pdf - From the Ashes.PDF (3 page)

He dropped the handles and wrapped large warm hands on her hips. He rocked her onto him until the tension winding in her core released, and she tumbled over into orgasm. Fiach’s strokes forced through her tightened muscles until he shouted out and filled her with hot forceful spurts.

His fangs dropped, and he thrust once more as he bit into the vein throbbing in her neck. He could feel her uncertainty as he pricked her skin, but she rapidly replaced her hesitancy with the rush of providing for her lover as no one else could. Their bodies stilled; the final tremors relaxed away as he fed, as she arched up in offering. He suckled at her neck; the brush of his lips raised gooseflesh along her body. When he was sated, he licked the small wound and nuzzled her shoulder in silent thanks.

He withdrew from her and used the edge of the blanket to clean the fluids trickling down her legs. He dressed with a thought and helped her stand. Then he carried her to the car since her shoes were nowhere in sight. He dropped her lightly on her feet so she could dress behind the shield of his muscular body. They were in no danger of being discovered; the woods were deserted except for wildlife, and it was now full dark. No one would see, but human modesty forced her to pull on her jeans and shirt quickly and left her anxious to head home.

Inside the car, she rested her forehead on her window. The low murmur of the radio and the steady sway of the car lulled her to sleep. She didn’t wake when Fiach lifted her from the car and carried her inside. She stirred for a moment while he pulled down the bed sheets, but once she felt his familiar warmth curl around her, she fell back to sleep.

Fiach woke to the sharp pop of ozone and the bitter sulfuric stench that signaled they had company: demons. He kept his eyes closed and focused with his other senses. Low voices rumbled just outside the bedroom door. He had only seconds to prepare. He shook Cilia awake; her eyes rounded when she met the cold determination of his stare.

“Demons are in the cabin. I can’t tell how many, but too many for me to risk your safety. When they come, do as they ask. Don’t fight.” He pressed a rough kiss to her thinning lips. “Be brave, Firebird. We don’t have much time.”

He lay back, closed his eyes, and assumed a sleeping position. He gestured that she should do the same. When the demons cracked open the door and circled the bed, neither moved. When one covered Cilia’s mouth with a filthy open palm, Fiach heard her struggle not to purge her stomach of its meager contents. The mattress dipped as the demon forced her to sit up and then sprang back as her weight left the bed. He tensed and waited for her to be secured.

He heard the clink of metal on metal. The chains tinkled together in bell-like tones.

Then he heard the definite snap of a clasp. Cilia was quiet, but he felt her fury in the subtle rise of temperature around him. Her Phoenix was seeking his; it needed to know its mate was unharmed and wondered if it should take control.

Fiach pushed reassurance into his own Phoenix. Soothing it, convincing it to calm its mate and allow events to unfold. The stifling heat that had choked the air dissipated, and a cool resolve settled around the cabin.

Sharp pressure dug into his side. He feigned rolling over and let his arm strike out to find the empty mattress where Cilia had lain only minutes before. He prepared for his upcoming role: the surprised half-breed caught unaware of his woman’s capture. His eyes shot open, and he glared around their small bedroom.

Lesser demons filled the room; Arvel had made good on her threat. There was only one demon foolish enough to risk the wrath of Fiach’s mother and attempt a coup against his father. Jarlath.

Cilia stood shackled in gold chains, looking fierce and proud. Her eyes softened as they met his, a silent recognition of their bond. He counted four lesser demons, including the one cautiously holding the chain threaded through Cilia’s restraints. She was nude, a fact the demons around her enjoyed greatly. Her hip length ebony hair was sleep tousled.

Her pale, luminescent skin glowed faintly in the darkness.

The demons caged his Firebird, a mistake they would live to regret for now. Fiach reached beneath his pillow and grasped a thin crystalline tube. It was a gift from his mother, a homing beacon that she could follow if ever he needed her help. Peering around the room, he realized that time was now.

He snapped the tube and covered it back with his pillow to keep the light hidden. The pressure in his side increased as he sat up. A lesser demon pressed a gold tipped spear into his ribs. He had never thought of gold as a menacing alloy before, but as the malleable tip pressed into his skin, acute pain radiated from the contact point.

“I imagine that’s uncomfortable. What with you being a Phoenix and all,” a deep voice boomed from the hallway.

Fiach jerked his head around in time to see a tall, dark-skinned demon sweep into the room. Jarlath was a demonic parasite. He increased his power by leeching away the essence of other supernatural beings. Red symbols of power wrapped around his face and neck, burned into his skin as remnants of the abilities he’d stolen. The other symbols on his body hid under black slacks and a black jacket.

Disgust pitched his stomach as Fiach realized what Jarlath’s interest in them meant.

Cilia was a Phoenix. If she were to die, she would be reborn from her ashes. Now that Fiach had mated her and became as she was, he, too, was a perpetually renewable energy resource.

Fiach tamped down his unease. “Hello, Jarlath.”

White teeth winked in the black skinned face. “It has been a while, has it not?” He walked to Cilia and traced her cheek with a finger. “It’s a shame that the myth of copulation has proven true.” His skin sizzled but he shook it off, nonplussed. “I would have loved to sample her pyroardor.” He appraised Fiach with the same sexually intense gaze. “I know from Arvel that you are off the menu as well. Not to worry, I have other uses for you, as you well know.”

Arvel was androgynous, both male and female. While some demons were monoecious and could self fertilize, Arvel was merely hermaphroditic. She required sperm or egg donors, so she often bartered with fellow demons for sex. Fiach had bargained with her mostly-female form too many times to count, and he despised himself for each encounter, particularly the last, where he asked to exchange places with Stella and Max.

Jarlath licked the coating of burnt skin from his fingertips then tossed a set of golden shackles to the lesser demon beside Fiach. The demon presented the cuffs and waited for Fiach to place his wrists into the bracelets before clamping them flush to his skin. Jarlath left in a flash of light and sound. His demon lackeys pulled Fiach to stand and pushed him to Cilia’s side, where they were led single file from the cabin and out into the yard.

In a burst of blinding light, they simply stopped being and came into existence somewhere else. Fiach looked around and recognized the opulent surroundings as Jarlath’s private residence, a palatial spread carved out of bedrock far below the surface of the earth. The frigid temperature and yawing darkness were its main attraction to the demon lord. He was a nightwalker, only allowed to move above ground during the nighttime hours.

He caught a glimpse of his mate, and she rewarded him with a timid smile before the guard noticed and hit him across the face with enough force to make his jaw pop.

Celia struggled against her bonds, but Fiach shook his head.
We shouldn’t fight, at
least not until we know what we are up against,
he warned. He allowed himself to be led down a long tunnel and into a series of catacombs. Each boasted a dirty floor and rock walls with iron bars that crisscrossed the width of the opening. One cell glowed with the soft light of oil lamps mounted to either side of its entrance. A threadbare Persian rug rested over the dirt. A small bed sat in one corner, and a table and two chairs sat in the corner opposite.

He gazed around the space. So, this was to be their prison. He noted the thickly crusted black bars that thrummed with demon magic. A holding spell enchanted the bars; even if the enchantment could be reversed, he would pay dearly for touching the iron.

Only one cell had been prepared, so he would be allowed to stay with Cilia. For the moment, that was all that mattered.

The demon holding her chains pushed her into the cavernous room and forced her backwards so that he could shove Fiach in as well. He instructed them to thread their hands through the bars to have their restraints removed. Once the golden baubles opened, Fiach rubbed Cilia’s wrists; the prolonged contact with the gold had given her a surface burn. The wounds healed as he smoothed over the chaffed skin with his thumbs. He added that mark to his tally of their captors’ sins, but for now, he was content to pull her into his arms and stroke her bare back with his fingertips.

Pulled from the comfort of their shared bed, they stood naked. Fiach could cover himself but was uncertain if he could do the same for her. Their mingling of essence might have given Fiach enough commonality with Cilia’s body to allow him to manifest her clothing.

He pulled her closer and closed his eyes, thinking of the layers and fabrics that he would choose to wrap her in. When he heard her startled intake of breath, he knew the experiment had been a success. He fashioned himself black leather pants and a simple t-shirt then stepped back to admire his handiwork.

*

Cilia startled as a swath of fabric slid over her skin. She looked down as the dress that Fiach had designed fell into place. The gauzy scrap of fabric managed to cover her most intimate parts and only hinted at the lush curves hidden beneath. She almost complained about the scantiness since the demons still stared at her with lusty intent.

Instead, she saw the dark appreciative glimmer in his eyes and swallowed the snide remark hovering on the tip of her tongue. “Thank you, she said, appreciative of his kindness.

They moved to the bed and sat on the edge together. His arm rested across her shoulders, and the familiar weight brought her comfort. She snuggled closer. “So, any ideas?”

Fiach played with a quill, running his fingers down the vane. “A few ideas actually.”

He grinned.

“Any you want share?”

He looked thoughtful. “Not particularly.”

Cilia slapped his hand from her hair. He dropped them into his lap and linked the fingers. She slipped her hand into the loose knot of his. “Fiach, we’re supposed to be a team.” She rubbed her other hand over his sculpted stomach, tracing the hard ridges she found there. He quivered under her touch. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through this.”

He dropped her hand and drew her across his lap. She nestled against his shoulder and smiled when he hissed and shifted her weight away from his erection. “So how do we escape?” she asked.

Fiach’s soft chuckle was enchanting. “Why are you so certain I know a way out of this?”

“You wouldn’t have allowed us to be captured otherwise. Anyone who bargains with Arvel the way you have is made of stronger stuff. You didn’t even put up a fight.”

“Maybe I was worried that you would get hurt.”

Cilia chewed her lip and pretended to consider. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s not it.”

“They did have gold chains on you,” he noted; his dark eyes implied that he thought chains weren’t a bad idea.

“True, but I could have melted them if it became necessary.”

Fiach asked in puzzlement, “How do you know that? Isn’t gold toxic to you? To us?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like an irritant. I don’t know that anything can actually kill a Phoenix.”

He considered that. “How is it that pertinent information bubbles out of you at the most inopportune moments?”

Cilia laughed. “It’s complicated. I have the knowledge of all my lifetimes, but to keep them straight, each rebirth erects a wall against my past consciousness. The information is there, it’s just a matter of locating it.”

Fiach became quiet. His focus centered on the hall before them.

“Did I say something wrong?” Cilia asked.

“I just wonder.” He took a deep breath. “What if we don’t remember each other in the next incarnation? I would be grateful for five hundred years at your side, but I would prefer a much longer indenture.”

Cilia’s chest tightened. She held Fiach’s face between her palms. “You’re my mate.

No matter how many times we are reborn, now that we have found each other, we will always burn together and rise from the ashes.”

His dark eyes gleamed. “Cilia, you would have been better off with someone else.

The things I’ve done … the creatures I’ve done them with…”

Cilia smoothed a stray hair from his cheek. “The past is in the past. Our love was born of fire, and fire cleanses everything it touches.”

“You are better than I deserve.” He dropped a kiss into her palm.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Cilia pulled his face down to hers for a quick kiss and sighed as his heat enfolded her. He laid her back onto the thin bedding, covered her, and ground his leather-encased cock against her barely covered mound.

Celia turned her head and froze. Jarlath propped his forehead on the bars as he looked in on them.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he whispered.

Fiach pulled back and resumed his seat on the edge of the mattress. She curled into his side and waited.

“Oh well. I suppose it was a bit much to expect to witness the mating fires so soon.

After you’ve been here a while, you’ll learn to accept my presence during such private moments.” His lips curled back over his teeth. “Perhaps even enjoy it.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Cilia said.

“Sweet one, time means nothing to my kind or yours. I have no doubt your lover will be unable to resist claiming you eventually.”

Jarlath stepped back and motioned for two of his demons to slip trays of food between the bars. The meal looked delicious, which made her immediately suspicious.

“Enjoy you dinner.” Jarlath rubbed his jaw; his fingers slipped over his lips. Then he turned and left the catacombs through the tunnel they had taken earlier.