Souls Of Fire: Fireborn Part 2

"They won't sack me." His expression became distracted as the sash came undone. "I'm too good a fireman, and they know it."

He slipped a hand underneath the silky material and traced a line along the length of my hip with one heated finger, skimming the scars as tenderly as the rest of me. My breathing hitched a little and the pulse of excitement grew. But as much as I wanted to give in, I didn't. Not only because he actually liked this job, but because he also liked the people he worked with, and it was the first time in the four years since Jody-his human fiancee-died that he'd actually cared about anything or anyone beyond those in our immediate circle. Despite his current nonchalance, I knew it would hit him hard if he was fired.

So I ignored those deliciously trailing fingertips and slapped his arm. "Enough. Go take a shower. A very cold shower."

His gaze rose to mine, and a reluctant grin stretched his kissable lips. "You, my darling girl, are going to be the death of me."

"Actually," I said primly, "I believe I already have been. Two lifetimes ago, in fact."

"Three," he muttered; then, with a groan, he released me and climbed off the bed. "Fair warning, sweet Emberly. I intend to pick up where I left off once I get home tonight."

"And I shall be naked and waiting." I watched him walk into his en suite. Rory and I had been friends and lovers ever since we'd been teenagers, which was so many centuries ago now I could barely even remember them. He was my life partner, the spirit I was fated to be with forever, and the only man I could ever have children with. But we were not, and never had been, in love.

It was said that at the very beginning of time, a phoenix spurned the affections of a witch after taking her virginity. In her anger and shame, she cursed us with the inability to love one another, forcing us to forever seek-but never find-emotional completion outside our own race, thus ensuring that we would forever be left with little more than love's bitter ashes, as she had been. I'm not sure I believed the whole witch-curse thing, but it certainly held more than a few grains of truth when it came to phoenixes and love.

As the shower came on, I bounced out of Rory's bed and headed into the kitchen to make us both breakfast. He walked in ten minutes later, dropped a kiss on the back of my neck, then swept up one of the plates of pancakes and headed for the table.

"So, did you manage to save your soul last night?"

I glanced at him sharply, and he gave me a lopsided smile. "If I can't read the signs by now, Em, something is seriously wrong. So who was it this time?"

Sam's warning shot through my thoughts as I picked up the two steaming mugs and the other plate of pancakes and joined Rory at the table. "No one important. And yes, I did."

His expression indicated he didn't believe the lie, but he let it slide, asking instead, "What's on your agenda for today, then?"

"I don't exactly know." I pushed one of the mugs across to him. "Mark mentioned something about discovering a critical amino acid in the molecules he was studying yesterday, so I daresay he'll be in the lab all day and I'll be transcribing his notes all night."

"Ah, the exciting life of a research a.s.sistant," he said, voice dry.

I resisted the urge to point out I wasn't actually a research a.s.sistant, even if that was what they'd cla.s.sified me as. Mark hated interference of any kind, even if it came in the form of help to set up and monitor experiments. After he'd gone through more than a dozen qualified a.s.sistants in less than two months, the powers that be at the Chase Medical Research Inst.i.tute had given up and resorted to employing what amounted to a secretary. Meaning I transcribed his notes and generally ran around after him but otherwise didn't interfere in whatever it was he was doing.

And Rory was right-it wasn't exciting. But I'd done the whole exciting bit the last time around. Right now, all I wanted was something easy.

Besides, this lifetime was supposedly his turn to do the dangerous stuff, not mine. Not that that had ever stopped me from getting into trouble in previous lifetimes.

"You've never done well coping with a staid and boring life," he added, obviously guessing my thoughts. "And I'm betting you won't last much longer working for that crazy old man."

"They're paying me d.a.m.n good money to run after that crazy old man, and that makes up for the boring. Besides, for an old guy, he's not bad scenery-he has nice legs and an eminently watchable a.s.s."

"So have you," he said dryly. "He made a play for it yet?"

I snorted softly. "He's old, remember? Besides, I seriously doubt he notices anything not connected to his microscope or his books. Not everyone in this world is as randy as you."

"That he's in his sixties doesn't make him dead from the waist down-a fact we've both proven over our many years together." He glanced at his watch, then gulped down his coffee and pushed away from the table. "Five minutes to go. I'd better run."

So had I. If I didn't hurry, I'd miss the train. Mark was a man who meticulously planned every minute of his day, and my being late would not only upset his timetable, but turn him into an unreasonable grump for the rest of the day. Although his somewhat unpredictable temper wasn't the only reason I was getting higher pay; he believed I should be available to work whenever he wanted me, be that day or night.

Rory kissed my cheek, then headed for the door. Twenty minutes later I ran out of the building and headed for the train. I squeezed out at Footscray Station, then walked down to Byron Street and the big white building that housed the Chase Medical Research Inst.i.tute.

Ian Grant-the day s.h.i.+ft security guard, and a bear of a man with a close-cropped head of gray hair and very little in the way of untattooed skin-gave me a wide grin of greeting as I entered the foyer.

"Hey, Em," he said, "Lady Harriet's office has been trying to contact you for the last twenty minutes. You got your phone off again?"

Harriet Chase had founded the inst.i.tute some fifty years ago, and it was still one of the biggest privately funded organizations for biological and medical research in Victoria. The old dear was also something of an elitist, hence the not-so-affectionate moniker.

But I had no idea why the h.e.l.l her office would be chasing me.

I dug my phone out of my purse and, sure enough, there were seven missed calls. I glanced up at Ian. "I gather she's been on the phone to you?"

"Well, it was Abby rather than herself, but she wanted me to get you on the phone the minute you walked in."

Abby was Harriet's overworked but not underpaid a.s.sistant. Ian duly picked up the phone and called her, and I suddenly wondered if I was about to get sacked. I couldn't think of any other reason for Lady Harriet's office to be ringing me, especially given she or her staff rarely spoke to anyone less worthy than the heads of the vari- ous research departments. Although the security guards did at least get a smile of greeting every morning, which was more than could be said for the rest of us.

"Abby, I have Emberly Pearson here for you." He paused for a moment, then handed the phone across to me. I cleared my throat and said, "Sorry about the missed calls, Abby, but I was on the train and didn't hear-"

"Never mind that now," Abby said, her voice sounding more than a little hara.s.sed. Lady Harriet had obviously been in one of her moods this morning. "You need to get over to Professor Baltimore's place. He's due to make a presentation to some investors in half an hour, and he hasn't arrived and he's not answering his phone."

I frowned. It wasn't like Mark to be late, so something had obviously gone wrong. But why was I being asked to fetch him? Granted, I was the one being paid danger money to be his beck-and-call girl, but if this was so urgent, why not send someone else? It wasn't like this place was lacking in research a.s.sistants. I said as much to Abby.

"We did send someone else," she said, "but he's not answering the door. You're keyed into his security system, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Then go," she cut in. "Make sure you get him back here fast."

She hung up before I could reply. I handed the phone back to Ian. "Well, there goes my peaceful morning."

Ian grinned, his teeth spectacularly white against the inked darkness of his cheeks. "I'd run."

I did. Thankfully, like many of the senior staff at the inst.i.tute, Mark lived nearby. It saved time traveling back and forth and allowed them to work longer hours. Nothing like being addicted to your job-which was something I could never claim. h.e.l.l, I couldn't even claim that I'd liked many of the things I'd done over the centuries Rory and I had been alive.

Mark's brown brick building came into view. It was a squat, three-story building with vinyl windows that were double-glazed and b.u.t.t-ugly. They'd been the rage about fifty years ago, and I could only thank the designer G.o.ds that the d.a.m.n things had finally gone out of fas.h.i.+on.

A man with burnished auburn hair and the most amazing pair of emerald-green eyes I'd ever seen exited the building as I approached and, with a wide smile, he held the door open.

"Thanks," I said, even as my steps slowed and my nostrils flared. The heat radiating off him was incredible, and it was all I could do to resist the desire to siphon it away. He had to be a fire Fae. No other nonhuman had that sort of heat signature.

From what I knew of the Fae, there were four groups, with each group controlling one of nature's fundamental building blocks-earth, wind, fire, and water. This man, as a fire Fae, couldn't actually create fire, but he could shape and control it. All Fae tended to be loners, preferring the solitude of empty countryside to the concrete jungles of this world, and each of them also had a need to be near their element regularly or they would fade away, becoming little more than a sigh on the wind.

While Fae were loners at heart, they were also sensualists, existing to experience sensations both within and without their elements. Fire Fae, in particular, reputedly delighted in introducing innocents to the more seductive pleasures of this world, which was maybe why this Fae was here in Melbourne. In a city as big as this, there was a greater chance of finding innocence.

Deep in his bright eyes, recognition flared, along with curiosity. He might not know exactly what I was, but he sure as h.e.l.l recognized another being of fire.

"Do you come here often?" His voice was gravelly, s.e.xy as h.e.l.l, and sounded as if it was coming from somewhere near the vicinity of his rather large boots.

If there was one thing about the Fae that most literature over the years had gotten very wrong, it was their stature. They were neither small nor winged, and the only ones that were ethereal in any way were the air Fae.

I smiled. "A couple of times a week, at least."

"Then with any sort of luck, we'll meet again, when I'm not in so much of a hurry." With that, he gave me a nod and walked away.

The urge to chase after him rose, but I resisted the temptation and ran up the stairs to Mark's apartment on the third floor. The hallway was shadowed and cold, the small, ugly windows down the far end doing little to let much heat or light in. Mark's apartment was the second on the left. I leaned on the doorbell and listened to it chime inside. I waited a few minutes, then, when there was no response, flipped up the cover protecting the security system. After I keyed in the code, it scanned my eyes, and the red light switched to green. As security measures went, they were pretty over-the-top, but the inst.i.tute had insisted on them after the homes of several other professors had been burgled.

The door slid open with a soft whoosh. I took three steps inside and stopped, my eyes widening in surprise. The place was a mess. In fact, mess was putting it mildly. The room looked as if it had been turned upside down and given several violent shakes. Furniture was dragged away from walls or upturned, books were scattered all over the carpet, and his precious research papers had been flung everywhere.

What the h.e.l.l had happened?

"Professor?" I stepped over loose paperwork and around fallen furniture and made my way to the bedroom. The door was closed. I hesitated, then pulled a tissue out of my handbag and used it to turn the door handle to cut any risk of adding my own prints to whatever prints might be there.

"Professor?" I repeated. "You in here?"

Still no answer. I opened the door and warily peeked around the corner. The mess in this room was a mirror of the first; the sheets and blankets were torn from the bed, the mattress flung against one wall, the dresser drawers half-out and their contents strewn across the floor. Someone really had done a number on this place, but where the h.e.l.l was Mark?

My gaze went to the small en-suite bathroom and I swallowed heavily. But just because it was closed didn't mean he was dead inside-and even if he was, it wasn't like I hadn't seen a corpse before.

I forced my feet forward, stepping carefully across the mess, and repeated the tissue process with the en-suite door. The destruction was repeated even here, but Mark wasn't inside.

Relief slithered through me. I swung around, my gaze sweeping the room. Whoever was responsible for this had obviously been looking for something, but what? It wasn't like Mark had a whole lot. He lived and breathed his work, and his apartment held little more than basic facilities and his mountains of leather-bound books. He had money-and plenty of it-but you wouldn't think it looking at either this place or the man himself.

I moved back out into the living area and across to the kitchen. Same result-utter mess and no Mark.

Where the h.e.l.l was he?

"Emberly?" His voice rose out of the silence behind me. I swung to see him enter the apartment and stop, his brown eyes going wide. "What the h.e.l.l has been going on?"

His gaze came to mine, his expression almost accusing. I grimaced. "I was about to ask you the same thing, Professor. Ms. Chase sent me over here to find you, as you have a meeting with investors in"-I paused and glanced at my watch-"just over twenty minutes."

"I know. The d.a.m.n batteries in my watch stopped and I didn't realize the time. I just came back to get my presentation notes." Meaning he'd been breakfasting at the local cafe again. He raked a hand through his wiry gray hair and added, "Guess there's no use looking now. I'll have to wing it."

He looked so out of sorts I felt sorry for him. "Do you want me to stay and attempt to clean up? And call the police?"

"That would be extraordinary if you could." He gave the mess a somewhat despairing look. "I wouldn't know where to start."

I smiled. I was used to mess, having shared my many lives with Rory. But for someone as meticulous as Mark, this had to be a harrowing sight. "It's no problem. Just make sure you clear it with Ms. Chase."

He nodded. "Thank you, Emberly. This is very much appreciated."

I shrugged. He gave the mess around me another sweeping, somewhat despairing look, then muttered something under his breath and walked out.

I closed the door, then called the cops and basically did nothing until they arrived. Abby rang to confirm that she'd clocked me in and all I had to do was come back to clock out whatever time I finished. The cops took some pics and my statement, then dusted a couple of items and basically left me to it. They weren't expecting any evidence to lead them to the culprit and neither was I.

By the time five p.m. rolled around, the place was more or less respectable, and the only item I could see missing was his desktop computer. Interestingly, they hadn't found his laptop-it was still safe in its hidden compartment in the desk. I had no idea whether all his paperwork was present, but I left it stacked in piles for him to go through at his leisure. After was.h.i.+ng my hands, I picked up my jacket and returned to work.

I found Mark back in the lab. He looked up somewhat distractedly as I entered the secure, sterile environment and blinked a little before recognition surged.

"Emberly," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I had completely forgotten about you and the apartment."

"No problem." I said it wryly, having figured as much. "I tidied everything up as best I could, and I think the only material thing missing is your desktop computer."

"What about the laptop?"

"Still safe in its hidey-hole."

He sighed. "That's all right, then."

I nodded. Not only was most of his important work typed up by me on that laptop, but it was also the computer he used to s.h.i.+ft his reports to his cloud service-a procedure only he and I knew about. The desktop was little more than a ruse in the event of a robbery. Or a ransacking, in this case.

"I'm about to go home," I said. "Do you need anything else before I do?"

He reached for the five notebooks teetering on the edge of the table. "I wrote up my notes for both yesterday and today." He glanced at me over the top of his gla.s.ses. "You do still have the secure laptop at your place, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Good. I need these transcribed overnight."

Of course he did. I guess it was lucky I had nothing more than a leisurely loving session with Rory planned.

Once I'd stripped off all the protective gear and signed out, I headed home. Rory sent me a text saying he was doing an extra couple of hours and wouldn't be home until nine, so after a shower, I re-dressed in sweatpants and a loose-fitting T-s.h.i.+rt, then pulled out my laptop and started on the notebooks.

By the time nine rolled around, I'd transcribed four of the five notebooks. I saved them onto a USB-Mark's need to be extra careful was somewhat catching-then bounced up and shoved it into the planter box filled with plastic flowers for safekeeping. Once I'd started dinner, I poured myself some red wine and wandered out onto the balcony. A helicopter clattered past, searchlights sweeping the buildings opposite. Light briefly glinted off a round object in a window one up and one across from our apartment, and I snorted softly. The old fart in 61B was obviously using his telescope again, hoping to catch me naked. Of course, it didn't help matters that I did periodically walk around sans clothes, but I figured the more he was watching me, the less he was watching other unsuspecting women. And it was certainly no skin off my nose if he got his jollies that way-although that didn't mean I hadn't had him checked out to make sure he wasn't anything more than a harmless old man who enjoyed spying.

I finished my wine, went back inside to see how the roast chicken and potatoes were going, and then somewhat reluctantly sat down to transcribe the final notebook. Rory rolled in just as I rose to check our dinner. "Hey," I said, grabbing a pair of tongs so I could turn the potatoes. "You're late."

"Not only late," he said, dumping his bag on the table before coming up behind me. He slid his hands under my T-s.h.i.+rt and snuggled close. His fingers were hot against my belly, his erection like steel against my rear. "But terribly disappointed."

"Oh yeah?" I nudged him away with an elbow, then put the chicken back into the oven. "Why's that?"

"Because you promised to be naked and waiting." He pressed close again and kissed the back of my neck. My skin tingled in response, and desire unfurled within me. "This, clearly, is not the case."

I smiled and drew in the scent of him. He smelled of smoke and flame-aromas that were both delicious and intoxicating to spirits made of fire. "Nakedness happened at six. You're the one who decided he needed to work overtime."

"It got me back into the boss's good books, and that was worth the extra hours of frustration."

His fingers moved down my belly and played with the elastic in my sweats. Antic.i.p.ation curled through me, and my breathing quickened. "Meaning you worked all day with that rod out the front of you? Bet that caused some ribbing from the rest of the guys."

He laughed softly. His hands slipped past the elastic, then around to my hips, his fingertips barely brus.h.i.+ng soft curls along the way. Pleasure trembled through me.

"Well, the frustration wasn't that bad, although we did put out a big warehouse fire." His voice became dreamy. "You should have seen it, Em. Fierce, orange-white flames leaping for the sky. It was beautiful, truly beautiful."

He brushed kisses along the nape of my neck again, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. "I hope you were careful when you drew them in, Rory."

His hands slid out of my sweats. Disappointment swirled, but only for a moment, because his touch slid under my T-s.h.i.+rt and up toward my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I was. And, G.o.d, it felt glorious."

Fire to a phoenix was like chocolate to most women. Totally unnecessary as a fuel source, but sinfully pleasurable all the same. It was a wonder he was controlling himself this well. Had our positions been reversed, I probably would have had my wicked way with him right here in the kitchen, the consequences be d.a.m.ned.

His hands reached my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and cupped the weight of them. His skin was so hot it might as well have been flames holding me. It felt good, so good.

I licked my lips, then reached back with one hand, sliding it between us until I found the zipper in his jeans. As his clever fingers began to gently pinch and pull my nipples, I slid the zipper down. He wasn't wearing underpants-he rarely did when he was this h.o.r.n.y-and his c.o.c.k came free, thick and hard and pulsing with need. I played my fingers along the length of it, and he groaned.