Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 (8 page)

Her laugh was soft and shaky. “I didn’t get that memo.”

“I can handle the exile,” he murmured against her temple. “I can even, on occasion, deal with the fact that I don’t have access to my natural abilities. But I hate that I’ve been shut out when there’s so much more to do. That I have no way to protect…to fulfill my duty. Away from you, at least, I have some measure of control. I can console myself with my lot. And at Underbridge, I am the King of Kink.”

“I actually heard them call you Persian Prince the last time I was there, but I get your point. Does it matter that I need you? That I miss you being my friend?” She knew friend was a weak word for what she felt for him.

So weak it was almost a lie.

His bark of laughter was harsh. “Yet another reason to stay in my kingdom. Aziza’s
friend
. Am I destined to be another Gregory Prophet? A neutered pet living off the scraps of your affection?”

His words pierced through her guilt and made the fire inside her rise. She tried to elbow him and bucked her hips back to struggle against his hold. “Fuck you, Ram. You will never be Greg. Could never be. He’s family. My
best
friend and the only person who hasn’t let me down. You’re just the jackass who tricked his way into my pants and turned my life upside down.”

Ram began rocking his hips against hers again, holding her more tightly when she struggled. “I’m more than that, Aziza. At least admit it to yourself. That’s why you haven’t pushed. Why you let me keep my distance. I’m your guilty secret. The one you silently imagine is watching when you’re alone and have only your own hand to offer relief. The one you find yourself wishing would join you in bed with your lover the way he did before.”

She groaned.

“I’m the one who knows you have to struggle every day not to run away from your destiny,” he continued. “To run from the expectation you see in everyone’s eyes. I know that you’d rather be here. Rather be at the club. Rather forget what you are supposed to do and do what you want instead. I know that what you feel for me scares you. That facing who you truly are—what you could become—scares you even more.”

Yes.
She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, but she couldn’t deny that she still had feelings for him. Fantasies. That she wanted him to do more than press his body against hers. She also couldn’t deny that her big, magical destiny still scared the shit out of her. Her abilities
were
amazing but she was still just…Aziza. She just wanted to be Aziza. Not the Vessel or Fireborne. Not the savior of the world or humanity or werewolfkind.

Just Aziza.

Ram knew her. Sometimes she thought he knew her better than anyone. Even Greg. That didn’t mean she liked hearing it. The selfish, irresponsible, broken girl wasn’t who she wanted to be. “Let me go, Ram.”

He did, and Aziza turned to leave, but Ram held her in place, his hand on her arm. “Aziza.” He swore, his fingers tightening on her skin. “Stay. Talk to me.”

“I’ve tried.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’ve been trying for weeks. I owe you—”

“No,” he interrupted roughly. “Don’t try because you owe me. I jumped in the water that night because all I could think about was you never speaking to me again. Little English was a means to an end for me.”

Ram let go of her and reached up to touch the gold-and-emerald earring he’d made for her when he’d first shown himself. To help control her abilities. The one she hadn’t taken off since that night in the stable. “I jumped because you threw this on the ground and looked at me with cold fire and contempt in your eyes. With disappointment. Don’t make me a hero, Fireborne. Brandon is your hero. Greg is your hero. I’m just the jackass who tricked his way into your pants.”

“You’re also an idiot.” She turned and cupped his face with her hands. “You did it. You were there and you jumped, knowing what it would mean. Why doesn’t matter. Penn is alive because of your actions. She’s the only family I know for sure I’ve got left. The only one at my side. She’s it. If I’d lost her I’m not sure I could have come back from it.”

She pressed her forehead against his jaw, fighting tears she knew he wouldn’t want to see. “You’ve been rude and impossible to deal with lately, but as much as I hate that side of you, it will never change what you did that night. And I do owe you for that. So shut the fuck up and let me tell you about what’s going on at Underbridge.”

Ram placed one finger under her chin and lifted her face until their gazes locked. “Language, Aziza.” He made a sound of reproach, but his eyes weren’t the hard gems they’d been for so long now. Something had changed. Had she finally gotten through to him?

“Go shower and I’ll meet you out front,” he said. “We can share a taxi while you tell me about the Jiniyr’s latest killing spree and I tell you whatever I know.”

Aziza hesitated for only a second before confessing, “Brandon and I… He hid the murders from me. Lied and told me the Jiniyr weren’t back. He said he was trying to protect me but I know that’s not the only reason. Do you feel better now that you can say ‘I told you so’?”

He frowned at her for a long moment and then brushed his thumb over her lips. “No, actually. I don’t. Go. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

The weight that had been slowly crushing her heart since she’d seen him lying bloody on the ground after he lost his powers began to lift. “Sure.” She took a deep breath. “Sounds good.”

She was relieved, she told herself. He was reaching out again and as his friend she was relieved. That was all.

Liar.

Unlocking the door, she walked swiftly down the hallway, unwilling to say another word in case she jinxed it. To get to the stairs that led to the showers, she passed through the large room where she’d practiced the silks.

“Aziza Jane. Twice in one hour. We must be making up for lost time.”

West was leaning against the far wall. He knew he was good looking, damn it. She could tell. “I was headed to the locker rooms.”

West nodded. “I’ll get there someday, if I can ever get the girl off that hoop of hers. Maybe once this song is over. It’s her favorite.”

It was one of her favorites as well, Adele singing about setting fire to the rain. Aziza turned to look and suddenly everything slowed down. She could hear her pulse throbbing in her ears, a drumbeat that matched the melody. What she saw was straight out of her memories. Straight out of her dreams. Her happy thought that put out her fire and helped her gain control…

The woman dangling below one of the balloons ahead of them, hanging on to some kind of metallic hoop. A fearless trapeze artist, she twisted her body around the metal ring in a sinuous dance that seemed dangerous and yet…it was the most beautiful thing Aziza had ever seen.

Freedom. Out of the basket and into the air. Hanging by a thread and carried by the wind. Aziza couldn’t tear her gaze away. She imagined she was that woman. How, if she just lifted her arms and ignored the boisterous males behind her, she could do what the trapeze artist was doing. Be her for just a moment. It would almost be like…

“Flying.”

She was riveting. The way she moved on the aerial hoop…as if she had wings and no fear of falling.

Aziza studied her breathlessly. Her hair was so black it seemed tinged with blue beneath the fluorescent warehouse lights. It tangled a little wildly, like strands of twisted-silk rope flying around her as she executed one spin and then another. Her face brought to mind the word
elf
or
pixie
—more otherworldly than youthful, with a delicate chin, sharp cheekbones, lips that were almost overly lush, and exotically tilted, thickly lashed eyes.

“She cannot be
just
his roommate,” Aziza muttered under her breath, but West, who’d obviously moved closer, heard her.

“You’re right,” he replied softly. “Chiye is more than that. I suppose, if what Ram says is true, I’m her Gregory Prophet.”

Aziza managed to tear her attention away from the hypnotic performance to stare at him.

He shrugged. “I’m a writer. I listen. And Ram likes to talk. I also know that he won’t ask you to, but I think you should come to Underbridge tonight. Bring your West and I’ll bring my Aziza Jane. We can compare notes.”

That sounded promising in more ways than one. It would give her the opportunity to seek out the truth, maybe discover the reason one human fetish club had become the focal point of the Jiniyr attacks.

It had nothing to do with the woman dangling above, the one she was so drawn to, or the handsome man smiling into her eyes. It had nothing to do with Ram or her need to strike out on her own without the Alpha’s permission. Without Brandon. To do something everyone seemed to want her not to do. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

After she’d changed, she met Ram outside and he hailed a taxi. He got in beside her and gave the driver the address while Aziza studied him. “So why did you want me to press the mind-your-own-business button?”

At his charade-like, silent request, she’d invoked Mayet’s Veil while they were still standing on the curb, tinting the glass between worlds so they couldn’t be observed by Jinn or Niyr.

He snorted as he took her hand. “Because now I can relax for the first time in weeks. You have no idea what it feels like to know someone could be watching you at any time. Studying you like a goldfish in a bowl.”

Aziza gave him an arch look. “Excuse me? I know exactly what it feels like, Mr. Watch Me Shower.”

His smile was wistful. “How could I look away?” he murmured, reminding her of the day they’d first met. He let go of her hand and patted her on the thigh. “So. Tell me about your murders. Sounds like a bloodbath. Give me all the gory details.”

The cab jerked as if the driver had accidentally slammed his foot on the brakes, and one glance told Aziza she wasn’t off the mark. He was watching them in his rearview mirror suspiciously. They couldn’t talk about this here. She had to think of something to distract the man before he dropped them off with the nearest police officer.

“For the story I’m writing in the next edition of your magazine? You want to know what the angle is?” She stared meaningfully at Ram, her eyes shifting back to the driver until he caught on.

“Yes, of course for the story. What else would I be talking about?” he asked gruffly, laughter in his bright-green eyes. “I am paying you for facts, Lois Lane, not gossip.”

Lois Lane?

“My price is about to go up,” she sniffed, enjoying the act. “A story like this isn’t cheap, you know. And it definitely wasn’t easy to get my informant to talk.”

Ram’s hand returned to her leg and lingered, caressing her thigh where the hem of her skirt ended. She’d worn it and an oversized, off-the-shoulder T-shirt to the Hangar this morning because it had been the first thing in her closet. Now she was wishing she’d worn something that offered a bit more protection from his roaming hands.

You love it.

“Nothing about you is cheap or easy, my dear. But I know what you’re offering is worth it.” His fingers slipped under the fabric, gliding swiftly between her thighs until they touched her black-lace underwear. “I’m sure finding someone so…
deep inside
…took more than one long, hard night of work on your part.”

Oh God. What was he doing? Playing out one of her fantasies—being touched like this in a taxi on a busy street, in broad daylight,
without
getting to take the easy Mayet way out.

She inhaled sharply, shifted and pressed her thighs together, squeezing his fingers painfully in punishment.
Think of Brandon.
She was with him—despite their fight. Despite her need for space. He wouldn’t appreciate her behavior.

“My
informant
is the best at what he does. I’m completely satisfied with his work.” Her voice was higher than it should have been, more forceful as she reached for his wrist and pulled his hand away from her skin. “Maybe we should go into the details later.”

Ram moved closer, trapping her firmly between his body and the cab’s door. He pressed his lips against her ear, speaking loud enough for the now less paranoid, but still incredibly interested driver to hear. “Are you sure you won’t give me a taste of what’s coming? What you’re going to give me? In your story, I mean. A small bit of something I can sink my teeth into?” He bit her earlobe gently. “I apologize, but my curiosity is making it hard for me to control myself. Name your price.”

“That’ll be fifteen pounds even, sir.” The driver’s
voice
was actually blushing. He was scandalized. But it was better than his being suspicious. Aziza bit her lip to keep from laughing and ruining the act…or moaning and begging Ram not to stop.

Fuck.

She opened her purse and paid the fare before slipping out of the taxi to stand in front of her aunt’s building with a sigh of relief.

And regret.

No. Only relief, she assured herself adamantly, watching Ram unfold from the vehicle, a broad grin on his beautiful face.

“Oh shut up.”

“What?” he asked innocently. “You started it. I was all ready to talk about serial-killing Jiniyr when you went into your Girl Friday routine. I was trying to give him a good show.”

“First Lois Lane, and now Girl Friday,” she muttered. “I’m getting the feeling I’ve been racked with guilt about you for no reason. You’ve been popping popcorn and kicking back watching old movies with West and his pretty roommate, haven’t you?”