Claiming His Fire (3 page)

Doug pulled me into his arms, pressing his erection into my belly and nuzzling my neck before bringing his lips to my ear.

“Scarlett letter,” he said, the joke on my name and the smell of the beer on his breath making my nose crinkle. “Want to go back to my place?”

I inched back and smiled, running my hands down his chest and swiveling my hips against him. “Either I’m not that easy or you’re not that suave. I think I’ll keep dancing for now.”

Rolling his eyes and giving me a patronizing smile that stoked my temper and made me want to knee him in the balls, he grabbed my hand and pulled me all the way against him. “Whatever the lady wants, she gets. Though the offer’s still on the table.” He shuffled back, a lazy smile on his face, a certainty in his eyes that made me itch. “I’ll get you another drink.”

I nodded, shooing him toward the bar with a plastic smile. That expression fell the second he turned away, though. Something had my knickers in a twist, had me horny and cranky and altogether uncomfortable in my own skin. Whether it was being close to the Feral Breed denhouse that I’d avoided like the plague since moving to this city or it was something about Dull Doug, I couldn’t tell. But my mood was quickly going from tipsy and flirty to ballbuster-Betty..

Shaking off the sense of irritation simmering in my gut, I danced my way across the floor and back into the crowd. Damn, it felt good to let loose and just…be. To forget about futures and fate and the reality of being a witch without a coven for one night. I needed this date, even if I was putting up with Doug the dull banker. Dull and pushy, but not all bad. He had enough heat packing in those overly-expensive-made-to-look-casually-worn jeans to keep a girl’s attention. With the way he kept pressing himself against me, it was impossible not to take notice. Dull Doug with the big dick. And a demanding personality. Only one of those three being an attribute I found appealing.

When Doug found me in the middle of a throng of dancers, beer and whiskey in hand, I was ninety percent sure he was trying to picture me naked. The look on his face, the leer, as if anything physical between us was a sure thing. When he smiled and handed me a glass with a lime on the edge, glancing down the top of my dress as he did, that percentage inched up to ninety-four.

I grabbed my drink and took a sip, still moving to the beat of the DJ, keeping my eyes on the people around us. Gyrating bodies crowded the floor, sensual movements between singles and couples, writhing and stroking and giving it all up to the music. The temperature in the press of bodies rose with every beat, crept up with every refrain. Heat and lust and desire pulsed with the beat of the music, sexy lyrics making people brave. Making them wanton. And Doug, darling dull Doug with the big dick and the sense of entitlement when it came to my affection, was looking at me as if I was some kind of wet dream.

Ninety-eight percent.

Brushing off my unease, I let him move closer, let him press himself against me once more. I held my ground even as some instinct made me want to flinch away from his touch. His cheeks flushed, his eyes darkened, and he gave me a look that played out every little dirty detail racing through his mind. I knew what he wanted before he made his move, before he spoke a word. Felt the storm between us brew before the first rumble of thunder. Knew that, to him, it was time to get a little sweaty and a lot naked.

Doug yanked me closer, his touch a little rougher than I would have preferred. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go to my place and get away from this crowd.”

And there it was…the non-question. The order to do what he wanted instead of what I did. The demand. I shook my head and backed away, untangling myself from his arms. He followed, both hands reaching for my hips, my ass, my thighs. Grabby.

“Doug, stop.” I put my hand against his chest, calling upon the power of my sacred element, upon the fire magick that always lived within me, to be ready. Just in case. “I don’t want to leave right now.”

He rolled his eyes and drank his beer, looking over the crowd. I sighed and tried to focus on the music, on the beat, but it was no use. My mood had sunk straight past ballbuster to Lorena Bobbitt. Why did he have to try to order me around? Did he think he owned me because I let him buy me dinner after three weeks of him chasing me every chance he could? He’d gone from Dull Doug to Dull Dictator Doug in a single sentence, and I didn’t like that transition.

I’d spent enough time dealing with people trying to tell me what to do.

“I think maybe we should call it a night.” I stepped back, pissed off, sparks firing under my skin. Fuck, my magick was all kinds of screwed up. Had been for months, since we’d driven away from the coven who’d claimed to be family. Since I’d refused to do anything more than handle my elemental fire and had lost the balance powers like mine needed.

“If we have to dance, then I’ll dance.” Doug grabbed my arm again and pulled, this time making me lose my balance. Smirking as if he liked showing me how easily he could boss me around. “I’m not really into this kind of music, Scarlett, so let’s get this over with.”

The glass I’d been holding shattered on the dance floor, barely audible over the music, hardly a whisper, but it screamed in my head. The memories of someone else saying Doug’s words stealing my breath.

“Let’s get this over with. I hereby ask the coven to initiate a shunning.”

Someone who’d been demanding and drunk on her power. Someone I’d grown up with, who’d betrayed me and my sisters.

“Our coven is being hunted, and yet she goes to the ones who would kill us all. She cavorts with them. She spreads her legs for them.”

Someone who’d kicked us out of our own coven, our home, and left us to dangle in the wind.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Doug asked as I took two steps back.

“I need to go home.” My voice came out as a croak, pictures from the night Bethesda Marrin banished my sister from our coven, our home, flooding my mind and bringing back all those emotions. The pain, the heartbreak, the sense of desolation. The rage.

The complete and utter lack of control over my own life.

Doug’s eyebrows dropped and he frowned. “What? No, stay. I said I’d dance with you.”

I shook my head, my stomach turning as the past overlapped my present.

“The decision has been made. Pack your belongings.”

“I can’t.” The dance floor spun and the lights blazed against my skin. Burning me. Burning everything. My magick setting me on fire from the inside out. I closed my eyes for a moment, blocking the stimuli of the club before taking a deep breath and giving Doug my best fake smile. “I need to leave. I’m not feeling well.”

Doug didn’t look convinced. “You sure you don’t want another drink or something?”

I put one hand up and sidestepped him. “No, I’m good.”

“Scarlett” —he grabbed my elbow, spinning me around to face him— “I get it, you want to go. Let me take you home. I promise to leave you safe and sound at the door.”

Tired of arguing and fighting back a horrible wave of nausea, I let him lead me through the bar and outside. The storm in my mind blew strong and loud, too much to allow me time to look around. To notice if anyone was wearing the leather coats I’d been so worried about earlier. My biggest fear reduced to barely a whisper of thought as my past set off a firestorm in my mind.

The wind blew in from the west as we stepped outside, but otherwise the night was quiet and comfortable. Late spring in Detroit was a good time of year. Warm but not yet humid. A time for rebirth and sowing seeds of future promises, for sex and love and a fresh outlook on life. But not for me, especially not tonight.

A tense and awkward car ride later, Doug dropped me at my door. Our goodbye consisted of little more than a kiss to my forehead and a declaration that he’d call. Not that I expected him to or that I’d be too excited if he did. The night had been a ridiculous disaster. I saw no reason to try for a second date.

Once inside the house I shared with my sister, I hurried up the stairs to the bathroom. The place was nice if not a little small, situated in an old neighborhood right on the Detroit River. Very…suburban and family-friendly. I’d liked living downtown in Beast’s townhouse, but that hadn’t worked out. My sister, Amber, the future-teller of our crazy clan, had seen a vision of him kicking her out, so she’d packed up and left. I’d followed her because, while this town may have been a bit too Cleaver Family for me, living here kept my family together. I’d walked away from my coven to support one sister; I clung to them both now. Amber and I were missing our sister Zuri to complete the Weaver triplets, but she lived just two towns over. Across the bridge on a little island town south of Detroit. An almost perfect spot for a water witch like her.

But too far away to keep our tiny coven together, thus making our inner magick fade, our powers too much to handle alone.

Witches by blood, we had left our hometown behind to follow Zuri and her red thread to Detroit. Phoenix, my soon-to-be brother-in-law, called Zuri his mate, but I guessed that’s what you got when the Fates declared your soul mate was an animal. Well, part of the time. Wolf shifters rarely seemed to stay in their doggy form for long. They tended to go human, the ones we knew donning leather vests and jackets and riding motorcycles around town as if they didn’t shift into an animal at will. As if they were normal…not that I knew exactly what normal was.

I was washing my face when Amber slipped in, arms crossed and wearing one hell of a frown.

“Don’t bother.” I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste. “I don’t need your lecture.”

“You know it’s going to happen.”

“Screw you,” I said around a mouthful of toothpaste foam. “It’s not going to happen if I don’t want it to. And I don’t.”

“Really? Okay, keep telling yourself that. But remember, I’m the one with the power of precognition, and I say there’s no way around it.”

I spit, turning on the faucet to wash down the blue bubbles, avoiding her eyes. “You’re wrong. We walked away from everything we knew to not have someone rule us. I’m not about to go back into some kind of dysfunctional relationship with a man I’ve never met.”

“I’m not wrong, and he’s your red thread. Your soul mate.”

“Fuck that.” Tossing my towel on the counter, I shoved past her, desperate to get away. “You don’t know everything, Magic Eight Ball.”

“Scarlett—”

“No.” I spun, anger making my fingers burn as my beloved fire element reacted to my emotions. “No one gets to tell me how to run my life. Not you, not Zuri, not our former coven, and sure as hell not some crazy blip of the Fates you keep claiming to see. This is my life, all mine, and I’m going to run it the way I choose.”

Stomach roiling, I rushed back into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before the dinner and the alcohol made a reappearance. The acid burned my throat and made my nose run, but I welcomed it. Better to hurt physically than to feel that unbreakable noose of betrayal wrapped around my neck for a moment longer. Let it burn… I could handle any pain after the night of Zuri’s banishment.

Amber grabbed my long hair and held it up as she placed a cool washcloth against the back of my neck. Always the little mother. Always the one cleaning up the messes Zuri and I made. But not this time.

“I won’t let something as ridiculous as a vision make my choices,” I cried, spitting out the last of the sick.

Amber shushed me and pulled my bangs off my forehead. “It’s fated, Scar. I’ve tried to look past it every way I know how, but there is no past it. Your future is decided and unavoidable. You’ll succumb to it eventually.”

“Never.” I pushed to my feet and hurried to the sink to rinse out my mouth once more. “I will never let the Fates decide who I’m supposed to fall in love with and spend the rest of my life chasing after.”

I rushed out the door and down the hall, desperate for the safety and privacy of my room. “I make my own choices, Amber.”

Long, dark hair in a high ponytail, Amber shook her head, a frown on her face. “Not this time, Scar. There is no choice.”

I pulled up outside Phoenix’s cottage on the river early one cool morning. A light fog hung in the air, giving the place an ethereal glow. From the clean stone front to the flowers in the window boxes to the freshly painted trim, the place looked like it belonged in some English countryside or fairy tale. It felt like more than a house, exuding a sense of warmth, of home. An odd twist of pain shot through my chest and my wolf whined. This was what he wanted—to pair up, find the mate meant for us, and create our own tiny pack. I rubbed a thumb over that little ache and shook off my wolf’s sudden sense of loneliness. We had work to get done, and thinking about things that probably weren’t meant to be wasn’t going to make that work go any faster.

Sliding off my bike, I hooked my helmet over the handlebar and took a deep breath before heading for the front door. Phoenix had been working on updating the old cottage for a couple of months from what I understood, the shifter in a mad rush to ready his den before his mate had their baby. When he called last night to ask if I could help him lay wood flooring, I said yes. It was the least I could do to help my denmate out. Plus, I hadn’t spent much time with him since he’d earned his patch. I wanted to correct that.

Phoenix’s mate Zuri opened the door before I could knock, a big smile on her face and a red T-shirt stretched across her ball-shaped belly.

“Morning, Shadow. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, but thank you.” As soon as I stepped inside, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I sniffed again and again, trying not to look as if I was ignoring Zuri. She continued to make small talk, oblivious to my sudden need to shift to an animal form and stalk through her home hunting that scent. Faded but not old, the captivating aroma wasn’t one from Zuri or Phoenix. It was unique, something I’d never noticed before. Something I wanted more of.

Both my inner beasts prowled closer to the surface of my mind, ready to burst through and take over. The whirlwind of growls and snarls inside my head quickly became overwhelming. Standing stock-still in the living room, I locked my jaw and fought against my own mind, the man in me afraid to move, worried about upsetting the precarious balance and shifting. If my wolf won, Zuri would probably be okay seeing as she was mated to a wolf shifter. If my tiger won… Well, there would be no unlicking that stamp. He couldn’t win. Period.