Born of Fire (4 page)

“Of course.” He slipped the vial into his shirt pocket. “Thank you, Bella.”

Her eyes gleamed with eagerness to collect on what she considered his debt of thanks. Instead, she ground her sharp little teeth and pirouetted into the air. “I will give your mother the message. She will be most pleased to find you safe.”

Fiach lifted a hand to wave her away. Once her aura dissipated, he escaped to the bathroom and peeled the clothes from his weary body. He felt profoundly inadequate because nothing in his life had prepared him for the tender emotions Cilia evoked in him.

Her disappointment in his behavior, and disbelief of his motivations, stung far worse than any lash he’d received by his father’s hand.

He twisted the hot water handle and waited until steam poured from the shower before he stepped in. The water should have scalded his skin, but it was a pleasant way to wash off the memories of a very unpleasant exchange. He shampooed his hair and washed his body with the bottles he found in the shower. Thankfully, because of her son, Stella had a few masculine options that saved him from smelling like peaches and cream.

He turned off the water and stepped out onto a faded bath rug that covered the tiled floor. He opted to use magic to dry and clothe himself. He had no desire to touch his skin right now. Despite the bath, he still felt unclean.

He trudged into the kitchen and started looking through the cabinets and refrigerator.

His options were limited. He looked around and noticed for the first time that the apartment was clean, but filled with second-hand furniture.

The mother was single with a growing son, he knew that much from Cilia. That must use the bulk of her resources. Fiach decided when he left he would gift the pair with a luck enchantment. It would draw wealth and prosperity to them as long as they did not abuse it. If Cilia’s devotion to the pair was anything to go by, they deserved a period of good fortune. Once his time was up, Arvel would safely return the humans from Faerie, and they could begin a more propitious life.

The fact Cilia put so much stock in the pair gave him pause, just as the casework he’d seen in her briefcase had. She was a puzzle…an otherworldly being who’d nested in the mortal world. Her actions tonight had put him in his place, without question. And in doing so, she’d become an enigma. Someone who resisted his power seemingly effortlessly, the very essence that made him Fae, Demon.

Did he want to pursue her, when other women fell at his feet? Oh yes, he thought, as the memory of her scent aroused him all over again. But he needed to think, needed to plan. Needed to eat; he laughed aloud as his stomach growled.

He had just located a frozen dinner when someone knocked on the door. Fiach looked at it with resignation. There was only one person it could be. He felt in his bones that Cilia waited on the other side. He’d wanted more time to consider how to go about winning her. He slid the box back into the freezer and went to open the door. At the last minute, he left the chain on, as a petty reminder of her earlier treatment of him.

She stood in the hall barefoot wearing cut-off jeans and a long baggy sweater that hung down to the frayed cuffs. She held a six-pack of soft drinks in one hand and two pizza boxes balanced in the other. He looked at her and tried to determine her motives, but couldn’t think of any. A puzzle indeed.

“Truce?” she offered.

The pizza did smell better than the block of ice in the freezer. He shut the door enough to slip the chain free and bade her entry. She scooted past him and dropped the boxes on the coffee table, then went into the kitchen and started rattling around. She reappeared a few minutes later with plates, cups of ice, and a roll of paper towels. She settled on the sofa and started dishing up the food and drinks. It was clear she spent a lot of time here and was as much at home on this side of the hall as her own.

She looked up and patted the cushion next to her while holding out a plate of pizza with the other. Fiach took the proffered plate, but settled into a chair instead. He took a bite. It was good pizza.

Cilia seemed to take that as an opening. “I’m really sorry for what I did. There’s no excuse for treating another person that way.”

“Even if that other person is me?”

“Even you. Especially you. I have no right to judge what you do or don’t do.” Cilia stood with her plate in one hand and an unopened can in the other. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your dinner.” When she reached the door she paused. “I mean it, Fiach. I am sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s time someone put me in my place. I just didn’t expect that person would do it quite so effectively.” He looked at her. “Thanks for dinner, Cilia.”

“You’re welcome. Sleep well.”

Then she was gone and he was alone. He needed some time to think. He bit into another slice of pizza. There had to be a way to earn her approval. And he found he wanted that approval almost more than he wanted his next breath. Yes, part of it was because she was more than human, and presented a challenge. But it was more, as if her treatment of him earlier today had opened a window in his mind, shown him a brief sliver of what he’d become, how he was living up to the worst pieces of each of his parents. For some reason, he didn’t want to be that person around Cilia.

A plan formed and he almost dropped his pizza in excitement. The address of where she worked flashed across his mind’s-eye. He threw his head back and laughed victoriously.

If he couldn’t make her come to him, then he would simply go to her.

Cilia could tell from the slant of sunlight across her floor that she had overslept.

After a restless night spent obsessing over what she’d done to Fiach, and how much more she wanted to do to him, Cilia was sleep starved and sexually frustrated. She rolled over in bed and glimpsed the manila folder on her nightstand. She stared at it for a long moment before an alarm began jangling in the back of her mind, the pieces slowly clicking into place.

She leapt out of bed and tugged on clothes, then grabbed the file and her car keys, pulling on her shoes as she burst from her apartment. She took the stairs at a jog and headed for her car. She threw her briefcase across the front seat, slipped behind the wheel, and sped towards the Dalme and Smith office.

She pulled into the parking lot just shy of her usual ten-minute commute, keeping the time-sensitive file cradled under her arm as she jogged briskly to the building. The paperwork had to be in Ms. Dalme’s hands before she headed to court this morning. Of all the days to sleep in, Cilia had to do it the one time she had a case with an expiration date.

Pushing through the front door of the office, she froze as a familiar scent filled her nose, leather and clove. She looked around. The office hummed with early morning activity, but nothing out of the ordinary. Guilt from yesterday still clung to her like a second skin. That was probably why she imagined his smell here.

She breezed into Ms. Dalme’s office without knocking and dropped the file on her desk. “Here’s the Childers file. Sorry I’m running a little behind, I had a rough night.”

Ms. Dalme’s face was impassive. Her eyes cut to the chair across from her desk.

Cilia flushed, not realizing she had interrupted a meeting.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms. Dalme. I’ll come back later.” Cilia turned to leave when a familiar voice rose from the corner.

“Don’t leave on my account.”

It wasn’t possible. There was no way Fiach could know to find her here. She turned slowly and there he was. His gray suit and white dress shirt were immaculate. His hair was slicked back, leaving no distraction to the beauty of the face it usually framed. Ms.

Dalme picked up on the tension between them immediately.

“Do you two know each other?”

Cilia couldn’t speak. She wasn’t certain what to say. Fiach answered for them.

“Yes and no. As we discussed, I’m housesitting for my sister while she’s away. I thought the best use of my time would be to offer my legal services to a worthy cause during my month-long stay.” He glanced at Cilia. “Ms. Andrews is my temporary next door neighbor.”

Ms. Dalme grinned openly now. “Oh, so we have our Cilia to thank for you lending your expertise.”

Cilia started to refute the claim, but Fiach spoke over her. “Yes. I was so impressed with what I learned of your firm through Ms. Andrews, I felt my time would best be spent here.” He flashed a dazzling smile. “That is, of course, if you are in need of my assistance.”

Ms. Dalme smirked. She hadn’t survived becoming an inner city lawyer by being naïve or gullible. She knew Fiach was playing at something, but she seemed equally certain that it wouldn’t come back to bite her. She extended her arm towards his. “Mr.

Fiach, it’s been a pleasure. Since you are on more friendly terms with Ms. Andrews, I’ll let her take you on a short tour of the office and she’ll set you up with a cubicle and some case files to get started on.”

Fiach stood and smoothed his suit before offering a hand to Ms. Dalme. “Thank you for the opportunity to serve.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She released his hand but shook a warning finger in his face. “Just keep your hands to yourself and your games restricted to your own time.”

Fiach laughed, a deep sound that warmed Cilia to her core. He seemed genuinely amused by the warning and Ms. Dalme’s curt assessment of him. He waited until he and Cilia rounded the side of the first cubicle before taking her hand in his. He hummed a little, as if he enjoyed the warmth, or maybe he was just happy to hold her hand.

She led him to a cubbyhole that held barely more than a battered desk topped with a mountain of files and a tattered chair that had seen better days at least a decade ago. She swept the space with her arm. “Here you go. You can start with the files in the short stack and work your way over. I’m four cubicles down and one across if you need anything.”

She leaned over and wrote her extension on a sticky note. “Or you can pick up the phone and dial me in if you have a question.”

“Thank you, Cilia. You won’t be disappointed in me.” His face was earnest.

She was startled. “Why does it matter what I think of you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “It’s never mattered before.”

Not wanting to get into his feelings while hers were so scattered, she started back to her cubicle where she didn’t have to think about things like hot sex with an even hotter man. The worst thing was that she understood perfectly what he meant. Something about Fiach called to her, made her ache and want. The image of him leaving Regina hovered in her mind. The rumpled clothes, tousled hair, and the knowledge another woman had touched him, had taken him inside of her. It just hurt too badly to dwell on.

Cilia took two steps away from him before a shooting pain in her skull dropped her to her knees. Ice-cold shards stabbed behind her eyes until she was blinded from it as a fragmented memory assaulted her. Anguish swelled in her heart and whispered through her mind. She had the fleeting impression of Fiach clasping her hand in his as silver chains were draped across them. It was a ceremony of some kind. Cilia lowered her head to the floor and breathed in the dirt and grime ground into the threadbare carpet. Then warm arms were circling her, lifting her away from the stale odor, and carrying her outside into the fresh air.

Fiach settled on the sidewalk with Cilia draped across his lap. They were in full sun and the rays of energy danced along her skin and helped her lock away the agony triggered by her latest remembrance. The pain receded and her head cleared. He stroked his long fingers down her back and held her close.

“Are you all right?” he asked finally.

Cilia pushed away and sat upright. For once her Phoenix was silent. “I think so. I don’t know exactly what happened back there.”

“The sun makes it better though?”

She answered thoughtlessly. “Yes, the sun helps.” The color bled from her face as she realized what she had admitted. Fiach seemed lost to his own sunbathing, his face upturned and eyes closed as he basked in the bright light. So she kept the explanations and remarks to herself. If he didn’t see the significance of her words, she would be a fool to highlight them for him.

He seemed to notice the polite amount of time for holding her had passed, because he stood and set her carefully on her feet then hooked an arm around her shoulders and walked her back inside to her cubicle. He sat her down then returned with a thin paper cup full of water and ice chips. Cilia took the cup gratefully and sipped as he watched her. Being the sole focus of his attention was unnerving. She wondered if sex with him would be the same way. She snuck another look in his dark eyes and knew it would be.

He leaned against the flimsy wall of her cubicle. It groaned against his weight and inched backwards. The lady next door popped out of her chair and looked around to see what had happened. He gave her a little wave. “Sorry. I’m still getting the hang of these things.” She smiled shyly and ducked back into her cubbyhole.

Fiach dropped to his knees in front of Cilia’s chair. She had a second to wish he would spread her thighs and bury his face there, satisfying the dull throb in her pussy that silently demanded his attention, but the solemn look in his eyes warned her he had a different agenda in mind.

“Cilia?” His voice was hesitant.

“Yes?”

“Do you think…? I shouldn’t presume to ask … but…”

Cilia’s stomach quivered. She could see this going a dozen different ways and all of them good. “What is it, Fiach?”

“Could I give you a lift home after work?” The question was phrased with all the shyness of a boy asking a girl on their first date.

Cilia giggled, she couldn’t help herself. This was nothing she had envisioned him asking for. Fiach lowered his eyes to the floor and pushed up to his feet. His hands shoveled into his pockets as he turned to leave. His petulant expression melted to hurt.

She could have said no to the egotistical man who had been driving her to distraction the last few days, but she couldn’t say no to this vulnerable side of him. “I didn’t say no.”