Fire in an Amber Sky

  “You wish.” She gets up on her elbows, her hair messy and wild like a lion’s mane. She licks her lips as if she’s about to widen her jaw and take a bite out of me. “Okay, maybe a little.” She holds her fingers together smaller than an inch. “Why don’t you do relationships?”

  “Not going there.”

  Her affect falls flat. Gone is the good girl smile I’ve come to appreciate. “I want to know what that Jackie person did to you.”

  Adrenaline rushes through me at the mention of her name—in my bed after fucking, no less. It feels sacrilegious. It is. For whatever reason, Macy is beginning to resent Jackie, and that’s not what I want to happen.

  “She didn’t do anything. She’s just someone from my past, and that’s where I want to keep her.” A knot settles in my throat as big as a car wreck. “I can’t do this.” I swallow through the pain. “It’s not worth it. Nothing happened.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Lincoln. Something so terrible happened that you can’t open up your heart to anyone else.” She drops her face in her hands a moment before resurfacing, her skin glowing from the friction. “If I wasn’t Cannon born and bred, would I have a chance with you? You know, break the Jackie curse?”

  This, right here, is where breaking my no redheads, no virgins, no fucking Cannons policy will land me. And I just gifted her Jackie on a platter. A mean growl works its way up my throat.

  “Down boy.” Macy recoils.

  “You want me to teach you? You want a free pass to my bed? Then there is only one rule between you and me, Sin. We don’t talk about my past or the people in it.” I sit up forcibly, too quick, and a wave of nausea bounces through me. It takes a second before it passes. “To answer your question, yes. You could’ve broken the curse, Sin.” I look back with a devilish grin. “You have no one but the Cannons to blame.” I’m teasing on some level, but it’s also true.

  Macy wrinkles her nose. “Would you believe they’re paying me to bed you in exchange for a complete report on the company treason you’re planning?” She ticks her head, her eyes expanding at the idea.

  I shake my head. “Had they known what was going on, those uncles of yours would have woken us up with a shotgun blast. But only you would have heard it. My head would be splattered all over the ceiling.”

  Her brows rise with his amusement. “Excellent imagery. But I don’t think my uncles own a single gun between them. You’re the dangerous one, remember?”

  “Don’t you forget it, sweetheart.”

  “Come here.” She reaches down and cups my balls, making my body ache for her once again. “This rodeo is getting dull with no horse to ride.”

  “You come here.” I pull her up until we’re nose-to-nose. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m no cowboy?”

  “I believe I alluded to the fact you were akin to a horse.” She bites down on that sexy as hell smile of hers. “You’re hung like one.”

  I belt out a laugh and land a lingering kiss over her lips, the smile still curved to my lips.

  “You disarm me,” I whisper right over her mouth. “That’s a very dangerous thing to do.”

  “Someone has to.” She dips down and takes a firm bite from my neck.

  “That hurt.” The pain throbs long after her lips leave the vicinity.

  “That was the point.”

  “You like pain?”

  “Please.” She grunts as if she’s in pain right now. “My vagina wants to know why the amphibious invasion of Normandy. It’s writhing in agony, and there wasn’t a single German soldier on the inside.”

  I pull back a notch, examining this beautiful creature that’s managed to find her way into my bed, into my arms. “Are you saying my amphibious night drop was unnecessary?”

  She considers this for a moment, her lips twist from side to side, and the very act makes my stomach drop like I were a teenager on some cheap thrill ride. I hold back the smile. Macy is smart. Aggressively so. She knows what she wants, and according to just about every conversation we have, it looks like she wants me. But what she doesn’t understand is, I already have her in the only way I could ever have anyone—in my bed, nowhere else. Our relationship lives and dies between the sheets, over the desk, wherever our sexual appetites take us. A part of me is shocked I’m considering a second or third romp. I’ve bedded the same girl before, plenty of times. Even now I have a few regulars, but they understand the rules. Macy will misconstrue them. She’ll believe it’s something more than it is, and when I tell her that it’s not, she’ll probably blame Jackie of all people. It’s true, though. All of the blame can squarely, unfairly, be put upon Jackie’s shoulders.

  Macy flips her dark crimson hair, and a strand falls over her neck like a seam of blood. My eyes gravitate to that one wavy tendril and stay there.

  “I’m saying”—she gets on all fours and crawls onto my lap—“that your amphibious night drop was—oh, hell, it feels like you ground me down with sandpaper.” She slaps her hands over her face and peers between her fingers. “I don’t know if I can handle another round. I think you broke me.”

  A spontaneous laugh pulses through me, and it feels good, playful—so damn playful, this one. “Shit, Sin, I’m so sorry.” Carefully, I roll her onto her back and push her knees to her chest.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to kiss you and make it all better.” My eyebrows rise because I’ve just met her at the pinnacle of her silliness, and I kind of like it. “Get your day started off right.” I get down on my elbows before looking up at her again, her glassy eyes already begging for it. “You didn’t fake it last night, did you?”

  Her features rearrange to an insta-frown. “Why would a girl in bed with Lincoln Lionheart have to fake anything?”

  “Excellent point.”

  She kicks me softly in the head with her knee. “A Cannon never lies.”

  I growl again, playfully this time—mostly.

  “Get to work,” she growls back. “There isn’t a Lionheart a Cannon can’t tame.” Something in the way her eyes fork into mine tells me she believes this to be true.

  Our gaze hooks a moment too long.

  Macy sliced a little too close to the bone with that one, but, then, she wanted to.

  I make her come twice as hard as last night and keep going long after she rattles the walls with her screams.

  The Cannons only think they can tame us.

  What they should remember is a Lionheart always eats his prey.

  * * *

  Late in the afternoon, much to Macy’s insistence, we head to Jinx together. I would have opted for sleeping the day away with her tucked in my arms—romance at its pinnacle for her and some serious catching up on my Zs for me. A small part of me enjoys the banter, the flirtation, and the easiness of this so-called relationship. I’m not a big believer in things that intersect on the corner of hearts and flowers, and what happened yesterday evening is one of the reasons why. Although, I’m not shocked to have a new sibling, I’m further dismayed by my father’s hypocrisy. How many other Lionhearts are out there waiting to pounce, waiting to enter the world of Merlin, and now Jinx, trying to cash in on the inheritance prize? Stevie and Aspen are different. They’re a part of the family, a part of me, but this new person, this random asshole has the balls to dance around this place with a shit-eating grin capitalizing on everything my father has built. I wonder if I’d feel differently about him if he were a she. Most likely I would. I love my sisters to a fault. They’re a part of my coven. That asshole is anything but. And, if he thinks he’s getting in with the clan based on some loose DNA, he can forget it. I suggest he takes that little dick of his and shove it up his ass before heading back to the city that spit him out. Maybe he can delve into the world of finance without the aid of the money my father grew with his own two hands. Stevie and Aspen were here from the beginning. This asshole simply crawled out of the woodwork like a cockroach.

  Macy and I part ways once we hit the hive. She g
ives a pat to my ass and a wink before taking off, that mile-wide grin I put on her face this morning still in place. There’s a bounce in my step, and a stupid smile trying to float to the surface. I need to shut this shit down. I’m not some bleeding heart who’s going to change my ways and start buying roses and chocolate. I’m still driving the fuck-’em-and-leave-’em bandwagon. I need to hold off on letting her seep into my psyche. I’m just doing her a favor—finishing what I started. She’s aware of it, and that’s all that matters. As long as she’s not nursing a broken heart at the end of the day, I won’t feel too bad about it.

  Stevie and Aspen catch my eye in the poolroom, each holding their own stick, and I take a step back to peer into the dimly lit area to get a better look. My sisters don’t play pool. They certainly don’t hang out in the hive, laughing their asses off before quitting time. They’re even-tempered, hard working, and not a part of the so-called controlled chaos that Ford and his boneheaded brothers like to propagate. I look over at the guy they’re palling around with and fully expect to see Ford or Carter, both maybe, or that kiss-ass the Cannons have hired to routinely lick their cracks clean, Jener, but my heart gives an irregular hammer when I see the douche in question. Luke.

  “Shit,” I mutter, heading inside. “You don’t waste a fucking minute, do you?”

  Aspen and Stevie grow quiet. Their faces flip from joy to disapproval.

  “Linc,” Stevie warns as if I’m a rabid dog she has to temper.

  At least Kinsley isn’t a part of the mutiny. Perhaps my full-blooded sister is the only one I can truly rely on.

  “What’d I miss?” Kins comes bouncing in with four iced coffees tucked neatly into a corrugated box. “Oh, shoot, Linc. I don’t have one for you. You can share mine.”

  She gives me a dirty look because sharing isn’t one of her inherent qualities. It’s not mine either. I openly glare at the bastard who thinks he’s going to swoop in and take my place.

  “You want in?” Luke shifts his stick from one hand to the next, smooth and fluid like a party trick.

  “No, I don’t want in. I want you out.”

  “We get it.” Aspen comes over and wraps her arm around my waist. If she wasn’t pregnant, I might have pushed her off. “Nobody is going to take your place, Linc. We just wanted to get to know Luke a little better. That’s all. Did you know he was on the lacrosse team back in high school? Weren’t you on the lacrosse team at your school? I bet there is a ton of little coincidences that we share. I think we should get to know him. It’s not his fault Hans has a wandering dick.”

  I wince when she says that word. Aspen isn’t known to use coarse language, but in an effort to get her point across, she’ll do it if she has to.

  “Let’s.” I’m only giving in for show. “But some other time. I’ve got a shitload of work to do, and I’m sure Luke does, too.”

  “Passive aggressive much?” Kins sets her jaw the way she does when she’s egging me on. I hate that. And I hate that all of us are in this awkward situation. If I didn’t resent my father before, I sure as hell do now.

  “I get it.” Luke comes in and stands a good foot away with just enough clearance for my fist to make nice with his pretty little face if it wanted. “I think Lincoln and I need to spend some one-on-one time together. I wouldn’t like it either if some asshole rode in and tried to take over. Not that I’m trying to take over.” He gives humble bow. “But that’s how I would feel, too. How about you and I hit Gravity? Or Kinx? Hell, you name the bar, and I’ll be there. I’m buying. One beer, that’s all I ask.”

  The clicking of the tongues begins as my sisters rally around him, pleading his cause with their sad puppy-dog eyes.

  Shit. “Sure.” I try to sound amiable, a one-eighty to my fight or flight response of a few minutes ago. “I’ve got a few things to take care of. We can take off in an hour.” No use in prolonging the misery.

  “Yay!” Kinsley wraps her arms around him, sucker punching me in the process. “You’ll have to do the Trattoria with us, too. It’s so fun. We all meet up once a week and just sit around enjoying each other’s company.”

  I take off just as Kinsley lays out the directions and history of our famous weekly meet and greets. There it goes, my last sanctuary with my family corrupted by Luke Vain Der Wolff and his steely ass balls. Soon, my sisters will start running to Luke for advice. When one of them needs someone to sink a hole into the skull of their asshole husband, it’s going to be him holding the pistol.

  A horrible feeling hits as I exit the hive. I do a once-over of the vicinity for Macy, but no such luck. Only she has the power to defuse this bomb brewing inside me—that infectious smile, her sarcasm that knows no bounds. I’m craving it all right now. A thought comes to me, slamming over my head like a mallet.

  Shit. I’ve let her in. She’s seeped into my bones. But I already have Jackie coursing through my veins—not sure there’s room for two girls. Happily ever afters, hearts, and roses are a fantasy. Jackie knows it; I know it—and, if I’m smart, I’ll make sure to help Macy understand this, too—in the nicest way possible. I’m pretty sure gifting her orgasms for breakfast isn’t going to help the matter.

  I catch a glimpse of my favorite redhead walking in the opposite direction, and just as I’m about to call out to her, Carson pops up and escorts her into Cash Cannon’s office.

  That sinking feeling magnifies at the sight, spreads through me, turning my limbs to lead. Macy doesn’t need me. She’s got the Cannons looking after her best interests—one of which I’m sure they don’t believe I am.

  A part of me wants to be. A part of me wants to say fuck you to the Cannons, and perhaps a bigger fuck you to my code of slightly skewed ethics and reconsider my stance on virginal redheads, and anyone unfortunate enough to have Cannon blood running through them. My niece has Cannon blood coursing through her veins, and I love little Maddie like she was my own. Aspen’s kid will have the same, and already I feel protective of that gift inside her.

  Macy. I roll her around my mind like fine wine.

  Maybe Macy O’Conner can break the curse after all.

  I think she already has.

  A Force of Nature

  Macy

  I have never feared my uncles—not anyone for that matter—except maybe this new runaway train version of myself as of late. But this lazy, post-coital afternoon, right after Carson tracked me down while Kinsley was mildly interrogating me in the latte line, a bubble of panic lodged in my throat.

  His impatience encourages me to forgo the caffeine fix I so badly need—tea as my weapon of choice although the coffee is growing on me—and follow him straight up to Cash’s office.

  “What’s new?” I say brightly, crossing my legs, trying to ignore the heavy burn between my thighs. God, it feels as if I’ve been impaled with a soldering iron. Soldering Iron Penis. That must be Lincoln’s Indian name. He should have it tattooed across his chest as a warning. That sounds about right. If anyone should come with a warning label, it should be Lincoln. All I can think about—and this is completely disgusting—is how much semen does a penis that size unleash? I’m betting it’s closer to pints than ounces. It’s seriously disturbing. It’s shocking there aren’t at least a dozen little Lionhearts running around bearing his comely features, those brooding, expressive as hell eyes.

  “What’s new with you?” Cash bounces his hands over his desk. Both he and Carson, who has chosen to sit at the edge of the desk, peer down at me with a casual air of indifference as if this were a scheduled meeting where I was to perform some perfunctory task. Oh¸ wait. They want news—and news equals financial liberation.

  I’m pretty sure the news they’re hoping to receive has no mention of me burying a Lionheart in my body last night and most of this morning.

  I clear my throat. “The Lionhearts have gained a family member.” Kinsley has already blabbed it to three different people in line at the coffee shop, so I doubt I’m giving away some hefty family secret.

 
“We heard.” Cash runs his fingers through his black cap of hair, hard and aggressive, as if the thought of another Lionheart makes him want to pluck it all out. “Strange, huh? What went down?”

  What went down? Something about the verbiage makes me squirm. I’m starting to feel like the resident tattletale. Lincoln wouldn’t like that, and the thought of hurting him, especially while the ghost of his body still lingers inside me, makes me want to vomit.

  “I guess I was there.” The air conditioning kicks in and cools the sweat trickling down my spine. Carson offers me water from the mini-fridge, and I accept. “It was amazing. The Lionheart estate is no joke—a Bel Air Mediterranean-style beauty fit for a sultan. Hans Lionheart”—I take a quick swig—“real charmer, that one. The sisters are all very nice. Anyway, he gathered them around like little chicks and lowered the boom. The girls took it better than Lincoln did. You would’ve thought he got knocked over the head with a baseball bat.”

  Carson chuckles, the muscles popping from under his T-shirt. He’s the only casual Cannon in the bunch. I’ve always viewed him as my contemporary in comparison to his older brothers.

  “I would have paid to see that.” Cash smirks. “I bet he’s been up all night licking his balls.”

  I swallow hard. It was me who was up all night licking his balls, but that’s information this little snitch will never give out.

  “Then what?” Carson leans in as if I were relaying the critical scene to some movie they were dying to hear about.

  “Then we took off. Lincoln didn’t want to hang out and play catch-up like his sisters did. You’re right. His ego was bruised.”

  Cash glances to his brother. The slight look of confusion flickers over his features. “You took off with Lincoln?”

  Shit! “Oh, right, yes. He was in a terrible state. I was half-afraid he’d total his car. Plus, I wanted to get to bed early. I had a headache from the wine. I don’t usually drink.” Liar, liar, liar. My face sears with heat while my body does its best to sink into my seat.