Bound by Flame (7 page)

But what would it feel like to make love to such a dark, intense, powerful man? What kind of a total rush, total release…? Nick could best her in a fair fight, and hold his own against her elemental powers. Nick Lowell was a man Cynda knew she couldn’t dominate.

Scary as hell. A total first.

I don’t need this.

A new sliver of smoke rose from Cynda’s left foot, but she mentally caught it and dispersed it, along with the rest of the heat energy shimmering around her like a living halo. “Back off, Nick. I don’t want you at my elbow all the time. First thing at the townhouse, we’re talking to Riana and Merilee, and we’re working this out. I don’t need so much protection.”

Nick’s dark eyes remained calm, though his words had a sharp edge. “A bunch of dead fire Sibyls say otherwise.”

“Screw you!” More flames blasted from Cynda’s body, ringing the room, but burning out before they did serious damage. Cynda turned her face away from Nick and seethed. The loss of so many of her friends and fellow warriors across the globe chewed at her, and he knew it. Worse, the sensation of Nick so determined to protect her, oblivious to her temper and fire, made her dizzy.

Did he know that, too?

Nick moved until his body brushed hers from shoulder to thigh. Streaks of fire raced through her chest. She heard herself gasp, hated that she did it. Retreated a step. Her calves brushed the communications platform.

Nick once more moved toward her, against her, without grabbing her or trapping her, but she didn’t step away this time. Couldn’t.

Chest to breast. Hip to hip.

She was touching him. He was touching her, and looking at her like
that,
like he had in the alley.

Cynda trembled at the rough, delicious sensation of Nick’s steel-hard thigh pressed into hers, his carved chest teasing her nipples.

His eyes were so dark. His face was so close to hers.

Her entire body quivered as she imagined burning away their clothes. His kiss would be fierce and consuming. She could almost taste his tongue in her mouth, feel her fingers wrapped around his cock.

Goddess, but he felt good.

His simmering gaze dared her to make it more.

Cynda’s vision prismed.

The world cracked and shattered to nothing, leaving just her, just Nick, standing in the center of a bright orange firelight.

She wanted to make it more, right here, right now.

But…

“Back…off,” she said through her teeth.

Nick’s smile was so sensual it sent ripples of liquid desire through her entire body. “If that’s what you really want,” he murmured in that unbelievably sexy bass, “make me.”

Cynda raised her hands, inches from Nick’s face.

She should let loose with a fireball he would never forget.

But she didn’t. She just glared at him. Wanted him to move. Wanted him to stay and push her another inch, so she could fight him outright, or kiss him until she lost her mind completely.

His expression grew more serious. “You need to let people care about you, firebird.”

Her insides flipped at the sound of that nickname. Smoke rose off her skin. “Don’t call me that.”

On the last word, she faltered, because his eyes were so dark and bright, and his lips so near hers. Scents of male and stormy seas and arousal washed over her. She raised her hands another fraction, intending to blast Nick a good one, but he grabbed her arms and stroked them. Up and down, up and down, gentle, but also a little rough.

Cynda sucked in another breath. Her mind emptied. Even the firelight she had imagined winked out of existence. Now the only thing in the universe was her body and his, and all the places they were touching, the way his hands moved over the fabric of her tunic, coursing across her steaming skin.

Nick seemed heedless of the smoke swirling through the air, so thick it almost made a curtain between their faces. He also ignored the flickers of fire at her elbows and wrists.

Everywhere he touched her, more flames erupted, singeing holes in her tunic and his T-shirt, too. His low rumble of pleasure vibrated against her, and her jumbled brain fixed on the iron muscle of his chest pressed to hers.

Nick stared straight into the center of her being and whispered, “Let
me
care about you.”

“No,” Cynda said, loud, harsh, panicked that he said those words out loud. Even as she spoke, she was melting into him, catching fire up and down her back and chest.

Nick’s skin took on the golden glow of his
other
. His powerful arms wrapped around her, and he held her tight against his hot body. Cynda expected to feel trapped and forced, but instead she felt shielded, from everything, anything in the universe that might wound her.

Her inner fire burned and burned, leaping out, blasting against Nick, but his
other
’s glow absorbed every flame she threw. She couldn’t burn this man no matter how much her skin sizzled.

Cynda’s head really spun then.

With Nick, she could lose control, surrender completely—and she couldn’t hurt him.

He’ll keep us both safe.

When his lips touched hers, Cynda thought the universe might catch fire.

Molten heat flowed over her mouth.

She smacked Nick’s chest with both hands, but didn’t pull away. Didn’t want to, even though her better sense demanded it. Instead, she wrapped her fingers in his T-shirt and held on for the ride.

A hint of wintergreen and liquid fire tingled across her tongue as their mouths joined completely.

Cynda shivered and burned everywhere. So good. He tasted perfect. He felt beyond perfect. So, so good.

And that was bad.

Wasn’t it?

Her brain tried to intrude, but she shut out reality and lost herself to the wet heat of the kiss. His lips, his mouth, his tongue, she wanted them everywhere. She wanted Nick to taste every inch of her. Cynda wished he would pick her up and carry her straight back to Riana’s basement, and take her now, now, even if that wasn’t her bed, even if this wasn’t her house. She didn’t care. She had never cared less about anything in her life.

Nick held her close, closer, refusing to give an inch as flames raced along her chest and arms—
their
chest and arms. Cynda’s belly blazed from the sensation of heat joining heat, the snap of her fire joining with the golden force of his inner demon. Untamed energy. Raw power.

Chimes rang throughout the brownstone. No incoming message. Just Cynda and Nick, Nick and Cynda, casting off heat like a star going nova.

His hands moved to massage her back, her waist, then her ass.

Cynda moaned and pressed harder against him. Her breasts ached as she crushed herself into his chest, falling farther into his endless kiss. The heat on her skin moved lower, inside her trembling body, to that place at her center that throbbed with longing and need.

Nick moved his head just enough to take his lips from hers.

Hissing with frustration, Cynda cupped his cheeks in her hands, turned his face back to her own, and kissed him, longer, forever. He bit at her bottom lip and tugged it into his mouth, driving her wild with delicious shock. Even with the power of fire at her fingertips, she was helpless against this, against him.

At that second, she didn’t give a flaming damn.

With mild surprise, Cynda realized she wasn’t giving off flames or smoke anymore. The heat was still there, flowing through her veins, cradling every muscle in her body, but she wasn’t destroying anything at all. Nick’s glow had faded. He was fully human now, stroking her, holding her, kissing her possessively, fiercely, one hundred percent human male.

When Nick broke away again, he moved his lips to her ear. “I
will
be guarding you when your triad’s not around. Deal with it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Cynda shot back, then groaned as Nick nipped at that spot below her ear, and lower, almost to her shoulder. She pressed her hands against the muscle of his chest and dug her fingers into the taut flesh.

This time it was Nick who groaned.

He kissed Cynda, slower, deeper, drawing out the connection until she thought she’d burn to death on the spot.

Had anything in her life ever felt this hot?

When he finished, he pressed his cheek to her forehead and held her for a long while, letting her sag into him, use his strength to stand and just…be. She realized she was gasping instead of breathing, that her whole body was shaking, shaking in his embrace.

“We have scum-hunting to do.” He kissed the top of her head and squeezed both of her arms, causing a rush of shivers and new waves of desire. “Time to go.”

Cynda sighed, wishing Nick didn’t have to be such a dedicated cop—but also not wanting to deal with the endless amount of crap she’d get from Riana and Merilee if they showed up late and all ruffled for morning report. Reality crept back in a few steps, yanking her from her dreamy distance, reminding her of Legion attacks and dead fire Sibyls, and everything they had to accomplish before more warriors died.

Nick
had
promised they would hunt down the bastards responsible—together—and he was ready to make good on that deal. For now, they needed to hit the streets and find that worm of an informant Max Moses, and shake out whatever he knew.

Smoke rose from her shoulders again. She didn’t want to let Nick go.

Knew this would happen. He’s a distraction. This absolutely does not need to happen.

She and Nick would have to talk about this later. Like the bodyguard crap.

Truth be told, Cynda also didn’t want to give up her last few moments in the brownstone, feeling like this—so calm and relaxed and at home, like she used to before everything shifted. Nick’s touch had stirred her up in so many ways, but settled her down, too, helped her think, helped her realize she needed to say goodbye to the place, her way, in her own time.

She pulled back from him and gazed into his black eyes. “Go pull the Jeep around. I’ll be right behind you.”

Nick’s eyebrow twitched, communicating his mistrust faster than any frown. “About to bail out the back door on me?”

“I’m not splitting, Sibyl’s honor.” She lifted her hand to her nose and made a V over the top of it with her index finger and middle finger, parodying an old television show about witches. “I’m still pissed about the whole bodyguard thing, but I’m not stupid.” She lowered her hand. “I just need a minute to myself. In here, alone, I mean.”

Nick’s expression darkened a fraction, but he didn’t argue with her. He gave her another quick kiss on the forehead, a long stare that said
Don’t you dare double-cross me,
and headed out of the brownstone. The man was so tall he almost bashed his head against the wind chimes hanging by the front door. His black ponytail bounced between his broad shoulders as he ducked under the metal pipes and slipped out the door.

Cynda could only stare at him, and then at the spot where he had been. Her body still felt hot and tingly from touching him so intimately—and they both had holes in their clothes. Oh, yeah, they’d get some crap over
that
one, even if they did make it to report on time.

And she still didn’t want to leave.

She knew it was time to go. They did have work to do. But leaving the brownstone dragged at her. She felt rooted to the place where she stood. Stuck.

It’s time to go.

Her hands and fingers caught fire. She raised them and stared at the flames, pulling the fire energy back inside her one inch at a time until the outbreak waned.

The brownstone, like that long-ago Irish village and her blood family, like that judgmental mean-ass nun—what was her name? Sister Julia—was her past now.

Cynda knew she needed to surrender this home, let it fade from her heart, even though she had spent a few blissful days here, recovering from her battle wounds. Even though she’d just had the best kisses of her life in the living room.

No problem. I can do this.

No flames. No sparks. Not even a teensy bit of smoke.

I can handle this.

But she had trouble giving the brownstone one last look.

A lump rose in her throat, and she didn’t bother trying to make it go away.

“It’s only change,” she said out loud, to whatever powers and forces in the universe might be listening. “I didn’t have to leave this home because I did something wrong. Nothing’s ended, nothing’s lost. This is a new chapter in the life of Cynda Flynn.”

Part of her right tunic sleeve smoldered and started to melt. She swore and tore it off, then stamped it out beside the table.

It would leave a black mark on Riana’s new carpet, to go with the black marks all across Riana’s bedroom wall downstairs.

Those black marks would say,
Cynda was here.

Cynda whispered, “And don’t you forget it.”

Then, before she could cry or set fire to anything else, Cynda collected her Celtic broadsword from the stairwell closet and made her exit from the brownstone.

4

Nick stared at the road as he guided the Jeep down the FDR Drive toward East Thirteenth, in Manhattan’s East Village. It was hard, keeping his mind where it needed to be, with Cynda in the vehicle.

With Cynda anywhere near him.

Had been since the day he met her, but now it was worse.

An announcer on the radio talked about the record amount of precipitation New York City was experiencing. Nick edged through the light snow and stop-and-go early-morning traffic, and squinted into the gray winter daylight. Cynda’s soft smell of vanilla and cinnamon kept distracting him from his view of the East River, but he didn’t mind.

Sonofabitch.

Was
that
why Creed hadn’t worked to change the brownstone into more of a guy space? Did his twin actually enjoy the feel and smell of his new wife lingering around every corner?

Wife. Shit.

Like I’d ever let a woman risk being that close to me.