Fury of Fire (29 page)

The news flash stopped her cold. Then heated her up.

As the inferno got cooking, she stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. What was wrong with her? She’d been so busy hiding her own reaction she hadn’t noticed his. But she was noticing now and…holy crap. He was one big ball of sexual energy. Throwing off so much heat, she could smell his arousal.

And suddenly, his physical distance—the strict no touch, no eye contact policy—during dinner made sense. Myst swallowed as her gaze drifted over him, picking up small details and body cues. Color burnishing his cheekbones, tension vibrated through him. One hand curled around the arm of the chair, he had the thing in a death grip, threatening to rip it right off the upholstered side. And as Myst watched, his chest rose and fell, the rhythm so fast she couldn’t stand it.

Screw etiquette. She needed him. Right. Fricking. Now.

With a soft growl, she shoved her dessert aside. He glanced up, heat making his eyes shimmer in the low light. Thunder boomed, rattling the windowpanes, and she leapt from her seat. She went up and over, sending plates and utensils flying. Fine china collided with cut crystal, skidding across the tabletop.

Bastian groaned and drove his chair back. The thing hit the wall with a thud, and he stood, catching her mid-flight. Relief came in a blinding wave as she made contact. She slid her hands into his hair. The soft strands pushed between her fingers, driving her headlong into desire. With a desperate moan, she took his mouth, slipped her tongue deep inside to devour him.

He didn’t deny her, gave her all she demanded, satisfying her one wet stroke at a time. He murmured in between kisses, praising her as his hands tunneled beneath her waistband. As his palms met her skin, she surged, begging him without words to strip her bare. Nipping her bottom lip, he answered the call, pushing the pants off her hips.

The black fabric slid down her legs and hit the floor. A second later, his thigh pressed between hers and…

Oh, yeah. Naked, beautiful man.

He’d pulled the disappearing clothes trick. Now, they were skin to skin, nothing between them but heat and desperate need.

“Bastian, now! I can’t wait…now, please.”

“
Bellmia
…my beauty.” His eyes glowing like twin emeralds, he swept the plates off the table. They crash landed on the floor, splintering into shards as he sat her down on the table edge. “Spread your legs…wider, baby. Let me in.”

Lying back, she arched her spine, twisting against the tabletop, and let her knees fall open. He growled, moved in and, hooking her legs over his forearms, grabbed her hips. She sobbed his name as he thrust deep, burying himself to the hilt inside her. Delight echoed on her wild cry, rippling out in a spastic wave that went on and on and on. She moaned when he retreated and came back.

Again and again: giving, taking, possessing her so completely she didn’t know where he ended and she began.

He set a fast pace, and she begged for more. Unzipping her hoodie, he pushed her tank top up, baring her breasts. Arching her spine, she presented herself like a gift. The heat of his mouth closed around her nipple, and she burned for him: urging him on as he suckled, rolling his hips, working himself deep inside her. Bliss came and Myst took it all—loving Bastian’s fierceness, craving every part of him, knowing she would never get enough.

The storm blew itself out as the Meridian normalized just before dawn. Bastian’s greediness settled along with it, shifting him from single-minded need into caring mode. Myst was exhausted, on the verge of sleep in his arms, needing a bed and about twelve hours of REM to recover from their night together. But he couldn’t make himself move. He wanted to stay camped out in front of the fireplace in the nest of blankets he’d made for them on the living room floor.

He should feel bad about that. About the hours spent on hardwood and the Oriental rug: loving her, pleasing her, being pleased in return. And he might have if Myst hadn’t been as needy as he—so demanding he hadn’t had time to move them to the couch, never mind his bedroom.

“Too far away,” she’d said. “I need you. Please, don’t stop.”

And God. There’d been no resisting her. Or denying himself.

He’d taken full advantage, lost all control, drowning in his desire for her. With the morning sun, though, came the reckoning. And as the windows shifted, moving from clear glass to dark tint, protecting him from the ultraviolet rays, regret taunted him in the reality of a new day.

He would have to tell her. Everything.

The thought scared him. He hadn’t told her the whole truth, and her reaction to his omission wouldn’t be fun. But he wasn’t a coward. He’d created the mess. Time to man up and take the poison pill.

“Myst?” Not wanting to startle her, he skimmed his hand over her shoulder, down her arm, enjoying her soft skin way too much.
“Bellmia?”

She hummed, rousing with an enticing stretch. He swallowed, watching her breasts rise and fall, nipples tight as she turned onto her back. Coming up onto his side, he cupped her cheek, ran the pad of his thumb over lips swollen from his passion. Hmm…he’d kissed her so much last night. Deep and hard. None of the kisses soft or gentle like she deserved. Dipping his head, he brushed his mouth against hers.

Her lips parted to accommodate him. “Again?”

“No. You need to sleep and…we need to move.”

“Uh-uh. Let’s stay here. Play a little more.”

“Insatiable.” Hiding a smile, he shook his head and kissed her again. “And no can do. We gotta go.”

With another stretch, she half-groaned, half-growled, and opened her eyes. Bastian sucked in a breath as he got nailed with her sleepy violet gaze. Unable to help himself, he kissed her again, slipping into her, tasting her with his tongue. Her hands slid into his hair, cupping the back of his head, holding him close, accepting him as she had all night.

In-fucking-credible.

Unbelievably beautiful.

Myst was more than he deserved.

He flicked the corner of her mouth as he pulled away. He should tell her right now. Rip the lid off his sin like a Band-Aid. Let her get angry. Explain everything to her…Rikar’s theory about the energy-fusion and that Bastian might be able to protect her throughout the pregnancy—and when she went into labor with his son.

Bastian closed his eyes.
Might.
It was one helluva word, wasn’t it?

“Bastian?” Myst stroked her fingers through his hair. “What’s wrong?”

Unable to force the confession past his throat, he shook his head.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said. “I can feel your sadness. You’re in pain. Tell me why.”

“I…last night…” he trailed off as his throat went tight. “It’s nothing.”

She went still beside him, her gaze sharpening on his face.

Shit. She was reading him, using their connection to ferret out the truth. He slammed his mental doors, trying to shut her out, protect her and himself until he found the best way to tell her. But that was a load of BS. There was no best way.

He cleared his throat and shifted to get up. She tightened her grip, keeping him in place. In full panic mode, he reached for an excuse. “Daimler will be here soon…to start breakfast. My warriors will be coming in, too. We should move.”

She didn’t budge, holding firm. “No secrets, remember? Tell me.”

“Fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ve never hurt me.”

“I did last night. I did—”

“No, you didn’t.”

He took a breath, feeling like he was suffocating. “I don’t want you to hate me. But, it’s done and I can’t undo it. I can’t—”

“Bastian.” Concern in her eyes, she stroked his cheek, trying to calm him. “Just tell me.”

“I didn’t tell you the whole truth about the realignment. God forgive me, baby…you’re pregnant,” he rasped. His hand fisted in the blanket beside her, his chest heaved. But the physical meltdown was nothing compared to the emotional trauma and, as Myst’s eyes went wide, he knew he would never forgive himself. “I got you pregnant. I’m sorry…Jesus…I’m sorry.”

“Love, listen to me,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m on birth control. My periods have always been screwed up. I get a shot every few months to help regulate it. So I can’t be—”

“You are.” He spread his hand over her belly, filling the space between her hipbones. “I can feel him already…quickening inside your womb.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible. I’m…” she trailed off and sat up. Planting her palms on the floor, she scooted backwards, away from him. “No. I can’t be.”

He reached for her.

She retreated faster. Grabbing a blanket, she held it in front of her like a shield, warning him away.

Desperate to make her stay, he tried to explain. “I can help you, Myst. Because of our bond…the energy-fuse…there’s a good chance you’ll survive the—”

“Survive?” Shock flared in her eyes.

“
Bellmia
, please. Listen to me. I think—”

“You think? You
think
?” She shot to her feet. Tripping over the rug edge, she stumbled, then caught her balance. “You did this without asking me? Knowing I could
die
?”

Jesus, he was botching it…making her panic, pushing her away with every word. His heart a tangled mess, Bastian stood and faced her. “I know, and I’m sor—”

“You say sorry one more time and I’ll…” the words trailed off, drifting into nothing as she wrapped the blanket around her torso.

Helplessness swamped him. He was losing her. “I didn’t know what else to do. With the Meridian and…Jesus. Had I told you that I’m only fertile during the realignment and that you would conceive, you would have run. And…fuck, but I couldn’t let you go and…I didn’t want to force you. But that’s what would’ve happened.”

She retreated another step.

“Myst, you saw me last night. How out of control I was…how many times you had to slow me down, take control so I didn’t get too rough. If I had chased you down, I would’ve hurt you. I wouldn’t have meant to, but I would have and—”

“You don’t know that, Bastian,” she whispered, her face ashen, her eyes hollow as she stared at him. “I might’ve stayed, but you chose to keep secrets from me. After I asked you not to, and you swore that…oh, my God. You promised me. You
promised.
”

“I know.” He held his hands out to the side, begging in word and deed. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t.”

“Please. I’ll do anything…give you—”

“I can’t do this.” Tears in her eyes, the smell of despair and betrayal spiked in her scent. “I can’t…stay here.”

With a sob, she broke eye contact and spun. Skirting the hearthstone, she fled into the dining room, the blanket flowing like a cape in her wake. She was in full panic mode: the chest-heaving, feet-flying, intellect-consuming kind that would send her into danger. And it was his fault. He should’ve found a better way to tell her, given her time to rest and recover from the night.

Choking on self-hatred, Bastian sprinted after her. He needed to catch her before…

“Myst…don’t!”

“Stay away from me,” she yelled, already on the other side of the table.

He leapt the antique, desperate to reach the door before she did. But she was faster. Grabbing the handle, she yanked the door open. Sunlight flooded the room, hammering him with UV rays. Pain blinded him, burning the backs of his retinas. Shielding his eyes, he threw himself sideways, into the darkest corner, out of the sun’s deadly path.

Seeing nothing but spots, feeling nothing but agony, Bastian roared her name. But even as he begged her to come back, he knew she wouldn’t. He’d hurt her more than she could bear. She was already gone. He could feel the distance widening between them.

Gravel bit into the bottom of her bare feet as Myst raced across the driveway. Pain lanced her, shooting up the backs of her calves. She didn’t slow. Freedom lay less than ten feet away…a beacon of hope with industrial-size garage doors and cedar siding.

God, it all looked so normal. So safe. Nothing unusual about the structure except the circumstances that sent her speeding toward it.

Pregnant.

Her head pounded as words echoed inside her, making panic the only thing she knew.
Run faster
. She needed to run faster. Maybe then reality would fade and leave her with nothing but a healthy dose of denial. She wanted it layered on thick, like smudge on a windowpane, so she couldn’t see beyond into the light. Clarity and acceptance wouldn’t give her anything but more tears.

Each breath rasping in her throat, she glanced over her shoulder. Bastian wasn’t there. Thank God. If he got ahold of her, she was cooked. He’d drag her back and imprison her. She checked behind herself again, afraid he was on her heels. The rational side of her knew he couldn’t be. Daylight prevented him from following her. She’d learned that last night while they talked…when she thought he was being so honest with her.

She was a fool. He’d lied to her…again. This time with catastrophic consequences.

A sob caught in the back of her throat. She couldn’t be pregnant. It wasn’t true. She used the best birth control money could buy. But with the magic and Bastian and…

Oh, God. Anything was possible.

How…okay, not how. She knew the
how.
The next question was why. But she knew the answer to that one, too. He hadn’t wanted to force her, and as crazy as it sounded, she understood his logic. The Meridian had driven them both over the edge, but Bastian had been out of control. So wild in the height of the storm she’d used quiet words and gentle touches to bring him back from the brink. He’d always listened, dialing down his desire before he’d gotten too rough with her.

But it had been close a number of times. So, yeah, on some level she accepted the reason behind his lie. Could even find honor in his actions.

God, what did that say about her…that she was deranged? Suffering from some form of delusion? Or was it love? Love, after all, made people do stupid things. Like forgive a man when he deliberately withheld crucial—and life-threatening!—information.

Yeah, no doubt about it. Stupiditis was a definite part of her mental package. But at least she was clearheaded enough to diagnose the problem and administer the psychological antidote: a healthy dose of self-preservation by way of escape. Which meant she needed to keep moving. Time wasn’t on her side.

The layout of Black Diamond, either.

The lair was a labyrinth, a system of interconnected tunnels spreading like a spiderweb beneath the house. She’d bet her eyeteeth that one lead to the garage. And that Bastian was racing down it right now.

The thought made her run faster. She zeroed in on the door set beside the larger ones, slowing her pace. She reached for the knob.

Please, God, let it be
…

The door opened on the first crank, swinging on well-oiled hinges. She plunged over the threshold, her bare feet slapping on smooth concrete, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She stood shivering for a moment, the afghan doing little to protect her from the cold, and scanned the interior. A key box. She needed to find where they kept all the keys, but…

Talk about
Mission Impossible.
She couldn’t see a thing, and the place was huge, much bigger than the garage doors implied.

Spinning around, she looked for a light switch. Bingo. A set of five. She flipped them all, the buzz of electricity crackling in the silence. As industrial-grade fluorescents flickered to life, she spotted the garage door openers mounted further down the wall. She hammered them with the side of her fist. Gears ground in motion, rattling chains, lifting the huge metal doors off the concrete floor. Sunlight flooded into the room.

“Fuck.”

Well, that answered that question, didn’t it? Secret tunnel into the garage? Check.

Bastian cursed again as the doors continued to rise. Scanning the back of the structure, she stepped into a bright patch of sunshine. As it warmed her shoulder blades, her eyes adjusted to the light, and she watched Bastian dive behind a tall tool cabinet, his arm shielding his eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand, her heart so heavy it sank inside her chest.

God, she was hurting him, wielding his weakness like a weapon, pushing him away one UV ray at a time. Still, she stayed in the sun, refusing to give up her defensive position. She needed out. His lies hurt too much for her to forgive so easily. And as the emotional ache expanded to encompass the physical, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to accept his apology.