic was real.

  Unable to stand there, Peter sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her roughly to him. Allie clutched at his shirt, trembling. He smoothed his hands over her hair, willing her to relax, willing himself to calm down. He wanted to fight her demons.

  Hell, he was one of her demons.

  “Allie, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he crooned low. “I’m right here.”

  He rocked her gently, his chin on her head. It was different from comforting another woman in his arms, years ago. Allison was more vibrant than any woman he’d held before. He tightened his hold, trying to pour reassurance into her and push away the memories of the past.

  “A dream,” she said, her voice muffled.

  Desire spiked down into his gut as her warm exhalation seeped into his shirt, heating his skin. “What did you see?” He tried to focus. He went hard in reaction to her closeness, and he gritted his teeth to retain control.

  When she pushed her tousled hair back over her shoulders, the movement tugged her tank top across her breasts. His mouth went dry. He dragged his gaze back to her haunted face.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I saw everything, all at once. Torture, death, images over and over. I saw visions from that man, from Quincy, from you. I couldn’t make them stop … cold, ice cold, pain, loneliness.”

  He had nothing to say to help her. He had nothing to make this nightmare end.

  He tilted her sweet face to hi
m. Like a man falling toward earth, he couldn’t resist Allie’s pull. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers, the echo of her mind resting lightly on the edge of his own consciousness.

  Control cracked and then shattered.

  Decades of pent-up emotions boiled to the surface.

  He groaned and deepened the kiss. Plunging his hands into her silky hair, he tilted her head back to expose the long lines of her delicate neck. He delved into the warm smoothness of her mouth with his tongue, and she responded with a soft moan that escalated his need. He trailed his hands down her back, then up her arms. Holding on at her ribcage, he traced her firm breasts with his thumbs through the cotton tank-top.

  When he flicked a finger over a hard nipple, Allie’s hands clenched on his back. The pinch of her nails shot pleasure straight into his balls. Good. As her hands drifted downward, to the top of his buttocks, he growled deep in his throat, picked her up roughly, and checked himself. He eased her down onto the center of the bed.

  She licked her swollen, parted lips.

  His mind exploded.

  He ripped her tank top apart, shreds of cotton scattering over the mattress. Unable to hold back, he lowered his head, nipping at her breasts as he pressed her down onto the mattress.

  She writhed beneath him, the movement driving his need even higher.

  Pulling her arms over her head, he rose up, surveying her smooth skin, pink breasts, and shining lips. He had to possess her completely, had to be inside of her, be a part of her.

  “Peter,” she whispered.

  That one word brought him back to reality. The stalker, her images. He was her protector. She’d just woken up. She was vulnerable. A drop of red bloomed on her lip. He’d done that.

  Shoving himself away from her, he retreated toward the door. He would not use her body to slake his own desires.

  “It’s okay, Allie.” To his own ears, he sounded desperate. “I’m sorry. You trusted me, and I took advantage. Please forgive me.” He backed away until he bumped against the wall, unable to stop staring at her perfect body.

  Naked from the waist up, Allie sat up on the bed, pushed her tangled hair back, and stared at him, her emerald and gold eyes pinning him in place. Peter couldn’t move.

  • • •

  Allison didn’t know what to do. She craved Peter’s touch, his warmth, his protection. In her world of death and evil, this inhuman man had given her strength and security. Beneath his hands, she had blossomed. For tonight, it didn’t matter that he had secrets. What mattered were his actions that she had witnessed in the here and now.

  Before her dreams had turned ugly this evening, she had imagined him in this bedroom, exactly like this, looking at her with the same desire she saw now.

  Peter appeared poised to bolt, but she didn’t want him to leave. She felt more human and more complete in his arms than she had with anyone else. Maybe she couldn’t control the things happening to her head, but she could make one decision for herself tonight. Before she lost her courage, Allison slid off the bed, scattering the shredded pieces of the tank top. She glanced down at her naked torso, and then slowly raked her gaze up his compact form, lingering a moment on the bulge in his jeans before enjoying the view of his wide chest. When she met his eyes, she stared at him for several seconds, blinked, and licked her lips. She couldn’t make her invitation any clearer.

  Peter’s gaze darkened to pure onyx as she slowly took one step then another toward him. His hands balled into fists. Sweat beaded his forehead. Her semi-naked state should have made her feel shy, but it didn’t.

  He stood silent and frozen with a stricken expression, eyes narrowed to black slits, head shoved back against the wall. Still he didn’t move, didn’t touch her, even as she took a slow step and continued to advance toward him.

  Stopping inches away from him, Allison brushed her fingertips over his hard jawline, giving him every opportunity to run. He didn't move, but clenched his mouth and shuddered.

  She had all of his attention, and she liked it. As she reached under his shirt, he grabbed her wrist, but he didn’t hurt her.

  “Don’t,” he ground out, plain desperation written on his features.

  Rejection hit her like a slap across the face. “Don’t you want me?”

  “You have no idea.” His voice was raw and angry.

  “I’m sorry, I thought—” Suddenly too aware of her nakedness, she tried to pull her arm from his grip, to cover herself. Her cheeks heated.

  What a fool I am.

  He tightened his grip to just short of pain. “No.”

  “It’s okay. Let go of me. I’ll leave you alone.” Damn it, if she didn’t blink back pricks of tears. She would not cry in front of him.

  “I don’t want you to leave me alone.” His voice had turned to gravel, raw suffering infused into each word.

  “I don’t under—”

  His grip on her wrist, like an iron manacle, stretched her arm up and out. “I want you. That’s the damn problem.”

  “So you do want me?”

  “Hell, yeah. But I’m no good for you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Did you ask what I want?”

  His jaw dropped.

  “Ask me.”

  Sandpaper wasn’t as rough as his growl. “What. Do. You. Want?”

  “I want … ” With her free hand, she reached under his shirt and trailed her fingernails over his corded abdomen.

  His muscles jumped in response, and she liked it. He held her outstretched arm like a lifeline.

  When she touched him, the mental connection clicked into place more comfortably this time, augmenting their physical contact. That mental wind continued to swirl, but now it felt like the texture of his mind. She controlled the depth of the visions more easily and struggled less to maintain a barrier against the mental roar. When she sensed him in her mind, the primary emotion was raw, ravenous hunger. For her.

  “Damn, Allie. I’ll hurt you. I can’t control myself around you.”

  Tugging at her manacled wrist until he let go, she stood on tiptoes and locked her hands onto his face. “I don’t want your control. I want you.”

  “You have no idea what you’re asking. If I lose control, I can’t hold back my mind. I can’t hold back anything.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with the convulsive swallow. Sweat beaded his forehead. He was as tense as a coiled spring, standing stiff as a statue.

  “So don’t hold back.”

  “No. You don’t get it. I could destroy you, in here.” He pointed to his head. The misery in his hoarse voice cut straight into her soul.

  Heart pounding, Allison kissed his lower lip, then guided his hand to her breast. “I trust you.”

  Something broke behind those black, lost eyes, and he crushed her lips in a bruising kiss. When she pushed his shirt up, he ripped it off. As she traced kisses down his heated chest with her lips, he growled and spun them around, switching positions and pressing her hard into the wall. She sensed the moment when he relaxed his superhuman strength, although his tight embrace still supported her. Could he maintain control of his power without hurting her?

  With his muscled thigh pinning her hips in place and his hands fisted in her hair, she was trapped in the most delicious of prisons while he devoured her mouth with kisses. When he opened her mouth wider to explore with his tongue, she gripped the flexed cords on his shoulders. Her head swam as his strong mouth slanted over hers, consuming her body and mind.

  Peter stepped back long enough to shove her flannel pajamas down over her hips and away. He leaned into her, keeping her shoulders pressed to the wall while he snaked an arm around the small of her back. Arching her toward him, he ground his hard groin into her hips, the denim jeans abrading her sensitive flesh, sending a bolt of desire right into her gut.

  When he pulled his hands out of her hair, she moaned in disappointment, until he trailed a hand down her belly and lower to her soft curls. He stroked lower until she writhed in anticipation. With his knee, he
nudged her legs apart and slid his hand lower into her folds. At his first stroke, her legs went weak, and she clutched at his shoulders for support.

  His voice slid over her. “I need you.”

  Allison felt his growing desire beneath the jeans pressed into her abdomen and shivered. “You have me.”

  As he dove back into her mouth for another soul-shattering kiss, she stroked him through the denim. She unbuckled his jeans and eased them downward; her hands glided over his buttocks and muscled legs. She encountered a knife in a holster strapped to his lower leg, and she stopped, surprised as the knife emitted a faint green glow.

  He grabbed her hand, pulling her away. “Hell. Never touch that.” Leaning down, he kicked his jeans off, but left the sheathed weapon attached to his leg.

  “Why?”

  “Just don’t. You should never touch the knife.”

  Her next question was smothered beneath his warm lips. He literally took her breath away.

  When she pressed into his hard erection, he groaned. Yanking her hands up and onto his shoulders, he reached under her hips and lifted her, scraping her back against the wall. Allison wrapped her legs around his waist and held on behind his neck, kissing him over and over.

  He lowered her, their sweat-slicked skin connecting them, chest to chest. When she felt his wet tip at her entrance, she whimpered. An electricity of a different kind thrummed through her body. He guided her hips into position and pushed her down onto him, driving in deeply.

  She gasped, suddenly stretching to accept him. His heat warmed her to the core.

  He pumped into her slowly at first then faster, pinning her between the hard, cold wall and the unyielding furnace of his body. His strong hands guided her hips with the mounting rhythm. The windstorm of their connected minds and how easily he supported her body weight despite his thrusts sparked pleasure deep inside her—this had to be like flying.

  As she crested, he leaned against her, kissing her hard, his tongue filling her mouth, each thrust of his hips more forceful than the last. She cried out, clawing at his neck in ecstasy, and he followed moments later.

  Arms weak, she shuddered with aftershocks as he shifted. His leonine smile turned her heart over, and something poignant and sharp caught when she took a deep breath.