Fire in the Blood (6 page)

“We don’t have all night, you know. I haven’t slept in…” I trailed off, frowning. I honestly couldn’t remember. The days were beginning to blur together, and I couldn’t afford to be that sloppy. “Well, it’s been awhile. Probably as long as it’s been since I showered. Please tell me there are towels in the bathroom.”

I wandered off to find out for myself before he could answer, mostly to give myself some space. There was a strange fluttery feeling in my stomach that I dimly recognized as nervousness. I never get nervous, especially about sex, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Safest assumption was that my exhausted brain wasn’t able to process the sudden appearance of Faust’s romantic side.

I flipped the lights on and smirked at the sight of an enormous whirlpool tub. Normally I’m the quick-shower type, but that had fun potential. I could get clean while being dirty at the same time…

Perching on the edge of the tub, I twisted the hot water on full blast—finally something worked in this place. I was beginning to wonder if he owned a model home. Faust sidled closer, appearing curious, and I grabbed hold of the lapels of his jacket and hauled him against me.

“We need to add some casual wear to your wardrobe,” I informed him. I tugged the jacket off and let it drop to the floor behind him, and then loosened his tie and tossed it in the vague direction of the door to the bedroom. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a man in a suit, but I’m willing to bet your ass would look great in a good pair of jeans.”

“I’ll agree to wear jeans tomorrow if you wear a skirt,” he suggested. “You have lovely legs.” He unhooked my bra and threw it on top of his tie.

“No, I have skinny chicken legs.”

“Hmm. You are underfed. We must do something about that.”

I laughed and deftly unbuttoned his shirt. “Says the man with an empty kitchen. Don’t faeries eat?”

“We do, quite a bit. But there’s no reason to go to the market when one can do this.” A glass of champagne appeared in his hand, and he offered it to me.

“Point taken.” Maybe there was something to the idea of having a faerie husband. I took a long drink, and though I couldn’t taste whether it was sweet or dry, it was cold and bubbly, which was fine by me. I’d never have to go grocery shopping again…until he traded me in for a younger model. I set the glass aside.

“Babe…” I started, and he interrupted me.

“Liam.”

“What?”

“My name is Liam.”

An electric jolt of magic surged through me as my inner summoner squeed at learning a faerie’s True Name. It’s like the summoner Holy Grail. The moment passed and my stomach twisted and knotted into an anxious pretzel.

“No…” I whispered, shaking my head. “I can’t know this. Are you
crazy
?”

“I love you. I trust you,” he replied. Faust—or Liam, great, another thing to mess with my head—caught my hands in his and held them. He made it sound so simple, but this was the complete opposite of simple. This was life changing.

“And what, you tell all your women your True Name so I now get to be in the club?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never told anyone before.”

Lord and Lady. Steam wafted from the water behind me, yet I was suddenly cold enough for goose bumps to raise the ink of the tattoos that sleeved out my arms. “So why me? Why now?”

“Because you need to know I’m sincere.”

“Babe—” I started, and his brow rose. I ground to a halt. Despite my giddiness at knowing it, I couldn’t use his True Name. It wasn’t right. “I don’t doubt that, but you’re giving me a loaded gun and expecting me not to pull the trigger. This is the ultimate temptation for a summoner.”

“And I trust you,” he repeated. He kissed me, and I wanted to strangle him.

“This is blackmail.” I poked an accusing finger into his chest. “Emotional blackmail. You think I’ll have to stay with you if I know this.”

He quirked a brow. “Do you want to leave?”

With an annoyed growl I nudged him back and then turned off the water. I stripped off the rest of my clothes, what little was left. “Shut up and get in,” I ordered.

The water was hot enough to boil the average person, but it’s difficult to burn someone with as much fire magic as I have. I breathed a happy sigh, and then pounced on Faust after he joined me. I pinned him against the side of the tub and straddled him.

“Okay, listen up. You bullied me into admitting that I love you, and yes, I do. You won that one, so stop pushing. We’re going to work this out on my terms, not yours, because I’m the one who is going to get hurt here. I’ve got years, not millennia. Hell, I might not even have days left now—”

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” His eyes flashed, which I’d be impressed by except for the fact that mine do that too all the time.

“You want
you
to happen to me,” I countered. “You’ve been in love before, right?”

“Yes,” he answered cautiously.

“I haven’t. I don’t let people get that close. Harvey’s the closest thing I have to a friend. All I have is my work, and that’s the way it’s been since I was old enough to know that for the rest of us lowly mortals, food, clothing and shelter don’t appear from thin air. So if you want to start talking hearts and flowers and happily-ever-afters, then we do it at my pace, and on my terms. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good.” I kissed him long and hard until I was sure I’d gotten my point across. “Okay then. Now you can make love to me.”

Faust grinned as his arms slid around me, holding me close, and then he kissed me. It was a marathon of a kiss, the kind that leaves you gasping and tingly down to your toes when it’s finished. As I caught my breath, his mouth moved to my neck, nipping my earlobe and then nibbling at my throat. I moaned, closing my eyes and enjoying the heat of the water and the feel of his body against mine. He was lean, almost skinny like me, and though he was pale like a vamp, his skin was always slightly hot, also like me. I’d annoyed a few healers who insisted I had a fever, when I was just normally that way.

My eyes blinked open again when his hands moved to cup my breasts. Faust teased my nipples, rolling the peaks between his fingers. A wave of pleasure spiraled through me as I moaned again, and he smiled.

“You make such lovely noises,” he commented.

I smirked. “Glad you approve.”

He gently nudged me back, and then slipped one hand between my thighs to stroke my sex. I gasped, but then I tried, and failed, to frown sternly at him. “No teasing. We don’t have all night.”

“You did say I could make love to you,” he replied. He dipped two fingers inside me, and I shivered. “I prefer to be thorough.”

His fingers slipped in and out, as though accentuating his point. I opened my mouth to argue, but only managed a gasp as another finger joined the first two, and he pumped them in and out. Fast, hard and thorough, each movement brushing my G-spot—I hadn’t been a believer in the existence of the G-spot until I met Faust, and he’d converted me. There was something magic about his nimble, dexterous fingers; a millennia or two of practice makes perfect.

“Come for me,” he ordered in a low, silken growl. I had just enough thought-processing power left to manage an argument.

“Hey, I said we’re doing things at my pace,” I pointed out. My voice was more breathy than authoritative, but I got my point across.

“Ah, yes. Of course. Will you please come for me, darling?”

For a moment I marveled at the idea of anyone calling me
darling
, but then I clung to him as I was overwhelmed with a sharp, sudden climax, and I cried out.

“May I mention that the volume is also quite nice?” Faust commented.

I didn’t have the chance to think up a clever retort, because I was too busy moaning as he relentlessly continued to pleasure me. Judging by the volume of my enthusiasm, I’d be apologizing in the morning for traumatizing Harvey. When Faust finally gave me a moment’s peace, I tried to catch my breath, but he gripped my hips, maneuvered me into place and slid his cock inside my sex. I would’ve thought the water and the angle would interfere, but no, he felt amazing as always, and I threw my head back and moaned my approval.

He murmured to me, though I didn’t recognize the language. It was lilting and lovely, but not squeaky enough to be faerie, and it didn’t sound like any of the languages I spoke. Faust had never been one for endearments before, so I assumed that because I wasn’t the
darling
type, he was attempting a different route. His grip tightened until I was sure he’d leave finger-shaped bruises—not that anyone would see them under all my ink—and I gripped the edge of the tub as I rocked my hips to meet his thrusts.

Pleasure rocketed through me and I screamed, and he echoed the sound as he poured himself into me. I clung to him, reveling in every sweet pulse of his cock inside me, and kissed him long and hard.

“Shall we move to the bedroom next?” he suggested when he’d recovered.

“Yes. I’m exhausted.”

“I didn’t say we were finished,” he replied. I blinked at him, surprised, and he grinned. “Like I said, I prefer to be thorough.”

He drew the word out, his tone promising all sorts of wicked activities, and I suspected I wasn’t going to get to sleep for a long time.

Chapter Four

I don’t do a lot of business with the Order of St. Jerome. My repertoire of spells is wide enough that I don’t need things researched often, but I do, on occasion, need more information on targets or my competition. I prefer to work with Dr. Dannaher, the youngest of the three chroniclers in the area, because he doesn’t give me the goody two-shoes routine like Michael Black or charge outrageous amounts like Simon St. Jerome. But for this information I needed the best, which meant a trip to see Simon. That was fine by me, because I had a few choice words saved up for him for dragging me into Harrison’s crosshairs.

Faust—who I’d decided would stay Faust unless an emergency arose where I needed to use his True Name—bickered with Harvey as I drove to Simon’s place in the suburbs. Harvey was displeased at the idea that he’d be a fifth wheel instead of the main male in my life, and I didn’t blame him for that. I’d known Harvey much longer than I’d known Faust. He was like family, though that was a dangerous thing for me to think. Even a benign demon like a pooka was still a demon.

I turned down the road leading to Simon’s lair, and Faust cursed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Wards,” he snapped, and then he and Harvey blinked out of the car. Whoops. I’d been expecting to lose Harvey when I crossed the boundaries of the magical barriers protecting Simon’s place, but I didn’t know Simon kept faerie wards up. Guess he really hated company. Well, Faust and Harvey could continue their bickering outside the affected area until I talked Simon into letting Faust in. After all, as I’d learned at breakfast that morning, it was in Simon’s best interest to hear what he had to say.

Trees lined either side of the crumbling road until I pulled into a clearing. I slowed to a stop and blinked up at the house. Fresh paint, what the fuck? I knew he hadn’t moved, because every magician worth their salt in the metropolitan area would’ve heard about it. Except for librarians, the magical masses don’t know about chroniclers or the Order, but if you’re important or powerful enough, like me, then you’re in the know about all sorts of interesting trivia.

Two cars were parked outside, a sedan and a brand-new SUV. I parked next to them and climbed out of my car. I’d indulged Faust and worn the skirt that he conjured for me—a conservative black pencil skirt with a matching jacket, complete with thigh-high stockings with a sexy seam up the backs and red three-inch heels. It wasn’t my normal look, but I could still kill a roomful of people in my high heels without breaking a sweat. At least I’d look good doing it in this ensemble. My heels clicked against new wooden boards as I walked up the steps and onto the porch, and I stopped and rang the doorbell. Another new development, because the door didn’t even have a lock before.

The door opened and revealed a dead man, but not the one I was expecting to see. Instead I found Maxwell MacInnes, a librarian who used to own a neutral ground café that I’d been to a few times.

“Huh. I heard you died,” I said.

“Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated,” he replied. “You’re here to see Mr. St. Jerome?”

“Yes. What’s with the home makeover?”

He ushered me inside. “You like it?”

I glanced around the parlor. The place had far more personality than Faust’s condo. Warm, inviting, with a touch of class…maybe Faust should hire MacInnes to decorate. “It’s nice. Is he up?” I asked. Visiting any bloodsucker during the day was iffy, because they were mostly nocturnal.

“Yes, but…” he trailed off, wincing.

“But?” I prompted.

“He’s speaking with the Oberon and Titania.”

I barked a bitter laugh. “Oh, goody. The gang’s all here.”

I knew the rest of the way, so I strode past MacInnes. The stairs to the basement were still a bit rickety, but I didn’t turn an ankle in my killer shoes on the way down. New appliances huddled in the corner of the room, another nice update, and the door to the library was open. It jutted out of the cinderblock wall looking less-than-secret, and my brow rose at the sound of raised voices within. Guess no one was having a good week.