Steam

by Lynn Tyler

  Anna, who had been watching the whole thing through wide eyes, shook her head. “You’re out of control, Sloan.”

  He opened his mouth to shoot back a verbal dagger when he saw the look in her eyes. She seemed horrified by Raven’s threat. Then again, as the air handler, she would know exactly what he was going through. Hell, she was probably as uncomfortable as he was.

  Shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed, determined to ignore the way it melted on his tongue or how the rich gravy felt like velvet sliding down his throat. He wasn’t in the mood to find anything remotely pleasant.

  He turned to Raven instead, trying to redirect the conversation to something a little less volatile. “Why do you want to get back into contact with the dragons, anyway?”

  Ever the gentleman, Raven wiped his mouth with a linen napkin before answering. “You know the prophecy, Sloan. The war to end all wars is coming. It behooves us to have as many people on our side when it happens. The dragons aligned with us the last time, so it stands to reason that they may wish to ally with us again. We can’t take any chances since the last time, the Takahashis were allied with the werewolves and the Keitas with the vampires.”

  This time, Sloan didn’t even bother to hide his snort of derision. “Do you still believe in that prophecy?”

  Raven raised his eyebrows again and looked at him with curiosity. “You don’t?”

  Summoning a stream of water from the pitcher in the middle of the table and directing it into his goblet, Sloan thought about the best way to word his answer. Despite Sloan’s current mood, Raven was a good man and deserved a good amount of respect. “No, I don’t believe in the prophecy.”

  “Why?” Leith’s deep voice cut through the awkward silence his declaration had caused.

  Surprised, Sloan turned to Leith. The man rarely spoke unless he was asked a direct question. Leith gazed at him with interest, almost like he was some science experiment gone wrong.

  Sloan squirmed in his chair a little, uncomfortable with the stares he was getting from the three other witches. “Well, the prophecy also says each handler will go to battle with their soul mate by their side. How is it possible for me to go into that battle with my soul mate when Dara died in the last battle twenty-five years ago?”

  He focused on his plate, unable to look anyone in the face. He couldn’t stand to see the pity he knew would be there.

  The silence that settled over the room was smothering and he took a sip of water to try and ease his throat.

  Finally, Anna spoke in her gentlest voice. The one she usually reserved for children and scared kittens. “Is it possible that Dara wasn’t your soul mate?”

  Rage swamped him and he shot up from his chair, pointing at Anna. “How dare you?” he accused. “How dare you question my love for my dead wife? How would you feel if I questioned your feelings for Addison?”

  Somehow Raven had made it across the room before Sloan even noticed he’d moved. One of Raven’s arms came across his chest and the other draped around his middle, like a father hugging his child from behind. “That’s not what she meant and you know it,” he whispered in Sloan’s ear.

  The anger drained out of him as fast as it had boiled over, leaving him feeling guiltier than hell. “I know. I’m sorry, Anna. What I said was uncalled for.”

  A brisk breeze swept through the room, reminding them all that, although Anna was better at restraining herself than Sloan, she could have taken him on in an instant. There were tears in her eyes though. Sloan’s mood sunk to a new low, knowing he’d caused Anna to remember her own lost love.

  She nodded but the breeze didn’t stop, and it combined with Sloan’s power to form a small rainstorm, complete with miniature forks of lightning. It wasn’t unusual for them to create tiny storms inside. It was almost like, with the absence of the other two handlers, he and Anna were missing some kind of anchor. He only barely hung on to control of his magic at the best of times. The accidental collision of their powers was almost too hard to handle.

  Raven pushed Sloan down until his butt planted firmly in the chair. “Calm down, both of you, before you cause a damn hurricane.”

  With a lot of concentration, Sloan pulled the magic back into himself. He shivered at the unpleasant sensation and saw Anna doing the same. That was the thing with magic. Once released, it really didn’t like being pulled back in. Pushing his plate away, he rose from his chair once more. “I’m not hungry. I need to go practice or something before I jump out of my skin.”

  Raven pushed him down once more and replaced the plate. “You need to eat more. You’ve lost too much weight.”

  There was no use arguing with the leader. Once he’d made his mind up, it took an act of God to change it. Sloan closed his eyes and rubbed his throbbing temples. He really needed to get to the pond and release some of this build up before he ended up flooding the dining room, and then go to bed. Maybe he should sleep for the next decade. Maybe then, the pain wouldn’t be so bad.

  “I know,” Anna whispered from beside him.

  He opened his eyes to see her kneeling at his side. She took one of his hands in both of hers. “I know it hurts. And I know you feel like you should have died instead of Dara. But that’s not what happened. You’re here, but you’re only going through the motions of living. We need you to actually give a shit if any of us are going to survive the coming war.”

  There wasn’t even time for Sloan to question the damn prophecy again.

  Leith, who had been motionless the entire time, sat straight up in his chair, his eyes wide with wonder. “The fire handler…has come into magic.”

  Raven rushed over to his seat, where his cell phone was lying on the table. He started dialing even as he barked orders. “Leith, take Matthew with you on your search. He can help navigate the human society. Matthew?” he said into the phone.

  A surge of power ran through Sloan, electrifying his senses and sensitizing his body in a way it hadn’t been stimulated in twenty-five years.

  Sloan had only experienced it once in his life, when Anna had come into her powers. This time, the sensation was shockingly different. His cock swelled in seconds, and he pushed Anna away gently, embarrassed by his body’s response to the new handler magic.

  He shivered and looked at Raven, who looked shaken. “She’s so strong,” Raven muttered.

  Feminine power. Of course. Now that Sloan had clued into it, he could taste the vanilla and cinnamon of female magic on his tongue. No wonder his body had responded.

  Raven took a breath and adjusted his belt. Sloan knew the feeling. He was kind of afraid his dick would break off if he tried to stand up. “Find her fast,” the leader said to Leith. “There’s no way the Takahashi or Keita seekers missed the power surge. Find her before they do. And watch out for hunters.”

  Another wave of power rushed over Sloan, and every muscle in his body locked as he barely prevented himself from ejaculating in his pants.

  Finally, things seemed to settle down a little and he tried not to blush. He hadn’t felt the need to orgasm when Anna had come into her magic but he’d been told it was different each time. The new magic pushing at them didn’t dissipate, but his body gradually grew used to the sensation.

  Raven rushed around, talking about adding a fire pit to the training fields. “Anna, Sloan, be prepared to train her.”

  Great. The last thing Sloan needed was to train a new handler in how to control her magic. Especially one who affected him like this.

  Chapter 3

  “I’m leaving for the day,” Sunny said to three of her co-workers. The women were all gathered around a computer screen, ogling a half-naked male model.

  “God, I love my job,” one of them said with a sigh. “Every morning I wake up dreading coming to work and having to deal with the fashion editor from hell. Then I remember I get to ogle men like that every day, and I remember why I haven’t quit yet.” She pointed to the model, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs and a smile, and
sighed.

  Sunny giggled. She liked her job for more than the male models, but she had to admit they did make things a little more interesting. “They do break up the day,” she replied.

  Another one of her co-workers sighed dramatically and turned off the screen. “Why can’t my boyfriend look like that?”

  Shaking her head, Sunny pointed at the woman and smiled. “Don’t complain. I’ve seen the flowers he sends you every Friday.”

  “Yeah. He’s pretty great. He’s out for the night though. Are you sure you don’t want to join us for drinks tonight? I’ll even treat you, since it’s your birthday.”

  It was tempting. It wasn’t like she had anything else waiting for her at home. But Sunny shook her head again. No matter how long she’d held this job, she still couldn’t get past the idea that if she got close to someone, she would have to leave them behind. It was how she’d lived her entire life. “Maybe next time,” she said instead.

  “We’re going to hold you to that.” Sunny giggled again as the women reached behind the screen and extracted a box. She recognized it as a pastry box from the local bakery. “Anyway, we wanted to give this to you. Happy Birthday. Enjoy it with a glass of wine and a bubble bath. You only turn twenty-five once, you know.”

  Touched, Sunny accepted the box. “Thanks. I will.” She looked around, a little embarrassed. She didn’t quite know how to act around people these days. “You guys have a good time tonight. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  All three women nodded. “Thank goodness for weekends,” one of them said. “It gives me two entire days to recover from Friday night. You promise you’ll join us soon?”

  “Maybe next week,” Sunny replied, a little cornered. She wasn’t certain how she felt. She wanted so badly to throw away all of her reservations and foster some real friendships.

  Maybe the fact that she’d been at the magazine for more than a year meant she could actually make some friends. She’d never been anywhere longer than a year before. Even the foster families she’d grown up with had usually given up on her after about eight months and she was shunted to another family.

  With her brain racing, she waved good-bye and headed out to her car. Unlocking the door, she slid into the driver’s seat and carefully placed the pastry box on the passenger seat.

  She stroked the steering wheel affectionately. The car was more than just a car to her. It was the first thing she’d ever purchased. It was the only thing she’d had for longer than five years. Hell, it was the only thing she’d had for longer than two years; although, this job was approaching the eighteen month mark. Regardless, the car was almost like a child to her.

  She drove the twenty minutes to her apartment building and hopped out, making sure to lock the doors behind her. She lived in a fairly safe neighborhood and there were lights in the parking lot, but one could never be too careful.

  Letting herself into the building, Sunny bypassed the elevators and burst through the stairwell door. The past few weeks had been strange. She was losing weight left, right, and center no matter how much she ate. It seemed like her metabolism had been ratcheted up by ten levels.

  The amount of energy she had was outrageous. She lived on the sixth floor, and she’d been sprinting up the stairs every day for a week. She’d been hitting the gym like a maniac too, running on the treadmill until the person behind her started to get frustrated with her hogging the machine. Then, she’d move onto the stationary bike and hit the weights until her muscles screamed. It didn’t matter what she did. She still felt restless and twitchy.

  Maybe her co-workers were right. A glass of wine and a bubble bath might actually relax her enough to lull her to sleep tonight.

  But first, she wanted to peek inside the box. The bakery was well known for having the best pastries, and she’d been drooling over the window displays every day.

  She slowly opened the box, pausing halfway to savor the rich scent of chocolate wafting from the cardboard container. She loved chocolate almost as much as she loved her car. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture what treat her co-workers had bought for her. A brownie? A slab of fudge?

  Finally giving in, Sunny opened her eyes and finished tearing into the box. Inside sat a beautiful chocolate cupcake.

  Only one thought ran through her head. Yum.

  She pulled the cupcake out of the box and placed it on a little plate before rooting around in a kitchen drawer. She had to have a birthday candle in here somewhere. She loved candles and had them stashed all over the place.

  A little pink one caught her attention and she stuck it in the center of the cupcake. She lit it and stared at the tiny orange flame. Shivers raced down her spine and something deep inside her tugged toward the fire. The pull toward the flame was so intense, it was almost creepy.

  Closing her eyes, she did the same thing she did every year. She sang “Happy Birthday” to herself and blew out the candle, prepared to make some silly wish.

  Except this time, unlike other years, the flame didn’t extinguish.

  Instead, it looked a little bigger and seemed to glow a little brighter.

  Sunny was pretty sure she didn’t have any trick candles hanging around. There was no reason for the flame to continue to burn.

  Electricity crackled along her skin, goose bumps breaking out over her entire body. Something big grew inside her. It was almost like her body was building up for some kind of huge event. She’d gone from feeling twitchy and restless to feeling like her skin was about to split wide open. It was excruciating and thrilling all at once. The fire fascinated her, drawing her closer like the proverbial moth to the flame.

  The flame grew bigger and bigger until the entire cupcake was engulfed. If she didn’t blow it out, it was going to set her table on fire. Ignoring the fact that her body was about to explode, Sunny bent over and blew at the candle again, putting all the extra energy she could behind it.

  It was almost like she’d thrown a jug of gasoline around the room, soaking the carpet and walls, the fire burned so big and so fast. Within seconds, the entire apartment was on fire. She rushed for her fire extinguisher but it was too late. The fire alarms were already going off in the hall and she could hear the faint sound of sirens outside.

  Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck had happened?

  Two weeks later, Sunny was still staying in her cheap motel room. Her apartment building had completely gone up in flames. The fire chief had made a statement to the press about how he’d never seen a building burn down so fast. According to him, it was like the fire had had a life of its own. When they’d sprayed the building with water, it had seemed like the flame would jump out of the way.

  Something told her not to come forward with her story of creating the fire. For one, she really didn’t feel like having another stay in a psychiatric unit. One stay as a teenager had been enough, thank you very much. And she was pretty sure if she told the chief about how the flame had responded to her, they would lock her back up faster than she could say “Bob’s your uncle.”

  But there was something else holding her back from coming forward with her story. It was some strange sense of self-preservation. It was almost like a fight or flight response. Maybe it was the fact that there seemed to be an awful lot of strangers hanging around her these days. Strangers who stared at her shrewdly. People who liked to pat down their waistband when they noticed her watching, like they were reassuring themselves their protection was still in place.

  Maybe she should check herself into the psych unit after all.

  Of course, things always had a way of going from bad to worse. Strangely, the pressure which had been building in her had disappeared after the fire and had stayed dormant for a couple of days. But it didn’t stay that way. The restless sensation came significantly more often now. It was like something was building inside her, growing until it was too large to be contained by her body. Sometimes she felt like clawing at her skin in a desperate attempt to release some of the pressure.

  Add that
to the fact that every time she experienced a strong emotion, fires broke out around her, and she seriously considered investing in a fire extinguisher manufacturer. She didn’t have to be angry to have a fire start. No, she could be sad, happy, whatever. Hell, even getting aroused was a no-no.

  At first, no one had made the connection between her and the fires. It wasn’t like anyone had witnessed her strolling over to a wastebasket and dropping in a flaming match. In fact, many times, other people would be talking with her and the fire would start on the other side of the room.

  But it wasn’t long before people started to notice she happened to be in the room each and every time a fire started.

  Now, she sat in her motel room after being fired. Her employer had no evidence to actually press charges against her, but the fact that the fires only happened when she was present was enough for them to release her from her contract. And all of her previously supportive co-workers, the same ones who had invited her out for drinks a few short weeks ago, avoided her like the plague.

  She was at a complete loss as to what to do. She had no job, no home and no possessions, save for her car. She’d like to think she’d been in worse positions in the past, but she really hadn’t. She’d always figured something out before, but she needed to wallow in self-pity a little, even if it was only for a few minutes.

  Grabbing the chocolate bar she’d purchased on the way here, she unwrapped it and took a huge bite. Chocolate always made things better. Well, bearable, anyway.

  Lying back on the lumpy mattress, she closed her eyes and munched, wishing someone would knock on her door with the answer to all her problems.

  Suddenly, there was a hard thumping against her door, like someone was pummeling it with a fist.

  Her eyes flew open and she sat up so fast, her head spun.

  Somehow, she doubted it was her fairy godmother knocking.