Fire and Flame (3 page)

Then she’d move to New York.

Brent’s dark eyebrows lifted when he pushed through her door. The white paper sack in his left hand looked suspiciously like the bags she got from her favorite deli. But Brent wouldn’t have gone there.

He pulled out a pair of familiar foil wrapped sandwiches, two packets of carrots, and a monstrous freshly baked cookie. He
had
gone to her favorite deli!

Brent held out the pair, one in each of his outstretched palms. “Chicken salad wrap with walnuts, cranberries, grapes, and apples or roast beef on cheese bread with a creamy horseradish sauce?”

Sara’s mouth went slack in surprise. Somehow, Brent had managed to track down the best restaurant in town
and
pick her two favorite sandwiches. Now she had to choose between them.

Uncomfortable with his skill, she made a dismissive gesture then shoved her head back into her closet. “Whatever you don’t want.”

He snuffled behind her, presumably in irritation, but didn’t speak.

Sara concentrated on finding a few suitable black dresses to put in her overnight bag.

Sara carefully packed her shoes while Brent consumed his sandwich at a startling speed. Once he’d finished his meal, he snatched up her keys from her desk then began taking her boxes and stacks of clothing out to the car. Sara relaxed each time he left her room. She managed to eat the chicken salad wrap he’d left her in between his trips, not because she was hungry but because she didn’t want to insult him by refusing his food.

Too soon, Sara’s belongings were packed into her Lexus and she was turning in her keys to the housemother. Brent allowed her several minutes to hug her sorority sisters goodbye. His dark figure hovered while she received their sympathetic words for the passing of her father.

No one mentioned how strange it was for her to be dry-eyed in the face of her father’s death. Or how she didn’t appear upset to leave behind everything she’d come to love in the past five years. Sara felt nothing but resentment and anger for the man who silently watched her say goodbye to her life. Those emotions filled her to the brim, making it easy not to cry.

Though she’d had only three weeks left with these people before she’d have left anyway, there were many things she would be unable to do, people she wouldn’t get the chance to properly say farewell to thanks to Brent’s hurrying.

However, there was one person even Brent couldn’t stop her from seeing.

She faced her father’s guard dog on the back steps. He’d taken up the spot behind her as if he expected her to run back into her now empty room. Her chin lifted in preparation for the coming fight. “I have one more person to see before I leave.”

“Who?”

Sara shook her head slowly, signifying she wasn’t going to explain herself. “I need a half hour.”

“No.” His answer was quickly snapped even as his expression darkened and wrinkled.

Leveling a cool eye on him, she declared, “You owe me at least this much.”

His voice went low and gruff. “It’s already nearly eight. It will be two by the time we get home if we leave now—”

“Brent.” Impatience laced her firm voice. “I need a half hour.” Using only the pleading droop of her features, she silently willed him to agree. She didn’t want to get nasty to get her way, not with a six-hour drive ahead of them.

A muscle in his cheek twitched as it always did when he was angry. He drew in a noisy breath through his nose. Then Brent flapped a dismissive palm toward campus.

Sara wasted no time escaping him.

Chapter Three

The brief text message Sara sent John had him appearing at his room within seconds of her arrival. He gave her one of his megawatt smiles as he leaned in for a kiss. The kiss she gave him was admittedly cool, little more than a peck on the lips. Her handsome guy drew back, focusing his crystal blue gaze on her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with a worried expression creasing his clean-shaven cheeks.

Sara had liked the look of him from the first moment she’d spotted him in sophomore year. Johnathon was the quintessential All-American boy. He’d been quarterback of his small town football team, head of the honor society, and president of his class. Sara had been all of these except she’d been a cheerleader instead of a football player. They would have been perfect for each other.

If she’d been a vanilla human.

“Sar.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek in the soothing gesture he did so well.

Sara nodded her head at the door. He murmured an apology even as he pushed his key into the lock. His expression was expectant but worried once they were safely within the room.

With only a half hour to make her goodbyes, she had better get right to it. “I have to leave early.”

“Okay. I can occupy myself tonight.” John gave her his softest of smiles.

Sara hated that she had to do this. It didn’t help that she’d known it was coming for months. John was a great man. He was one of those individuals who would only get better with age. Why couldn’t she have been born normal?

“I don’t mean tonight, John. I mean I have to leave school early. It’s an emergency.”

“Okay.” John nodded as he fetched a pair of jeans. “I’ll get changed and we can leave.”

“John.” Her pitch lifted with guilt. “I’m sorry but you can’t come.”

He crossed the room so he could take hold of her fingers. John lowered his head until he captured her gaze. “Is this about your father? You still think he won’t approve of me?” He drew her into his arms for a firm hug before she could respond. “I’ll make him like me, Sar. You’ll see. I promise.”

The warm breath puffing her hair and the soothing feel of him holding her steady weren’t helping matters. The situation was intensely unfair. Even if her father
hadn’t
died, she wouldn’t have been able to be with John. At least not until she’d done her duty.

The notion of a witch’s duty had been drummed into her head from the start. Sara would have preferred it if her duty entailed some sort of community service, perhaps for a few years, before embarking on her life. But that wasn’t the sort of duty she had to do at all.

No, as a pureblooded witch, Sara was expected to conceive a pureblooded child to maintain her race’s strength. She’d managed to postpone the obligation for college and had hoped it could be delayed longer still while she worked on beginning her career. With her daddy dead, she’d be at the whim of her high and local priests.

She’d be at
Brent’s
whim.

Sara shoved the image of Brent’s angrily twitching cheek out of her mind’s eye. There were pressing matters to attend to. She stared at the man in front of her and couldn’t help but compare the two now that she’d been in their company recently. Though they were only a year apart, John seemed boyish compared to the formidable witch. No doubt while accompanying Fintan, Brent had seen things John couldn’t begin to comprehend. It would have aged him.

Struggling once more to focus on the present, Sara asked herself the all-important question: would John still want her if she had another man’s child?

She wished she could explain everything to him. He deserved to know he was perfect…for a human. But she didn’t have the luxury. Her society was secret. It was meant to stay that way.

The concern crinkling his features hinted it would be a mistake to tell him her father had died. He’d want to console her. He’d insist upon going with her. John would assume anything she said now was in an agitated mournful state. He’d discount it all.

He couldn’t be allowed to follow her.

So when John tilted her face to his then pressed his lips over hers, she took advantage of the moment. Getting lost in another creature, in a warm inviting body, for a few minutes might chase away the pain. And when they were finished, John would be sound asleep.

She could make her get away then. The last memory Johnathon Thomas would have of her would be a sweet one. That was the best she could give him.

****

Sara’s shower had been the fastest in history. She’d only had a few minutes left of her half hour and hadn’t wanted to risk John waking from his sated stupor. With damp hair and sticking clothes, Sara arrived at her Lexus at half past eight.

Brent scrutinized her from head to toe. The muscle in his cheek began to twitch wildly. He said nothing when he wrenched open the driver’s door to a red Mustang parked beside her Lexus.

He tossed himself inside, calling out only, “Follow me,” before firing up the engine.

She settled into the driver’s seat of her crossover with cautious optimism. Six hours back to Indiana would give her time to think about what she was going to do now. The ride would be somewhat relaxing without Brent in the car.

Sara’s thought lasted only until Brent pulled into the parking lot of a car rental company. She tapped an irritated staccato out on the steering wheel while she waited for him, hoping he was merely asking for an upgrade or an optional GPS. He emerged without keys and slid into the passenger seat beside her.

The trip home was going to be horrible.

****

Brent reached for the levers to tilt the leather seat, thumping it as far as it would go horizontally. He squeezed his eyelids shut even as his sinuses pounded from the force of it. If he had to look at Sara one second longer with her damp hair and fresh clothes, he’d say something he’d regret.

How could she have left him waiting while she had
sex
with some male? Her father not yet laid to rest, and she was already dishonoring his memory with a
human
! By the Phoenix, it had
better
be a human! If she’d been with a Were or another witch…

Brent’s temperature hiked in fury.

Sara stirred in the seat beside him, sending up the scent of amber and pine that was hers alone. Brent tried not to inhale it greedily.

She’d been gone too long this time. He didn’t like that he’d missed her. She certainly hadn’t missed him. No, she’d found some human
boy
to occupy her nights and her…Valentine’s Day. And the
boy
, this John, claimed to love her.

How close could they really be if the boy didn’t know she wasn’t human? If he hadn’t met the princess’s father? Had never seen their humble castle?

And he hadn’t. Brent would have known if Sara had brought someone home. Everyone in the coven would have known. The males had been eager to learn who would be chosen for the favorite daughter’s duty—males who had all assumed Brent would earn the distinction.

She would do her duty now that she’d finished schooling. Fintan had allowed her to put it off too long. His mentor’s intention had been to force the issue when she’d returned from her fun in the sun. Fintan had dropped many hints that he’d call upon Brent to do the deed.

Fintan’s death meant the choice now fell upon him. Blood rushed to his head.

Who would be the most powerful match for her? Which among the covens would create the purest offspring? Again and again he thought of himself. But it had nothing to do with purity. Brent had wanted Sara McKenna in some form or another since he’d met her sixteen years ago.

As the regional high priest with no blood tie to Sara, he was the logical choice. The thought had flared in his mind when he’d looked upon the face of Fintan’s killer.
That
man would have expected Sara to breed with him. Brent had been unable to control his fury. The violent reprisal had been more than vengeance—the thought of Sara being forced to bed her father’s murderer had burned his soul.

He didn’t regret it now. He only regretted not taking steps to keep Fintan safe. Brent wouldn’t fail his mentor’s daughter.

****

He was
sleeping
!

The soft snuffles of his snoring should have made Sara glad. It meant Brent wasn’t awake to glare at her or hurl nasty comments. But she wasn’t. She was angry she had to drive the entire tedious six hours and she didn’t even get the offset of a relaxing trip.

At any moment her riding companion could wake and catch her singing along with her favorite music or seat dancing. No, she wouldn’t risk it. He’d nearly roused when her phone vibrated in the center console. She’d powered it off after she’d seen it was John calling.

Spotting John’s name on the screen had hurt her heart. She never should have gotten involved with him. Allowing him to think they had a future together had been cruel of her. Even if she’d never commented on topics of where they would live, how many children they would have, and if she’d want a large or small wedding, she hadn’t clearly stated she’d be moving on without him.

John had assumed they’d move to New York together after the trip to Florida. Sara hadn’t wanted him to go with her on the vacation in the first place. The vanilla human had overheard the conversation she’d had with her daddy as he’d booked the trip.

John had planned to propose to her on the beach at sunset. She’d stumbled upon the plans on his laptop one day when she’d checked her email for a note from her boss. Afterward she’d hinted, as she always did, that she would never marry—that she was destined for other things. Flippantly she’d said she would disappear forever after he’d graduated. John had laughed it off.

He wasn’t laughing now.

Sara turned her profile until Brent was visible out of the corner of her eye. Had she ever seen the witch resting? He wasn’t intimidating when his eyes were closed. His thin lips were parted, showing the edges of his white teeth and the mauve tongue gently pressed between them.

She took in each of his features with careful consideration. He was gorgeous by human standards. Most witches were, thanks to generations of choosy breeding. Brent was a nice specimen even by witch standards…at least when he was sleeping. Once those eyes opened and his mouth began tossing hurtful words, he’d be ugly in her eyes.