Born of Fire (7 page)

It was over within minutes. He stayed buried inside her as his wings began to displace air and force them higher. Small ripples danced along his shaft as she snuggled closer and settled her legs around him. She had not burst into flames this time. Perhaps the first time was part of her sexual awakening or even a loss of control because of her heightened arousal. Either way, he vowed it would not be the last time they burned the house down with their love play.

He flew toward a small cabin he sometimes used when the need to fly became too strong to ignore. It was reckless and dangerous to risk soaring inside the city as he’d done tonight. His powers could shield him from human eyes, but not from other demons and he didn’t want anyone learning of his prize.

“Hold on. We’ll be a little off balance. I don’t normally have to worry about anyone but me in the comedown.”

The great span of his wings spread wide and held as they drifted down. His feet touched the ground and he shivered. There was snow here, thick and deep. He was amused to find himself still lodged in her pussy and growing hard again just realizing it.

With regret, he pulled free of Cilia’s snug sheath and lowered her to the ground beside him. The snow melted under her too-warm feet, forming a tepid puddle around her toes.

He held her hand in his and pulled her quickly into the cabin. His breath hung in clouds before him and even Cilia, with her innate heat, trembled a little. He yanked an afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her naked shoulders. Then he went to the wood shed to gather logs. He jogged back inside and tossed the armload of wood into the hearth and reached for a book of matches.

Cilia cleared her throat to capture his attention, then called a flame into her hand. She blew a gentle kiss of air and he watched as the ball spun down and settled amongst the logs before erupting in a blaze much hotter than the simple wood kindling could have provided. Fiach turned to her in time to see her dust the residue from her palm.

“Wait here,” he instructed.

*

Cilia watched Fiach turn and leave her standing by the fire as he ducked into a bedroom. While he busied himself, she sat on the couch her blanket had been liberated from and soaked up the heat in the room.

She looked down at her body. The blood spilled from her virgin barrier streaked her inner thigh and their mingled fluids coated her legs. She was in no position to judge, but she felt they’d shared great sex and he had seemed pleased.

His withdrawal gave her time to consider their new circumstances. She didn’t know him, not really. She had no idea what he would find funny or offensive, if he would laugh or become ill humored with her.

Now she was homeless. She had the funds to start over, but she dreaded the work that would entail. Buying new furnishings when her olds ones had been comfortable.

Finding a new building to live in since her previous address was now a smoking shell of brick and mortar thanks to her sexual awakening. She prayed that no one had been injured.

She would need to send Stella and Max some start-over money. The rest of the families that had shared the brownstone had been fairly well off and undoubtedly insured, but as a single mother, Stella’s pennies were stretched to the limit.

Lost in thought, she missed when Fiach joined her in the room. Still nude, he stopped before her, grasped her hands in his and lifted her to her feet. The blanket slipped from her shoulders and they were left skin to skin. A shudder ran through her, and he leaned in to press a kiss to her neck. Liquid pooled between her thighs, preparing her for what was to come. Instead of what she had expected, he led her to the bedroom, past the bed, and into the small bathroom. The tub was full of steamy water and frothing with bubbles.

“I thought you might be sore … or something.” Fiach cupped the back of his neck with a hand, as if unsure of what else to say.

“Thank you.” She rose up on tiptoe and dropped a kiss just under his jaw. “That was very kind of you. I am a little sore.” Then she gestured at the dried proof of their joining.

“And dirty.”

Fiach glanced down to where she pointed. He tilted his head and stared, then dropped to his knees. He leaned his face into the skin of her stomach before moving lower to where her virgin’s blood marked her passage to womanhood.

He slid his hands between her legs silently asking her to open wider for him. She obliged and gasped as his tongue darted out and traced the line of blood and semen that ran from her knee up to her pussy. He licked her clean and pushed himself back onto his feet. His hand covered his mouth. His eyes were large and dark. “It tingles,” he murmured. Then he seemed to realize he’d spoken aloud. “Sorry. I’ll leave you to your bath. Just call out if you need anything.”

Cilia nodded mutely and slipped into the bubbly water. Fiach watched as her breasts floated and bobbed, then licked his lips and closed the door with a solid thud.

Fiach slumped against the bathroom door. Inside, he heard water splashing as Cilia bathed. He pushed off the frame and looked around the bedroom. In a dresser drawer he found a small stash of women’s underwear. The bottoms look about right, but the bras were too large for Cilia’s smaller, pert breasts. He also found a pair of black Capri length tights. He unfolded the pocket closet doors and found oversized plaid work shirts hung on bare metal hangers. They were worn soft and faded from too many launderings. He fingered one with red checking and pulled it free of its hanger.

He could manifest his own clothing, so he didn’t need to worry with finding something to fit him. He was dirty in the way only great sex can make you. Even though he could clean himself with a thought, he had been among humans long enough to appreciate what scalding hot water could do for your spirits, much as he’d thought only a few days ago. He had to retract his wings to fit into the shower. When he wore his glamour, they were invisible as well as intangible. It was the only way he could enter most structures or interact with humans normally. Unless glamoured, his massive wingspan would have made life among mortals impossible.

While Fiach waited for his turn in the bathroom, a flicker of movement caught his eye, and he went to the window. Sunken eyes peered in at him from a gaunt, emaciated face. Silver hair hung down in greasy threads. A long hooked nose curved over thin chapped lips. A black serpent’s tongue darted out to moisten them as Arvel raised a hand and wiggled the misshapen digits in a silent hello. Fiach didn’t bother to wonder how Arvel had found him…his bargain with the demon to displace Stella and Max gave it the power to locate him effortlessly, at least for the next three weeks or so.

Fiach cursed and pointed toward the door. He wasn’t about to invite Arvel inside.

Demons had to be asked inside another’s home. Fiach wasn’t about to give that protection away, even if this wasn’t technically his “home.” Instead he padded through the house, pausing to listen for Cilia. She was still in the tub, humming an unfamiliar tune. Satisfied she would be occupied a while longer, he strode to the front door and stepped out into the cold.

Arvel was perched on the edge of a wooden rocker, looking at him with something akin to hunger.

“Why have you come?” Fiach asked.

Arvel’s voice pierced his eardrums. “You have found favor with another.” The apparently female demon pouted. “You will service Arvel no longer.”

Fiach crossed his arms over his chest. He had to be careful how he played this. One misstep could place Cilia in immense danger. “Now, Arvel, I have taken lovers before. I have always come back to you.” Of course it was only for the exchange of favors impossible for anyone but her to grant, but he didn’t dare admit that.

“She is more. Your aura glows with golden red flame.” Arvel grinned and bared needle-sharp teeth embedded in blackened gums. “You think I do not know. Arvel knows what this means.”

Fear tightened Fiach’s stomach. He had not sensed the change in his aura and had no idea what it meant, but he aimed to find out. If Arvel could sense it, then other demons and more powerful nightwalkers could too. He couldn’t risk leading danger to Cilia. He smiled his most sincere smile. “I don’t have the knowledge that you do.” He stared into the black bottomless eyes. “I don’t understand what it means.”

Arvel brightened immediately. Her smile tightened and her eyes glittered feverishly.

“Arvel knows. I would tell you … for a price.”

The price went unspoken. It was always the same. Arvel was androgyne, both male and female. While some demons were monoecious and could self-fertilize, Arvel was hermaphroditic. She required sperm or egg donors, so her kind often bartered with fellow demons for sex. She was also amorphous. With Fiach, she would assume her most female form and he would shove down the revolt and disgust she inspired to fuck her into unconsciousness then make his escape. He shivered inwardly, thinking it had only been days since their last encounter. Usually he managed decades, sometimes longer, before he had to barter with Arvel.

“My word is given. Tell me what this change means.”

Arvel clapped her hands excitedly, and then calmed to relay the information. “Your aura has changed because you are a half-breed no longer. You stand on the edge of a conversion. That creature will make you as she is; she has no choice.” Her voice lowered to a menacing bass. “You have mated a Phoenix.”

“Mated?” he knew the word was breathless, but there was no way to call it back.

Arvel’s nails dug into the arms of the rocker, making the old wood creak and splinter. “This excites you!” her tinny voice shrilled.

Without warning Arvel launched herself at him, clawing at his clothing and reaching for his zipper while rubbing her palm against his groin. Fiach stiffened, but had given his word, and had no recourse now but to follow through with his promise.

Arvel had just freed the limp length of him when Cilia came to the door wrapped in a towel. She looked at Fiach and her sadness was a tangible thing. Then she looked at the demon desperately trying to arouse his flesh.

Arvel met her eyes levelly. “He bargained. He cannot take it back.”

“I know,” Cilia said simply and leaned against the doorframe.

“Cilia, you have to know I don’t want this. I had to bargain for your protection.” He gestured at his open fly. “This is all I have to offer.”

“I know,” she repeated calmly.

Arvel watched Cilia warily, but took his flaccid cock into her mouth and tried to stimulate him orally. He winced, then looked away and almost missed what happened next. When Arvel had taken him as far as she could, her head erupted in a bright burst of flames. Fiach gripped the thin bony shoulders and pushed the demon away. He looked down, but he was unmarred by the fire.

Cilia dusted her palms on her towel, leaving black powder handprints. He considered her timing and realized he’d been punished for what he was about to do. If she had any less control of her fires, he would have been seared badly, and in a most delicate place.

Arvel writhed on the deck, slapping her face and trying to put out the blaze. Fiach watched until the fire-eaten skin was reduced to a charred skull. It wasn’t enough to kill Arvel, but it would be more than enough to piss her off.

Without any muscles left in her jaw, Arvel was reduced to bass growls and rasping threats. The one he heard clearest involved parts of his anatomy and things that would happen to him once Harailt found out about his mating.

Fiach watched as the demon crawled along the porch, then vanished into the night.

He was uncertain if Arvel had truly gone, or if she had merely veiled herself. He tore his eyes away from the night to face Cilia.

She was looking down at her toes and wiggling them. It had the same effect as if someone were tapping fingers on a desktop. Finally he had to speak. “Cilia…”

Cilia looked up, her expression guarded. “I heard it all. I know why you offered as you did.” Her brow wrinkled. “What the demon said about you becoming like me is true.” She studied her toes a little more. “If you stay with me, you will change. You would never be able to take another lover. Once the conversion is complete, we will hold a piece of each other.” She looked up then. “Phoenixes mate for life.”

Fiach stood in stunned silence, uncertain how to react.

*

Cilia took Fiach’s reticence as a bad omen. She reentered the cottage and headed to the bedroom, still sickened at the scene she had walked into. Fiach had bargained himself away for information he thought would help him protect her. He would have let that thing have him. Didn’t that show a certain amount of fondness on his part? Would he have enjoyed the arrangement? Thinking back on his sickened expression, she knew that couldn’t be it.

He was probably just overcome by the announcement he had mated a Phoenix by accident. She sniffled and felt a tear slip down her cheek and evaporate against her too-warm skin.

Strong arms circled around her. Fiach pulled her back into his chest and spoke against her neck. “Why so sad, Firebird?”

Her heart constricted at the endearment. “I’m not sad. I’m just tired,” she lied.

“You cry when you’re tired?” he asked.

She laughed a little. “Only when I’m very tired.”

His fingers slipped free the knot of her towel and let it fall to the floor between them.

One large hand spanned her stomach as the other nestled into the juncture of her thighs, parting her folds and forcing her to lean on his strength to stay upright. He slipped a finger inside as he stroked her swollen clit with his thumb. Hot liquid rushed from her body, coating his fingers as he pleasured her.

He nipped her shoulder. “I think you’re scared.”

Cilia bit back a moan. She was too molten for words.

He nipped higher, on her throat. “I think you don’t realize how much I want you.”

This time she did moan, his words soothing the ache in her heart. His tongue licked the path of the vein he had taken earlier. He increased the pressure of his hands, the slow circles coming faster and faster.

She cried out his name as her body shivered and clenched around his finger. He gave her no time to react. He pushed her down to the bed, sprawled before him on hands and knees. The instant the bed shifted to indicate he had joined her, his cock slid home and she gasped and rested her forehead on the tops of her arms.