Marie Harte - The Fire Within

The man glanced up at the creature and sadness lurked in the startlingly indigo-blue depths of his gaze. “Ah, Mirego, you brought a visitor. I had so hoped you would be more careful.” Shaking his head, he stared unblinkingly at Mirego while twin beams of blue fire streaked from his eyes, lighting his minion into flames.

Mirego shrieked, an awful sound that made Samantha’s head feel as if it might split in two. Then the creature burst into ash, its form smouldering near the man’s feet.

The man looked up, it seemed, straight at Samantha. Despite her not really being there, despite the fact that she dreamed, the man saw her, knew her.

“His fire won’t save you, affai ,” he whispered, his lips curled in an inviting grin, his eyes flat and cold. “The prince’s affection will only bring you pain the likes of which you’ve never experienced.”

A slashing burn whipped her throat, making it suddenly impossible to speak or swallow. Coldness consumed her, until she thought death preferable to the absence of warmth in her body.

“Join him and you bring death to your entire world,” he warned.

Samantha opened her mouth to scream out for help. But the man moved closer and reached out, his lips gathering for a kiss she knew would be worse than deadly.

“For luck, perhaps?” He smiled, exposing pointed white teeth.

Fighting the urge to draw closer to him for all she was worth, she gradually became aware of a forceful pounding. The noise grew, drowning out the man’s features and the evil place where he dwelled… Then suddenly she was staring at the ceiling in her hotel room while someone banged violently upon her door.

“Dammit, Samantha, open the door.”

Her heart still racing from the worst nightmare she’d ever experienced, Samantha tried to catch her breath as she sat up in bed.

“Hold on,” she said as loudly as she was able, her voice a pained whisper. She clutched her sore neck, slowly putting the frightening dream behind her. Clearing her throat, she said in a louder voice, “I’m coming. Hold on a minute.”

As the fog gradually cleared from her mind, she recognised Darius’ bellow. Clutching her flannel nightshirt at the collar to still her trembling hands, she dragged herself unsteadily to the door. Taking a deep breath, she strove for calm. After last night she’d need all her wits dealing with the king of all temptation.

He yelled her name again and her nervousness vanished under a wave of irritation. At the rate he was going, he’d have her entire floor complaining about her to the management. And it was only, she squinted at the clock, her eyes widening in dismay, eight in the morning. Whipping the door open, she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him inside, then slammed the door behind him.

“Why didn’t you answer me sooner?” he asked impatiently, his eyes travelling over her mussed hair and thin flannel nightshirt with interest.

“It’s eight o’clock in the morning. I was still sleeping.” Her dry tone didn’t have the effect she’d been striving for uttered in a hoarse whisper. “I have a sore throat. I must be coming down with something.” Yeah, a neurotic night terror about an alternate world filled with monsters and evil demons.

He must have heard something in her voice for he frowned, his eyes narrowing in what looked like concern. He closed the distance between them and parted her hair from her neck, stroking her throat softly.

Then his touch froze. “What is this?” He pressed gently against the heart of pain spearing her throat and she gasped. It seemed as if an icicle had rammed into her neck, cold blasting her from the point where his thumb touched her skin deep into her oesophagus.

“Cut it out,” she croaked. “That hurts!”

“By the Light of Tanselm,” he said in a thick voice full of worry and anger. “You’ve been marked.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he grabbed her shoulders hard and yanked her close to him, pulling her almost off her feet so that her face nearly touched his.

His eyes blazed, a strange red burning through the black of his irises. “You’re playing with danger, Samantha. Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive?” As if realising the harsh grip he had on her arms, he swore and lightened his hold.

“Back off, He-Man,” she rasped, trying to break free from his grasp. “I’ve had it with being manhandled. As if blondie wasn’t enough,” she grumbled and rubbed her throat, her eyes daring him to get rough with her again.

His gaze grew curiously shuttered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His apology sounded strangled. She could tell he didn’t give them often. “How did this happen? This should not have been possible.”

He finally let her go and she made a beeline for the bed and sank down. “I’m really confused.” She wrapped her hand around her throat and felt the spot that had alerted Darius. The size of a quarter, an icy patch of skin throbbed where she touched it. She turned to look in the dresser mirror across from the bed.

Nothing marred her skin, no sign of bruising or scratching. Yet the area was ice-cold to the touch. “This is getting weirder by the second.” She looked back at Darius, noting the stiffness of his posture. “One minute I’m having a nightmare, the next you’re pounding on my door, and suddenly I’ve got an ice block around my vocal cords. And what are you talking about, I’ve been marked ?”

He carefully wiped all expression from his face, making her more nervous than if he’d yelled at her again. “Before I explain, describe to me this blond man you mentioned. What exactly did he do to you?”

Tension rose in the room like a blazing bonfire. “It’s a little, ah, complicated.” She hedged, not wanting to delve into her odd penchant for dreaming about the future. Though in this case, the psycho blond had mauled her in the present. So somehow her dreams were now reality?

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me,” he said in quiet voice.

His dark eyes blazed with truth, and she felt a sudden compulsion to tell him everything.

I’ll believe you.

She blinked. He couldn’t have just said that. His mouth remained closed yet she’d heard his voice. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. Glancing up at him, she studied his towering frame. She should have felt apprehensive around the menace he exuded. Instead she felt safe.

Hell. Maybe she was finally going crazy. Normal people didn’t visualise the future, didn’t hear voices, and sure as hell didn’t see demonic figures that marked them in real life. She rubbed at her eyes. Maybe the stress of dealing with last night’s unbelievably spectacular sex had shattered her sanity.

“Tell me, Samantha,” Darius said again in a firm but quiet voice.

She sighed. “Fine. But I warn you it sounds crazy.” She described her ability haltingly, then the dream in detail, leaving nothing out. He remained silent throughout her tale, merely stared at her with his fathomless gaze. “And right when he was about to kiss me,” she paused and shuddered, “you knocked on the door. I honestly don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

She frowned then. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he sat down beside her on the bed and reached out to stroke her throat. His fingers felt overly warm, brushing her skin like the fluttering of butterfly wings, simultaneously easing the constriction on her throat while stoking the flames of desire he’d so easily stirred last night.

Her face flamed and she thought she saw an answering heat flare in his eyes. How easy it would be to lean forward and kiss that skilled mouth of his.