A Moonrise in the Fire, page 12
part #1 of An Element of Fire Series
I sink into the crisp white sheets of his bed.
“Why do you need the biggest bed I’ve ever seen? This thing would fit—what—ten people?”
“Exactly. You answered your own question.”
“Really? Ten girls.” I throw him a knowing look because I’m certain he’s bragging.
But he’s not.
“Not always ten. Not always girls,” he replies plainly.
“Oh. Your bed is the clown car of sex, then.” I roll onto my side and slide off, feeling a flush creeping into my chest and up into my ears. I wonder what it’s like—no, stop wondering, not now.
“Why, how many clowns in your car? Always a two-seater?” he asks. The corners of his mouth twitch. “No judgment.”
“I dunno—maybe more, if I trusted them.”
Why am I talking about this with him? Heat rises into my cheeks and a little bit elsewhere, down there.
“You’re imagining you, me, and someone else right now, aren’t you?”
“Nope.” Yes. Goddammit.
He laughs. “Fires enjoy their shameless delights—well, no. Let’s say we aren’t uptight in bed.”
He nods to himself as if remembering a fun night. I push back against the tantalizing questions creeping into my head and instead ease into a white armchair beside him.
He yanks opens a tall wardrobe, pulling out more cloaks, shirts, pants.
“What’s with you and capes?” I ask, relieved to change the topic to something less dangerously arousing.
“Cloaks. They hide my weapons.” He whirls off the cloak he wears. Strapped to his back are two short swords hanging diagonally together across his back. I hadn’t noticed the handles of the blades since they were hidden by a unique leather holster around his shoulders and waist. One sword hangs upside down at his waist, while the other blade’s handle is near his opposite shoulder for a quick roundabout draw with both hands if he crosses his arms in front of his body. He unbuckles the holster and removes a sheathed dagger hidden inside the cloak’s lining.
“Why are you obsessed with weapons? You have your Fire.” There’s another balcony in the bedroom, so I hop off the chair and swing out the glass door, exploring.
Cold air blasts in from the night, blowing me backward. I am blown back but catch my balance.
With a brief look of determination, Caelan flicks a palm toward me, placing an invisible screen of heat, like that of a radiating midday sun, around the dark balcony.
I step out again, this time into stillness and warmth. Our building overshadows those nearby, and the people below are specks of brisk movement.
“You never know what you’ll meet when you travel the realms. Fire has enemies, vulnerabilities. My father always said to be prepared for anything from anyone. Also, my fire power isn’t unlimited. If I tire, I need time to replenish the flames.”
He turns back to the bed, comparing combinations of shirts to pants. He picks a black shirt and unbuttons the one he’s wearing, slinging it onto the chair beside him.
From the balcony, I start to glance away from his naked torso but linger on the cords of muscles, cut with scars and long tattoos of glyphs resembling black fire. No, wait—tattoos over the larger scars, tracing along the same lines. Some older and deeper, others newer, raw.
He catches my shocked expression. “We hurt, we bleed, just like you.”
“But why—”
“You’ve gotta protect what you love.”
He doesn’t offer up details, and his expression is inscrutable.
“Yourself?” If he was going to be secretive, it was a touchy subject. He only says as much as he wants me to know, but I understand because there are things I’m not ready to share yet, so I figure I may as well make him laugh.
He throws back his head and laughs in appreciation. “I do love myself.”
My gaze drifts back down along the lower buildings, where a pearly moon emerges from behind the jagged skyline. Charcoal clouds gather above it.
“So you have vulnerabilities,” I say.
“Says you. You’re looking at Second Moon rising now. It’s brighter, so you can’t see as many stars.” He drags a finger in an arc across the glass ceiling to indicate its trajectory.
I turn my back to Second Moon, shifting to lean against the railing behind me.
“What is someone like you scared of? Your biggest fear?” I study his handsome face, doubting he would respond truthfully.
His usual dashing expression melts into a slight frown, lines carved between his brows. He forgets about buttoning his shirt.
When he doesn’t answer right away, I’m certain he’s using the time to concoct a lie; why would he tell someone random his deepest fears?
What I don’t expect is for him to answer as honestly as he does.
“I’m afraid of small spaces. Spaces that feel like there’s no air. And sometimes…that I’m not good enough.” He says the last part too quietly.
His face bears the weight of truth. “Otherwise, I’m fearless.” The devious grin returns.
“Good enough for what?” I’m surprised. He isn’t lying; he isn’t acting. All my intuition, the intuition I trust, is screaming that he’s trying to tell me something sincere and genuine.
He joins me outdoors, striding across the midnight-blue marble floor of the suite that extends onto the balcony. As he folds forward onto his palms against the translucent honey-quartz railing that glows in the moonlight, his shirt opens to reveal defined angles of his chest and musculature in his lower torso that runs into his half-buckled pants.
I debate pretending not to stare, but end up shamelessly gawking to enjoy myself, since he doesn’t seem to mind the attention.
He considers his reply, absently buttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. “Anything. For what my father wants me to be, for one. For true love. I dunno.”
“Your self-assured, act-like-royalty is just—an act?”
It never occurred to me to think what it might be like to be him. That perhaps the reason he acts so casual and careless is to conceal deeper emotions he may not be allowed to have.
I recognize he does this because I do the same.
“No, I like myself plenty. Others don’t always, especially at first, nor can I live up to their expectations. But, maybe over time…we’ll see. Age-wise, as a True Elemental, I’m brand-new.”
“Why are you being so honest?”
“Because I’m very curious what your answer is. What scares you the most?” He pushes away from the railing and reclines back into an oversized cushioned armchair beside me. The soft velvet is the same shade as the night sky.
“My future.” I flinch at my own response, but I go on.
I tell Caelan what I’ve never said out loud before, to anyone.
“To Phira, to Rian, to Julius, to Grams, I’m a sweet, dutiful person who makes the best of what I have or don’t have. That’s who I want to be. I like that person. But inside, I am selfish, afraid, and stuck on one path. I’m tethered to Starstone, in one place forever, doing one thing forever.” It pains me to admit my resentment.
I can’t believe I’ve blurted all this out to Caelan. I’m a bit mortified that I said it, even if it’s just to one person who may not care. I’ve held on to all these thoughts for so long they just poured out of me.
He kicks out his long legs and crosses his arms, glowering into the moonrise.
I plunk down beside him onto the wide arm of the chair. My legs dangle, but the edge of his shoulder supports me. I don’t look at him. Instead, my gaze narrows on the one large crater near the top of a monstrous Second Moon. I’ve never seen a more luminous full moon.
He doesn’t react at first. Maybe he agrees I’m a terrible person. He lifts his palm and lays it over my hand. I like the warmth spinning up my arm, so I stay still.
“You have more choices than you think. You can fulfill your obligations and still have your own goals and life.”
“How?” I swivel to his sinfully exquisite face, framed by stars like fireflies in the midnight sky.
“You’re doing it now. You’re incredible—how you’re helping me, Rian, even your Grams. You summoned the help of truly loyal friends, and you’re traveling, brave and curious, into new realms you never knew existed. I’ve watched you learn, adapt, fight, get hurt… You’re seeing worlds, solving problems, helping others. All without batting an eye. I don’t know of any mortal or True Element who could handle all you’ve handled in such a short time. I respect that. I admire you.”
His words fall upon me, heavy with devastating honesty.
I’m stunned by his assessment. I expected some snide comment about my whining over my little mortal life. He continues to surprise me, and again, I wonder why he needs to shelter his better, deeper, perceptive side under such a swaggering, smug persona.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” His eyes burn into me, the amber fire and flame, intense and volatile as kindling ignited, more so at night, or perhaps in a hybrid realm.
I don’t respond right away. But he’s right. The exhilaration of knowing realms exist where I wouldn’t be abnormal, where I wouldn’t be haunted by not having an Element. Perhaps there is another way. Another life for someone like me.
And the spark of hope extinguished recently awakens and stirs in me.
I crave more.
I’d felt utterly powerless for a while, but now I know there are worlds waiting, realms I can access for a different kind of future. Possibilities…maybe even answers to why I am who I am.
His gaze is unending, latched on to me, awaiting my reply but clearly wanting me to agree with him.
“See yourself how I see you,” he says coarsely, ruinous and raw. “Strong. You have strength and power I’ll never have…”
“But I don’t know how to—”
“We’ll figure it out. You have powers. You felt it. Say it.”
“A tiny spark of power. Maybe.” Saying it aloud is exhilarating but terrifying. There’s no denying I felt something in me.
“Every explosion begins with a spark.”
The rich timbre of his voice, lush and powerful, resonates into the center of my being. My breath stalls.
Every explosion begins with a spark.
He sweeps away my failures—who I don’t want to be—and replaces them with the belief that there is another way for me. That there is another path for me.
I tilt to him, instinctively searching his eyes for lies in case his pretty words are only a line he uses in the bedroom.
Instead, in those irises I see the moonrise in the fire, the night in the sun. All the while disastrously aware his hand still burns on top of mine.
It steals my breath how beautiful he is.
His sensuous lips twitch into a grin. He uses only one hand to button his shirt because he doesn’t want to remove the one holding mine. I hope it’s that. But when I reach out to skim my fingertips on the back of his palm to stop him from closing his shirt—when I drift my touch up his arm to his powerfully muscled shoulder—he releases his hold in bewilderment, dropping his arms by his side.
He keeps perfectly still, so I take his hand and place it on my cheek. At first, his face registers surprise, but he recovers and sweeps his broad palm to grasp my chin, tipping me to him.
I grin at his hesitation and lean forward, my lips almost on his. There, I stop and wait, fighting my desire for a moment—but then I recall way his unholy mouth burned on mine at the Temple. There’s no turning back now. I want it.
“Say it,” he says, his voice deep and silky. His fingers slip behind my neck, playing with the ends of my hair, his own soft mouth grazing mine. Hot as hell, as I expected. He restrains himself and draws back.
The gold flecks in his irises falter, questioning me, as if he doesn’t really believe I want him to kiss—
“Kiss me,” I order him, and he stops questioning and surrenders, taking my mouth wholly, rough and unrelenting in his own want.
He parts my lips with his tongue, flicking tender strokes along mine before entering deeper, calling to mind what he would do if his tongue were elsewhere. Good gods.
His every contact—on my mouth, on my neck, on my ribs—burns hot and needles my skin all the way to my bones. I absorb his Fire Element’s invisible power and strength, and it’s like drowning deliriously in a vat of hot honey. I am completely undone.
It’s intoxicating. And I need more of it. The core of me aches for it.
I slip his shirt off the rest of the way, wanting his warmth. My pulse throbs between my legs and spins into the rest of body.
He hoists me onto his hard thigh, and I rock the softness of me into him, straddling my knees around his waist to push him into the soft chair. When I bite his lower lip harder, asking for more, he answers by sliding both his large hands under my shirt, unhooking my bra from the front, releasing my breasts into his hands.
He trails his fingertips along my ribs to push away my bra and gently clenches my breasts upward as he drags his thumbs, one over each hard nipple. He flicks them with a surge of electric heat only he could release.
The intense shock of pleasure astonishes me, and I utter an undignified sound I’ve never heard come out of myself.
“Good girl. I want to hear more of that from you.” His voice is deeper, hungry.
I feel the hardness of him through his half-buckled pants, and wetness seeps between my thighs.
“Let’s get your clothes out of my way,” he says.
I allow him to unbutton the pearly clasps of my blouse, watching his pants bulge as he gently glides the sleeves off my arms, taking my unhooked bra with it. I toss my hair back, baring myself to him.
“You are so gorgeous, nightmare,” he purrs, his white teeth gleaming as his amber eyes rove over the soft curves of my body in the moonlight. “I want those beautiful nipples in my mouth.”
Another embarrassing noise comes out of me as his tongue finds what it wants, and he sucks on one tightened nipple while raking his fingertips over the other.
“Caelan,” I breathe, rolling my hips into the thickness twitching and growing underneath me. “I want you.”
I’m surprised by the enormous length of him, the unyielding hardness, and the endless heat.
I reach down to free him, to slip him out of his pants, but he grabs my waist, swivels, and throws me onto the cushioned chair. He’s on top of me in one nimble move, prowling over my body. He kisses down my belly, sliding lower to kneel before me on the dark marble balcony floor. He slowly unzips and rolls my pants off, only to leave my underwear on.
A pause. “Do you really want me, or am I only a hot distraction?” he asks.
I’m confused. That doesn’t sound like him, to care either way. But why would he ask if he didn’t care?
The chemistry is undeniable. Enthralling. Even his scent, his taste, is familiar and unfamiliar—the depths of a simmering twilight fire but with his own velvety richness of woods and sweet spice.
Despite my best effort not to, I think of Rian. How his touch is the only one I’ve ever known…and, how could I have known if he was who I wanted forever?
Was sex a fun distraction with him, too?
Isn’t sex always a nice distraction?
“A hot distraction,” I blurt, not thinking too hard about it but feeling the truth is best. With Caelan, I can be honest with my feelings because he accepts them, good or bad. He’s strong enough to let me feel them and gives me the choice to be able to express the truth.
So I do, with him. Oddly, I am more myself with him, even though I haven’t known him long.
“At least you’re an honest nightmare,” he murmurs into my stomach, inhaling me.
I can’t help but drive my hips against him, longing for his fiery touch.
He slips off my underwear, slowly and torturously dragging down my thighs before fluttering it over the balcony.
“Hold this for me,” he says with a rough growl as he pulls up my leg and bends my left knee into me.
I obey, grasping my thigh to open myself to him.
When I look down, my skin is luminous, contrasting with the dark velvet chair under me, and I feel beautiful in the gold light of Second Moon.
His fingertip curves around my entrance, circling around the tight ache. He traces, meandering, and finds me slick with arousal. He swears softly, and my heart beats wild and frenzied watching the smoke curling off him.
I don’t care that I’m outside, utterly naked. It’s freeing. I’m thousands of feet in the air, with only the two of us at this height as far as I can see. The air spins with wispy clouds, smelling fresh and sweet with ozone.
I clutch at his arm. “Come up here; I want more of you,” I murmur.
He doesn’t obey. Instead, his expression ravenous, he says—
“No, not yet. You’ll like this.” He spreads me wider with a palm pressing apart each thigh while grazing a thumb down my center along the sensitive spot that makes me twitch. I’m shaking with anticipation and pleasure. He grasps my knees, hooking them one at a time over the velvet arms of the chair.
He pauses, taking in my nakedness stretched and splayed wide before him, allowing me to ache for a heartbeat longer before he slides an elegant, strong finger into me, and I cry out from the intensity of the sensation. The force of his Fire Element is like a shockwave, and the radiant heat of all he touches runs beyond where his finger reaches. It’s unlike anything I could have ever imagined.
It coils into me, stretching into spots of pleasure I never knew existed.
“Your noises tell me no one’s touched you like this before,” he snarls, wicked with delight.
I shake my head, unable to speak.
He grins and bows his head down, his tongue finally licking me in the lustful, filthy way I hoped he would. The sight of him between my spread legs exhilarates me.
I arch to meet his mouth.
Each pump of his long, hot finger draws more wetness. I grip the chair with my nails digging into the velvet and sputter out a whimper.
He thrusts deeper, reaching into my ache, sending pulses of heat into me.
“How are you doing that?” I lift my head to watch his glorious face between my knees.
He doesn’t lift his mouth off me to answer.
