Within the Flames

by Marjorie M. Liu

Serena’s gaze hardened. “You know her.”

  “Of course. And Long Nu knows me . . . which is why she didn’t come herself . . . if she ever truly was worried about my welfare.” Bitterness touched her mouth. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  The implications were very disturbing. Eddie and Serena shared a long look.

  “Will you call Roland?” he asked her.

  “Of course.” She began to turn away, but stopped and looked back at Lyssa. “What are your intentions?”

  “Hey,” he said.

  “She has a right to ask.” Lyssa looked her dead in the eyes. “I just want to be left alone.”

  “You carry the blood of a dragon and a Cruor Venator,” replied Serena, and for the first time, Eddie heard a trace of unease in her voice.

  “Being bothered,” she said, edging away, “will be the least of your problems.”

  Seven hours later, they arrived in San Francisco.

  A rental car was waiting. Eddie drove them to a quiet neighborhood in a nice part of the city, where he had the keys to an elegant Tudor built at the end of a cul-de-sac.

  “My friend, Amiri, owns this home,” he said, as Jimmy helped his mother from the car. “But he and his wife are in Africa at the moment. He won’t mind guests.”

  Eddie hoped that was true, anyway—but he didn’t want Jimmy and Tina in a hotel, not anymore. They needed a private, quiet setting to heal . . . not someplace downtown where people would be coming and going.

  Lights came on in the house, which smelled faintly like lemon oil. Tina looked around with careful appreciation, stepping lightly over the floors as if she were afraid to touch anything. “How long can we stay here?”

  “Several months,” Eddie told him. “Or until we find something else.”

  “We’ll be very careful to leave it as we found it,” Tina said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Jimmy was uncharacteristically quiet as he clutched Icky to his chest. His eyes were so old, reminding Eddie a bit of himself. “You’re not really going away for good, are you?”

  “I live in this city,” he said, gently. “We’ll practically be neighbors. You’ll be sick of me.”

  Jimmy nodded, but the worry in his eyes didn’t go away. Lyssa crouched and smoothed back his hair.

  “You’ll be sick of me, too,” she said. “I’m staying here.”

  Eddie’s heart leapt. Jimmy peered at her. “Promise?”

  “Shhh,” said Tina, coming up behind him with a weary, sweet smile. “Don’t be a pest.”

  She said it kindly, with a teasing note in her voice. Jimmy grinned, leaning against her as she wrapped a slender arm over his shoulders.

  They had stuck with the Bolivian-drug-lord story. Even Jimmy thought that was better than human experimentation, kidnapping, and fire—and the boy, to give credit where it was due, knew how to tell a very convincing lie.

  Tina didn’t even remember Aaron Roacher finding her at work, so they’d had to blame her bruises and cuts on a car accident. Memory loss because she’d hit her head. If she was suspicious, she didn’t show it. Confused, yes . . . and concerned . . . but willing to take the leap of faith that they had needed to leave New York, fast. She trusted Lyssa and her son that much.

  And she was used to running, too, he thought.

  Of course, telling lies wasn’t a fair burden to put on Jimmy . . . but short of taking his memories, all they could do was promise to be there if he needed to talk. And he would need someone. Probably every day for a long time to come.

  Eddie knew that the boy’s smile was deceptive. Nothing could hide the shadows in his eyes. He had seen too much violence.

  But Jimmy won. He beat the monsters and helped save his mother. It’ll help him heal.

  That, and knowing he’s still protecting Lyssa by keeping her secret.

  It was amazing what helping a beautiful woman could do for a boy’s—or a man’s—sense of purpose.

  Eddie pointed to Jimmy’s suitcase. “Serena was able to retrieve your case files. When I see you tomorrow, we’ll talk detective work, okay?”

  Tina reached for Lyssa’s hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Don’t,” she said, looking uncomfortable. “I upended your life.”

  She shook her head and gave Eddie a knowing smile. “I can tell that you understand.”

  “She’s a little slow when it comes to these things,” Eddie agreed, jumping away when Lyssa gasped and tried to poke him.

  They left an hour later. One block from the house, Lyssa said, “Pull over.”

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked, concerned.

  “No.” She rolled down the window, closing her eyes as a cool breeze filled the car. It was mid-afternoon and sunny, with that clean California light that felt different here, compared to anywhere else. The street was quiet, empty, and even though it was the middle of the day, Eddie felt as though it was just the two of them in the world.

  “I want to make this moment last,” she said. “I haven’t felt so . . . normal . . . in a long time.”

  “Normal,” he echoed, running his hands over the steering wheel.

  “Out, with people. Doing things that people take for granted. I’ve never been on a plane before today. I’ve ridden in buses and cabs; but before I met Estefan, I never sat inside a personal vehicle. It’s strange. How am I going to live now?”

  With me, he wanted to tell her. Instead, he said, “It took me a long time to adjust to living off the street, like regular people. You know, with money and a job. It still feels new, even strange, sometimes.”

  Lyssa studied him with soft, gentle eyes. “You always surprise me when you say things like that. When I’m with you . . . I can’t imagine you ever not having your life in order.”

  “Order doesn’t mean normal. The job I do . . . it’s often violent. I’m always on the outskirts of things. Watching backs. Making sure everything is okay.”

  “You protect.”

  Eddie hesitated. “I try. If I can keep someone safe . . . that’s important to me. You know why.”

  Lyssa leaned over and kissed his cheek. Eddie turned his head before she could pull away, capturing her mouth, sinking into her sweet taste and heat. Just being near her was comforting and erotic—like, even thinking about holding her hand gave him a hard-on—but kissing her was something else entirely.

  Eddie pulled back. Lyssa gave him a dreamy smile that made him want to drag her into the backseat.

  He couldn’t help himself. His hand slipped under her sweatshirt, tracing a path up her side until he touched her heavy, full breast. She shivered, pushing against him, and in a voice too rough to possibly belong to him, he said, “Put down your seat.”

  Amazingly, she didn’t argue, fumbling until her chair reclined all the way down. Eddie stared at her, heart pounding, overcome with lust and hunger, and—and love—and it drove him a little insane, realizing that the moment belonged to them.

  That somehow, in his crazy, lonely life, he had finally gotten touched with luck beyond his wildest dreams.

  Lyssa smiled. “Hi, over there.”

  Eddie grinned, leaning over her. “Hi.”

  His lips met hers, soft at first, then hard, tongues slipping together as pleasure stormed through him in a hard, throbbing ache. His hand slipped beneath the band of her sweatpants. He knew she wasn’t wearing underwear, and he loved the sigh and whimper that drifted from her mouth as his fingers pressed and rubbed between her shifting legs.

  “Eddie,” she whispered, tugging down his own sweatpants. “I really want you inside me.”

  He groaned as her hand wrapped around him, and bit back a deeper, louder cry when her fingers squeezed. If anyone walked or drove past, they would be seen . . . but right then, he didn’t care.

  He kissed her harder, slipping his fingers inside he
r body and rotating them in a deep, circular motion. Lyssa rubbed against his hand, moaning against his mouth. Her grip on his penis loosened, but only enough to drag her fingers to his sensitive head, caressing him so perfectly in that one, fleeting touch, he almost came in her palm.

  “Your breasts,” Eddie said in a ragged voice, and Lyssa pulled up her sweatshirt, exposing herself to him. He dipped his head, drawing her hard nipple into his mouth and suckling. Lyssa’s back arched, sharp nails digging into his scalp.

  He pulled his fingers from the slick, wet heat of her body, and started flicking the hard nub of her clitoris.

  Lyssa’s hips jerked, and her soft grunts of pleasure were so sexy he thought he could climax just as easily from listening to her. He rubbed her harder, faster, taking her cries into his mouth with long, breathless kisses—and when she finally came, he muffled her scream, and her eyes glowed golden hot.

  “Eddie,” she whispered raggedly, sagging against the seat. “Take me someplace where there’s a bed, please.”

  He laughed, but it turned into a groan when her hand found his penis again. Her fingers kneaded his shaft in light movements that stole every coherent thought from his head.

  Lyssa leaned over the gearshift and licked him. Her tongue was so hot. Eddie couldn’t breathe.

  “Did you mean it? About not leaving San Francisco?” His voice was hoarse, and broken.

  Her smile turned serious. “Yes. Was that . . . should I have asked you first?”

  “No.” Eddie thought for a moment about what to say next. It was difficult, given that she was still touching him. “If you want to stay in a hotel, I—”

  She started laughing and clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Okay,” he said, smiling. “I’ll take you to my place.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lyssa was surprised when Eddie drove to the waterfront and parked in the underground lot of what had to be a very expensive apartment building.

  “You’re rich?” she said to him.

  Eddie shrugged as if embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I get paid well. It’s nice.”

  She smiled, shaking her head.

  They stood close, holding hands, as the elevator took them up the fifteenth floor. Lyssa was suddenly too nervous to look at him, but she kept her cheek pressed against his shoulder, her other hand buried in his sweatshirt. His body radiated heat. So did hers, she realized. The air around them shimmered with it, like an oven.

  “Are we going to set off fire alarms?” she asked, with real concern.

  “Uh,” he said, and laughed. “I hope not.”

  His apartment was a roomy studio with large windows that overlooked the Bay Bridge. Tidy, without much furniture. Just a bed, a couple soft chairs, and a small table near the kitchen.

  “I’m not here a lot,” he said.

  “Do you travel all the time?”

  “I’m gone a week or two or a month, typically. But sometimes I need that . . . room. The one I told you about. Where I can burn.”

  Lyssa nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know . . . how I fit into your life, exactly. Being with me won’t be easy, you know. Your friends . . .”

  Eddie had been standing by the door, watching her, but he crossed the distance in moments. He didn’t touch her, but instead he loomed, holding her gaze with a dangerous intensity that made her feel like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

  “If they can’t accept you,” he said quietly, “they are not my friends.”

  Lyssa backed away. “Don’t say that. My father lost all his friends because he felt the same way. It hurt him, and my mother.”

  “But it didn’t damage the two of them together, did it?”

  “No,” she said, after a moment. “No, it didn’t. They loved each other very much.”

  Eddie’s eyes softened. “Would you believe me if I said I loved you?”

  Her breath caught. “If you say it . . . I’ll believe.”

  “I love you,” he whispered, in a low, rough voice. “I love you.”

  I love you. Words that resonated, and flowed. Words that she had been feeling, and holding in her own heart, afraid to think them because it was more than she had imagined ever feeling. More than she had imagined anyone feeling about her.

  But she did believe him. He was too much in her blood, not to believe.

  Lyssa swallowed hard, burning up with a fever.

  “You know . . . there’s this thing about shape-shifters,” she said, slowly. “We sort of . . . stick with one person for our entire lives. So it means something when we love. We don’t . . . take that lightly.” She raised a trembling hand to touch his cheek. “When I’m with you . . . everything inside me says yes.”

  Eddie captured her hand. “Is that instinct or love?”

  Lyssa smiled. “It’s like . . . feeling as though every sappy love song I’ve ever heard is my theme song.”

  His nose crinkled, and he laughed. “Choose one.”

  She tangled her fingers in his sweatshirt. “Take off your clothes, and maybe I will.”

  His cheeks turned red, but he stripped. Lyssa stood back, biting back a smile that felt full and rich, and heavy with her heart.

  Eddie’s body was lean and broad with muscle, and he had an erection. Her scratch marks on his chest were healing, and only caused her a moment’s consternation.

  Giving her a bold look, he said, “A song, please.”

  Lyssa hesitated, thinking about her arm—and then pulled her sweatshirt over her head, and tossed it at him. “ ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love.’ ”

  His smile warmed though his eyes darkened with hunger. She noticed that he did not look at her breasts or dragon scales. Just her eyes.

  “I want to hear you say it, Lyssa.”

  “I love you,” she told him. “I love you, and it’s not instinct. It’s me. It’s my heart. My heart loves you, and I don’t how it happened. But it did, and it’s crazy. You’re crazy to love me.”

  “If you’re not the one for me, then I am crazy.” Eddie took a deep breath and hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her sweats. “May I?”

  She laughed and covered his hands—her right hand, so careful—helping him push the sweats down off her hips. He knelt as he undressed her, trailing kisses against her stomach. Lyssa closed her eyes, savoring the heat of his mouth.

  He drew her to the bed. The late afternoon light cast a soft glow over their skins as they made love. Nothing mattered but his touch and smile and kiss, and she strained against him, wanting so badly to take him into her body.

  “Lyssa,” he gasped, as she guided him to the right spot.

  “Please,” she begged, breathless.

  His eyes darkened, and he grabbed her hip, pushing into her slowly. Lyssa gasped as her body stretched around him. Eddie made a similar sound, squeezing shut his eyes as a tremor wracked him.

  “You’re so tight,” he whispered. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No,” she breathed, arching her hips so that he had no choice but to sink deeper. “Hard and fast, Eddie. Please.”

  He groaned and thrust forward. Lyssa felt a sharp pain, but that disappeared in moments. He pulled out, then thrust again, and again, grinding into her with hard, long strokes. She clung to him, matching his rhythm, heat racing through her body into his. Smoke rose from his back, fire licking across his skin. Lyssa covered those flames with her hands—human and dragon—drawing them into herself as her muscles tightened around him.

  His large hand covered her breast, squeezing, and he gathered up her leg and hitched it higher, deepening his penetration. His thrusts quickened. Lyssa gasped his name—losing control as a wild, cresting pleasure exploded through her body in one long, throbbing wave.

  Eddie came with her, crying out and covering her mouth in a soul-de
ep kiss as his hips jerked and thrust, nearly sending her over the edge a second time.

  He collapsed on top of her, both of them tangled and sweating, breathing so hard Lyssa was afraid their lungs would burst. The sheets were smoking around them.

  We almost set the bed on fire. It was too ridiculous—and wonderful.

  She started to giggle. A foreign sound. It had been ten years since she’d made a noise like that, but it bubbled out of her from a place of pure joy. Eddie lifted his head, staring, and she pointed at the smoke, breath hitching as she struggled not to laugh. He grinned and began laughing with her.

  Their laughter faded, though, as they stared into each other’s eyes.

  “I’m scared,” she told him, softly. “Love didn’t save my parents.”

  “You’re such a downer. They loved each other. Focus on that.” Eddie bit his lip until it bled. “Kiss me, Lyssa.”

  She hesitated. “Eddie.”

  But she didn’t stop him when he dipped his head, brushing his lips over hers. She tasted his blood.

  The power that flowed from him was different than any other. Before, when taking her own blood or Lethe’s, it had felt as though a wall were slamming into her. Disruptive. Painful. Overwhelming.

  The energy that flowed from Eddie’s blood was just the opposite. It moved into her, through her, wrapping her in a cocoon of fire that was strong and gentle and filled with love. It was power, but a deeper power than any other she had felt, and instead of ripping her apart . . . it filled her up.

  Memories flashed through her mind: his pleasure, making love to her, his comfort at holding her in his arms . . . his fear of not being able to protect her.

  And deeper than that, she saw a little girl’s face: pale and beautiful, with long dark hair and shadowy eyes filled with mystery.

  Daphne.

  Lyssa sighed into that memory and began to pull away. Except, something nagged at her. Something about Eddie’s blood.

  The dragon stirred, stretching its wings with a satisfied purr.

  Ah, it whispered. Now his fire makes sense.

  What? Lyssa asked.

  She heard a low, raspy chuckle.