Firebinders: Marek (The Firebinders Book 1)

by Isobelle Cate

  The arrival of their food curtailed further talk until the server left. The aroma made Marek’s stomach grumble and his mouth water while he prepared to eat, leaning over the table to put spoonful after spoonful of jambalaya into his mouth. His mind switched to hunger mode. Hank dug into his Po Boy of roast beef and debris before stuffing his mouth with fries.

  “Lia was right. Never thought astral travel could make you this hungry,” Marek said chewing before washing his food down with his craft beer.

  Hank momentarily looked up while he kept putting fries into his mouth. “I thought you said altered state.”

  “Screw you, Hank.”

  Hank snorted. He gulped down his Coke and had the decency to look away and cover his mouth when he burped. He continued to eat, his food becoming very interesting. He chewed slowly as if his jaw became part of a slow motion picture before swallowing and wiping his mouth with deliberate swipes of his napkin.

  “The Cynn Cruors do exist.”

  Marek continued eating, his eyes narrowing at his friend across the table.

  “Why do I get the feeling that I’m going to pull out info from you like I’d be pulling teeth out of your ass?”

  Hank grunted, hesitating before he let the remains of the Po Boy fall on the plate. He made a sour face. “Why do I keep my sources secret? It’s part of my fucking job.”

  Marek chewed deep in thought. “You think they’ll be willing to see me?”

  Hank hitched one shoulder. “Can’t say. I’ve never met any of them before. I can always ask Henry.”

  “Do that.” Marek nodded. “The sooner I meet Faith, the better.” He paused. “I need you to do another thing for me.”

  “It’s gonna cost you.”

  “I want you to check on Sebastian Highmore,” Marek said without missing a beat.

  Hank’s brows rose. “The billionaire pharma guy?”

  Marek’s eyes mirrored his interest. “You know him?”

  “About him.” Hank corrected. “A recluse. Hardly gets his picture taken. Why?”

  “He tried to kill a friend of mine.” Marek set down his spoon in his cleaned out bowl. “Still trying to.”

  “Dude, that’s a serious accusation,” Hank said his face serious. “Jarred and Dani?”

  Marek angled his head. “Why did you think of them right away?”

  Hank snorted. “Because aside from Rogue and me, you hardly have any friends.”

  Marek’s brow flickered a little, a humourless smile shading his mouth. “Better that way.”

  Hank leaned back sighing. “It’s not better that way, Marek. For someone who kills fires for a living you’re afraid of simple human contact.”

  “If I was afraid, I wouldn’t be fucking women left, right, and center.” Marek drank from his chilled beer mug.

  “Wham, bam, thank you ma’am isn’t the same as come on baby light my fire.”

  Marek almost spewed his drink, laughing. “You’re crazy, man.” After calming down, he continued. “So…Highmore.”

  “So…who’s the friend?” Hank countered, his eyes lighting up with humour.

  “It’s not Jarred. Someone else.”

  Hank whistled. “A woman.”

  “What makes you say it’s a woman?”

  “Marek, you don’t give a shit about people yet you save them when they have a disease that may or may not have a cure. You’re an arrogant dick wick most of the time and you stifle Lia because of some fear that she might get kidnapped again. If there’s someone who needs your help but is not sick, then it must be female.”

  Marek snickered and waved his finger back and forth in the air. “You believe that shit you’ve just said?”

  Hank had a ‘yeah right’ look. He shook his head as he picked up his cell from the table. “I’ll see what I can find out. Though I still don’t know why you need me to look into about him that’s not already in the society pages.”

  “Highmore was able to obtain a firebinder’s blood,” Marek said quietly.

  That stopped Hank. “Holy fuck…Do you think he knows what the blood can do?”

  “Maybe,” Marek answered. “That’s probably why he asked Gwen and her team to study it further.”

  “Gwen?”

  “Yes, Gwen.” Marek felt the heat rise from his chest, daring Hank to make one false move.

  Hank straightened, his mouth widening to show perfect white teeth. “I’ll get right on this.” He moved to the door. “Knew it was a woman. Thanks for the grub.”

  Leaving Opals a couple of hour later after Hank left, Marek sauntered to where he had parked his bike. The nip in the air and the chill licked at his sweat. The sidewalks and the street itself were filled with people despite the midnight hour. Groups of men and women sized each other up before coming together to continue bar hopping. In the nooks of shadowed alleys, people continued making out, shouts of ‘get a room!’ remaining unheeded.

  He rounded his neck and flexed his shoulders to ease the tension building there. Sitting astride, he watched the crowd, revving his bike up so that people gave him a wide berth. Now that he had Hank checking on Highmore and Janka giving him an idea on where to find the Cynn Cruors, his thoughts turned towards making up to Gwen for the way he had treated her. His lips curled to one side.

  Rogue was not too happy when Marek asked him to keep Gwen company then compounded it with keeping an eye again on Lia. Rogue always made excuses to get away from the responsibility. No different to Lia’s sentiments. A chortle rumbled up from the back of Marek’s throat. Rogue was not going to be happy babysitting Lia once more. Marek sobered. Yeah, he was being too hard on the firebinder who lived for dipping his wick into every female.

  Just like him.

  He smirked at the girls who gave him appreciative glances, but somehow they didn’t hold his interest as much as he would have thought. That perplexed him. At any given time, he would have taken one of the many beautiful women strutting in the French Quarter to his apartment and let them leave in the morning.

  Then Gwen happened.

  A muscled ticked on the side of his jaw close to his ear. He shouldn’t have left Gwen after what happened on the plane. His groin tightened even as remorse filled him.

  What a jackass.

  No contest there. Having his pleasure with her on the plane and then leaving her in the house, he shouldn’t be surprised if Gwen had developed a very dim view of who he was. He exhaled as his eyes narrowed. He swore under his breath. Since when did he care about what women thought? Gwen was a consenting adult who allowed him into second base before the pitcher had let the ball fly. But even as he defended his actions, guilt again tightened his chest.

  An apology three days after the event sounded insincere. If he could change how the pieces of events fell he would. Janka had been expecting him and Marek didn’t think having the powerful witch wait was the right thing to do. He had an obligation to his kind.

  Bringing Gwen with him to New Orleans made a dent in his plans even if it was a beautiful interruption nonetheless. He wished he could tell her everything but to do so would entail hours of explaining and convincing her that he was more than human. Something which Marek believed wouldn’t likely go down well with her.

  He needed to think of something to get back into her good graces then slowly introduce the idea that he was different. Without her knowing it, Gwen held the key to finding more of his kind.

  He squirmed in his seat, his thoughts taking an uncomfortable turn. Shit, he didn’t know how to go about this anymore. Flowers, maybe? Chocolates? Women went for those kinds of shit, right? Just to make her realize he was not an asshole. Okay, he had to take that back.

  He was a lovable and sexy asshole.

  What about jewellery? It was way too early to give her those. Early? Why the hell was he even thinking of something that smack of possible permanence? He’d just met her, for Chrissake! He inched his way through the throng then froze.

  What. The. Fuck?

  Disbelief at
the path his thoughts were going gave way to a slow simmering rage. He wasn’t even baffled as pure jealousy filled him.

  “Yo! What the fuck man! Pipe your bike down!”

  The red film disappeared from his eyes to see people on the corner of Bourbon Street eyeing him with bewilderment and irritation while others who stood on the balcony of the Bourbon Bandstand heckled.

  Blinking, Marek scowled but released his grip on the handle to decelerate his bike and bring it down to a purr. The conversation around him resumed as people continued enjoying the French Quarter. His gaze found his prey and he felt the invisible fist punch his gut…

  To see Rogue kissing Gwen.

  Going out and having dinner in the French Quarter was definitely better than being cooped up with nothing better to do than stare at the four walls of a beautiful home that was more shabby chic and lived in, than just being a mere showcase for the pages of a glossy magazine. Even if Rogue had finished setting her mini lab up in the dining area, she still didn’t have anything to work on because she had no way to extricating blood out of Marek before her equipment arrived.

  So much for proving that Marek’s blood was similar to what she had been studying.

  Gwen read through the notes she had saved in the cloud until she memorized it by heart. At times she gritted her teeth to tamp down the simmering anger that wanted to spew out of her whenever her notes reminded her of Digna’s betrayal. If she wanted to continue with testing Marek’s blood, she needed to stop associating what happened in Sebastian Pharma with what she was doing now. It took a while but as soon as she let go and forced herself to think that this was a different project until she accepted it as the truth Gwen’s tension eased.

  Rogue took her to Oceana along Conti Street. She was content and happy for him to order the food he wanted her to sample. It was a far cry from the simple fare of cheese or mushroom omelette with toast she made since she was placed under ‘house arrest’. She was not even good at it, burning more of the food when she left it to mull over her notes. Rogue ate up the hours by telling her stories of his encounters with pirates when he used to captain his own ship. She repaid him by telling him about England and about her stint in Afghanistan that had Rouge’s brows rising in grudging respect.

  Finally she leaned back, unable to eat another bite of the Crawfish Etoufeé after an appetizer of oysters.

  “Thank you.” She drank from her iced tea which she ironically found refreshing. “That was the best meal I’ve had.” She squirmed. The waistband of her jeans bit into her belly.

  “You’re welcome.” Rogue chortled, his face breaking into a sexy grin that would have made her swoon if only she fancied him. But the person she felt drawn to didn’t want to have anything to do with her.

  So much for rejection not stinging.

  “C’mon, let’s walk that food off before I take you back to the house.”

  They made their way out of Oceana. Rogue turned to where he had parked but Gwen held on to his biceps and tiptoed to hug him.

  “Thank you Rogue.” She sighed closing her eyes before giving him a sisterly peck on the cheek. “I knew you were sweet.”

  Rogue wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

  “You’re welcome, pet,” he whispered in her ear over the noise of the post-Christmas crowd on the street. “That’ll be our secret.”

  She laughed at the endearment before a bemused frown landed on her face when she felt Rogue stiffen. She pulled away noticing his flattened lips as he stared at some point behind her. The back of her neck warmed before her entire body buzzed. She turned around to where he was looking and her smile died. Her heart started to thrum to a different beat and she flushed guiltily. Why on earth should she feel guilty? Marek had left her almost three days ago. Back then she didn’t know whether to feel relieved or feel lost. He had such a commanding presence that made her heart soar just at the sight of him, plummet when he left, and become pissed in between. How could she feel all of these things in such a short space of time? Blame it on intense infatuation, that’s how. And the guilt as if she had betrayed him? Her logical mind had no answer for that because she really had no reason to be.

  Now he was there, a few feet from her, astride his bike with a thunderous scowl on his face. A beautiful yet thunderous scowl. If Marek meant to frighten her, he had another thing coming.

  Marek glared at Rogue for several moments before pinning his gaze on her.

  Tension much?

  “Nice of Rogue to take me to dinner and show me the sights,” she said, sarcasm dripping with every word. She smiled sweetly. “Did you get things done?”

  “I did.” He nodded curtly. “Have a good time?”

  Why did he have to make her dinner with Rogue sound like it was a capital crime? She refused to rise to the bait. She kept her smile when in reality she just wanted to lash out at him. Her gaze darted between Rogue’s inscrutable face and Marek’s angry one noticing the muscle pulsing in his jaw. People walked around them uncaring that they looked like three statues an artist decided to install in the middle of foot traffic.

  “What’s with you two?” She paused. “Rogue?”

  Rogue pulled his gaze away from the pissing contest. His face broke into another sexy grin making Gwen’s eyes widen at the sudden sensual onslaught.

  “I’ll take you back now,” Rogue said as though his voice was only meant for her. He took her elbow and guided her away.

  “No need.” Marek revved his bike. “I’m on my way there. You can ride with me.”

  Gwen huffed. Seriously? Of all the… She couldn’t stop the disapproving slope of her brows.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” She huffed her anger finally getting the better of her. “Because that’s not how I remembered you welcoming me here. You practically left me without a clue where to go during my unplanned exile!”

  Rogue snickered, pulling back and losing his grin when Gwen glared at him. And just like that, all fight left her. Short of hailing a cab to bring her back to the house—she didn’t even think to take down the address—she could take Marek’s offer. But that would mean putting her arms around his midriff and feel the heat of his back against her chest, her pelvis against his butt…That would pull her into a sensual vortex she was already trying so hard to avoid. A fantasy that sent her pulse racing and her core throbbing. Her belly flipped at the memory of his mouth on her and her sex squeezed involuntarily.

  But she was not going to be part of this pissing contest.

  Not wanting the delicious food and great evening go to waste, she walked away, shaking her head in the process.

  “Gwen!” both Rogue and Marek called.

  She flipped the bird, amidst the scattered catcalls and derisive laughter of those who saw the exchange. She didn’t bother looking back. The tension she had bottled up inside since leaving Austin, plus the delayed humiliation she experienced when Marek left, treating her like some slut who was happy to oblige him brought the stinging behind her eyelids back once more. God! In less than a week, the roller coaster she’d been on came to a grinding halt. She could only take so much without blowing off steam. She needed an outlet.

  She needed her gun and a target to shoot. Marek’s ass was becoming a fast favourite. His caveman antics were getting on her nerves. As for Rogue, she was pissed at him…just because. She was so engrossed in her own anger that she didn’t notice the warm body until she bumped into it.

  “Hey, watch it bitch!” the slurred voice growled.

  “Sorry! I’m sorry.” Gwen raised her palm then she ground her teeth when tears started to spill down her cheeks.

  The drunk looked at her blearily, squinting and blinking his eyes to focus.

  “You’re not from here. British?”

  After a split second of indecision, Gwen didn’t bother to answer. She meandered through the groups of people sauntering along the street, swiping at her wet cheeks as she went and wiping her palms on the seat of her denims. Sniff
ing and getting her bearings once more, she entered an area that was not too crowded. She walked briskly, her sneakers at times creaking, her eyes sharp and her sense of smell taking in the whiff of barbecued meats and seafood amidst the alcohol. She looked around and up at the signs to find the nearest hotel in a place that suddenly unsettled her. She twisted around, relieved and disappointed that Marek or Rogue was not in pursuit. At least they respected her need for some space. She craned her neck to assess the flow of traffic along St. Louis Street and the establishments nearby. Easing back to the wall of one of the bars that had faint footprints stamped on it, she surveyed her unfamiliar surroundings. The throng and partial revelry was disorienting. This was the time she desperately needed her phone. She and Rogue hadn’t been able to get a new burn phone because the store was closed, and she already dumped her old phone.

  Stupid, Gwen.

  Maybe she was too engrossed in her own annoyance that she didn’t see the hotel the first time. Moving northward, she approached the Sheraton’s façade of blue arches, open and welcoming doors, and bright lights that looked like an oasis. She shook her head and sighed. Checking into hotels at the spur of the moment was getting to be a habit.

  She was less than ten yards away from the hotel’s entrance when a hand grabbed her upper arm and swung her around.

  “Hey!” she snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Told ya she was British.” The man snickered and snorted and Gwen was half expecting something green to come out of his throat. It was the stranger she had met earlier, the companion of the drunk. “Just wanted to welcome you to the Big Easy, pretty lady. Being friendly, is all.”

  “Grabbing my arm’s not what I call friendly,” she retorted trying to be firm as possible without causing a scene. She wrenched her arm away. Had there been more people, no one would have noticed. But the crowds were sparse.

  “I was shouting for you to stop,” the drunk defended, his eyes still unfocused.

  “Sorry, didn’t hear you.”

  “Well you can make it up by having a drink with us.”

  Gwen looked away, her lips thinning. She so didn’t need this. Why did assholes act like dickheads?