Up In Flames

by Jenny Schwartz

  Diane barely scrambled across the seat before Stuart entered, slamming the door, and the driver pulled away from the curb.

  “It’s crazy out there,” she gasped.

  The press were louder and more ruthless than she’d imagined. Her hands shook as she buckled her seatbelt and smoothed back her hair.

  “Where to?” The driver asked Stuart.

  “Gar Lodge.” Stuart frowned at Diane. “It’s about a twenty minute drive. Diane, our driver is Agent Peter Ho. Pete, meet Diane Lee. She’ll be working with us.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Di.”

  She met his eyes in the mirror. “Same here. And thanks for the rescue.”

  He laughed. “Reporters. You know those signs they used to have at the zoo, ‘Please, don’t feed the monkeys’?” I think they should be posted around reporters. They’re like piranhas in a feeding frenzy.”

  “Only more dangerous,” Stuart contributed.

  That squashed the relieved laughter bubbling in Diane. She stared out the window. Stuart spoke into his phone and Pete concentrated on driving.

  Stuart’s side of the conversation was unenlightening. “What’s happening? Uh huh. No. No, I agree. Yes. Mmm? I’ll see you, then.”

  But when Diane glanced sideways at him, he was watching her. Her heart thumped and she looked away.

  The streets blurred past, fading from familiar to wealthy, protected and unknown. The car halted at a high closed gate. Pete wound down his window and pressed his palm against a black glass plate. He murmured something too low for her to identify and the gate opened.

  Inside, they drove up to the portico of a three story, rambling house. Its stone had darkened to slate grey with age although the woodwork around the windows was white and freshly painted. The surrounding garden was mostly lawn, dotted with large trees and an occasional bench.

  Stuart grabbed her bag and got out of the car. There was not a please, thank you or follow me.

  She frowned. Good manners cost nothing, even in a crisis. “Thanks for the lift, Pete.”

  “My pleasure.” He sketched a salute, his eyes meeting hers in the rear view mirror. The corners had laughter creases.

  She got out of the car and watched him drive away. If she’d been going to follow her list’s advice and fall in love with anyone, he’d have been a good choice. A sense of humor was always attractive, and she appreciated that he wasn’t the strong, silent type.

  “This way,” said the strong, silent type.

  Damn list. “Yes, sir.”

  “Diane—”

  The front door opened.

  “Welcome to Gar Lodge.”

  Chapter Six

  Freaking hell. The man filling the massive doors to the lodge was an ogre. Diane had never seen one before, but there could be no mistaking the yellow eyes, the pointed teeth and the eight foot height.

  “Good morning, Mr. Jamieson. I’ve prepared a room for Miss Lee.”

  “Cut it out, Kyle.” Stuart punched the ogre’s arm and the enchantment popped like a water balloon.

  From within the splodge of burst magic appeared a teenage boy. He glowered at Stuart. “That hurt.” He rubbed his arm.

  “You should be at school.”

  “I’m suspended.” The tone was pure defiance, but the look the boy slanted at Stuart held apprehension.

  “Suspended.” Stuart put Diane’s bag down on the tiled floor and straightened to his full height.

  Beside him, the boy looked slight and frail. Hazel eyes went wide beneath a lank fringe of brown hair. “Don’t lose your cool, Stu.”

  Stuart’s hands shot out. He lifted the boy and hooked him by the belt of his jeans to a coat hook.

  “He-ey!” The boy kicked out.

  “Shut up.”

  To Diane’s surprise, the kid obeyed.

  Teenager intimidation. Stuart was officially scary.

  “Don’t I rate an introduction to the ogre?” she asked, and saw the kid grin.

  “His name is Kyle Bipkin, but don’t bother learning it. I intend to kill him. Later.”

  The kid rolled his eyes.

  “Kyle, when you get down from the hook, take Miss Lee’s bag to her room. Kyle?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And I will find out why you were suspended.”

  “Great,” Kyle muttered.

  Diane grinned, turning away so the boy couldn’t see her amusement. Clearly he was of the kind who given an inch, took a mile.

  “Come through to the kitchen, Diane.” Stuart held out his hand. “Sharon cooks when she’s stressed.”

  Despite the watching teenager, when she accepted Stuart’s hand and felt his fingers close firmly around hers, she couldn’t help the shiver that coursed down her spine. He was a mundane, someone without magic. But her own magic surged to his touch. It pulsed through her body, gathering, strengthening till it reached their joined hands.

  “Oh, man,” Kyle breathed.

  Stuart shot a look at him.

  Kyle never saw it. He stared at the glow growing between Diane and Stuart. “Sharon told me these things exist, but man, I never thought I’d see one.”

  “What thing?” Stuart’s glare was for Kyle and Diane, and possibly his own confusion.

  She gulped. “Can’t you feel something? Between our hands?”

  “No.”

  But the power was still building. It blazed up, tongues of fire to the ceiling.

  “Let go of my hand.” She tried to shake her hand free.

  “What the hell is happening?” Stuart couldn’t see anything. But he also didn’t release her hand.

  “It’s a salamander,” Kyle shouted.

  “What?” Stuart remained unenlightened.

  Diane stared at the fiery creature that wound around their joined hands, flicking its tongue to taste her power and Stuart’s life force. He had to be incredibly vital to be feeding this fire. How could he not feel the heat?

  “Salamanders feed off energy,” she said carefully. “They’re powerful in their own right, but they enjoy human energy. It’s like a drug to them.”

  This salamander had its jewel eyes slitted with pleasure.

  “They’re rare.”

  “Like unicorns,” Kyle contributed.

  Diane flushed. He didn’t know how close he was to the truth—or did he? Great, a loud mouth teenage boy knew her sexual history.

  Like unicorns, salamanders were attracted to virginity. No one would think it of Stuart, so it would have to be her. Not that she was ashamed. Virginity helped in her spells. “Salamander, may I know your name?”

  It crawled up her arm and bit her ear.

  A shudder of deep sexual pleasure shook her.

  Stuart felt it. He picked her up and carried her unceremoniously out of Kyle’s sight.

  The salamander crooned with delight. It rubbed between their bodies.

  Stuart put her down inside a formal parlor. “Is there a salamander with us?”

  “Yes.” It was weaving its way around her body, sensitizing her to his slightest breath, the accelerating rhythm of his heart, the musk of his skin. “It’s…I never knew. It’s an aphrodisiac.”

  Whether he was responding to the salamander or to her own arousal, she could feel his response—and she craved it.

  “You’re turned on?”

  “Can’t you tell?” she asked rawly. Hell, she was plastered against him, hips tilted to his, breasts pressed against his chest, mouth parted.

  “For me or for the salamander?”

  “Kiss me and find out.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Don’t kiss her!”

  The shriek stopped Stuart millimeters from her lips. Diane groaned. When she discovered who was interrupting—

  “Your salamander needs ground rules now. Unless you want to be part of a permanent threesome?”

  “No,” Stuart said.

  “Ick,” Diane said.

  “Good. Then step back, slowly. Unglue yourselves.”

  D
iane found she could turn her head just far enough to see a middle-aged woman in the doorway. Her red apron was dusty with flour and she held a wooden spoon coated in cake mix.

  “Someone explain this to me,” Stuart growled.

  “There’s a salamander enjoying the energy we’re creating and it wants us to create more. In fact, it’s being quite insistent about it.” She really, really hoped Stuart’s body hid the creature’s rhythmic caress of her right breast. Bad enough she felt ready to explode with pleasure. She didn’t need an unknown witness.

  She slid a hand between their bodies and captured the salamander. Holding its insubstantiality very, very carefully, she eased it away from her breast and sighed with relief when the creature allowed it.

  Equally slowly, Stuart released her. His hands lingered on her shoulders. The salamander flicked its tongue at them once, then its eyes closed and it purred.

  “You’ll be safe, now,” the woman said. She walked into the room. “I’m Sharon Vrye. You must be Diane Lee.”

  “Yes,” Diane answered absently. She stroked the salamander, then placed it on her shoulder. It nestled against her throat.

  “Now, that I’ve never seen,” Sharon said. “Usually salamanders vanish when the contact that called them ceases.”

  “It’s still here?” Stuart looked around warily.

  “Against your girlfriend’s neck.” Kyle had gotten himself down from the hook. He came in, eager to see what he’d missed.

  Diane breathed a prayer of gratitude that he hadn’t been free a few minutes ago.

  “It’s asleep,” she told Stuart.

  “But why is it here?”

  “Energy.” Kyle beat them all to the answer. “Man, but it glowed between you. When you took her hand, it scorched the ceiling.”

  Diane blushed. “The salamander intensified the reaction.”

  “But the two of you created the reaction,” Sharon said. “If I were you, I’d wake up that salamander, learn its name and set the ground rules. Happy energy, but not in bed with you. Otherwise it’ll bliss you out to get its own fix.”

  “Cool. Way cool,” Kyle said.

  “Get into the kitchen.” Sharon dragged the reluctant kid out of the room. The door slammed behind them.

  “I’ll wake the salamander.” Diane avoided Stuart’s eyes. She tickled the creature under its chin and it responded with a yawn and a lazy fire lick. She transferred it to her hand so she could see it.

  “What is your name?” she whispered.

  “Zstl.”

  “Zstl, Stuart and I will share our energy with you, but not when we’re having sex and not when we need our energy for magic or anything else. We’ll tell you when we have happy energy to share with you.”

  “Happy energy,” Zstl crooned.

  “Yes, happy energy when we call you.”

  “Call me soon.” The salamander stretched and vanished.

  Diane stared at her empty hands. “It’s gone.”

  Stuart swore and rubbed his hands over his face. “That was some kind of weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You were talking like we were going to have sex.”

  “Do you honestly think we won’t?” she asked. “I saw the energy between us. If I tried to take another man as lover.” His hands fisted at her words. “Exactly. I couldn’t. I’d be cheating him with second best.”

  “So it wasn’t just the damn salamander?”

  “It made me hot,” she said honestly. “But you lit the fuse.”

  He groaned, jaw clenching at her words.

  “There’s something else you should know, Stuart. The salamander came because of the energy between us, but also because I met the requirement Kyle mentioned. The one that calls unicorns.”

  “You? You’re a virgin?”

  “Twenty three and unbedded.” She wet her lips. “Until now.”

  “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” he warned.

  She put her hand on his chest, over his heart. “There’s no virgin magic stronger than the need I have now. I’m hot, Stuart. Burning. I ache and I want a man’s lips where the salamander teased. I want you.”

  “Where did it touch you?” His voice was raw and possessive. His dark eyes were nearly all pupil, signaling his arousal.

  “Here.” She took his hand and traced the salamander’s path from their joined hands, up her arm, along her body, dipping to her thigh and returning to her breasts. “It rubbed my nipple with its claw. Again and again.”

  He closed his hand over her breast. “I can feel your nipple. It’s tight and hard against my palm, even through your shirt.”

  “Please.” She moaned as he massaged her breast. Warm, vital and real, he excited her beyond the salamander’s teasing. All her reasons for remaining a virgin—the unicorn calling, the finding spells for innocents, the dream of flight—vanished under this second avalanche of sensation.

  “Please, what?” He undid the buttons of her shirt with deliberate enjoyment.

  She reached behind her back and undid her bra clasp. With her shirt undone, she shrugged out of both.

  “Have mercy.” Stuart’s response flattered. Color flushed the skin tight over his cheekbones. He cupped her breasts, brushing his thumbs over the nipples.

  She swayed, and he gathered her up, sinking into an armchair with her.

  “I haven’t even kissed you, and I want the intimacy of sucking your breasts.” He played with the rosy crowns, watching her eyes and her mouth.

  She knew her panting breath and the slight, involuntary movements of her body told him of her arousal.

  “Stuart.” She brought his head to her breasts, arching up as his lips found a nipple, tested, teased, then sucked.

  Screaming pleasure surged through her, tightening her hands in his hair and establishing a deep pulse of desire. She needed to reach it. She needed Stuart to take her there.

  He relinquished her breast with a lavish swirl of his tongue.

  “More,” she said thickly, pushing a hand between the buttons of his shirt and roughly petting him.

  He lifted her, shifting her position so she knelt over him. It gave him access to both breasts to lick and suck and very lightly bite. And when she went wild, surrendering her body to his knowledge, he rewarded her with the rough rhythm of his hand heating and claiming her pulsing center through the denim of her jeans.

  She melted, shattered and flowed over him.

  “You feel so good,” he said fiercely. His hand trembled as he stroked her back, soothing them both.

  “You’re good.” She rubbed her face against his throat, inhaling the male scent of him, imprinting it on her pleasured body. “You brought me to climax with my jeans on.”

  “First time?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave a half growl of primitive satisfaction. “Imagine how good it’ll feel with your jeans off.”

  Her shiver wrenched a groan from him. He tilted her face and kissed her.

  Fire. Hunger. Pure male. She tasted and absorbed all he offered, and gave in return the secrets of her hunger, her need, and her total and complete enjoyment of him.

  “Tonight,” he said unsteadily. “I’ll come to your room.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You are amazing.” Stuart ran his hands down her body in a lingering caress. “I’m sorry we don’t have more time now, but Sharon is waiting in the kitchen.”

  “And Kyle,” Diane added ruefully. Facing anyone after what she and Stuart had shared would be hard—facing a teenage boy would be near impossible. The threatening embarrassment gave her the impetus to unpeel from Stuart and stand. But looking at him sprawled, hard, hers, in the chair, she had to control the temptation to leap on him.

  She disguised the urge by turning away in search of bra and shirt. She picked them off the floor.

  Stuart’s hand covered the curve of her ass. His fingers tightened on her hip bone, and he fitted her against his pelvis as she straightened.

  Her breath shudde
red as she felt enveloped by heat and need. With his arms around her, his hands cupped and shaped her breasts. The shirt crumpled in her hand as she turned her head.

  He kissed the underside of her jaw. “I don’t want to let you go.” His hips thrust, taking up the slightest of rhythms, spelling out intention and desire. “But your first time will be in bed, with time and care.”

  “How about rough, raw and now?”

  His hips jerked. His hands froze. “Do you know how much I want to say yes? What have you done to me? I don’t make a habit of seducing women the morning I’ve met them.”

  “Even though the President would approve?”

  “You’ve certainly tripped me up.”

  She turned in his arms. “I’ve never felt like this, as if I need you to breathe.” She tucked her head under his chin. “Do you think my To Do List was right?”

  “Fall in love.” He held her carefully, tenderly. “Maybe it’s right for both of us.”

  She heard the note of discovery in his voice and felt an echo of it in her heart. She hadn’t believed in love at first sight. But what they had was more than lust. It burned and it bound.

  “You need to get dressed,” he said. “We have to talk with Sharon. Cabot phoned her with news of the attack against the President. She’s by way of being an expert of Aernish thinking.”

  “How?” Reluctantly, Diane wriggled free of his embrace. She handed him her shirt to hold while she fitted her bra. He watched with interest, the warmth in his eyes enough to remind her of his mouth and hands on her. She ached to feel them again and conscientiously ignored the ache. “Sharon saw the salamander, so she has magic—”

  “Actually, she doesn’t. She burnt out three years ago defeating a different Aernish attack.” He held out her shirt. “She was an agent, but with her magic gone, she retired.”

  “How awful.” Diane shrugged into the shirt. “She must have felt so lost.”

  “Yes.” He tugged the front of her shirt together and began buttoning it.

  She watched the precise movement of his hands and felt his care. She lost focus on the conversation. “It’s like foreplay.”

  His fingers stopped.

  She blushed. “Sorry. Go on. Tell me about Sharon. Is she a consultant, now?”