by Hati Bell
In a rare, almost friendly, gesture Faey held out her hand and pulled Amber to her feet. She cracked her neck by rolling it to the left, then the right. “Now you’ll get exactly what you asked for.”
Amber did. And then some. She landed a dozen times on her ass, before she figured out how to block Faey’s attacks. However, she knew Faey was holding back. At least for now. She guessed she should be grateful for that.
“Keep your arms up,” Faey snapped. “Eyes on me. Focus.”
Amber jumped, ducked away, and tried everything to avoid Faey’s brutal blows to her body. Not that it did her much good. The phoenix was like a butterfly on steroids. She fluttered through her paltry defense like a knife through butter.
The sun had been up for several hours when Faey finally said they could take a break.
Amber wiped the sweat from her face with her top and tried to catch her breath. “So, when are you going to teach me to fight?” It hadn't slipped her notice that their sparring session was fixated on defense only.
“Do you seriously think you’re up for that?”
Argh. Faey had turned sounding condescending into an art. “Yes.” She wasn’t planning to keep functioning as Faey’s punching bag. The phoenix enjoyed her new role as instructor a little too much. Every punch and kick was accompanied by a grin.
“In order to run, you first have to learn to walk.”
Amber rolled her eyes. “How incredibly Yoda-ish of you. Since when are you philosophical?”
“I don’t know any Yoda. Are you mocking me?” Faey asked in a threatening tone.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good. ’Cause if you did, I’d have to kick your ass. No one insults Master Hiroshi.”
“Master Hiroshi?”
“My martial arts teacher from Kyoto. Those were his words when I asked him when he was really going to teach me to fight instead of all the self-defense bullshit. You should count yourself lucky I didn’t do to you what he did to me.”
“What did he do?”
“Couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. The sun was up when I asked, but by the time I woke up—on the floor of the dojo—the moon was shining. I had a splitting headache.”
“Learn to walk before I can run. Right. Perhaps we can pay Master Hiroshi a visit some time? I’ve never been to Japan before.”
Faey turned away. “I can’t go to him. He was a good teacher, the best. He taught me how to take care of myself. But in the end? We all are alone.”
“What about your family? You don’t mind Matteo helping you out.”
“Matteo is the exception,” Faey conceded. “My youngest brother has always had somewhat of a love-hate relationship concerning his family. He’ll never admit it, but I’m one of his greatest weaknesses.”
“Crassus hasn’t contacted me yet,” Amber let slip out. Not that she’d exactly rolled out the welcome mat for him after what he did to Drake. Still, she felt oddly rejected.
“Time has a different meaning to our kind. Crassus will contact you at a time he deems fit. I haven’t seen my father in twenty years.”
It seemed that family ties meant as much to a phoenix as the words “I love you”—which, according to Faey, were hollow words. Did she even want to live in their world? A world in which her biological father tortured her boyfriend and promesis were driven mad when one of them ended up in a titanium prison.
“Speaking of time,” Faey said, “it’s time to return home.”
***
Back home, they were greeted by a surprise. Logan and Benedict on massage tables in their knickers, being attended to by two Asian women rubbing their feet. The living room was lit by a dozen candles that were spread out from the bookcase to the coffee table, giving the place a romantic vibe.
Amber plopped on a sofa next to the fireplace. She really needed a shower, but every muscle hurt. The last sprint back home had depleted her of any energy she had left. Any minute now she would get up and head into the shower.
Any minute now.
“How nice of you to finally join us, O’Neill,” Logan greeted her.
Oh, right. She remembered sending him a message yesterday to meet her here.
“Hi, pet!” Benedict exclaimed. “I was keeping your guest company during your absence. I traced over some masseuses from Thailand, to kill the time.”
“I must admit, this foot rub comes close to one of my fantasies,” Logan said. He’d folded his hands onto his neck and was obviously enjoying the massage.
Suddenly she was glad she hadn’t asked Drake to join her. The thought of a masseuse rubbing her hands all over him made her teeth clench. It also reminded her of his vision with Jade. She quickly pushed that thought away.
“Beautiful,” said the masseuse now rubbing over Logan’s biceps.
“Beautiful,” the other one repeated.
Benedict beamed. “And this is precisely the reason why you are in for a reward later, my little lotus flowers.”
Faey snorted. “It’s probably the only word in English they know.”
“It’s the only word they need to know,” Logan said. His masseuse giggled when he gave her a wink and whispered that she was beautiful as well.
“Typical,” Faey sneered. “Of course the draconi thinks women are good for one thing only. You’re all the same.”
“Stop. That tickles, Lola.” Benedict cast a stern look at his right shoulder.
Faey watched the scene with a strange intensity in her gaze. Her hands were formed into fists and her usual expression, a bored scowl, changed into a cold smile. “I wonder what your promesi would think of this little scene, Benedict,” she said sweetly.
Amber’s jaw dropped. Faey knew exactly what the reminder of Lola did to Benedict.
Benedict jumped up, making his startled masseuse step backward. “Lola?” He rubbed his hands over his eyes.
Her heart hurt for him. Despite Benedict’s larger-than-life persona, he was just as vulnerable as anyone else.
Logan cursed and got up. “You bloody witch,” he snarled.
To an outsider it would seem as if his words didn’t bother Faey, but Amber saw the regret in her eyes. Without saying another word, she traced away.
Benedict stumbled to the fireplace. He slapped his hands on his head, muttering in himself.
Amber hurried over to him and grabbed his arm when he repeatedly smashed his fist into the wall. “Benedict, stop.” She cringed when she saw his mangled hand. Pieces of bone pierced through the skin.
Benedict tripped, holding his deformed hand against his chest. He plopped onto an ottoman next to the fireplace and began to bang his head against the wall.
Logan grabbed Benedict from behind in an attempt to stop him from hurting himself. “I’m beginning to understand your name, mate.”
“Lola. Looolaaa. Forgive me, wee hamster. Please forgive me.” He tried to wrestle from Logan’s grip.
Her heart rate sped up when she saw fire on Benedict’s fingertips. It took her back to another time, in another place, to a field where she and Drake had been surrounded by goblins. Her most profound moment of desperation and feeling helpless. The moment she had almost died.
“Where is Lancaster?” Logan yelled.
Amber was lost in what seemed like a daydream, but in fact had been her reality. She barely noticed dropping back onto the couch. Her hands were heating up and sweat soaked her skin. Somewhere in the background she heard Logan and Benedict struggling. She had to prevent herself from bursting into flames again. She refused to end up back in a coma. But what kind of a shot did she have when even a centuries-old phoenix like Benedict couldn’t control his true nature?
“Dammit, O’Neill. This is not the time to go catatonic on me. Get a grip and help me out here. You can’t tell by the looks of him, but he’s as bloody strong as an ox.”
Benedict. He was having an episode and she sat frozen on the couch, totally useless. Not exactly warrior-princess-worthy. She jumped up and forced herself to remain calm. “D
on’t let him go. I’m going to call for Matteo.”
Logan barely avoided a back kick from a howling Benedict who was totally going bonkers. “About bloody time.”
“Matteo?” she asked hesitantly. It was the first time she reached out to him telepathically while they weren’t in the same room. She was curious to see if he would react.
Total silence.
Hmm. Maybe their connection resembled wifi, and he was out of reach?
Logan and Benedict were still embroiled in a fierce battle. The massage tables lay in pieces. The coffee table followed their fate when the men fell on top of it.
“O’Neill,” Logan growled. “How’s it going over there?”
“Matteo!” she tried again.
“Not now, promesi. I’m in the middle of an important deal.”
Benedict was still rambling like a madman and then slammed his head backward. Amber winced when she heard something crack.
“Bloody hell!” Logan let out a string of curses. They tripped over lingering logs and fell on a pile of pillows. The masseuses watched from a safe distance, their eyes like saucers.
“Matteo! I need you.”
“Can it not wait? I have been after this rare Ming vase for seventy-five years. It will be mine in about five minutes.”
She wanted to smash the vase on his head. “No, it can’t bloody wait. Your sister has purposely reminded Benedict of Lola and he’s been going crazy ever since. Logan can barely restrain him from hurting himself.”
Two beats later Namaka appeared before her nose. His red headphones were replaced by golden ones, upping their bling factor. “Hi. Matteo said you needed me.” His chest puffed up, obviously out of pride for Matteo calling in his help.
“You have to help Benedict.”
Namaka pointed his thumbs towards himself. “Haven’t you noticed something new about me?”
Seriously? He wanted to discuss his new headphones while the living room was starting to resemble a war zone? “Can we please talk about your fashion choices later? Like when Logan isn’t smashing Benedict’s head into the carpet.”
Namaka’s expression fell. “But I just got my wings.”
Of course. How could she have missed him tracing in on his own for the first time? “You’re inflamed. Congrats.” She knew how much he’d been looking forward to this moment.
Namaka beamed and started to tell about the fire in his veins and how proud his family was. “I’m going to be introduced next week during the auction. Every phoenix is welcome.”
She assumed this auction was some kind of party for newly inflamed phoenixes. “Sure, but can we now please handle our problem at hand?”
Now that he’d shared his story, a serious expression formed on his face. He pulled Benedict from Logan’s arms and traced him away. A few seconds later he returned. “See you at the auction,” he said and a beat later he’d taken the masseuses with him as well.
Logan plopped down onto the couch. “Next time you want to talk to me, you know where to find me, O’Neill.” He groaned while he reset his broken nose.
She flushed when she remembered the reason why she’d asked him to come over. “Let me take a shower first.”
“I don’t have time for that. I have to be at the Oasis in an hour to receive a shipment. So, do tell, what can I do for you?”
Right. How to broach this subject without coming across as a complete idiot? “Believe it or not, but Benedict’s episode is actually one of the reasons why I’ve asked you to visit me.” Now for the embarrassing part. “Um. Benedict is centuries old and usually very in control of his fiery side. That is, unless he’s reminded of his promesi. Then he goes bonkers.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Logan got up, cracked his neck and picked his shirt and pants from the ground. His impatient blue eyes urged her to continue her story.
“I’m less in control of my phoenix side. I burn when I kiss Drake,” she blurted.
“We all burn when we kiss someone, O’Neill. That is, when it’s done right. It’s called passion, lust, love, take your pick.”
It sounded as if her problem was merely a slight inconvenience that would solve itself. She wished she could be just as laid-back about something that had kept her up all night. From the moment she’d woken up in a hospital bed, she’d felt as if she’d lost all control over her life. There was so much she had yet to learn in this new life of her. She was fine with discovering and learning new things. What she couldn’t live with, however, was hurting Drake when she kissed him. She cleared her throat. “I meant literally.”
“Aha.”
“Drake thinks it’s because I get… excited when I kiss someone.”
Logan grinned as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Yeah, that’s usually how it works.”
He was obviously enjoying her embarrassment. Lovely. “Drake seemed to think this would happen with any man.”
“You’re insulted and want to test his theory,” he guessed. “Why me?”
“You’re the best-looking guy I know,” she said honestly. “If my fiery nature can withstand you, it can with anyone.” When she saw his smirk, she added, “Also my choices were limited. It was either you or Matteo.” She didn’t need to tell him it would hurt Drake if she’d chosen Matteo. Moreover, it could give Matteo the wrong idea. Logan would merely think of this as an experiment, and forget about it by tomorrow.
He stepped closer, looking her up and down. “Just to be clear, you are asking me to kiss you?”
“Yes, I want you to…” Her sentence was cut off by his lips.
Logan’s kiss was nothing like Drake’s. It wasn’t a bad kiss, far from it. Even inexperienced as she was, she could tell that Logan was a master at what he was doing. Still, she didn’t feel the need to pull him closer, to get lost in him. Not even when his thumb pressed on her chin and opened her up for him, so he could give her his tongue. His kiss literally left her cold.
He pulled back and let her go. “Nothing? Not even a spark?”
She shook her head and felt the bizarre need to apologize. “Sorry.”
He clutched at his heart, feigning pain. “You’re a blow to my ego, O’Neill.”
“You will not burn with every man, promesi,” a voice sounded suddenly from behind them. “It is a matter of attraction, not mere lust.” Matteo stood in the doorway with a vase in his hands.
She wanted to explain it had just been a test, when she realized his words held no judgment. Considering his view on monogamy he probably wouldn’t even have been surprised had she started a harem. He’d probably encourage her and facilitate it as well. Besides, he was the last who could judge her. He actually chose a vase above his family. “How nice of you to finally join us. With your Ping vase, no less.” Yeah, Faey wasn’t the only one with claws.
“Ming vase,” he corrected her. “I was afraid that Emperor Zhu had let it be buried with his favorite concubine, but finally it is in my possession.”
“Your precious and oh-so-rare Ming vase,” she said sweetly.
“The vase is rare indeed. Unlike Benedict’s psychotic episodes.”
That didn’t sound like an apology at all. She still wanted to hit him over the head with the vase.
“How is Benedict?” Logan asked.
Matteo put the vase down. “The same as always after an episode. He’s depressed, broken, and is howling to the moon. And just as always he was traced to his room and put in a straitjacket with titanium locks. Namaka’s drowning him in scotch until he passes out.” He took out his phone and made a call. “Timur, please transfer a hundred coins to Benedict. No, it was Faey this time.” When they gave him a questioning look he said: “That is the fine you pay when you remind someone of his lost promesi.”
Faey got off far too easily. “Why isn’t she paying it herself?”
“My sister is as poor as a church mouse. It is part of her sentence.”
Logan grabbed his coat from the table. “Maybe it’s time to put her in a straitjacket. First she shoots
Drake with arrows and now she tortures Benedict. Next time she pulls something like this, I won’t play nice.”
“My sister does not handle feelings well,” Matteo said, while loosening his tie. “Seeing Benedict with a draconi must have triggered her.”
“That’s no excuse,” Logan said sharply.
“You care about Benedict,” Matteo said, giving him an odd look.
“He amuses me. That’s all.”
“Logan is right. That’s no excuse,” Amber added. Benedict wouldn’t even harm a fly and she was pissed that Faey had taken her anger, whatever its reason, out on him. “She hurt him. That’s not okay.”
Matteo nodded. “Thank you for taking care of him, promesi.”
“I’m not the one you should be thanking. That would be Logan.”
Judging by his sour expression, he didn’t like that prospect. “No Lancaster has ever owed a draconi.”
“This draconi can live just fine without a ‘thank you.’”
“That is unacceptable. I will pay you back with a favor. I insist.”
Logan’s lips curved into a smile. “Well, if you absolutely insist, I’m sure I can think of a favor for you to ease your conscience with.”
TWENTY
Amber tried her best to keep her yoga mat burn-free as she dropped down into the plank pose.
“So, this is what heaven looks like,” Pinky’s voice sounded from her walk-in closet. As expected, Pinky practically drooled over Amber’s new wardrobe.
Cally shuffled on the bed while browsing through a bride’s magazine. “I just don’t know which one to pick.”
Amber got up from the mat and put on the sleeveless red dress Pinky pushed into her hands. Being here in her room with her friends, it almost felt as if nothing had changed. Almost. “It’s still six months until the wedding. Why do I have to put this on?”
“That dress isn’t for Cally’s wedding. There’s plenty of time for us to look for a bridesmaid’s dress.”
“Then why?” she asked, while she put it on.
“For our night out at the Oasis, of course.”
“We’re going to the Oasis?” She knew Pinky loved a good party, but Cally was more of a homebody.
