Wildfire

  “I don’t know how we’re going to survive,” she said quietly.

  “You always were more resilient than your mother gave you credit for. You will persevere, Rynda. I’ll help you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for saving my son. Thank you for everything.”

  She stepped closer, slid her arms around his neck, stretching herself against him, and kissed him on the mouth.

  That was going too far. Half of me felt heartbreaking sadness at her desperation and the other half wanted to run over and punch her in the face.

  Rogan didn’t move. He didn’t put his hands around her. He didn’t push her away. He just stood there.

  She dropped her arms and stepped away. “This was a mistake,” she said in a broken voice.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Why, Connor?”

  It was absurd to hate a woman just because she used Rogan’s name.

  She searched his face with her gaze. “We know each other. We have a history. We have things in common. Same background, same set of friends growing up. I’m pretty. There would be no learning curve.”

  Thanks, Rynda.

  “I would be a good wife.”

  “I’m in love with someone else.”

  “But why, Rogan? What is it about her? Is it because she’s violent like you?”

  “I was asleep,” he said. “And she woke me up.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to. I care about you, Rynda, and about your children. But you and I will never be together. We would be miserable.”

  She turned away from him and leaned against the island with both hands, as if afraid she would fall. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re like wildfire, Connor. You’d rage and burn me until nothing was left but ashes.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I feel so pathetic right now,” she said. “Don’t pity me. I don’t think I can handle that.”

  “I don’t. Check for yourself.”

  She shook her head. “All I ever wanted was for someone to love me.”

  “Someone does love you. Quietly and desperately. You just haven’t noticed.”

  She glanced at him. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s time to stop hiding,” Rogan said. “You’re a Prime. Olivia is gone. Nobody’s judging you. Use your talent.”

  She raised her chin. “Maybe I will.”

  They stood quietly for a long moment.

  “Are you going to marry her?”

  “I’m going to ask.”

  “When?”

  “After she is confirmed as a House.”

  “Does she know?”

  “No.”

  “And if she says no?”

  His voice was controlled and casual. “Then it’s a no.”

  “This isn’t like you. You go after what you want, knocking obstacles and people out of the way.”

  “That’s not true. Occasionally I dodge.”

  “You know what I mean.” She leaned back. “Have you told her?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she will be asked at the trials about alliances and associations with current Houses.”

  “You don’t want her to be in your shadow.”

  He nodded.

  “That’s very noble, but she should have time to look over the contract. She doesn’t have the experience, and once she is declared a House, she’ll be bombarded with offers. It’s easy to become overwhelmed.”

  “There won’t be a contract.”

  Rynda frowned at him. “Are you intending to enter this marriage without a prenup?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you lost your mind? You’ve known her less than three months.”

  “Four.”

  “You’re worth over a billion. That’s your family’s wealth. What if she divorces you after a month? Are you going to give her half of your money?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Have you even run a genetic compatibility match?”

  Silence.

  “Connor, this is crazy. You’re acting like you’re a normal person. You’re not. You have to protect the interests of your House.”

  “You followed all the rules and jumped through all the right hoops. How did it work out for you?”

  She drew back. “That’s a hit below the belt.”

  “She’ll have me or she won’t, Rynda. I’m not going to force her. I won’t shackle her into a contract that will penalize her if she attempts to leave me. I don’t care if our children will be perfect at conception according to a gene chart. This is how it is.”

  I felt the faintest whisper of magic from Rynda.

  “Oh, Connor,” she said softly. “I hope you’re right. I hope she doesn’t hurt you and you don’t hurt her.”

  She reached out, touched his cheek gently, and walked away.

  He stood at the island for a while, drinking what had to be cold coffee by now. He rinsed the mug, set it on the counter, came over, and crouched by me.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I said.

  “You’re awake.”

  “Have I ever told you that you have keen powers of observation?”

  He smiled. “No.”

  “You do. You should be a detective.”

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Everything that mattered.”

  He nodded, his face unreadable. “It is what it is. All cards are on the table.”

  “Not quite.” I sat up.

  “Oh?”

  “The real Rogan hasn’t asked me.”

  He frowned.

  “I want the dragon to ask me.”

  “Be careful,” he warned.

  “I know what the Head of House Rogan wants. I heard all of his noble warnings about the future of House Baylor. I saw him hold himself in check. I want to know what you want, Connor. What do you want of me? Ask me.”

  Something changed in his eyes. Before I could figure it out, he yanked me off the couch as if I weighed nothing, and carried me off up the stairs. Okay then.

  The door flew open in front of him and slammed shut behind us all on its own. He tossed me on the bed. His face was savage, his blue eyes hungry. I shivered.

  Magic brushed me, shredding my clothes. He grabbed a handful of fabric that used to be my T-shirt and jeans and tossed them aside. My bra followed. My panties fell apart. Excitement dashed through me, quick and electric, mixed with alarm and anticipation. An insistent low heat began to pool between my legs. My body knew what was coming and every cell in me wanted it.

  He stripped naked. Hard muscle corded his frame under golden skin. He was big and erect, and when I met his eyes, he nearly set me on fire. He pinned me to the bed, his huge body caging me. His hand slid under my head. He grabbed a handful of hair. Breath caught in my throat.

  His mouth closed on mine. There was nothing gentle or beguiling about that kiss. He kissed me like I belonged to him. His tongue invaded my mouth, and I tasted him, the echoes of coffee and the deep male scent that said Connor to me. It made me shiver. He kissed me like he could do anything to me and I wanted to let him. I would beg him to do it.

  He broke the kiss. His eyes were dark and borderline feral. The heat between my legs turned liquid. I was suddenly in a terrible hurry.

  “Look at me.” His voice was harsh.

  I looked at him.

  “You wanted to see me? Here I am.”

  He seemed barely human, all raw male power, intense sexual need, and dark magic. It boiled all around him. The muscles on his arms were rock-hard. If he squeezed me, he could crush me. He never would, but knowing he could, watching all that power arrested in a moment, waiting to be devoted to making love to me, was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.

  I tried to arch my back to press against him and couldn’t. He held me in place.

  “Are you scared?” the dragon asked.

  “No.”


  “You should be.”

  I smiled and let my own magic out.

  His eyes shone.

  He drew his thumb across my lips. The first intoxicating drop of his magic fell in the hollow between my breasts, hot, molten, velvet. Every nerve in me hummed in response. I was an addict who had smelled her favorite drug. I needed him inside me.

  He slid his hand under my ass, squeezing it, feeling it, and dragged me closer, shifting my hips where he wanted me. The blunt head of his shaft pressed against me.

  The magic split into two currents, winding around my breasts, and slid up each peak, warming my skin. My nipples were suddenly cold and erect, and then the magical heat crested over them. The jolt of pleasure rocked me, just as he tilted his head and sealed his lips on mine. I gasped into his mouth. He kissed me as the magic twisted around my nipples, sending tiny sparks of bliss through me, and then the stream moved lower. He kissed me while it flowed over my stomach, over my lap, into the crease between my legs. It licked my clit with its tongue, no longer merely hot and velvet, but slightly rough. My whole body contracted in response. It was too much. Waiting was too hard. I fought against him, bucking with everything I had and not moving an inch.

  He let me take a breath. The harsh need in his eyes had turned to an all-consuming hunger.

  “Why should I be scared?” I asked.

  The magic squeezed and licked my clit, slipping in and out of me. It was an exquisite torture. He dipped his head and sucked on my left nipple. I almost came.

  “If someone threatens you, I’ll kill them. If you’re not there to stop me, I’ll torture them first.”

  “I can handle that,” I managed. That part of him would never change and I’d made my peace with it.

  The magic grew hotter. He moved on to the right nipple. If he didn’t thrust into me now, I would either yell at him or start begging.

  “When you look at other men, I want to kill them. If you cheat on me, I may. No more dates with other men, Nevada. I don’t care what the reason is.”

  “Deal. No more kisses from other women.”

  His tongue worked my nipple. His right hand slipped between my legs. His fingers dipped inside me. My head was spinning. My body grew hot and heavy. I needed a release. I wanted all of him.

  He made a harsh male noise. His fingers brushed the sensitive bud of my clit. I jerked.

  “You’ll live with me. You’ll sleep with me in our bed,” he growled. “Every night.”

  “Let me go.”

  He released my arms and I wound my left around him, worked my right low and let my fingers glide up and down the silken hardness of his shaft.

  “Mmmm . . .” He kissed me again, thrusting himself into my hand.

  “No other woman is going to call you Connor,” I breathed. “Only me.”

  Connor grinned, a scary baring of teeth.

  “You’re my Connor. I’m not sharing.”

  “Deal. I love you. You are all I want out of this life. Marry me, Nevada.”

  I kissed his lips, then his jaw, and whispered in his ear. “Yes.”

  He thrust into me, his girth gliding in and stretching me. He filled me, deep and hard. It was more than I could take. The pressure stoked by his magic crested like a wave and drowned me. Climax gripped me in its delicious bliss, blocking out the world. I floated through it, that first moment of pure ecstasy stretching into eternity, and I spent it with my arms wrapped around Rogan, watching his eyes as the echoes of my orgasm rolled through him. Pleasure rocked me in waves. I couldn’t even talk.

  Finally, the aftershocks faded. He kissed me and thrust again, deep and hard, building to a fast, savage rhythm. I matched him. It wasn’t gentle or soft. It was fierce, because that’s what we were. We gripped each other as another climax rocked me and then again, wrapped in magic, united by pleasure, and when he finally emptied himself inside me, I felt whole.

  We lay in bed, wrapped in each other. By all rights, we should’ve passed out, but for some reason both of us were awake. I lay on his chest and looked at the stars above us. His hand brushed my arm. He did it unconsciously when he was thinking about something.

  “Why did you let Shaffer in?” I asked.

  “Because I’m a selfish bastard.”

  I glanced at him, raising my eyebrows. He smiled.

  “You want to assign all these altruistic intentions to me, but I want to be with you more than anything else. I’m ruthless when it comes to your safety, your happiness, and being with you.” He grinned again. “It’s too late to change your mind. You said yes.”

  I kissed him. “How did you know that showing me off to Shaffer would make him run away?”

  “Something he said during the dinner. He was very careful to specify that it wasn’t clear that you were stronger than him. A few other things he mentioned confirmed that underneath all that pretty hair and expensive clothes, he had some insecurities about his own place in the world. The way he spoke about Augustine, for example. He desperately wants everyone to see him as a powerful head of the family, in charge of his little empire and his family. He left himself vulnerable and I exploited it. I gambled that if he found out how powerful you really are, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. I was right.”

  “I was never interested in Shaffer.”

  “And now you never will be.” He gave me a self-satisfied smile.

  “You’re terrible.”

  “You already said yes,” he reminded me again.

  “I remember.”

  “The Keeper called while you slept,” Rogan said. “Your trials are set for tomorrow night.”

  “Does it scare you that I’m Victoria’s granddaughter?”

  “No.”

  “You know you can’t ever lie to me.”

  “I know.” He squeezed me to him.

  “What happens when I’m old and wrinkled and I ask if you still think I’m hot?”

  “You will always be hot. Besides, I’ll be old and wrinkled by then too.”

  “I still don’t understand what the big deal is about declaring the intent to marry.”

  He squeezed me to him. “Because once you declare it, our Houses will be tied together. You will inherit all my friends and my enemies. An engagement announced at the trials is almost never broken. You can never undo this, Nevada. Even if you refuse to marry me, nobody will ever be able to think of House Baylor without thinking of House Rogan. I want you to come out with as few obligations as possible. You don’t have to declare it at trials. In fact, I advise you to not say anything.”

  He was still trying to give me an out.

  “I love you,” I told him.

  “I love you too.”

  Rogan’s phone rang in the pile of his clothes. I sat up.

  He jumped off the bed, pulled the phone out, and answered it. “Yes? . . . I’ll be right down.”

  “What is it?”

  “Adeyemi Ade-Afefe is downstairs. She says we’re in danger.”

  Adeyemi Ade-Afefe was a short, black woman about my age. I had looked the family up after Rogan first mentioned them. They were of Yoruban descent, came from Nigeria, and the name of their House translated to “Crowned by Wind.” Adeyemi wore a white blouse with blue jeans. A gele, a head tie of shimmering grey and blue silk the color of clear sky, hid her hair, crowning her head in an elaborate knot. She looked at the world through big brown eyes and thin-framed glasses, and you instinctively knew that if she smiled, her whole face would light up. She wasn’t smiling now.

  “You have to get out.” She made a short cutting motion with her hand. “Get out and evacuate the city.”

  Sergeant Heart, Rivera, Bug, Rogan, and I crowded around her downstairs.

  “What happened?” Rogan asked.

  “Sturm moving the winds in place. You have to get out.”

  “I thought Adepero said you didn’t want to get involved,” Rogan said.

  “No, Father said we would think about it. We thought about it. We’re not going to help you fight a priva
te war, but this is bigger than that.”

  “How bad is it?” Rogan asked.

  Adeyemi pushed her glasses back up her nose. “It will be the worst tornado we’ve ever seen. He will level this part of the city. He may level the whole city. I don’t know if there will be anyone left.”

  “Is it an F4?” Rivera asked. “F5?”

  “An F5 tornado has speeds greater than two hundred miles per hour,” Adeyemi snapped. “This will be over three hundred. This storm will rip buildings off their foundations, throw cars like baseballs, and tear down trees. It will bend metal, sever power lines, and dig trenches. Do I need to draw you a picture so you will understand?”

  I walked ten feet through the doors into the street. A dense blanket of dark clouds churned in the sky, hiding the stars. Wind gusts pulled at my hair. I ducked back inside.

  “Can you fight him?” Rogan asked.

  Adeyemi hunched her shoulders. “Weather spells take time and preparation. The atmosphere is wrapped around our planet like a big blanket. It’s continuous. Everything is connected. If you make it rain somewhere, that means there will be drought in another place, which would’ve naturally gotten the rain or the moisture. That nightmare outside is the result of weeks of work. Sturm’s been manipulating weather patterns for a month at least. The spells used are so complex, it would take days just to draw the circles properly. I can stall him, but I cannot stop him. Nobody can stop him now.”

  “So you knew he was doing this?” I asked. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Because it’s one thing to create weather conditions for a storm and another to initiate one.” Adeyemi squeezed her hands into fists. “I didn’t think he would do it. None of us thought he would. This is . . . The loss of life will be catastrophic. This will be a national emergency.”

  “Why now?” Rivera wondered.

  That, at least, was obvious. “He knows we have the files,” I said. “He knows that sooner or later we will decrypt them and that Brian is now worthless as a bargaining chip. He wants to bury us. If everyone’s dead and the city is in ruins, nobody will care about the conspiracy. Can we prove that he’s the one responsible for the storm?”

  Adeyemi shook her head. “Not unless we see him. Weather spells are untraceable, just like other magic. One could make a guess, but a guess wouldn’t be good enough to stand up in court or before the Assembly. You have to decide fast. We’re running out of time.”