Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2

by R. G. Alexander

  Aziza’s garden.

  A beam of soft sunlight speared through an arched skeleton of a doorway farther down, framing what might be the perfect spot to sit and wait. It was secluded. A lower window with trees blocking the view just enough that she couldn’t see the outside world and, unless it was really looking, it couldn’t see her.

  She lifted her flowing, white eyelet skirt out of the way and pulled herself up onto the window ledge, straddling the sturdy impromptu seat without hesitation. A leg in both worlds. She smiled at the whimsical thought.

  Looking down at the bunched fabric in her fists turned her smile rueful.

  Talk about flights of fancy. She’d dressed for today with a purpose that was almost too embarrassing to admit to herself.

  Because the man in her dreams last night had told her to.

  He’d been so forceful, and so damn pretty that she hadn’t been able to resist. She’d seen herself wearing it after he asked her to put it on—her white eyelet skirt and matching off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. It wasn’t her usual style. And snow white certainly wasn’t her color. Not anymore. But he was adamant.

  It made her skin look like caramel, he’d whispered. Made her eyes glimmer like jewels. “Wear it for me,” he’d whispered. “And I’ll know you want more of what I’m about to give you. That you’re ready.”

  And damn, had he given. Made her beg. Aziza shivered. That had to have been one of the more erotic dreams of her life. And the kinkiest. Imagining more was nearly impossible.

  He’d said her eyes were like jewels but his, too, had been unusual. Emerald green, impossibly bright, like the man from the pub. The “pretty” man whose features she couldn’t describe now if her life depended on it, other than his eyes and the tone of his voice.

  Her dream had taken those eyes and put them in the body of an Egyptian god. Or was he a Greek god? Wherever he was from, she was fairly certain he was a god there. Nothing like the sexy giant from the Ferris wheel, of course. That would be comparing silk to sandpaper. Though he did cause a similar reaction. Instant attraction. Instant desire.

  The man in her dreams had been leaner, more like a panther in his movements. Every feature, everything about him was lush and breathtaking. Meant to be savored and enjoyed.

  She opened her fists and the skirt slid down her legs as she studied her palms. Her hand had completely and miraculously healed after last night’s experience. She traced her fingers along the spot that had been marked. Why hadn’t Greg or Penn seen it? How had it disappeared so quickly? It had still been burned into her skin in her dream, and the man had mentioned it, saying it was important. Made her special.

  “Burn…”

  “What? Who’s there?” Aziza leaned out of the window and looked around for a body to go with that voice. Nothing stirred. Nothing rustled. She could hear the traffic if she focused, but beyond that the garden was eerily quiet.

  God, she really hoped she wasn’t going crazy. She didn’t have time to go crazy. She had a bucket list to complete and then, if it turned out she wasn’t cursed and she made it beyond twenty-seven, she was fairly certain she could find a million better things to do with her time than lose her shit.

  She sighed, continuing to seek out the body that belonged to that voice as she wondered what a future would look like. With no family other than Penn, maybe she would move here. She’d changed her major so many times she hadn’t had enough credits to graduate college, but she had skills. A Jane-of-all-trades, she’d told Greg after he’d won the overachiever award and gotten his master’s degree in record time.

  They were exactly the same age, almost to the hour, and he was her best friend, but in many ways they couldn’t be more different. She envied him for being so together. So centered. He’d always known where life would take him. She knew he would defend her and say she’d had an unusual childhood, but she couldn’t blame her lack of ambition on her phobic mother or her overprotective brothers.

  They had all known what they wanted too. Just like Greg. Tarik had been headed toward a career in business management from kindergarten, and Adam used to practice reading the six o’clock news in the bathroom every single night. Tarik used to tease him about that, saying his reflection must be incredibly well informed.

  Joseph was different, the only one who hadn’t followed his original goal. Growing up, he’d always planned to be an archaeologist, even used to beg her to take him to museums instead of soccer practice on the weekend. If he disappeared for any length of time, she knew she would find him discovering a long-forgotten tomb in his closet.

  Their mother had tried to discourage him, knowing his dreams were leading him far away from home, but she couldn’t stop his obsession with the past. Joseph could always out-stubborn all of them.

  He’d gotten the scholarship he’d applied for a month before he announced to his siblings that he’d joined the military. He still longed to see the world their mother had tried to shield them from, since she was no longer there to be hurt by his decision, but now he was determined to make a difference in the present instead of studying the past. Once again, no one could talk him out of it. He hadn’t even given them a chance to try. He’d made up his mind.

  No one ever asked Aziza what she wanted to do with her life. When she was eighteen, she was sure that even if she’d had a plan, it wouldn’t matter. She knew what her brothers expected. That she’d be the one taking care of their mother. Watching them move on with their lives while she remained behind, the aunt with lots of cats who’d spoil their children when she babysat for them and distracted them from the crazy ramblings of their grandmother. It wasn’t her ambition, but it was what she’d expected.

  A year later her mother was gone.

  So much had changed. Too much. Every two years, as if it had been scheduled in advance, she’d lost another family member. Another brother. Another piece of her soul. She’d give up her adventures in a heartbeat if it meant having them back again. She’d take care of her mother and never complain if…

  She curled her hands into fists once more, breathing deeply to stop herself from crying. Stop thinking. Don’t try to make sense of it anymore. Curses don’t make sense. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking completely. Look at the beauty around you. Look at your garden. Live in the moment. This moment. It’s all you have.

  “Feel…”

  She stilled, startled again. “Who’s there? Whoever you are, cut it out.”

  Nothing.

  She frowned. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t afraid, but maybe she should wait at the entrance until Greg arrived. She could people-watch, distract herself and then perhaps she’d stop hearing disembodied voices on the wind. “Okay, fairies, I’m leaving your garden now,” she mumbled. “Stop playing Scare the Tourist.”

  Aziza tried to rise from the seat and was pushed back against the curved side of the window by some unseen force. She tried to resist it but it had weight. Power. “What the—?”

  She looked down at her knees. It felt like hands were touching them. Strong, hot hands that were sliding up her legs, pushing her dress higher as they went. She still didn’t see anything, but her dress was lifting by itself. “Are you kidding me? What the hell did they put in my drink?”

  “Feel, Aziza…”

  “No thank you.” She tried not to. Tried to tell herself that her imagination was running away and had decided to take the rest of her mind along with it. She was hung over. Still jet-lagged. Anything so she wouldn’t focus on the fingers slipping beneath her white-lace panties. The extra set of hands lowering her peasant blouse until her breasts were exposed for anyone to see. Too many hands.

  “Stop,” she whispered.

  But she didn’t make another move to stop it or cover herself. She could feel and it felt good. Too good. Felt like exactly what she needed. A sinful distraction. “What are you?”

  She knew this feeling. It reminded her of the godlike piece of lean perfection from her dreams. Maybe he’d followed her here because he was
n’t done with her yet. Because she’d worn what he’d asked her to. Because she wanted more. “Is it you?”

  The fingers filled her sex and she whimpered, biting the inside of her cheek hard so she wouldn’t scream out her pleasure, some part of her still aware how close she was to the street filled with people. How crazy and impossible it was that she was feeling what she was feeling.

  As fingers thrust inside her, deep and relentless, making her moan, the voice repeated her own words, “Is it you?”

  He’s her alpha…and he knows how to push all her hot buttons.

  Freedom in the Smokies

  © 2013 Becca Jameson

  Durham Wolves, Book 3

  With a vampire still threatening the family, Micah Durham has no plans to follow his brothers into matehood. In fact, he’d prefer not to expose anyone else—human or shifter—to the dangers they face.

  Yet when he returns from visiting a horse buyer, he’s beyond pissed to find his family has hired a new human trainer. A female human trainer whose “I’m your mate” scent steals his power of speech.

  Kaitlyn Winston couldn’t wait to get out of California, and out from under her grandmother’s thumb, to take her dream job in her beloved Smoky Mountains. Except when she attempts to make nice with her new boss, their attraction sends them to his bedroom to make love.

  The haze of passion doesn’t make their problems disappear, though. The life Kaitlyn left behind throws a left hook that could pull them apart. And the Durham’s old enemy is back, stronger than ever, and threatening to pick off the Durhams and their mates…one at a time.

  Warning: Steaming hot sex in a tack room, saddles and saw horses put to good use, mutual masturbation, hot showers, and lovers’ spats smoothed over with intense make-up sex.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Freedom in the Smokies:

  Micah paced his room, striding back and forth from one end to the other for the thousandth time. Thank God he’d grabbed a sandwich earlier on the road, because he hadn’t had the balls to join the others for dinner.

  He hadn’t been ready to face Kaitlyn yet. And he sure as hell didn’t want to confront her in front of everyone else’s smirking faces. By now, the entire clan would be privy to his dilemma. If one could even call it a dilemma.

  He glanced at his watch. It was only eight o’clock. The noises coming from the great room had died down. Everyone would have dispersed from the kitchen by now and headed their separate ways. Kaitlyn in her room, filling his wing of the house with her scent.

  The only way to know for sure was to pull himself up by the balls and go to her. He headed toward the door to his suite and paused, running his hands through his hair. Crap. Crap crap crap. In all this pacing, he hadn’t formulated a single thing to say to her.

  He tried to recall how his brothers had first confronted their mates and let them in on their fates. Damn. That did no good. Both relationships had started under extreme circumstances. Sergius had met Juliana when she’d been a missing hiker lost in the forest. Jaxon had also rescued his mate, Brianna, when she’d become trapped in a cave during a forest fire. Micah still wasn’t altogether sure who rescued whom in that event, since Brianna was a firefighter.

  Nevertheless, Kaitlyn Winston was in for a rude awakening. Even though they weren’t currently experiencing some sort of life-threatening event, she might disagree after he told her about him and his brothers.

  One thing was for certain—the first item on his list of things to do tonight would be to introduce his mate to the way of wolves. No way could he claim her without first informing her completely about the Durhams’ shifting abilities.

  With a long inhale, Micah jerked the door to his room open and stepped into the hall. He regretted the inhale immediately. Yep, his entire end of the house smelled like Kaitlyn.

  As though headed toward the guillotine, Micah dragged himself to the door next to his.

  Hand shaking, he knocked lightly.

  “Come in.” Her response was quick.

  Micah turned the knob and opened the door. She sat curled up in the window seat with a book in her lap. Her glorious long black hair hung around her face like a curtain as she lifted her head and smiled at him. In one instant she was soft and sweet. In the next she uncurled her legs, jumped from her perch and stood next to the window. Her book fell to the floor.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you were Juliana or Brianna.” She wiped her palms on her jeans, and her gaze met his for a few seconds before she looked down and away.

  Why did she seem so uncomfortable? Oh yeah. That’s right, doofus. You acted like a dolt earlier in the barn. She probably fears you’ll fire her and send her away.

  Man, how he wished he could. If he could put her on a plane to anywhere but here, she’d remain safe. Unfortunately, fate didn’t work that way. He’d needed a few hours to wrap his mind around it.

  “Sorry—about earlier,” Kaitlyn said in a halting manner. “I know you weren’t expecting me to be there…in the barn, I mean. And I know you aren’t too thrilled about your family hiring me, but I assure you if you give me a chance, you’ll see that—”

  Micah held up a hand to stop her and shook his head. He needed to set her straight, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Plus, it was hard for him to concentrate because she looked so fantastic. Her jeans hugged her to perfection. He wanted her to turn around so he could see her ass. He hadn’t had the opportunity earlier. The snug fit from the front left little to the imagination. His jeans suddenly felt too tight…again.

  He took a deep breath. He could smell her arousal. It gave him the confidence to say what needed to be said. “Kaitlyn—”

  She interrupted him. “Sir, I promise I’m qualified to train your horses. More than qualified actually. And—”

  He shook his head again and her shoulders fell in dismay.

  What was this “sir” business? He winced. She was totally misunderstanding his intentions.

  “I didn’t come here to fire you, Kaitlyn.” He shut the door behind him with a quiet snick, stepped farther into the room and took a seat on one of the winged chairs by the television.

  The proximity to his mate stiffened his c*ck even more. She smelled so damn good. She hadn’t showered yet tonight and he was glad. Her personal musk still stood out and combined with her expensive perfume. The two seemed incongruent—a woman who worked with horses for a living wearing some designer perfume—but he never wanted her to stop because he would forever know her by the scent. It burned itself into his brain.

  Kaitlyn didn’t move an inch. She stood rigid by the window, staring at him with her brow furrowed. “Oh,” she muttered. “Well, okay.”

  He needed to expound on the reason for his presence in her space, but words escaped him—again—as he stared at her.

  He cleared his throat. “Sit.” He nodded to the other chair across from him. It might not have been the best idea, since she would have to get even closer and he could barely concentrate as it was, but he needed to look her in the eye and tell her a dozen things.

  Stiff, like a robot, his woman approached. She perched on the edge of the seat and set her palms on her knees, rubbing them again. He knew he made her very nervous.

  “Relax. You aren’t in trouble. You’re staying.” He smiled at her; at least he hoped he did. It was hard to get his facial muscles to do what he commanded. Perhaps it had been more of a half grin.

  Her shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. “Okay. Good. You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

  “I’m sure I won’t. I just hope you won’t be.” Now he smiled for sure. He was about to turn her life upside down. “You can’t imagine what you’ve stepped into here.”

  Her eyebrows rose as she flinched. “Huh?” She shook her head. “No, I’m sure I’ll love it here. Horses are my passion and I have wanted to return to the Smokies for many years and find a job doing what I love most—horse training. This is the most perfect place on earth.”

  Now Micah was shocked. If s
he only knew how not perfect the Appalachians were right now… But she was human. She had no knowledge of vampires. He hoped to keep that tidbit to himself for a while too. He had enough information to share right now as it was. Vampires did not make the short list for this evening. Wolves. Mating. Claiming. Screwing. That was the short list. Vampires could wait for tomorrow…or another day when he and his mate came up for air.

  “Your farm is gorgeous. I’ve been introducing myself to your horses all day. They are clearly loved and have always been well taken care of. I hope you’ll be pleased with what I can add—”

  “Kaitlyn…” he interrupted.

  She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it.

  Micah had a hard time dragging his gaze back to her eyes. He wanted to suck that lip into his mouth and bite it himself. “I’m not here to discuss the job.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It brought him within a foot of her face. He didn’t release the lock on her gaze.

  Make Me Burn

  R.G. Alexander

  One wrong move and it all goes up in flames.

  Fireborne, Book 2

  Aziza Jane Stewart is the last of the Fireborne, and so far it’s been nothing but a curse, destroying her family and putting everyone she loves in danger. Now she’s on a quest to find her brother’s portion of the power that flows in her veins and track down the murdering Jiniyr who are a threat to her loved ones.

  She and her Enforcer lover Brandon are officially “in a relationship”, but she’s still torn between two men who both set her on fire. Brandon’s duties are driving a wedge between them, and her need to protect her Jinn guardian isn’t helping. Exiled and stripped of his powers, Ram is focused on satisfying his darkest urges…and tempting her to come along for the ride.