Burn With Me (5 page)

Joseph was different, the only one who hadn’t followed his original goal. Growing up, he’d always planned to be an archaeologist, even used to beg her to take him to museums instead of soccer practice on the weekend. If he disappeared for any length of time, she knew she would find him discovering a long-forgotten tomb in his closet.

Their mother had tried to discourage him, knowing his dreams were leading him far away from home, but she couldn’t stop his obsession with the past. Joseph could always out-stubborn all of them.

He’d gotten the scholarship he’d applied for a month before he announced to his siblings that he’d joined the military. He still longed to see the world their mother had tried to shield them from, since she was no longer there to be hurt by his decision, but now he was determined to make a difference in the present instead of studying the past. Once again, no one could talk him out of it. He hadn’t even given them a chance to try. He’d made up his mind.

No one ever asked Aziza what she wanted to do with her life. When she was eighteen, she was sure that even if she’d had a plan, it wouldn’t matter. She knew what her brothers expected. That she’d be the one taking care of their mother. Watching them move on with their lives while she remained behind, the aunt with lots of cats who’d spoil their children when she babysat for them and distracted them from the crazy ramblings of their grandmother. It wasn’t her ambition, but it was what she’d expected.

A year later her mother was gone.

So much had changed. Too much. Every two years, as if it had been scheduled in advance, she’d lost another family member. Another brother. Another piece of her soul. She’d give up her adventures in a heartbeat if it meant having them back again. She’d take care of her mother and never complain if…

She curled her hands into fists once more, breathing deeply to stop herself from crying.
Stop thinking. Don’t try to make sense of it anymore. Curses don’t make sense. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking completely. Look at the beauty around you. Look at your garden. Live in the moment. This moment. It’s all you have.

“Feel…”

She stilled, startled again. “Who’s there? Whoever you are, cut it the fuck out.”

Nothing.

She frowned. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t afraid, but maybe she should wait at the entrance until Greg arrived. She could people-watch, distract herself and then perhaps she’d stop hearing disembodied voices on the wind. “Okay, fairies, I’m leaving your garden now,” she mumbled. “Stop playing Scare the Tourist.”

Aziza tried to rise from the seat and was pushed back against the curved side of the window by some unseen force. She tried to resist it but it had weight. Power. “What the—?”

She looked down at her knees. It felt like hands were touching them. Strong, hot hands that were sliding up her legs, pushing her dress higher as they went. She still didn’t see anything, but her dress
was
lifting by itself. “Are you kidding me? What the hell
did
they put in my drink?”

“Feel, Aziza…”

“No thank you.” She tried not to. Tried to tell herself that her imagination was running away and had decided to take the rest of her mind along with it. She was hung over. Still jet-lagged.
Anything
so she wouldn’t focus on the fingers slipping beneath her white-lace panties. The extra set of hands lowering her peasant blouse until her breasts were exposed for anyone to see. Too many hands.

“Stop,” she whispered.

But she didn’t make another move to stop it or cover herself. She
could
feel and it felt good. Too good. Felt like exactly what she needed. A sinful distraction. “What are you?”

She knew this feeling. It reminded her of the godlike piece of lean perfection from her dreams. Maybe he’d followed her here because he wasn’t done with her yet. Because she’d worn what he’d asked her to. Because she wanted more. “Is it you?”

The fingers filled her sex and she whimpered, biting the inside of her cheek hard so she wouldn’t scream out her pleasure, some part of her still aware how close she was to the street filled with people. How crazy and impossible it was that she was feeling
what
she was feeling.

As fingers thrust inside her, deep and relentless, making her moan, the voice repeated her own words, “Is it you?” Then, “Look, Aziza…”

She looked toward the interior of the garden and saw a woman walking toward her. She wanted to call out, to apologize for her strange behavior…until she realized the woman was naked.

A wanton with thick waves of dark-cocoa-colored hair that tumbled wildly down her back. An innocent with deep-set eyes glowing like blue sapphires, full lips, a dimpled chin and a smattering of light, barely noticeable freckles just above her cheekbones. Her nude body was slender but toned. Her breasts were high handfuls, her nipples hard with arousal. She was pleasure incarnate, her expression full of sensual challenge and knowledge.

When she was less than an arm’s reach away, Aziza could see something else. The symbol that had been temporarily burned into her palm was branded on the woman’s sloping stomach, as well as both her hands…her forehead.

The woman
was
Aziza. But she wasn’t. She was looking at a version of herself while invisible fingers were bringing her closer to climax. Watching her doppelganger’s eyes sparkle with satisfaction while she arched into every thrust. Was she merely fantasizing that she was doing this…to herself? “Oh God, I
am
crazy,” she whimpered helplessly.

The image blurred around the edges. Changed. Became the oh-so pretty, godlike man with emerald eyes and a head of short, silken ebony waves from her dreams. “You’re not crazy, Aziza,” he assured her as he strode toward her in all his hard, naked glory. “You saw your true reflection. The woman inside you. And now? So did I. I can’t wait to meet her.”

He reached for her and pulled her out of her seat in the window, her inner thigh scraping lightly along the ledge before he pressed her against the nearest wall in one smooth motion. His body was hard on hers. Unyielding.

“You feel real,” she moaned, knowing it had to be a dream. She’d fallen asleep in the garden. That had to be what happened. “Although I don’t remember you having quite so many hands.”

He groaned, positioning her easily so that her legs wrapped around his waist. “You don’t like this ability? Women usually do, you know. They usually beg for it.”

He looked down with a smile and caressed her thigh. “And you still haven’t noticed.”

She gasped when his hard cock pressed against her sex, only a scrap of lace separating them. She noticed
that
. “What? What are you talking about?”

His laugh felt wicked, another light touch along her skin that made her shiver. “Your snake. It’s gone.”

Her tattoo? She looked down, past his ridiculous abs and the smooth, hairless skin that was darker than her own where she was pressed against him. “It’s gone,” she repeated blankly. “Why is it gone? How can it be gone?” Why hadn’t she noticed?

He reached down between them and tore at the thin lace veil between her thighs. “You’re changing. Like that snake you’ve shed your old skin. You’re new. Reborn. It’s already begun. You’re
more
.”

“I don’t understand…” she could still feel the fingers pumping deep inside her when the head of his cock pressed against her clit, “…any of this—
ahh
. We have to stop. Someone will see…”

“Experience,” he reasoned, using his strength to easily position her body exactly where he wanted her to be. “You don’t really care who sees us. You crave experience. An addict in need of a fix. There’s a reason for that, Aziza. But there is more reason for this. Beyond the enjoyment it gives me to watch you indulge in your adventures, you need this. Need me. The adrenaline will heat your blood. Awaken you.”

“You watch me?”

He leaned in and ate at her mouth, tugging her upper lip with his teeth. He pulled away before she could kiss him the way she wanted to. His breath on her cheek and the strength of her desire made her shudder. “How could I look away?”

He paused, his lips near her ear. “Nothing can stop this, Aziza. Can you feel it? There is fire inside you. You weren’t made to give up and let death take you without a struggle. The fire fights to survive. You need to burn. Were born to burn.”

Fire.
The same burning heat she’d felt searing her hand last night now blazed at the base of her spine, tendrils of warmth and passion, lust and excitement spreading down her limbs and into her sex.

She was already so wet for him. Ready for her fantasy lover. She studied his brilliant, otherworldly eyes, framed by lashes so dark they looked kohl lined, and took a shaky breath. “Who are you, really?” Her imagination was good, but he really was too perfect, even for her.

“Not yet. This first.” His jaw tightened and his gaze narrowed on hers as he slung his hips against her, his cock filling her with a single powerful thrust that made her body arch on a silent scream. “I’m yours to use, Aziza. Now burn with me.”

Yes.

He pumped against her with a speed and force that made her worry the wall behind her might crumble. That the world might break apart. Her skin was humming, vibrating with energy. Power. She could see the brightness of it, the brilliant colors behind her eyelids as he thrust inside her again and again. Her dream lover wasn’t human. He couldn’t be.

Fire.

Somewhere beyond her cries of pleasure and the sensations he was creating inside her, Aziza could feel it. She wasn’t
on
fire—she
was
fire. She was more. And the
more
inside her was taking control.

Her eyes opened and she pressed the palms of her hands onto his chest. “On the ground,” she gasped out her command, surprised by her words even as they came out of her mouth. “I have to ride you.”

His muscles bunched and quivered beneath her hands. “Yes, Aziza. This is who you are. You know what you need. It’s instinct. Take it.” He dropped to his knees, never allowing their bodies to separate, and then lowered his back onto the ground. “Command me.”

A thrill of feminine power, of sexual dominance raced in her bloodstream. Why? This shouldn’t turn her on. Too many times men gave in to her, making them seem weak. She wanted a strong man. A man who could make her fall willingly to her knees. In last night’s dream he’d been exactly what she was looking for. Commanding
her
. Taking her.

So why was his submission igniting more sparks inside her? She curled her fingernails into his chest until he hissed then smiled in pleasure.

“More.”

“You like that?” she muttered in disbelief. Then she did it again just to watch his reaction, scraping her nails down across his nipples, leaving red, angry marks behind. “Why do you like that?”

“Why do you question it when you like it as much as I?” It was all the warning she got before he lifted up and placed his mouth on one flushed breast. He bit the flesh beside her nipple sharply enough to draw blood and she cried out in surprised pleasure. His mouth opened wide and he took as much of her into his mouth as he could, sucking hard.

A bolt of electricity zapped through her body, as if there were a line connecting her breast to her clit, and another flood of arousal bathed his cock. She could feel it easing his way. See it glistening on her thighs. “Oh God, yes.
Bite me again.
”

Instead, he licked her gently where he’d marked her and squeezed her hips in his hands. “You see? We don’t need human labels. We can do anything to each other. You can take what you want. I can have what I desire. You don’t understand yet, but you will. You just need more. Ride me, Aziza. Precious one. I can take it all. Let your blood
burn
.”

Her hips began to rock against him, guided by his hand.
Deep.
The position sank him so deep inside her, filling her until she could hardly breathe. But she wanted to take him. Needed to take control. She lifted her hands to grip his shoulders with surprising strength and planted her still-sandaled feet on the ground for balance.

“Harder,” she demanded as she rode him. “I need more.” Her sex clenched around him as the first waves of intense, explosive pleasure took her. He moaned her name, feeling it to. “Give me more.”

“Yes, Aziza. Yes.” He obeyed instantly, lifting and lowering her onto his cock, bucking against her with his teeth bared as though he were struggling to hold himself back. “Feel it rising inside you. It’s yours. The light and the flame. The passion and the power. I can feel it inside you, feel
me
inside you. Take what belongs to you. Fuck me and take it.”

She didn’t understand what he was saying, couldn’t comprehend because she was coming. Coming so hard she was sure she would bruise him, but she couldn’t stop. She leaned forward and bit his cheek, a snarl rumbling up from her throat.

Coming so hard.

He was her dream. He could take it. She pushed him back down to the ground and curled her body over him, hips still rocking against him while fiery explosions ripped through her body, consuming her, flowing over her and out.

Fire.

Aziza looked down at his body and gasped. A blue-white flame surrounded her hands, each fingertip glowing with heat. She was on fire.
She was the fire.

“
Yes
, Aziza.” He was pressing into her hands, allowing her to burn his flesh until she swore she could hear his skin sizzle. “Now it begins.”

He rolled her over in a swift move that left her breathless. She knew he would take her once more. Make her come again in her secret, magical garden.
Burn with her.
“My turn.”

Within the space of a groan he froze on top of her, lifting his head and inhaling like he was catching a scent on the wind. “
Kalbu
bastard.
Aziza, I must go now. Know that you owe me for this. It is a debt I will find great satisfaction in collecting.”

He moved as if to stand and—disappeared. “What?” she gasped, feeling the loss immediately. His weight and the fullness inside her were gone in an instant. Aziza dropped the back of her head on the ground and lifted her hands to stare at them. The flames were gone. No burn marks, no smell of smoke or ozone. She wiggled her fingers. They weren’t even particularly warm. Had that really happened? Had any of it happened?