Born in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy 1)

“You see?” he said, crossing an ankle over his knee. “She is already relaxing. The act of doing something habitual and expected calms humans’ nerves.”

“Had a lot of experience calming humans down, have you?” I asked.

“Yes I have, unfortunately. It is necessary to get the best results during negotiations.”

“I always thought predators liked the thrill of the hunt.”

“I am not talking about feeding, Reagan.” His gaze found my face. I felt a strange shiver at the unidentified look in his eyes. “In that, you are mostly right. The chase is one of my favorite things. Trying to best my prey. Dominating.” Hunger flashed. “But when she is caught, and under my control, force becomes cohesion. Passion is ignited. Fire. It is absolutely exquisite, Reagan, as good for the human as it is for me.”

“What happens when you find a woman who doesn’t like to be dominated?”

“Such as yourself?” A smile curled his lips. “That makes the hunt so much more thrilling. The complexity of a strong woman is intoxicating. I enjoy it immensely.”

“So it’s a one-way street? She gets dominated, or you keep trying?”

“You have not been listening. Once she submits, so do I. We form a bond, for a time. Pleasure is shared between us, as is power. The two components wrap us up and block out our surroundings, heightening the feeling. The taste.” I watched, mesmerized, as his tongue slid across his lower lip. “When the feeding is done, the bond will fade. Unless that bond is solidified.” His voice had softened. His eyes delved into mine, the fire and desire burning brightly.

“How do you create a permanent bond?” I whispered. Staring at his lips. Wondering how they tasted. What they would feel like skimming over my body.

He leaned toward me slowly. The air between us started to sizzle, electrified. “First, I—”

“Here we— Oh!” Margaret stopped next to the couch, tea tray in hand.

Reality punched me in the face, something that happened only after I did something stupid in Darius’s presence. I jerked back. “NO, YOU AREN’T INTERRUPTING ANYTHING!” My volume control was broken at the moment.

“She didn’t ask if she was, Reagan,” Darius said, entwining his fingers in his lap.

I nearly punched that stupid smirk off his face.

I jumped up and shook myself out, seeking sweet, fresh air. Wishing it were much colder in the room. “That was not what it looked like,” I said, swatting my arms to rid them of the shivers. I’d have done the same to my nether regions, to rid them of the uncomfortable pounding, but it would have looked odd.

Not like hopping around the room slapping myself was exactly normal…

“They are beguiling, vampires,” Margaret said as she set the tray down on the coffee table. “Though often lovely…”

“No, I’m just an idiot.” I wiped my forehead and sat on the love seat at the end of the table instead of returning to the couch. “I wanted to ask you a couple questions, Margaret, if you don’t mind.”

She cleared her throat. “Do you take milk and sugar?”

“One sugar and no milk for me, thank you,” Darius said.

She’d brought both of us tea, so I said, “Same as that,” not really caring. I didn’t plan on drinking it, but Darius would insist that I take a cup.

He leaned forward for his tea, his face once again closing down into a flat expression. The arousal must’ve been wearing away, thank God. I took my cup and waited patiently until Margaret sat down in the recliner across from me.

“I have a couple people coming over,” Margaret said, raising her chin as though she expected defiance.

“Fine.” I deposited my untasted tea on the table in front of me. “First things first: what did you take from that house?” I raised my finger. “You know that Darius is a vampire. He can tell if you’re lying.”

I had no idea if that was true, but I would know. I could read a liar from a mile away.

She took a sip of her tea, clearly trying to appear unaffected. It would’ve worked much better had she not kept darting her eyes to the archway into the room. “I don’t know what you mean…” Her hands were shaking.

I braced my elbows on my knees, studying her. The shaking got worse. She wasn’t just lying—she was afraid of admitting the truth. “Did you happen to catch me standing in your defensive spell?”

Her cup clattered as she put it on the tray. She didn’t respond.

“You worked that out with the neighborhood, right?” I intentionally used a badgering tone. Usually I would start with more of a friendly demeanor, trying to get the person to talk to see if anything useful slipped out. This time, though, I needed exact answers, and I needed them quickly. I’d throw my weight around to get the job done. If she hated me after—well, I didn’t have any friends anyway. No big deal.

Her lips tightened. She was trying to prevent herself from talking.

I stood and crossed to the mantelpiece. “Look, Margaret, I know something was taken from that mage’s house. Based on the spell your neighborhood cast at a tenth of the necessary power, I’d say it was a book of spells, or notes of some kind. Am I right?”

Her front door opened. I heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. Margaret straightened, finding some courage. A moment later, a man and a woman entered the room, both in their late fifties and dressed in yoga attire. The rings said they were both married, and the closeness of their bodies said it was to each other.

“Welcome,” I said, stepping forward with an outstretched hand, asserting my control over the room. I was the boss here. “I’m Reagan. You are?”

“Tamara Evans. This is Rodney.” She gestured at her husband, who wore a stern expression and followed it up with a stern handshake. He stepped a little behind her, a protective position signifying backup. He was the muscle. His wife was the talent.

“Hello. Please, have a seat.” I gestured them to the couch. Darius quickly moved to the window, giving me space. He was a good partner when he wanted to be. Thank God. “Would you like some tea?”

“Oh. Y-yes, please…” The woman, ruddy-faced and with light burns on her hands, looked at Margaret in confusion.

I cocked my head and closed my eyes for a moment, feeling residual magic. Also an echo of power. I’d never felt something quite like it. I couldn’t tell if it was from spell working within the neighborhood coven, or if the power was individual to one or both of them.

I lifted my eyebrows at Rodney, silently repeating myself.

“Sure,” he said in something like a grunt, playing Mr. Tough Guy.

He had no idea what a real Mr. Tough Guy sounded like, I could tell.

“Fantastic. Margaret, if you would?” I waited for her to start on the tea before continuing. “I was just asking Margaret what she took from the mage’s house.”

“She seems to think—”

“I just told them what I think,” I said to Margaret, planting myself on the other side of the coffee table, staring down at the newcomers. “You will note that I did not ask if you took something. I asked what it was. Oh! Forgive me my rudeness.” I shoved my hand through the air at Darius, careful to keep my movements coarse. “This is my vampire friend. He’s hungry. Being that we saw Roger, the alpha shifter, earlier, and he didn’t detain Darius, you can be comforted by the knowledge that we are authorized to conduct business in the Brink.”

Rodney swallowed, and his hand jerked toward his wife before he stilled it. He heard the threat loud and clear: We can and will kill you to get this information, and we’ll be operating within magical law.

Naive people under pressure were largely stupid creatures.

“What did you take?” I repeated.

“It was just a basic-level book of spells.” Tamara shrugged. “It wasn’t worth anything.”

“Just a book of spells?” I crossed my arms over my chest, studying her, noticing the tightness around her eyes and the thinning lips. Quarter-truths were the same as lying in these circumstances. “Get it. And before you do”—I put out a cautioning finger—“know that I am familiar with the defensive spell you cast as a collective. A few books have that spell, but none of them make it roll like that. So this book that you get should have some pretty high-level notes marking up the pages.”