Flare came first, groaning long and low and loud, rocking harder into her.
Determined not to finish before Isis could orgasm, he rubbed her clit vigorously, thrusting harder and harder into her until she too was crying out her release.
When they came down they were both shaking. The room was at least eighty degrees and they were both covered in the sweat of their exertions. They clutched each other close, not even a breath separating them. They kissed long and deep, using lips and teeth and tongues to caress each other lovingly.
6Tears leaked out of her eyes, mixing with her sweat, but they were tears of joy, not sorrow, and she rejoiced in that. She’d never felt so complete. So whole and right.
She loved him. It had been inevitable from their first kiss, Isis knew that now. She loved him more than life and couldn’t imagine ever being without him again.
He’d made her feel normal and loved from the first. The pain she had held in her heart for so long had disappeared in his embrace. All the rage and despair she had learned to hide had been banished like ghosts, gone with the press of his lips on hers.
Flare had stolen all of her pain away and replaced it with something clean and good and wonderful. How could she not love him?
They settled on the bed together—there was no need for covers, Flare was so hot and everything around them reflected that heat—and they lay beside each other, tracing their hands lazily over each other’s bared skin.
Exhausted, Isis fell asleep tracing circles on the heavy muscles of Flare’s chest.
* * * * *
When she awoke he was gone and the room had grown cold. But there was a note on the pillow next to her.
I’ll be back tonight.
That was all it said. But it was more than enough for Isis. She hugged the note to her chest and rose from the enormous, soft bed. Finding her dress, she donned it as well as her discarded bra and panties once she had located them too. She wandered into the sitting room and looked around, still befuddled from her deep sleep.
She had never slept so much or so well as she had since meeting Flare.
Thirsty. She was thirsty. That was her first clear thought. Warily she approached the fireplace—it was crackling nicely and Isis realized Flare must have stoked it not long before he left. Isis stood on her tiptoes to reach the tall mantle and she found the box with the jewels encrusted on it. She opened it, took a small handful of the fl’shan powder and regarded the flames.
“Well, here goes nothing,” she said aloud and threw the powder into the fire.
The flames flared dangerously hot before settling down again. “Um, I’d like something to drink,” she said into the fire, feeling more than a little awkward.
There came a knock at the door.
“Damn, that was fast,” she said with a frown, going to answer the door.
When she opened the door her jaw dropped. There was a man standing there. A seven-foot-tall man with a silver tray in one hand and a small smile playing about his shapely lips. He was a Shikar—there was no mistaking that same strength and magic Flare possessed and it seemed to hover about this man like a cloud.
6“May I come in?” he asked and it seemed to Isis that this man rarely asked to do anything.
“Who are you?” she asked, stubbornly standing her ground even though the man was as intimidating as hell.
“You may call me Pulse. I am Flare’s direct superior,” he explained. His voice was beautiful, but it didn’t make her feel at all like she did when listening to Flare.
“Come in.” She stepped aside to allow him entry.
“I took the liberty of bringing you some food and drink to break your fast,” the man said, walking into the sitting room as if he owned the place. He placed the silver tray on the coffee table and turned to look at her. “You are prettier than I expected,” he said, but Isis couldn’t tell by his tone if he was mocking or sincere.
“Flare isn’t here,” she told him.
“I did not come to see Flare,” he said.
Isis frowned.
“I came to see you,” he explained patiently.
“
Me
,” Isis snorted. “Why?”
“Because I was curious about you.” He took a deep breath and motioned for her to join him as he sat down. “I have heard much and I wanted to meet you firsthand.”
“You’ve heard about me? From Flare?” She felt a small sense of betrayal that he would talk about her to someone else, but she reminded herself that his duty was to protect her and it was no doubt necessary that he report to someone of higher rank than he at some point.
Pulse smiled as if he knew what she was feeling. “We have other spies,” he told her.
His hair, black as pitch, sparkled with random tiny streaks of silver, as if he’d put them there carefully and on purpose.
Isis didn’t know what to say.
“You needn’t worry. I only know the bare facts of your life, not the dirty little secrets. At least…not all of them.” He eyed her knowingly and she cringed inside at the thought of what he might actually know. “You’re quiet interesting, for a human.”
“How so?”
“For one, you deny your naturally sociable nature. You take care of yourself without the aid of family or loved ones. That is unusual in itself.”
“No it isn’t,” she said. “A lot of people live like me. It’s a lonely world out there.”
Pulse sighed. “I also know that you’re psychic,” he said flatly, as if daring her to deny it.
“I’m learning new things about myself every day,” she said with a lightheartedness she didn’t feel.
“I heard that you killed a Daemon. With your bare hands.”
6Isis closed her eyes. When she opened them back up she noticed him studying her from head to toe. There was no passion in his gaze, only curiosity, so she did not take offense but still, his eyes—so like Flare’s—made her uncomfortable. “I did. I don’t know
how
I did,” she added. “But Flare is sure he can teach me to control…well, whatever it was, so I’m looking forward to that.”
“It’s good that you are bonding so well with Flare.”
Isis rolled her eyes. “What are you implying?”
“You are lovers.”
“Yeah,” she said flippantly. “Is there a rule against that?”
Pulse chuckled. “Actually there is, but Flare can explain that to you at a time of his own choosing. You needn’t worry though, I approve of Flare’s claim on you. I truly do,”
he assured her.
“Good,” she said.
They eyed each other, sizing one another up like two generals ready to do battle, wills clashing.
For some strange and unexplainable reason she felt she could trust this man to the ends of the earth. He just seemed so…in control of everything around him. How she knew this, she couldn’t have guessed, but knew it she did.
Taking a deep breath of courage, she took the plunge. “I wanted to meet with you too,” she said.
Pulse’s brows raised in surprise. “Really?” he asked musingly. “What about?”
“I heard that there are human women among you who fight the Daemons.”
“Yes,” Pulse nodded.
“I want to fight like they do. As Flare does. Before you say no,” she hurried, “I can tell you that I’m physically strong enough, I know I’m brave enough and I can be loyal to a fault. I am capable of fighting. I know it. I just might need a little training first.”
Pulse sat back with a smile. “Why do you wish to fight?”
“You want the truth?” she asked.
“Nothing but,” he returned.
“Well,” she started haltingly. “I’ve never really done anything with my life. After meeting and destroying a Daemon the other night I realized that I was capable of so much more than what I’ve been doing. I’ve just been wasting away all these years and I am ashamed to admit it, but it’s true. I want to change things. I want to give my life a meaning. I think your cause is just and noble. I want to be a part of that.”
“Have you talked to Flare about this idea of yours?”
Isis looked away from his all-too-knowing gaze. “No. But I’m sure I can convince him that this is right for me.”
Pulse laughed. The sound was free and honest and welcoming. “I’m sure that if anyone can convince Flare it would be you.”
7“Would you be willing to let me join your army?”
Pulse leaned forward in his seat, his hair falling forward to obscure his features. “I would. You are indeed strong. And stubborn.” His teeth flashed for a moment. “You need these traits to be part of our Alliance. Loyalty and obedience are key. Once you join with us there will be no turning back. Even if you and Flare break apart, you will still be required to serve as a warrior. Are you prepared for that?”
Isis felt a pure, blinding anguish at the thought of Flare leaving her—for she fully intended to stay with him for the rest of her life. She tamped down on the emotion, pushing the pain aside as she was used to doing.
But not before Pulse saw her reaction. “You love him,” he said with a gentle smile.
Isis knew better than to lie to this man. He would see through her in a second, she was certain. And she wanted his approval—she really did. “He doesn’t know,” she answered painfully.
Pulse leaned back in his chair. “Your love is good. Hold on to that with all your might. It will make you strong for the hard times ahead.”
“I want to be worthy of him,” she said before she could stop the revealing confession.
“Then you should open yourself to him,” he told her, his glowing eyes knowing far more than she was comfortable with. “Share yourself with him. Stop hiding behind a mask and make him your true mate for life.”
“What if I can’t get him to love me?” she asked in a choked whisper.
Pulse smiled at her tenderly. “I would not worry about that, my dear. Fate is fate and no one and nothing can stand against it.”
“Fate,” she mused.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asked curiously.
Isis thought for a long moment. “No,” she said at last.
“Why not?” Pulse seemed truly puzzled.
“I don’t know how to explain,” she admitted.
“Try,” Pulse commanded.
She took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. “I don’t like to think that we were intended to suffer at fate’s whim. I think we’re just wandering around aimlessly, lost until we die. I have to think that.”
“Your life has not been easy,” he remarked.
“Easier than some, tougher than others,” she evaded. “But my life has made me strong. Flare showed me that.”
Pulse smiled again. “I am very glad that we had this talk, Isis.” He rose and made to leave, abruptly cutting short their conversation.
“Wait,” she called out, following him. “What do I do next? You said I could fight.”
7He turned to her. “And you will fight. But for now you needn’t worry about that.
Things will work themselves out, I am certain. Still, only time will tell.” With that he nodded politely to her and walked out the door.
7
Chapter Ten
When Flare entered the room Isis was waiting for him, sitting among the pillows of his bed and holding a dog-eared envelope in her hands. He came forward and kissed her, taking her breast in his hand to gently stroke it through the confines of her clothing.
They parted, both breathless from the kiss, and regarded each other silently.
Isis had thought long and hard on Pulse’s words. He’d seen that she hid a lot and had told her to open herself to Flare. This terrified her on many levels but at last she had come to a decision. And she truly felt it was the right one.
“You look lovely,” Flare said.
“Thank you,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “Sit down with me.”
Flare did so, looking at her with a puzzled frown on his face.
“I’m ready to tell you my secret now,” she said in a rush, eyeing him closely to judge his reaction. She thought she saw some relief there in his gaze.
“I will listen,” he assured her with a nod of his head.
Isis took a deep breath but it did nothing to dispel the worry and pain that squeezed her heart. She untangled her fingers from his, knowing he could tell by the pulse in her wrist that something serious was about to come. But for a long moment she didn’t know how to start. So, finally, she started at the beginning.
“A few months before I turned sixteen my stepfather started having long talks with me. He spent a lot of time with me. I liked it—at first. I didn’t know him that well. He had been married to my mother for three years but we had never really had much to do with each other and I was glad for the sudden attention he was giving me.
“The talks eventually led to him fondling me, until we no longer talked at all. He just simply came into my room and let his hands roam all over me. He asked me, more than once, to feel him, to touch him back but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I knew what he was doing was wrong. But I thought fondling was all he would do. It wasn’t.
“When I turned sixteen,” Isis took another breath, “my stepfather raped me. The first time was horrible. I fought him and he hit me, over and over again, until I wasn’t strong enough to struggle. I was covered in bruises the next day but my mother—who suffered from bipolar disorder—hit me often enough that she didn’t even notice the new bruises and I didn’t know how to tell her what had happened.”
Isis couldn’t look at him as she told the story. She didn’t want to see his reaction.
“After that, nothing happened for a couple of months. I thought that the horror was over, but of course it wasn’t. My stepfather got away with it once and he knew he could get away with it again. So he raped me again one day after I came home from school—
my sister and mother were out shopping together so we were alone.
7“I had avoided being alone with him for two months. But I couldn’t stop it from happening. I fought again, but he broke one of my ribs and I couldn’t breathe, let alone fight. It was like my worst nightmares had come true. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do.
“I thought about telling my mother, of course. But my mother had no love for me. I look so much like my real father—who I never saw again after their divorce—that she hated me for the reminder of him.
“I so wanted to tell someone. Anyone. It was like pain and rage and shame were filling me up to the point of explosion. So I bought a journal and wrote down all that had been happening.”