Keri Arthur - Fireborn

But as I sat, his scent spun around me, warm and enticing. And even the darker notes so evident within it couldn’t stop desire from spinning through me.

I closed my eyes and fought the wash of useless regret. This was my life. This would always be my life. It was no use wishing for anything else, because—as far as I knew—no phoenix had ever been able to break the curse and live a happy life. Not with the love of their life. Not ever.

It certainly wasn’t about to happen in this life, with this man.

You’d think after spending so many lives in the exact same position, I’d be used to it. But there was something about this man that called to me in a way few others had. Even with that darkness.

“Red,” he said, voice holding a slight edge. “How long do we have to wait?”

My gaze met his. The edge, I realized, was desire, barely controlled. It made me want to lean closer, to see if it was possible to kiss away the ash and the darkness and unveil the man that still lay beneath them somewhere.

I didn’t. I might be occasionally reckless, but even I wasn’t that foolish.

“Not long.” I leaned back in my chair, though it didn’t really improve the distance between us or diminish the desire to kiss him. “Rory said it would take him twenty minutes to get here, so unless the traffic is hideous, he should only be a few minutes away.”

Sam pulled his gaze from mine. After a second, he said, “When you meet with the sindicati, watch your back. They have a liking for sharpshooters perched up high.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

He shrugged. “I don’t want you dead, Red, no matter how much I hate what you did to us.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. There was no point in trying to explain. Not anymore.

“I don’t want me dead, either,” I said instead. “It would be damnably inconvenient to die early in two consecutive lifetimes.”

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “You get to live again, so why does it matter?”

“Because dying before your allotted time makes rebirth a bitch.” I glanced toward the door and saw Rory. His gaze met mine, flicked briefly to the man sitting beside me, then returned. His expression didn’t alter, but tension rode him. It was evident in the set of his shoulders, in the brief clenching of his free hand as he made his way toward us.

I cleared my throat, but before I could say anything, Sam murmured, “Well, well, the boyfriend arrives.”

“And that statement proves just how little you understand about phoenixes—and Emberly.” Rory came to a halt in front of us, bright sunshine against the darkness of the man beside me.

“So you deny you’re her boyfriend?” Sam growled. “That you were—and still are—lovers?”

“I deny nothing.”

Rory’s voice was as even as Sam’s, yet it hinted at the anger that burned just beneath the calm exterior. The heat of it rolled over me, as fierce and as frightening as the darkness that lurked within Sam, but for a very different reason. I knew that anger, knew what it was capable of. Knew that if there was one flaw in the control Rory had over his fire, then it was me. Or rather, his desire to protect me from whatever life and fate threw at us. As much as he ever could, anyway.

And though he’d promised long ago to never again retaliate against those who were destined to hurt me, he’d been itching for a chance to confront Sam. Because he knew, just as I knew, that Sam had somehow been different. That the hurt this time had been deeper and harder to handle.

“But I am a necessity,” he continued softly. “Without me, she cannot be, and vice versa. And if you cannot understand that, if you cannot accept that, then you are more of a fool than I thought.”

Sam thrust to his feet, his fist clenched and very obviously close to losing control.

“Damn it. Get a grip, both of you!” I stepped in front of Rory, forcing him back with my body as I thrust my hands on my hips and glared at Sam. “This is neither the time nor the damn place to get into this sort of shit. Not when we have a deadline to meet and lives to save.”

Sam didn’t immediately move or react, but the muscle along his jaw was back in action. After a moment, he nodded and sat back down.

“Give me the computer.”

I held out my hand. Rory placed the computer in it, and I handed it across to Sam.

“How do we get the Trojan onto it?” I said as Sam opened the laptop.

He didn’t answer, simply fired it up and, after a few seconds, said, “Password?”

I told him. With the computer unlocked, he got onto the Internet, using his phone as a hot spot, and download a file from an e-mail account. After a few more minutes, he shut the computer down and handed it back.

“Now,” he said, voice little more than a growl. “The notebook.”

“You’ve installed the Trojan?”

“Of course.” He held out his hand. “The notebook, Emberly.”

I handed it over. He rose, his expression as still as stone but the darkness within thicker—more dangerous—than ever before. And again, it allured as much as it repelled, and I had to fight to remain exactly where I was. Though whether I would have stepped forward or back, I wasn’t entirely sure.

“As I’ve said before, be careful when you meet the sindicati. They tend not to stick to deals made with the likes of you and me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, the honest, law-abiding types.” His mouth twisted into a smile, but it was a bitter thing to behold. “Obviously, they don’t know either of us too well.”

And with that, he walked out. I didn’t watch him leave. I didn’t need to. I could feel the deep gloom of his presence as surely as Rory’s heat at my back. When he’d gone, I released the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding, then turned around and melted into Rory’s waiting arms.

He kissed the top of my head and said, “At least it’s over with, Em. At least you don’t have to see him again.”

“I can only hope.” But I had a bad feeling fate wasn’t about to let me off that easily. “But that’s not what matters right now. We have a Fae to save.”

“Well, I do agree with your bastard of an ex about one thing—the sindicati are not to be trusted. We need to meet them on our terms, not theirs, if we want any chance of pulling off this rescue.”

I grimaced and pulled free from his grip as a waitress finally approached. After ordering a green tea for myself and a coffee for Rory, I sat back down and said, “I’m not sure they’ll agree to a change of plans. They hold the cards, not us.”

“If they want what we have, they’ll play the game. At least until we hand over the laptop.”

“Maybe.” I wasn’t too confident, but I guess we really had nothing to lose by trying. “Sam said they have a liking for marksmen placed on high, so we need to factor that in.”

He pulled out a chair and sat down. “We could always go up to the rock. While it does provide plenty of places for a marksman to hide, I can easily keep watch from the sky.”

The rock he meant was Hanging Rock, a recreational reserve that featured a large mamelon formation. Rory often went up there after hours for some flight time during the long golden sunsets of the summer months, because the surrounding areas were farmlands and the chances of being seen were few. While I did go up there occasionally, he was far more familiar with the area than I was.

I frowned. “Do you think they’ll agree to meet that far out of town?”

“We’re dealing with the vampire mafia, remember. Trust me when I say they won’t want anything too public, especially if they’re planning a few nasty surprises of their own.” He smiled up at the waitress as she delivered our drinks, then added, once she’d left, “Our main problem will be getting them to agree to dusk rather than night.”