Soul of Flame (7 page)

The question caught him by surprise, and he gave his answer careful consideration. “My father told me from the moment he first caught my mother’s scent, he was captivated by her. Trailed her for days through the jungle, lurking on the edge of her family’s territory too scared to approach her. Mama said she knew he was there, but she refused to acknowledge him, wanting to see if he would make an effort to win her over. When the full moon struck, he cried all night for her until her father lost his temper and chased him away.” Shim smiled at the memory of the affectionate teasing between his parents when they’d first told him the story.

“He kept coming back, and Papi kept chasing him off, but my father said he could never give up without claiming her.” His jaguar surged, snarling and rubbing close beneath his skin, catching him off guard. Smoke-and-spice curled through his mind, and he recalled Rekkus’ comment about Shim being bathed in Ceara’s scent.

Oh shit!

The realization hit like a ton of bricks. He clenched his fists, fighting to keep in control. The jaguar strained against his hold, impatient it had taken the man so long to catch up with what he’d known from the first moment he’d buried his nose in her creamy throat.

Ceara was his mate. The perfect half the Fates decreed would make him whole. And he’d tried to kill her at their first meeting then almost forced himself upon her at their second.

“Shim, is everything all right, sir?” The diffident tone from the boy brought him back to himself.

He cut his growl off, forcing himself to relax. His palms stung. His claws had come out, piercing bloody wounds where he’d balled his fists. “I’m fine, Ben. I’ve been an idiot about a few things, and my cat is a little irritated with me because of it. You’re too young to be worried about mating, but I would say trust your instincts and, when the time is right, you’ll know.”

“There’s a girl I like at school. She smells like sunshine and clover. She makes my head spin, and I say dumb stuff to her all the time.” Ben sighed. Reaching for a small stone, he skimmed it across the surface of the river. “She’s not a bear, though. She’s just a human, and my mama says she won’t understand how it is for us weres if I try and tell her how I feel.” The boy sounded so despondent, Shim swallowed a laugh.

“I remember a time when all girls smelled like heaven, Ben. Just because you are attracted to her, doesn’t mean she is your mate. I fell in and out of love with every girl in the local village over a period of about four years, so maybe cut yourself some slack and just see what happens.”

The young man nodded. “She has a friend who smells like strawberries. I like strawberries.”

Shim laughed and clapped Ben on the shoulder before pulling him to his feet. The sun had crossed the sky during their talk. He needed to get the boy back to the security of the barracks before night fell and the moon called forth his bear.

And then he had some serious mate claiming to do.

Ceara smoothed her hand over the white silk dress she unearthed from the bottom of her suitcase. The energy from the circle still sang in her veins. A fruitless hour spent in front of the hearth, trying and failing to coax the flames to respond, had led to a flurry of bitter tears. The boost from the circle had driven the worst of the cold away. Her righteous fury at the damned cat helped to warm her further. The mere thought of him brought a flood of dampness between her legs. So humiliating! He was little better than an animal and arrogant with it. She was a daughter of the Unseelie Court, an immortal fae. Not some damn plaything for him to pick up and drop whenever he felt like it.

With a sigh, she met her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Too old to lie to herself, the truth struck deep. Shim had played her body better than any other male then rejected her. It hurt her pride, maybe her heart just a little bit. Hence the outfit. A good dress served better than a suit of armor—another hard-won lesson of court. Rumpling her hair until it cascaded down her back like fire, she retouched the matching red lipstick coating her mouth, emphasizing her full lower lip. Her feet remained bare, touching the earth would help to keep her grounded.

The dining room hummed with activity by the time she arrived. She didn’t hesitate, crossing into the darker-green side of the room. She was not mundane. Not human. No more hiding. A hush followed her progress, and she raised her chin.
Let them look
.

A chair scraped back, the harsh noise drawing her attention. The jaguar stood, looking damn fine in his dark-green shirt and black evening slacks. He gestured to the seat opposite him. She curled her lip in a sneer of disbelief at his arrogance. Choosing an unoccupied table, she stood beside a chair, waiting for one of the waiters to pull it out for her. She’d barely settled before he approached, taking the seat next to her as though he had every right to do so. Determined to ignore him, she turned to the waiter with a gracious smile, accepting the offered menu. He poured a glass of ice water, bowed, and withdrew to a discreet distance.

Shim lounged back in his chair, his body language relaxed. He summoned the waiter to transfer his drink and silverware across to his new seat. “I’ll be taking my meal with the Lady Ceara this evening.”

She let out a jagged laugh. “Lady is it now? You’ve changed your tune,
cat.
”
She hissed the last word at him. Her palm itched with the desire to slap the smile off his rugged, handsome features. Wait! That wasn’t what she thought when she looked at him.
It wasn’t!

She reached for her glass of water, not sure whether she should throw it in his face or dump it over her head to quench the desire churning low in her belly. As though sensing her intentions, Shim grasped her hand and captured it in his own. He massaged the palm of her hand with the ball of his thumb. His touch rocketed through her body, making her fight against the urge to squirm in her seat. Keeping his jade-green eyes fixed on hers, he drew her arm closer, turning her wrist to bare the pale, almost translucent skin. He lowered his face, pressing his nose against her skin, and drew in a breath. A deep rumbling sound built in his chest, and she blinked at him in astonishment.

Is he actually purring?

His wicked tongue stroked over her pulse point, and she couldn’t fight a shudder. The wet heat conjured images of him kneeling between her thighs.

Biting hard on the inside of her cheek, she used the small pain to focus her thoughts. She yanked her hand free, tucking it in her lap. Resting his elbows on the table, he placed his chin on his folded hands, studying her.

“I’m sorry,
mi tesoro
.” He pitched his husky voice low, for her ears alone, and Ceara frowned at the unexpected endearment. His behavior seemed so at odds with his angry departure from the meadow. She didn’t know what to make of it.

“What exactly are you sorry for?” she muttered. “Are you sorry you tried to kill me? Sorry you insulted me? Sorry you made me come with your mouth?”

A well of anger had been building since their encounter, replacing the numbness of her existence. She wanted to scream, wanted to lash out, to scour the world with fire and vengeance until she found the person responsible for the deaths of her team. She glared at him, and, for a second, she hated him. He’d shocked her out of her lethargy, forced her to feel again. Hadn’t even had the decency to put her out of her misery when he’d had the chance.

The anger boiled, a living thing crawling in her gut. Wetting her lips, she slicked moisture over the shimmer of red lipstick. His body language shifted, keen and sharp. He bent his entire focus upon her, and she shuddered. Opening her mouth to speak, she froze when the waiter appeared with their food. After an imperceptible shake of his head in her direction, Shim smiled and thanked the waiter. He raised his silverware and cut a thick slice of the rare steak in front of him. Tilting his head toward her plate, he lifted the piece of meat to his mouth.

“You need to eat,
querida
. You look magnificent in your fury, and it’s such a turn-on, but if we’re going to have a proper fight, then you need to keep your strength up.” He chewed the steak, cut another slice before placing his knife and fork down. “Eat, Ceara.” This time it wasn’t a request, and she couldn’t help but respond to the dominance in his command.

She ate mechanically—cut, bite, chew, swallow, repeat. The last vestige of rationality in her mind said the food tasted delicious, had been prepared to perfection. It might have been a fast food burger for all the attention she paid to it. He ate fast, his efficient movements clearing his plate well before she finished, although he’d started with a much larger portion. Handing her the glass of water, he watched her raise it to her mouth. She drained the contents until he nodded in satisfaction. Rising from his chair, he prowled around the small table to stand at her back. He eased the seat as she stood then captured her hand. Placing it on his forearm in a courtly gesture, he escorted her from the dining room. Rage boiled so close to the surface, her entire body vibrated with the tension of it.

Leaning close, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Hold on to it for just a little bit longer.” He bit down on the tender lobe, a sharp sting, followed by a soothing lick. She stiffened her posture to avoid arching her back, pleasure racing through her. Passing the reception desk, he smiled at Myron.

The young woman grabbed her deck of cards and dealt five out on the desk before she laughed. “You are in so much trouble, kitty.”

Shrugging as though it were no big deal, he continued to lead Ceara outside.

The moment they cleared the light shining through the entranceway, he quickened his pace, dragging her into a stand of trees just off the pathway. She yanked her hand away, her action so violent she staggered a little before rounding on him. He towered over her by at least a foot, and she stretched up on tiptoes to deliver a hard slap to his cheek. The blow knocked his lip against his teeth, and he grinned, licking the spot of blood from his mouth.

“Feel better,
querida
?” he taunted.

She launched herself at him, a flurry of fists and teeth, striking him over and over. Standing firm, he let her vent her frustration against him. Her hands hurt from pounding against his thick chest, his solid thighs and arms, but she couldn’t stop. All the pain and sorrow she’d buried came flooding to the surface. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them free. She didn’t want to mourn, she wanted the rage, needed it to keep her heart protected.

Shim grabbed her by the waist. Over-balancing Ceara, he took them both to the ground, rolling in a fluid motion so he landed flat on his back with her sprawled over him. She clawed at his shirt, ripping the buttons free to find his flesh. Nails digging deep, she marked his golden skin. He let out a moan, lifting his knees so she slid down to straddle his lap. The thick length of his cock rubbed against her pussy through the thin silk of her dress. Incapable of rational thought, she crawled up his body to clamp her mouth over his.

She bit his lower lip hard, and he rumbled in approval, the vibration in his chest teasing against her nipples. He gripped her chin, forced her mouth to open, and plunged his tongue deep. Palming her ass, he pressed the juncture of her thighs down, thrusting his hips against her.

Tearing her mouth away, she scored his chest, threw her head back, and screamed. The fat disc of the burgeoning moon shone through the tops of the trees, the symbol of the goddess watching over them both. She ground her hips, rubbing desperately against the seam of his pants. It wasn’t enough. She needed to be closer. Needed skin against skin. Lifting off, she fumbled with his belt buckle.

Shim grabbed her hand. Stilling her movements, he panted for breath. “Not here,
flamita
. We are too close to the Haus and someone might disturb us. Where are you staying? I didn’t scent you on the second floor. Not with the human guests?”

“They gave me a cottage. It’s near the meadow.” Her voice sounded husky and unfamiliar to her ears. He had successfully transmuted her anger to lust, and she wanted nothing more than to ride this man to oblivion. She rubbed against his hips again, and he growled, smacking her ass. Rolling to his feet in one graceful move, he threw her over his shoulder.

The indignity of it would not be borne. “Put me down, you beast!” Ceara yelled.

Sharp teeth sank into the rounded flesh of her ass. She yelped in shock, and his palm cracked across the other cheek before he flowed into action. He ran like silk, like water flowing over rocks. His feet ate up the ground, giving her no choice but to grab the back of his belt and hold on for the ride. They reached the gates of the meadow before she knew it, and he paused. Ceara shoved her hair out of her face, pointed up the hill, and he moved again.

Shifting to the left, he dove into the tree line, finding the little path to the cottage without her saying anything, no doubt following her scent trail. Slamming the door of the cottage open, he lowered her onto her feet, stepping back to leave a modicum of space between their bodies.

His chest rose and fell in a lazy action, jade eyes glittering in the firelight. She’d banked the fireplace before she’d left. The inside of the cottage remained warm, the soft glow from the flames lit the room. He studied her, his intense look sending shivers down her spine. Whatever courage, or madness, had caused her brazen actions in the trees had fled somewhere during the journey. Ducking her head away from his eyes, she glanced at his chest, his powerful physique visible through the tattered remains of his shirt. Thick scratches gouged his skin, and she raised her hands in front of her, shocked at the sight of blood beneath her nails. She flicked her eyes up, blinking in astonishment at the look of pleasure on his face.

“I like your marks on me,
querida
.” He growled, tugging the remains of his shirt free. Slabs of muscle cut down his abdomen, a clear line defining each side arrowing down to his hips. She licked her dry lips, wanting to trace the indent with her tongue, to chase it lower and lower until she reached the prize she knew awaited her.