Drowning in Fire (31 page)

Then he withdrew and pushed back into her with renewed power. Somehow larger, somehow deeper. The sounds that flowed up and out of their throats gave voice to indescribable feeling. Fire and water, combining inside her body.

They’d done this before, but the frenzied nature of their previous sexual encounters had masked the intensity of the two elements truly coming together. Now, with every centimeter of movement creating a mile of sensation, she was wholly aware of how warm her body was growing, how it was taking him in and wrapping around his element, combining with it. Intensifying it. He was water and ice and steam, and she could almost see that steam rising from the mountains of his shoulders, trickling through the lines made by his flexing muscles.

Another thrust, slow and hard. She discovered she did not want to demand speed this time. She did not want a fuck like they’d already had. No, she wanted more of this—this protective, intense, claiming penetration that locked their eyes as firmly as it joined their bodies.

His hips were heavenly, the way they scooped up and into her. He moved like water itself, smooth and flowing, its power deceptively beautiful and innocent looking. And then . . . suddenly . . . just for a moment . . . it seemed like he
was
water.

His whole body went translucent and shimmering at the edges, like he was losing control of who he was and who his body longed to be. Then he was back again, his olive skin as solid and lovely and taut as it had always been. The thought that she might have sparked that in him made her insane with lust.

She wanted to carve a stone prayer to the Queen asking if she could keep this man inside her forever and ever. That she could just keep this man, period.

Griffin’s chin jutted out, his face reddening, his teeth clenching. She could feel her inner fire starting to release, which meant that he could, too. Little pinpricks of orange and sparkling gold turned her vision into a dreamy wonderland, and she loved the way Griffin appeared to her through it. Her water elemental, overlaid by flames.

They’d been together enough for him to remember what got her off, and he did it without prompting. He shoved a hand under her ass and hoisted her up, tilting her into the delicious angle that had him stroking the most perfect place inside. He held tight to her, not letting her drop, driving into her with increased force. Increased speed.

She rode it out, arms thrust to the side, hips high in the air, legs holding on to the man driving into her. She felt utterly powerless, a slave to the fire and the man who held her body so perfectly . . . and it was the greatest feeling in the world.

When she came again, the fire rolled through her with such force she thought she might ignite. She’d take the bed and the B and B and all of the Big Island with her, and not even the great Fire Source could match the way he was making her feel.

Her throat went raw with the sounds she made. Fire licked behind her eyelids, because she couldn’t keep them open any longer. The conflagration at last began to peter out, but the experience wasn’t over, because Griffin roared as he came. She distinctly felt him tighten and swell, the stroke of him turning into a wonderful rhythm.

Then he was cool inside her, a splash of water. An ocean of peace and power.

When at last he withdrew and lowered her ass back to the bed, she was numb to everything but the gentle rub of his skin against hers. Maybe it was hours later—maybe it was minutes—but she was still lying there, held in his arms, one of his hands stroking down her hair, one leg thrown over her thighs, claiming her.

Despite her best intentions, despite her wishes and dreams and all that she knew she must do tomorrow, she let herself be taken.

SIXTEEN

Regrettably, the sun rose.

Griffin opened his eyes to find Keko already awake. She lay on her back naked, her long, strong legs crossed at the ankles, fingers interlaced over her belly. Her dark nipples rose and fell as she breathed, and he found that he could still taste them on his tongue.

Her head was turned on the pillow toward him, a thick chunk of black hair swooping over her ear and under her chin to make a dark line across her neck. Despite the new light coming through the curtains, her eyes were somber and shadowed, and they absorbed everything. No amount of water magic could save him from drowning in her fire, and it did not frighten him. He reached out and covered her hands with one of his, giving her a mild tug, a subtle hint that he wanted her arms around him. On him. It had the opposite effect.

Instead of Keko rolling into him, she yanked away from his touch. Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, she pressed her hands to the mattress. He stared at her back and triceps, at the shadowed lines between her muscles, at the sexy dimples above her ass.

Then he noticed the way she was almost gasping for breath. “Keko?”

So many things had happened between them last night, many of which he’d never be able to name, nor would he ever want to. They were singular occurrences, precious seconds and moments that could never be repeated. He’d distinctly felt, in a triumphant instant, when all the walls between them had been completely demolished, crackling into a zillion pieces. Even that final wall had come down—the one he’d been trying to remove slowly, brick by brick—and he’d nearly shouted with relief. With her body surrounding his, he sensed that she’d decided to turn back from her quest. He’d drifted into sleep holding on to that final thought, that he’d succeeded in keeping her alive. Keeping her with him.

But now, with daylight striking the tension in her back, he knew she’d reconsidered. In her own sleep she’d rebuilt that last wall and had awakened with renewed purpose. No matter what had happened between them, she was going to head for that island. She was still going to try for the Source.

And he couldn’t be the one to stop her.

Sitting up, he positioned himself behind her but didn’t touch her rigid body. He feared what he might say, so he didn’t speak.

When she finally opened her mouth, she spoke to the floor between her knees. “I don’t want to be the Queen anymore. And I don’t want to die.”

He couldn’t help it; his heart soared. The stars seemed to blink all around him, sparkling motes in the daylight, as though they’d answered his prayers to make her change her mind. They would figure out another way to both help her people and mollify the Children of Earth. They would—

“But if I don’t make it,” she added quietly, “I want you to know something first.”

He gripped handfuls of bedspread. The air stilled around them. He could barely breathe. “What?”

“That I l—” She looked down, chin to chest. When she raised her head, he couldn’t see her face. Only the generic painting of a breaching humpback whale on the opposite wall had that privilege.

She said, “I love you.”

The words hit him like an arrow, slicing through skin and bone to reach his heart. He released the bedspread and lifted a hand, his palm hovering just above her shoulder blade, her heat a beacon.

His hand descended, wanting to tell her with a touch that he felt the same. Perhaps more, if that was even possible. But before he could make contact she bolted from the bed and lunged for the bathroom. The door slammed behind her, the click of the lock following two seconds later. The shower came on, full blast.

The euphoria died with her exit.

She loved him. He’d come here to stop her and had lied his way into her presence.

She loved him. He was withholding from her a terrible piece of information about the severity of the Source and its capability for destruction.

She loved him. He absolutely understood what she had to do to save her people.

She loved him. He loved her.

Nothing good could come of it.

Fuck.

 • • • 

Keko never spent this long underwater. She’d never wanted to. But her fingers and toes had gone pale and wrinkled, and she still made no effort to remove her hands from where they were braced on the shower wall. Still didn’t want to duck out of the spray hitting her body and covering it in smooth sheets.

Her head dropped and the water shot over her skull, crawling over her shoulders and down her back. Between her legs. She imagined being back under the waterfall in the ravine. She imagined Griffin sliding all around her.

Mighty Queen
, she prayed silently,
why didn’t you tell me love was such a weakness? Why didn’t you tell me it could be such a strength?

Keko had nearly quit her quest last night. Griffin had been moving inside her and she’d looked up at him and actually thought to herself,
I can’t do it. I can’t leave him. I can’t chance ending this
.

Then she realized that even though the distinct emotion she felt emanating from him was very real, it was all still part of his argument to get her to abandon her quest. It didn’t matter that he knew her true reason for going after the Source, or even if he agreed with her; he hadn’t made any vow to stop trying to get her to turn around. Last night he said he would think about tomorrow, tomorrow. Well, tomorrow was here, and she thought that when she stepped out of this bathroom he might use her confession of love against her. He might touch her and beg her not to chance death. For him.

She should hate him for that, but she didn’t. She shouldn’t love him, but she did.

And that was why love was a strength and a weakness. Because at that very moment she felt incredibly emboldened, like she could conquer and accomplish anything, yet it was her love for him that was holding her back. Making her doubt her own purpose and the inherent risks. She could not let doubt take over.

This morning she would give Griffin a choice: help her reach the Source without complaint or asking her to turn back, or return to the mainland and let her do what she must. Regardless of his decision, she would hunt for her people’s cure. Either way, it would likely be the end of them.

First, however, she would bring him under the water with her. To feel close to him one last time in the presence of his element.

Leaving the spray on, she climbed out of the tub and stepped from the bathroom.

The outer door to their room was ajar and the long, kinked cord between the phone and the receiver stretched from the nightstand all the way to the front porch. Griffin was outside, shirtless, shorts back on, his ass against the railing, sunlight on his back. The receiver was to his ear. He was already pale, but when his unfocused eyes cleared and he finally noticed her standing in the middle of the room, soaking wet and naked, his olive skin lost even more color.

“I understand,” he mumbled into the phone. “I have to go.”

He came back inside, shutting out most of the light in the room when the door closed behind him. Going to the nightstand, he replaced the receiver on the cradle. Far too slowly.

Her heart felt like it had dropped into her feet, and she couldn’t say why. “Who was that?”

His fingers dragged off the phone and he finally looked at her, taking his sweet time to answer. “The premier’s been murdered.”

All air punched out of her chest, but did not result in flame. “
What
?”

“His wife found him dead. Couple of hours ago. Throat slit.”

Her hand flew to her neck in sympathetic horror. “My god. Who did it? Why?”

“Aaron said it was one of their own. Someone who didn’t want to pay his debts. That’s all I know.”

“Is Aaron the new premier?”

He rubbed at his chin, then scratched fingers up and down his cheek. The gesture unsettled her even more.

“Ah, no,” he said haltingly. “The other delegates haven’t voted a new one in yet. They’re . . . waiting.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Voting is usually immediate. I’ve been through two other premiers.” She bent to pick up her shirt and saw only the tatters of the tank top he’d ripped apart last night, so she threw on his black T-shirt instead, pulling the bottom tight around her waist and tying it in a knot. Snagging her jeans from the floor, shoving her legs into them and yanking up the zipper, a sudden realization hit her with the speed and pain of a bullet. “Wait a second.”

She looked up to find Griffin staring at her. Guilt made a single line of his eyebrows and she felt like the Queen had reached down from the sky and snatched the earth from under Keko’s feet. “I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

“You were in the shower.” It was nearly a whisper.

Though she couldn’t move, her voice jumped up a couple of notches. “But I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

“It did.” The words came out of his mouth sounding sticky-dry.

“How’d they know where to find you?”

He swallowed and it looked like it hurt. He even winced.

“How the
fuck
did they know where to find you?”

The curse emphasized the rage of blood in her ears and the crackle of the fire building underneath her skin. The last of the water from her shower evaporated, encasing her in wrath-induced vapor.

“Because I called the premier. Last night. When you went out.”

Her blood turned to thousands of tiny knives, scraping her raw from the inside. It was like the treeman had come for her again and she was running for her life, unable to catch the breath that would give her flame.

“Why?”

His blink was a beat too long. “To confront him about sending an earth elemental to attack you.”

The sweet ash and smoke from inside her body crept up onto her tongue, begging to be released. “And why would you ever think that the head of the Senatus would come after me? Why would he even know where I was?”

When he didn’t answer, she took a Chimeran breath and spit fire into her hand. It was an involuntary reaction, that thing she’d tried to explain to Griffin years ago, when Makaha had used fire to express frustration and Griffin had read it as an attack.

“Talk,” she said. “And don’t fucking lie to me. You’ve already been caught. They sent you, didn’t they? They sent you and you’ve been lying to my face this whole time.”

“
No
.” He came for her, arms raised as if to touch her face, his expression a fake seriousness that did nothing but mock her. “That’s not what—”