Phoenix Rising (Maggie Henning & The Realm Book 1)
Page 15
“Do you want to die?” Luc repeated slowly, his voice cold and unfeeling. His eyes changed as I stared at him. They almost glowed with their emerald color, and his pupils thinned to slits like a cat who was readying to pounce on its dinner.
“Stop it! You’re scaring her!” Michel commanded, his voice taking a dangerous edge.
“Damn right I am!” Luc shouted as he jumped to his feet and wheeled around to face his brother. “If she’s scared, maybe she’ll realize just how fragile her silly life is and decide to do something to protect it!”
Michel reached out his hand to help me stand, but Luc shoved it away before I could get a grip on him.
“Get out of the way,” Michel growled, facing off with his brother. His tone was threatening and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. The air surrounding me chilled, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of what would happen, but my inner warning signals went off like an atomic bomb that this wouldn’t be good.
Luc growled through gritted teeth, his voice as low and menacing as Michel’s. “Or what? You’ll kick my ass?”
“Exactly.”
It happened faster than anything I’d ever seen. Michel leapt at his brother, his teeth bared and snarling. A noise, more of a snarl out from an old Animal Planet episode, erupted from him as he lunged toward his brother.
Luc anticipated it, and he was faster. He grabbed Michel’s arm and flung him against the wall on the other side of the room. He landed with a thud that shook the room. Michel stood and tilted his head like he was cracking his neck, as if the impact hadn’t fazed him at all. Quickly observing, I saw the only sign Luc had just Hail Mary’ed his brother was a jagged crack left behind by his impact.
I stood and took a few steps toward Luc. The little voice in the back of my head told me to stay put and keep quiet, but I was in no mood to heed its advice.
“That’s enough! Leave him alone!” I yelled, seething with anger.
“Really?” Luc said in a chuckle. His eyes were back to normal, and he seemed amused by my sudden forcefulness. He stepped to me, stopping just inches away. This close to him, I realized how big Luc really was. He towered over me by at least a foot. His bangs fell forward over his face as he looked down at me with so much contempt, I had to force myself to swallow my fear.
Luc’s words dripped with disgust as he examined me, the surrounding air chilled a few more degrees to downright arctic.
“What will you do, little girl? I could twist you into a damned pretzel before you even had a chance to blink. One quick twist of my palm on your throat and your life is over. Hell, I wouldn’t even need to use more than one hand—”
I drew my hand back and slapped him as hard as I could in the face. Instantly, my palm felt like pins and needles. Luc’s head canted sideways from the unexpected impact, and a shudder crept up my body. Slowly, he turned back and faced me, a twisted smile crossing his lips, almost like Luc had enjoyed the impact. I swallowed again.
“Now that’s more like it,” he smirked with mild satisfaction. “Let’s see what you do with this.” Taking me completely by surprise and with more force than a Jedi mind trick, Luc shoved me backward.
I was airborne, only ending my one-way flight when I came to rest on the Oriental rug, my head bouncing off the settee. I realized I’d completely crossed the room. Luc stood more than ten feet away as Michel looked on, his face expressionless.
A rush of heat surged in me, propelling me to stand again. Logically, I knew I should be feeling some sort of pain, but it didn’t register.
Warmth spread from my feet and crept up my legs. The heat sizzled as it moved, quickly singing away any jolt of pain my body felt and replacing it with pure hatred.
I stretched out my arms and began taking measured steps toward Luc. A hot wind encircled me, replacing the chill that surrounded me previously. My heart was pumping so fast in my chest, it could have burst through my ribcage. The breeze seemed to pick up in intensity, and I could feel my hair flying out around me as it would when full of static.
“This is what you want?” I asked the vampire who’d thrown me through pursed lips, still walking toward him. With my peripheral vision, I saw Michel’s eyes grow wide.
“That’s more like it.” Luc smiled wildly. He crouched as if he were a panther preparing to pounce, his arms spread out wide behind him as he set his eyes on mine.
“Then this is what you’ll get,” I sneered in return. The voice that escaped my lips didn’t sound like mine. It was far too dangerous a tone to have been me. The world through my eyes took on a cloudy, red hue, the edges of my vision narrowing and growing dark. I tried to blink my eyes to clear them, but it made no difference. Anger, unparalleled hatred, was the only thing I could feel. My singular focus was to lash out and destroy Luc.
My arms thrust forward, and I finally saw what had Michel bug-eyed. In that instant, I forgot about Luc and why I was angry at him.
I could see my arms, but they were completely encased in bright orange flames. From my shoulders to the tips of my fingers, fire danced over my skin.
I was on fire.
“What the hell?” I panicked and began shaking my arms fiercely to try to extinguish my burning appendages. My anger was replaced with fear. My mind swirled in terror, and my focus was gone.
“Ah damn,” Luc complained in a disappointed voice. He straightened and put his hands on his hips.
I couldn’t feel any burning, which I knew was wrong. Michel ran to me, and when I met his eyes, the fire seemed to absorb into my body.
I was immediately freezing, and a wave of nausea invaded my body. Not able to control my stomach, I lurched forward to the floor, gasping in deep breaths that seemed reluctant to come. Michel held me around my waist and eased me to my knees as I examined myself in disbelief.
“What the hell?” I questioned again, my voice shaking. I began checking my clothes and body for what had to be third degree burns. Nothing, not a small hole or scorch mark anywhere, not even a singed hair. I looked to Michel, searching for answers.
Luc remarked with dismay, “That was both encouraging and a letdown all at once. Sort of like Christmas morning to a thirteen year old; so many expectations only to find socks under the tree.”
“What the hell just happened?” I asked in a yell, ignoring Luc’s remarks and continuing to check my body.
“My dear, your true colors are shining through,” Luc sang,
“Shut it, Luc,” Michel commanded his brother, not taking his eyes from me. I noticed he was back to his old self. His eyes were filled with concern as he watched my every move and asked, “Has that never happened before?”
When I realized I wasn’t hurt, I replied sarcastically, “I think I’d remember if I had ever burst into flames, don’t you? And why the hell am I not burned?”
“You’re a Phoenix, darling,” Luc informed with a haughty accent. “And you wouldn’t be a very good one if you went all Joan of Arc, now would you?”
Michel took me by the hand to help me stand up and escorted me back to sit on the settee with him. We sat in silence as Luc crossed to the bar and poured himself a new goblet of Type Angel.
Luc chided after sipping gingerly from the glass, faking a Cuban accent, “Well, Lucy, I guess you have some ‘splaining to do. I suppose for now I shall retire to more interesting endeavors.”
Finally feeling an ache in my spine and the throb in my cheek, I remembered Luc had thrown me across the room. Anger peeked again and I mocked, “Like what? You have a nun to pile drive?”
Luc snickered at my remark, raising his glass to me in salute. “Next time, sweetheart, maybe you’ll flick your Bic in time to make it interesting. Until then …” He bowed in a mocking fashion and turned, leaving the room to Michel and me.
“What a tool,” I said of Michel’s brother. I looked at him. “Sorry. I know he’s your brother, but, really?”
“Luc is what you might call an acquired taste.”
“Yeah,” I
wiggled my jaw to test the pain, “like poison. It doesn’t mean I wanna do shots of it.”
Michel smirked at my assessment of his brother. “I hadn’t thought of him that way, but I see your point.”
The pain was letting up, so I put my hand in my lap. I became aware then that Michel was still holding the one he’d used to help me stand, and I looked at it. I could see the veins running underneath his pale skin, making a map of sorts past his knuckles to his fingertips. His fingers were closed over my own, a cool embrace that was strangely calming in spite of my heart’s sudden need to sprint. I loosened my grasp and stretched my palm and fingers over his own.
His hands were larger than mine, his fingertips longer than my own, and his nails long and manicured. I knew in a fight, they would be weapons, scratching out an opponent’s eyes if necessary.
Michel studied my hand the same way I did his. He bent the tops of his fingers over mine and slowly lowered our hands, but didn’t try to let go.
“Your hand is cool, like touching the milk carton when you take it out of the fridge,” I whispered nervously.
“Is that bad?” he asked, his voice as tender as mine.
“No. Just … different.”
Michel nodded his head in answer and turned my hand over so the palm was facing up. Using his other, he let his fingers trace the lines. It tickled, in a very good way.
“Your love line,” Michel remarked softly, tracing one of the lines before moving to another. “Your life line.”
“I didn’t know that,” I whispered.
“It points to me,” Michel spoke, his words almost breathless, barely above a whisper. He looked to me, and I watched his eyes dance over my face.
I was unable to speak. Gooseflesh rose over my skin in direct contrast to the heated blood that raced in my veins. My breathing felt labored, and my thoughts grew scattered and shy.
With a cough, Michel stood, pacing to the same table of decanters Luc had visited. He reached for the same one his brother had used, but stopped himself before grabbing it.
I stood, and silently I walked to stand beside him, but he didn’t meet my gaze. His eyes closed and I watched his features grow rigid. After a few heartbeats, he hung his head, a look of shame crossing his face as his arm stayed extended, his fingertips grazing the container.
“It’s okay,” I assured him tenderly. Michel lifted his eyes to mine, apprehension as plain as the nose on his face. “Drink.”
“Maggie, it is not my wish to disgust you.”
I was flattered by his words. With the exception of Stephanie, no one had ever taken the time to consider my feelings about anything. Now, Michel stood with his hand poised, but he faltered, too concerned that his actions would repulse me.
I made the choice for him. I picked up the flask I knew Luc had poured his beverage from. Choosing one of the crystal goblets stationed behind the row of bottles, I turned it over on to the tray that lay before me. With hands shaking, I pulled out the stopper, and it gave a small pop when it was freed. Carefully, I tipped it, pouring thick red liquid into the chalice. Replacing the stopper, I cautiously lifted the glass with both hands. I kept my eyes on the liquid, watching it make small waves against the goblet as I turned to Michel. With each second that passed in a heavy silence, I was surprised to realize I wasn’t as offended by it as I’d thought I’d be.
I offered it the vampire who’d watched my every movement with intense interest.
“Michel,” I struggled nervously, extending the glass to him, “I don’t think you could do or be anything that disgusts me.”
Michel’s eyes captivated me, the green intensifying as he registered my words. Taking the glass from me, he set it aside.
“Maggie,” he struggled, dropping his features to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I added quickly, hoping to erase whatever I’d done that upset him. In shame, I let my own expression fall to the hardwood between us. I could feel Michel staring at me, but I couldn’t look back. I hoped that, knowing he could hear what I was thinking, he would realize I was genuinely apologetic.
Tenderly, he lifted my face upward, his cool touch on my cheeks forcing me to look at him. His eyes studied me, trailing between my own, falling down my nose, resting on my lips. A strand of my hair slipped over his hand. He smiled and carefully tucked it behind my ear. I watched his hand move, a meticulousness to his action, as if he did it wrong I would shatter.
He slid his hand to the nape of my neck and held me there, our eyes on each other. Slowly, Michel dipped his lips, softly pecking my forehead and leaving his lips to linger there briefly. I fought the shiver that threatened me as his lips touched one of my cheeks and then traveled to the other. I closed my eyes, consumed in the cool sensations his mouth left behind in the wake of their journey.
Michel grazed his lips over mine, a feathery soft touch that was asking for something I was willing to give. I licked my lips when I felt him pull away and forced my eyes open. He was still right there, his head tilted down to me as I looked into his green eyes, his palms cradling my chin delicately.
What are you waiting for?
Michel pulled me close, my body pressed tight to his. I inhaled sharply as he brought his lips to cover mine. There was a hunger in the kiss that both excited and frightened me. My heart drummed rapidly as Michel searched me with his tongue.
Not separating, I ran my hands up Michel’s back. He tangled his fingers in my curls, pulling me even closer, ensuring that I wouldn’t break free. The fact was, I wouldn’t even attempt to. His touch, his kiss; it was as if I were possessed.
“Well,” Luc’s voice chided from the doorway. Startled, Michel and I pulled away from each other and glared at him.
“I thought the trailer was good,” Luc continued, a wicked grin mixed with remorse back on his face. “But the film was definitely worth the price of admission.”
Nineteen
I was embarrassed we had an audience. Michel turned away with a growl and strode toward Luc.
“Brother! You have a little something on your mouth—” Luc called out with a smile, his arms spread wide as if to hug Michel and every hint of the despair I’d thought I’d seen now gone. Without pause, Michel drew back his fist and punched Luc in the mouth, forcing his brother’s head to the right.
Luc turned back, a trickle of crimson dribbling from the corner of his cocky smile. Using the back of his hand, he casually wiped the smear away.
“If you’d used half that much aggression at the Battle of Kelpie River many a revenant would have fallen.”
“What do you want?” Michel growled, his words calculating and menacing.
“Busy, were you?” Luc teased, knowing full well what had been going on. “I assure you, dear Michel, I would not have ruined such a tender exchange if it hadn’t been of real importance.”
“Spit it out,” I bit at Luc, walking to stand beside his brother. My arm brushed his, sending a wave of electricity through me.
“Oh my,” Luc said in feigned remorse, showing me an injured look and placing his hand over his heart. “Have I upset you, my little firebird? Sincerely, I will suffer this all of my remaining days.”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” I glowered back.
Luc’s face became serious. He stepped forward and grabbed my elbows with crushing strength. “Poor Maggie. Lived all those years without her Mommy and Daddy, picked on by the other kids. You have no idea what suffering is, girl.”
“That’s enough,” Michel spoke calmly, putting his hand on Luc’s arm, urging his brother to release me. Luc glared at me a few moments longer before he let go. The joints he’d held pulsed with pain. I had no doubt that Luc could have crushed the bones if he’d desired to. Turning back to face his brother, his expression of distaste altered to one of no emotion.
“Seatha has returned,” Luc announced matter-of-factly.
“I thought she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow?” I asked.
Luc didn’t spare a glanc
e at me, keeping his focus on Michel. “She was attacked by a revenant patrol, but will recover with rest.”
“Is she okay?” I asked, my voice filling with concern for my newest friend. All thoughts of Michel and that kiss vanished instantly.
Luc turned to address me. “While you stood here, enamored by my brother, the fairy suffered a broken wing for you.”
“For me?” I questioned, even as I was losing my ability to breathe. Feeling Michel reach for my hand, I drew it away to my throat before he could take hold.
Luc was right. While I’d been here, wishing for Michel to make a move and trying to flirt with the vampire, my friend was being injured by a group of evil creations who’d wanted me.
Luc nodded at my question and continued his report, “She has been seen by an elvish healer, her wounds bound and set. She rests in her room. The magicks have left her drowsy.” Michel’s brother turned on his heels, making his way out from the room. He paused in the doorway, reeling around to address me.
“So you see,” he warned, “this is no dance, no tale with a happily ever after, and pardon me if I show more respect for our existence than to think of it as such.” He bowed curtly and left.
I stood still, frozen in place by Luc’s words, my hand still clutching my throat. Just hours ago, Autumn, Seatha, and I’d been singing bad karaoke and throwing popcorn at each other while sharing nail polishes. Now, the witch was at some coven meeting, developing spells and potions, and Seatha lay upstairs with her beautifully delicate wing broken. One vampire was seething with anger, and another was worried about comforting me.
“Maggie,” Michel finally managed, reaching for me once more. I took a step sideways, avoiding his contact.
“This is my fault,” I admitted, looking at him with tears blurring my vision.
“No, you’re not to blame for this,” he soothed.
“Yes!” I yelled back, emotion overwhelming my words. Michel dropped his hand and took half a step backwards. “Yes, this is my fault! These things want me! They will torture, maim, and kill everyone to get to me, just like your brother warned. They know where I am and who I’m with, and now everyone’s in danger, all because you guys want to protect me. And I’m too busy playing love struck teenager with you to even take it seriously!”