Raised in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy 2)

Hopefully. That theory had yet to be tested.

I rubbed my forehead as I stared into the fridge. It had been a long, kind of terrible, day. I took out some high-quality cheese, salami, and grapes. Whoever did the shopping got only the best, and clearly the most expensive, stuff. Not like I could taste the difference. My magic was powerful, but my palate was weak.

From the equally stocked pantry, I grabbed some fresh French bread. After I’d picked out a bottle of wine, a knock sounded on the door.

It was either the cops or Mikey wanting to know what was going on. Maybe even Mince looking to gossip.

I set the full plate onto the counter, flicked on the hall light so I didn’t seem weird, and answered the door.

My stomach flipped over and tingles spread across my skin.

Stupid, handsome vampire.

Darius stood at my door in a black button-up shirt that hugged his muscular chest and pulled taut across his broad shoulders. The vee of his upper body led down into trim hips encircled by a black leather belt, holding up formfitting jeans that probably cost as much as some people’s rent.

When dealing with normal people for days at a time, I always forgot how incredibly hot Darius was, and how incredibly powerful. He moved with a raw magnetism that entranced the eye. It was probably because I’d taken blood from him once, but his proximity made my body vibrate in worrying ways. If I didn’t keep my wits, I was liable to reach out and run my hand up that bumpy torso, or reach around and grab that perfect ass.

Great googly-moogly, I needed to stay away from this vampire. He was decadent sin in a mouth-watering wrapper.

“What’s up?” I asked, blocking the doorway.

His eyes roamed my face. “Your eyebrows have gone missing again.”

“You’ve always excelled at observation.” Just as I, apparently, excelled at losing my eyebrows.

“Yes. I heard about the aswang and, more importantly, Garret allegedly saving your life.” He paused, watching my reaction. I was sure he saw what he was looking for. That sore spot might not go away for a while. “I thought you might like some company.”

Who was he in contact with at the MLE office, I wondered?

“No. I’m okay,” I said. “Thanks, though. I know I’ve said this before, a few times, but could you please tell…whoever it is that I can do my own shopping and laundry? I’d rather not have someone in here when I’m gone.” There. That was a nice-guy approach. I hadn’t tried that one yet, maybe.

“Don’t be absurd,” he scoffed. “Only simpletons perform those duties for themselves. Clear the way. I’ll make you dinner.”

Nice-guy approach was out. I didn’t much like saying please to him anyway.

He waited for a moment, clearly thinking I would move of my own volition.

“Seriously, Darius, I’m good,” I said, staying firmly rooted in the doorway. “I’ve already pulled out some stuff for dinner.” I pushed the door closed a little more. “Thanks for checking up on me, kinda, but I’ve handled much worse. As you know.”

“Come now. Don’t be obtuse.” Darius moved faster than thought. One moment he was in the doorway, and the next I was staring at the void of my front porch.

“That’s breaking and entering,” I said lamely, shutting the door.

When I entered the kitchen, he was swapping out the wine for a more expensive bottle. The things I’d taken out had already been put away.

“Go and take a bath,” he instructed as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing toned forearms. “Relax. Take your time. Dinner will be ready when you return. Would you like a glass of wine to take in with you?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but that did sound good. It wasn’t like I’d be able to get him out of my house, anyway. He’d be making dinner whether I wanted him to or not, and I’d eat it, because he was an excellent cook and I was really hungry.

“Snack?” I asked, giving in.

“Of course. I’ll bring something in.”

Chapter Six

Not long after I’d sunk into the large tub in my completely redone bathroom, Darius knocked softly on the door. Since the tub and shower were separate, I didn’t have a shower curtain to pull closed to conceal my nudity.

“Hold on,” I said, sitting up to reach for a towel. Before I could grab it, the door swung open.

Darius carried in a silver tray laden with snack foods and wine. I crossed my legs and jerked my arms over my chest.

He set the tray on the tiled ledge near my head and perched next to it, looking down at me. “You have a beautiful body, Reagan. You should allow me to appreciate it.”

“No.”

His gaze roamed my face, like it had when I’d opened the door earlier, then shifted down to my neck, where it lingered. Hunger flashed in his eyes. Last time he’d looked at me like that, I’d shot him in the leg. Pity I hadn’t thought to take my gun to the bath.

“Nope,” I said. “Not going to happen. And you’re starting to make me uncomfortable, which is the opposite reason of why you’re here.”

“I apologize.” His gaze skimmed down my nude body, the heat in his eyes burning now. “I fed just two days ago, and already I want more,” he murmured. “Of you, specifically. What is this hold you have on me, Reagan?”

“No hold. I’m a naked chick and you’re a creepy dude. Your reaction is pretty standard.”

He shook his head slowly and reached for my face. I would later ponder why I didn’t flinch.

He feathered his thumb along my jaw. “If there is one thing I know from all my years as a vampire, it’s that there is nothing standard about my reactions to you.” His thumb grazed the edge of my bottom lip, burning my flesh. His hand fell away. “I will see to your supper.”

A moment later, he was gone and my body was on fire. Literally. The bath water steamed and started to bubble, my power reacting to my desire.

The guy was too hot for his own good. That was the bottom line. All vampires became more attractive after they were turned, but he was just ridiculous.

An hour later, after I had recovered from my temporary insanity (mostly), soaked, relaxed, and put on a robe, I sauntered into the living room feeling like a whole new me. Darius was lounging on the couch, reading a book. A delicious aroma tickled my nose from the kitchen. I started to salivate.

He looked up when I came within a few feet, and held up the book. “This is garbage, but I can’t stop reading it.”

“Great.” I fell onto the couch and sighed.

“Will you be dressing for dinner?”

“I am dressed for dinner.” I plucked at my robe. “This counts.”

“Are you hungry now, or would you like to make love first?”

“Nice try, Fabio.”

He laughed and rose gracefully. “I never seem to catch you in the right mood.”

Thank God for that.

As he was moving into the kitchen, a firm rap sounded at the door. He paused and looked back at me, his expression blank.

“I’ll get it,” I said, getting up. “Since, you know, I live here.”

A raw edge came to his voice. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Would I be traipsing around in a robe if I was expecting someone?”

He didn’t comment.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pulled the door open a crack.

The younger detective—J.M.!—stood on my porch facing sideways and with his hands in his pockets. He’d lost the confidence and ego from earlier. In fact, he looked a little hunched over, as if bowed by uncertainty.

“The denial stage is over, huh?” I asked as I opened the door wider. I crossed my arms over my chest. “That was fast.”

Shock smacked into his expression the moment he turned my way. His gaze dipped to my robe and his jaw went slack.

I did a quick check to make sure nothing had popped out. Nope, all was right. Granted, the robe was a silky number that Marie had bought me, along with a bunch of other uncomfortable-looking clothes I had no desire to wear, but I was thoroughly dry when I put it on, and the garment left nothing exposed from my neck down to past my knee. Since I also currently lacked eyebrows and my hair, unbrushed, was pulled up into a bun, there was nothing hot about the situation other than the beholder’s imagination.