A Dance Like Flame (Of Magic & Machine Book 1)

by Tammy Blackwell

  And Ezra. Poor Ezra. No wonder he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. If she'd not been in danger of falling in love with him before, knowing the tragedy of his family and seeing how he still managed to put the needs of other before his own would have certainly done her in.

  "Can you?" Lily asked.

  "Can I what?"

  Lily's clear blue eyes pinned her to the spot. "Can you undo it? Can you change her back?"

  Bits blinked. "Lily, I'm not Touched. I can't wield any magic, let alone enough to put your sister's heart and spirit back into a human body. And I certainly can't conjure a human body in need of a heart out of thin air."

  Some sort of silent communication passed between Lily and Rose.

  "You don't have to," Lily said, once things were settled between the two. "Cora has a rare condition. I'm not sure of the ins and outs of it, I'm not sure even Ezra fully understands it, but she is dying. Soon. And because of what Rose and I did that night, she's agreed to allow us to use her body as a vessel."

  Bits didn't think it was possible for this story to take any more turns and leave her feeling any more astounded, yet here they were.

  "But the risks," she said, trying to wrap her mind around what would need to happen for them to succeed. "The transfer would have to be quick. If the body is left without a heart for too long... or if the heart is removed from the Sally Maid and not able to bond with the new body quickly enough..." She was no surgeon and even she understood how catastrophic that would be.

  Lily waved away her concerns as if they were nothing. "We have those pieces figured out. Cora feels confident she will know when the time comes and give us time to prepare for the surgery. Ezra has been studying and experimenting with the type of magic it will take to bind the heart to the new body. The only piece of the puzzle we cannot account for is how to remove the clockwork device. Mr. Chanse has examined it, but he's merely a Touched Smith. It's beyond his understanding."

  Yes, a Sally Maid would be well beyond even an Untouched Smith's ability. Most Ironmasters had difficulty understanding the exact principles behind it.

  "And you think I can help?"

  Lily's eyes narrowed, making Bits feel a bit like a bug beneath a spyglass.

  "You are a clever lady, Bits, but you are not a good liar. Even I know that this chair was not something simple anyone with an ounce of clockwork knowledge could throw together. What level are you? A First-Class Smith? Or an Ironmaster?"

  "I am no Smith," she said, heart racing. She'd already made the decision to share her secret with the Nashes, but this still felt like a betrayal to her family.

  "Have you seen the inner workings of a Sally Maid before? Could you disengage the heart without damaging it?”

  Bits's blood ran hot and fast through her body. Part of it was fear. What if she couldn't do it? What if she was the reason Lily and Ezra lost what little of their sister remained? But that was only a small part. Mostly, it was anticipation. The thrill of taking a machine and figuring out the way it worked, piece by piece. The power in controlling the metalwork and making it obey her wishes.

  This. This was who she was and what she was meant to do. It wasn't at all proper for a lady of good breeding, and if others knew it could ruin not only her own reputation, but her family as well. Yet it was all she truly wanted in life.

  Or it had been until she met Ezra Nash.

  "I haven't seen the inside of a Sally Maid since the first one was introduced twelve years ago. They inevitably have made changes since then."

  Lily backed up her chair and turned it towards the door Rose had pulled open while Bits had been speaking.

  "Well," Lily said, not looking back as she made her way to the house. "I think it's time you got to know my sister a little better."

  Chapter 23

  Sweat dripped from Ezra's hair onto the collar of the shirt he would most likely have to burn when this was all over. It had been a long and exhausting day. More than once they came close to losing the baby. He had used more magic than he thought possible to keep the child alive, even resorting to siphoning off some of the Residual by using Bricky and Demir as punching bags when he was in danger of collapsing.

  At one point he'd ordered a maid to go fetch Garroway. He disliked the man and didn't trust him, but he was a more skilled mage, which was all that mattered. But Hattie had refused to let the maid leave, making Ezra promise he would not let the man anywhere near her or her baby. She'd pleaded, showing signs of fear for the first time during the entire harrowing day, so he'd relented. If Hattie felt strongly about Garroway not being in the delivery room, she had her reasons. Ezra would do everything in his power to keep the man away and safely deliver the child.

  "Just one more push, love," he said, wiping away the sweat threatening to spill into his eyes from his forehead. "You can do it, Hattie. Just one more time."

  Every muscle went tight and a scream ripped from her throat, but it was quickly joined by another. Ezra caught the babe in the linens the maid prepared, laughing at the newest Pearson's ability to already hold her own in a screaming match.

  "Congratulations, Your Grace," he said, smiling down at the child cradled in his arms. "You have a daughter."

  Hattie's self-satisfied smile was as expected as it was familiar. "I told you," she said.

  Whether she referring to the baby being a girl or that her final unfulfilled vision had come true, he didn't know. And he realized, quite unexpectedly, it didn't matter. Years ago he'd expected this child to be his own, and he'd spent many nights since bitter it would not be, but looking at this tiny bundle of perfection, he could not be anything but happy. Hattie and Jack deserved this beautiful child, and she would be loved beyond measure. It was the way things should be.

  "Ezra, quit flirting with my daughter and hand her over."

  He laughed again as he settled the baby in her mother's arms. He couldn't get over how joyful he felt. If seeing his friends have a child was this wonderful, how much more so would it be when he had his own?

  And when had he started believing he would have his own children some day? And that they would have red hair and round cheeks?

  "Shall I go fetch your husband to tie off the cord?" The removal of the cord connecting a child to the mother was a sacred rite for the Touched. Hattie would dry and grind up the afterbirth so it could be used in potions throughout the child's life. Ezra still had some of his and Rose's stored in vials in his study. He'd used all of Lily's when he removed her legs in order to save her life.

  "No," Hattie said. "I want you to do it."

  Ezra's brows pulled tight over his eyes, the abundant joy he'd felt moments ago leaving him in one giant whoosh.

  "Hattie, let me go get Jack."

  Her eyes -- eyes he'd known practically his whole life -- met his. "No, Ezra. It has to be you. He cannot be here for what happens next."

  Any remaining happiness vanished like steam over a cauldron.

  “What happens next?"

  She kissed her daughter's head as a tear stained the linen she was swaddled in.

  "When she's old enough to understand, tell her how much I loved her. Tell her in this moment I poured all the love my heart could hold into her, and that I spent every second of it treasuring her."

  "No." He wanted to shout but he could hardly squeeze the words past the fear clogging his throat. "No. Damn it, Hattie, you will tell her yourself."

  "No, I won't," she said, and then all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 24

  Bits couldn't sleep. The rest of the house had been anxious for word from Breena Manor as well, but eventually the call of sleep became too much. Bits had carried Lily up to her bed, once again amazed at how going up stairs was much more difficult than going down them when carrying a full-grown human, even if they were slight of build and missing part of their extremities. She was sketching out a solution to that problem and considering the much more substantial one she needed to work out when she heard the front door open.
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br />   "Ezra?" She tossed the paper aside, not even caring that the ink would likely smudge before she could sand it. She considered waiting for him to join her so she would not appear so overly anxious, but she was overly anxious, so she hurried to the door, pulling it open just as Ezra approached.

  "Is it—" The words died on her lips. She'd been going to ask if the baby was a boy or a girl. Not that it really mattered to her if the duke had his heir. It was just the question one was expected to ask when a woman gave birth. Yet, one look at Ezra told her she should not assume that a woman actually gave birth, at least not to a living child.

  She'd seen Ezra weary before, but this was different. His hair was a mangled mess and dark circles shadowed his eyes. His clothes, which did not appear to be his clothes at all, were wrinkled and hanging from his drooping frame. Even with inches separating them, she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

  "Oh, Ezra, I'm so sorry." She pulled him into a hug, not caring that it wasn't the most proper thing for a lady to do. Sometimes what was proper and what was right didn't see eye to eye.

  Ezra's arms circled her waist, and his head burrowed into the notch where her neck met her shoulder. "I couldn't save them both," he said, the words hot against her flesh. "Gods forgive me, Bits, I couldn't save them both."

  Sympathy constricted her lungs and tears stung her eyes.

  "Shhhh..." She soothed, stroking her fingers through his hair. "You did all you could. Some things are simply not meant to be."

  "She knew," he said, his voice rough with anguish. "She knew, and she took the choice away from me. From Jack. From all of us. She knew, and she wouldn't let me call for Garroway. She knew, and she chose to die."

  Bits couldn't stop the tears now if she wanted to. He had loved her once, perhaps he still did, and he hadn't been able to save her.

  "And the baby?" She didn't want to ask, but she had to know.

  Ezra moved his head, gliding his nose along the softness of Bits's neck. The trail of heat caused her skin to erupt in gooseflesh.

  "She will live, but what kind of life will she have without a mother?”

  "A good one," Bits squeezed out from a throat grown too tight. Ezra's nose was still trailing back and forth across her neck and his hand had started rubbing circles on her lower back. Each downward sweep dipped slightly lower than the one below it. Soon his fingers would be grazing her bottom. "She still has her father, and Alice, and you. She will know love, and know that her mother loved her more than her own life. It won't be easy, but it will be enough."

  Ezra pulled back, and the part that didn’t want to drag him back to her was relieved. She couldn’t think with him so close. With his body wound so tightly around hers. With his scent — the rosemary he ritually washed with before and after every patient, the slight tang of aether, the smell of magic — filling her lungs and head.

  His eyes searched her own, and the connection she’d felt since that first day when he’d healed her became so strong it was as if she could reach out and touch it.

  “How do you know?” he asked. It wasn’t a challenge. It was a plea. “How do you know this won’t break us all?”

  “Because Jack isn’t just your Oberon by happenstance of birth. He’s a born leader, and leaders do not accept defeat so readily. Because Alice has already lived through worse.” Her friend refused to say much, but it was written in the unbending set of her lips and eyes that always roamed, assessing every situation for danger. “And because you are the strongest, most noble man I have ever known.” A curl had fallen to the middle of his forehead. She reached up and brushed it away, emboldened by the intimacy of the moment. “You will persevere because it’s what she would have wanted. You will love her child because you loved her.” Even now, even in this situation, Bits felt a flare of jealousy and hated herself for it.

  “Oh Bits.” Her name was a moan that pulled at places low in her belly. His hand found her face, setting it at the perfect angle, and then he was kissing her. It wasn’t the coaxing brush of lips he introduced her to in the carriage. His mouth crushed hers. He took advantage of her gasp of surprise, thrusting his tongue in her mouth where he tasted her over and over again.

  It was too much.

  It wasn’t nearly enough.

  Her hands were fisted in the linen of his borrowed shirt, whether to push him away or draw him nearer she didn’t know. One of his hands slid back to anchor itself in her hair, scattering pins across the floor, as the other slid over her jaw, down her neck, and across her chest. It rested on the swell of her breasts, a place that ached and strained against the already too tight bodice of her dress.

  “Ezra.” It was a whisper. A gasp. A prayer.

  “So pretty,” he said, squeezing and molding. His thumb worked under the neckline of her dress, grazing her nipple before freeing it from its satin prison. Her knees went weak. She would have crumbled to the floor if his other hand not wrapped around her waist and secured her to him. Yet even that support was ineffective when he lowered his mouth to the turgid peak.

  “The settee,” he said as her knees gave way, nearly dragging them both to the floor.

  He moved her toward the low piece of furniture, never once releasing her well-loved nipple. She had no idea how they made it there without running into any of the other furniture cluttering the room, nor did she care. Her entire world was stripped down to the places where his body burned into hers.

  She toppled down once the back of her knees hit the settee, and Ezra followed, kissing her the entire way. They were both tangled in her skirts; it was as if the material had taken on life and wound around them to bind them together in this moment.

  “Bits.”

  A kiss.

  “Darling.”

  A swipe of his tongue beneath her jaw.

  “Love.”

  Teeth sinking into the tip of her breast.

  “Yessss…” Shouldn’t biting invoke pain? Why did it feel the opposite?

  Ezra pulled back. His breath sawed in and out of his lungs. His face was flushed, and his eyes were clouded over with silver.

  Heavens. How much magic had he used? How much Residual did he still have inside him?

  “Bits, I need you.”

  And she needed him.

  “I’m yours.” Forever. Until the end of the time. She would always belong to Ezra Nash. She had since that first day, when he’d put her broken body back together. She’d been changed. Some vital part had been left out and only he filled it. Only he made her whole.

  And now he was going to make her his. Anticipation thrummed a low, steady beat between her thighs.

  “God, Bits.” The words were strangled. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  “Show me.”

  She’d never been so bold and brazen before. Maybe it was because he was so obviously on the edge of control, or maybe it was because she’d lost it completely, but either way, she was rewarded. His mouth crushed against hers once more before his body slid away from her and onto the floor. She tried to follow, but he held her steady with one large, powerful hand while the other gathered the layers of her skirts.

  “Let me make sure you’re ready,” he said, his eyes feasting on each new inch of her skin that became exposed.

  “I am.” She’d never been more ready for anything in her life. When she and Nellie first found those extremely edifying books she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do such an act. She certainly didn’t imagine it would be a pleasurable thing. But now, in this moment, with the heat of Ezra’s skin burning into hers, she couldn’t imagine anything more desirable.

  “Hold these, love,” he said, indicating the skirts now bunched at her waist. She complied, exposing the whole of her to his gaze. Any thoughts of embarrassment disappeared from the heat in his eyes as he took her in.

  Both his hands dropped to her ankles, where his thumbs made slow, tantalizing circles she could feel in other parts of her body. Slowly he worked his way up her legs, pulling them furth
er and further apart as he went. He dropped kisses on her knees, and then the inside of her thighs. By the time he reached the springy curls that normally shielded her most secret of places from the world, she was completely open and straining for his touch.

  “So pretty,” he said, placing a reverent kiss at the very center of her. “So very wet for me.”

  And then a sensation unlike anything she had ever known, beyond anything she could have ever imagined, had her arching and screaming out.

  His tongue. Heavens, he was using his tongue on her.

  “Ezra, please.”

  She didn’t know what she was begging for, but he did. His mouth found the bundle of nerves she’d already discovered for herself late at night in the secluded privacy of her bed. His fingers teased at her opening, and then one slid inside.

  Her body no longer felt like her own. She was too hot. Her skin too tight. Her muscles were hard as steel, yet she feared she would shatter like glass. Part of her wanted it all to be over, for this profound aching need inside of her to cease, but a much larger part hoped it would never end. He was an expert in anatomy, and the lesson he gave her as his mouth and fingers moved against her had her climbing higher and higher until there was simply nowhere else to go. She came apart, clutching him to her.

  He gave her no time to recover. One moment he was there, his mouth wringing out every last drop of pleasure, and then he was above her, the hard, hot length of him pressing against her sensitive opening.

  “Ezra.” It hurt. Surely something so large wasn’t meant to fit inside her thus.

  “I’m sorry, love.” He caressed her cheek with a shaking hand. “I promise to make it better.”

  She nodded, believing him despite how impossible it seemed. He took her lips as he continued to press inside of her, his hand once again finding its way to her breasts. By the time he was fully inside, his hips resting against hers, she had nearly forgotten the initial pain.

  Her hands slid beneath his jacket and waistcoat, clutching fistfuls of the lawn shirt underneath. His skin still blazed from the aether, but it did not seem as hot as before since she was on fire herself.