Wicked Flames (Solsti Prophecy) (5 page)

“Yeah, he did. He got a phone call, then said he had to leave.”

“Hmm,” Ria said and frowned. “Some dude walks out on you? His loss.”

“He asked for my number and wants to have coffee.”

“That’s a start.” Ria folded her arms over her chest. “He can partially redeem himself. And you two burned up the dance floor, if nothing else. I’ve never seen you move like that.”

“I’ve never had a partner like that.” She’d never had a man like that, period. Sure, she’d had boyfriends. Nothing serious. But Gin couldn’t compare to her sisters in the looks department.

The two of them were gorgeous and never lacked for dates. Then there was Gin. Not as tall as Nicole, not as curvy as Brooke. And at five foot six, very much average.

She sighed.
Whatever
. You didn’t need to be pretty to help people. And she loved her sisters dearly. They were the only ones who truly understood each other, thanks to the healthy dose of freak-of-nature that they had all been cursed with. Or blessed, as Nicole and Brooke thought.

Maybe it was better that Mathias had left. What would he say if he knew what she could do?
But he never will, because I’ll never tell him. Or anyone
. Suddenly missing her sisters, she sent them a text. Short and simple.
Love you both
.

C
HAPTER
5

H
URTLING
NORTH
IN
THE
INKY
darkness, Mathias gunned the engine of the white Tahoe he’d borrowed from the Chicago crew. They’d left the XM radio on the eighties metal station, and Iron Maiden shrieked from the fancy sound system. Farm fields dusted with snow shone white under a sliver of moon, and the car’s temperature gauge glowed with an orange 32F. A far cry from Brazil. But more than worth it, if he’d be spending time with Gin Bonham.

Dancing with her was an adrenaline rush that kick-started his heart better than any demon brawl. He’d danced with many women. But Gin
sparkled.

Not only was she a good dancer, but a partner who wanted a challenge. And she wasn’t afraid to let him know. If it was possible to slink with precision, that’s what she had done. Her body loose and fluid, seductive, but matching his step for step, never losing their rhythm. The delight in her eyes told him how much fun she’d had.

And her lush mouth… he’d almost kissed her. That wasn’t part of his assignment. It wasn’t off limits either. Arawn gave him free rein to do his jobs however he saw fit. He’d been involved with marks before. But something about Gin was different.

Her lineage.
That had to be it. He’d never been up close with anyone whose talents were supposed to be myth. Except her sisters.

He rubbed the back of his neck, triggering a fresh burst of cinnamon and orange.
Damn.
Lineage or not, he couldn’t get her sweet scent out of his thoughts. It lingered on his hands and clothing, anywhere she had touched while they danced. And during that dance, they’d been in constant contact.

Images of her flashed in his mind, a welcome change from the bleak highway. Sexy chestnut hair falling over pale skin, her green eyes darker at the edge of the iris. And that damn red dress that left so little to his imagination. The way it clung to her breasts practically screamed, “Look here!”

And he had. Her tits were perky and firm, just like her ass. It had taken every ounce of willpower to stay professional on the dance floor. Touching her was an expected part of ballroom dance. But he’d wanted to touch more.

He shook his head to clear it. Not a good idea meeting Rhys with a hard-on. Spotting his exit, he pulled off the interstate.

An obnoxious yellow sign loomed high overhead, announcing to weary interstate travelers that
here
was one of a small number of places to spend the night. It was also a convenient meeting point between the downstate university and Chicago’s north suburbs.

Mathias headed toward the black Escalade in the back corner of the parking lot. He caught the flash of Rhys’s dark eyes as his friend waited in the driver’s seat with the engine running and the lights off.

Throwing the Tahoe into Park, Mathias got out. Rhys exited his own car, took one look at him, and wolf-whistled. “You look as pretty as a fairy.”

“Fuck you,” Mathias snorted.

“I’m just messing with you. You wanna work the suave and sophisticated angle with the little firestarter, you go ahead.”

“You do know she can’t actually create fire, right?”

“Yeah, Nic and Brooke explained that. I just like how it sounds.” Rhys nodded, as if affirming his own joke.

“I want to hear you call her that in person. See if you still like how it sounds.” Mathias smirked. “You got the stuff?”

“Yup.” Rhys reached into his SUV and grabbed a gallon size Ziploc bag full of dirt. A few blades of grass, still a vibrant green, were sprinkled in as well.

Mathias took it and bounced it once in his hands. “I can’t believe Rilan doesn’t know what made this grow.”

Rhys nodded. “Yeah. But crazy shit’s been happening on Torth. And now, here?” He put his hands on his hips. “As for this, before anyone pops over to Torth for answers, Nicole suggested we look a little closer to home.”

“Her brilliant plan is for me to show up with some mystery dirt for Gin to analyze?” Mathias frowned. “She’s gonna ask where I got it.”

“So tell her.” Rhys shrugged.

“Yeah, I didn’t get through my entire introduction yet,” Mathias said. “Since I got a phone call telling me to hightail it out of there and meet your ugly ass.”

“She doesn’t know you’re Lash?”

Mathias shook his head.

Rhys grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Tell her, or don’t tell her. Up to you. You’re the professional.” He paused. “But how are you gonna get her to use her power if she doesn’t know you’re—”

“I’ll handle it. Dick.”

Rhys chuckled and held up both hands. “Yeah, okay, man.”

“Fucking—”

Rhys laughed and jumped into his Escalade.

Mathias shot him a dark glare and climbed into his Tahoe. He screeched tires out of the lot, zooming back to the interstate. Back to the brunette he was supposed to persuade.

Mile markers flashed by as he drove south. He’d intended to tell her who he was, but somehow he’d only gotten as far as his name. Those luminous green eyes gazed up at him, alternately mischievous and guileless. And that made him feel like a bastard. He cranked up the radio, filling the SUV with Black Sabbath, but nothing could push Gin from his mind. He’d find a reason to see her tomorrow. Maybe he’d make one up. Didn’t matter, because she was in his sights.

Mathias shoved the key card into the door of his hotel room in Champaign. Funny name for a town. Not spelled like the drink. Something about the region’s French roots. And hell, he could use a drink right now, but champagne wouldn’t come close to being strong enough.

He picked up the remote, switched the TV on, and dropped the clicker on the bed. Without looking at the screen, he stalked over to the mini bar. Raucous cheers erupted from the tinny, built-in speakers.
Christ, the Tahoe’s sound system is better than that.
At least the room’s last occupant had the decency to leave the station on ESPN and not some flowery girly channel. Grabbing a ridiculously tiny bottle of Patron, he turned back to the screen where a UFL fight blared from Las Vegas.

Two human males circled in a fenced octagon-shaped ring. One of them, a hulking tower of tattooed menace, pummeled his opponent with double strikes to the stomach. The other guy spun away, only for Tattoo Guy to follow and slam a wicked right hook to the guy’s jaw. Blood and mouth guard went flying. Game over.

Nice take down.

The station’s commentator blathered the obvious. “And folks, Jonah ‘The Assassin’ Slade has defended his heavyweight title!” Towering over the ref, the dude was almost big enough to be a Lash Watcher. Almost.

Mathias grabbed a glass and emptied the bottle into it. The coverage changed to football highlights and his phone chimed with a text. Sitting in one of the room’s two armchairs, he checked the screen. Ria.

What’s with the late night grocery run?

Did she not know his phone was secure? He grinned, deciding to go along with her humor, and texted back,
We needed milk
.

Cookies, too?

Fuck it. He dialed her number and she picked up on the first ring.

“Milk, huh?” Her friendly sarcasm oozed through the phone.

“Actually, it’s dirt.” He took a swig of his drink. “Urgent request from Rilan and the gang in Chicago. I need Gin to take a look at it.”

“Dirt?”

“Yeah, something we found up there. Perfect green grass growing in the middle of the snow. Near a site where a portal opened, but the traveler masked his presence.”

“Hmm, the intrigue is right up your alley. So, you’re going to show it to her, but she doesn’t know who you really are?”

“Yeah, we got interrupted.”

“When are you going to tell her?”

“Tomorrow.”

“When you meet her for coffee?”

“She told you that, huh?” He sat up straighter. “What else did she say about me?”

“Nuh-uh, no deets, bro. It’s all girl stuff.”

“Not when it’s on the job.” He balanced the phone between his shoulder and jaw and unbuttoned his cuffs.

“Hmm.” Ria paused, and he bet she was tapping a finger on her chin. “I can say she had a dreamy expression on her face when she walked back into the room.”

“Dreamy? What does that mean?” he muttered.
Do all females have some universal girl talk code?

“I think she likes you.” Ria’s voice was an exaggerated, girly sing-song.

A slow smile spread across his face and he felt a ridiculous sense of satisfaction.
Ridiculous, because she doesn’t have to like me
. But this job would be more fun, in all kinds of ways, if she did. He looked at his watch. “It’s too late to call her now.”

“Don’t call,” Ria said. “Just show up at the Coffeehouse at nine tomorrow. She’s always there on weekend mornings. You can make it look like you just happened to stop in. You know, just checking out the local scene.”

“Thanks for helping me do my job, Ri.” He rolled his eyes but smiled. Ria never stopped planning ten steps ahead.

“Anytime, dear brother. It’s fun working the same op with you. But it’s weird acting like I don’t know you.”

Gin is an op. Why does that sound wrong?
“True that. You look good. Earth suits you.”

“I agree. Earth boys are easy.”

Mathias almost spit out his tequila. “I do
not
want to hear that shit!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Her voice softened. “Mathias, be careful around Gin. She’s a powder keg.”

Or a firestarter
. Rhys’s words echoed in his mind. “What do you mean?”

“I get the distinct feeling she won’t tolerate being pushed. On anything.”

“Have you seen her get pushed?” Though they hadn’t talked long, he imagined Gin was as quick mentally as she was on her feet.

“Well, no. It’s just a vibe I’m getting from her. A strong vibe.”

“Duly noted.” He rubbed his temple. “I’ll text you tomorrow. Night, Ri.”

“Night.”

Mathias ended the call.
The Coffeehouse.
He typed it into his phone, and in seconds a little red pin highlighted the location. Tipping his glass back, he wanted to savor the smooth burn as the last of the Patron slid down his throat. But it barely registered. All his senses had decided to savor Gin instead, bombarding his mind with sensual memories. Her scent, her touch, her sexy, playful smile…

Morning couldn’t come soon enough.

C
HAPTER
6

G
IN
TOSSED
IN
HER
BED
, yanking the blanket up and then flipping it down in frustration. Her arms were restless, as if they missed the power of Mathias’s embrace. Her skin still tingled from his hand clasping hers, and from the strength in his upper body when he lifted her. God, he was strong. And those hazel eyes that smoldered one minute and twinkled the next…

She groaned, needing to sleep but unable to quiet her mind.
Would he call? And would she care if he didn’t? Why was she getting worked up like a teenager?

Why get worked up at all? He seemed amazing, that’s why. She dropped an arm over her eyes. He might be crazy. A stalker. You barely know him. And you just gave him your number. Good going, Gin.

And of all the people who could cross her path, why him? Why now?

Her life was moving forward, her goals laid out like stepping stones, taking her far from the memories that haunted the deepest recesses of her mind.
No. Not going there
. But like a key had twisted in a lock, the door flew open and she had no prayer of shutting it. Unbidden images took over her tired, confused thoughts and dragged her back to childhood, to the day Nicole realized the sudden gust swirling around the three of them was no coincidence.

The summer of Gin’s tenth birthday was a sweltering one. She and her sisters lounged under an elm in their backyard, grumbling about the heat and dripping Illinois humidity. Locusts hummed high in the branches, lending their song to the motionless air.

“I wish there was a breeze.” Nicole dragged out the last word, her voice bordering on irritation.

Gin didn’t look at her. It was too hot to move. As she lay on her back, staring up, the leaves high above her rustled and branches swayed in lazy dips.

“Hey, that worked,” Brooke said, laughing. “Say that again.”

“I wish there was a breeze,” Nicole repeated. And again, a gentle wind blew through the yard, ruffling their hair.

Gin shot upright. Despite the heat, shivers raced up and down her arms as she stared at her blond sister.

“What are you doing, Nic?” Brooke’s eyes were wide with alarm.

“I don’t know,” Nicole whispered. “But I want to do it again.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching Nicole think or say the words, all of them astonished that the wind answered every time. Gin and Brooke both tried it, but nothing happened. They figured Nicole was the special one.