Claiming His Fire (7 page)

That’s right, buddy. I’m in your denhouse. Deal with it.

“Hey, ladies.” Rebel stood when we turned into his office, a wide smile on his face.

Charlotte hurried around the desk to greet us with hugs. “Thank you so much for coming. I was getting a little overwhelmed with everything.”

“It’s no problem,” Amber said. “We’re glad to help.”

“Great.” She turned to give Rebel a good-natured glare. “You…go do your thing. I’ve got this covered.”

Rebel laughed and pulled her close, kissing her nose and cheeks before pressing his lips to hers. The kiss looked soft and sweet, filled with so much emotion it almost hurt to watch. The thread around my heart drew tighter, making me ache. Making me burn for something I was missing. I wanted that kind of connection to someone, I really did. But I wanted to choose the other half of the equation, not let the Fates decide for me. I’d lived my life following someone else’s rules, why couldn’t I follow my own for once?

“Behave,” Rebel whispered against Charlotte’s lips before taking a step back. He walked out the door with a casual, “Have fun, ladies. Try not to talk about my four-hundred-year-old dick, Miss Scarlett.”

I leaned out the door and grinned, remembering the first time I’d actually hung out with his mate. “I’ll do my best.”

Rebel shook his head, chuckling as he made his way to the bar. To the other guys in the club. To Shadow. I felt a need to follow him, to search out the end of my red thread, but I walked back into the office instead. I would not surrender.

“So,” Charlotte said, looking excited and a little flustered. “We have around sixty people signed up so far to come to the kickoff party, though not all will be riding. That’s the responsibility of hangers-on and the Pups of the club. The patched guys are handling the logistics of the ride to Chicago themselves. We’re in charge of the charity carnival that will be held at the park where the ride will end.”

Amber gave me a sidelong glance, probably checking to make sure I wasn’t ready to run yet. “What do we need to do?”

Five hours and what felt like a hundred conversations later, I walked back into the bar area. My head hurt, my throat was raw, and I never wanted to make another phone call for the rest of my life. Amber and Charlotte were still at it, setting up rides and food booths and working out contract issues. My part was done for now, though, and I needed whiskey…stat.

“Can I get a little Jack?” I said to the guy behind the bar as I settled onto one of the high stools. Sadly, it wasn’t him who answered.

“I can give you a big Jack.”

I turned and glared at the jerk sitting two seats down, the one who apparently thought I was looking for more than a drink. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“No, but I’m talking to you.” He stood and moved to my side, his arm on the back of my seat. Almost caging me in against the bar. Sparks lit in my blood and my vision turned a very dangerous shade of orange. I was tired, cranky, and not in the mood for his kind of bullshit. This couldn’t possibly end well.

The short fucker leaned closer, looking me up and down as if I were a piece of meat in the butcher’s window. “Why don’t you come with me to the back? I’m sure I’ve got what you need.”

I rolled my eyes. “Honey, I have heels taller than you. Why don’t you head back there without me? I’m sure you know exactly how to flog your own bishop.”

Turning back to the bar, I tried to ignore the Napoleon wannabe, but his eyes kept traveling up and down my body, leaving behind a slimy, cold sensation that made me want to gag…or run. That particular instinct pissed me off even more, though. I wasn’t weak. I could fight if I needed to. My coven had made me run from everything when I was with them, but no longer. I’d stand my ground, even when the ground wasn’t technically mine to stand on.

A finger running up my leg sent my mind spinning into flames so hot, they burned my ears with their roar.

“You need to be a little nicer to me, sweetheart. I’m important around here.”

The room became bathed in a deep red light as my temper flared hot and bright in my mind. The elemental power of fire poured through me, blazing a trail down my back, liquid fire in my veins. My fingertips burned, ready to release the flames of my fury. This man was about to see why you didn’t touch a fire witch unless she wanted you to, and sometimes not even then.

Spinning slowly to face him, I let my fire witch go. Let her out…let my power fly freely. I knew my hair had to be glowing at the ends, my fingertips bright orange with the flames ready to burst through, but I didn’t care. If I couldn’t light myself up around a pack of men who changed into animals at will, where could I?

“You need to get your hand off me,” I hissed, my voice hard.

“Oh, this hand?” He wrapped his stubby fingers around my upper thigh. “This hand ain’t doing you no harm.”

I reared back, setting my fingertips ablaze in preparation for nailing this idiot in the face. The pain spread quickly, the unbalanced elemental power consuming me instead of working with me as it did when I had full control of my magick. But hell, I welcomed the burn of lighting my hands on fire. The pain would be worth it to make my point to this little prick. I’d happily burn a man like him, the ones who thought they had a right to my body even when I’d refused them. I had no problem teaching this one a painful lesson. But before I could strike, before I could even lift my hands enough to scare the douche, someone moved between us.

“The lady said to remove your hand from her leg.”

Shadow loomed large over the other guy, his face hard and his shoulders set. A mountain of a man staring down at the short one who was no longer touching me. A low growl rumbled from Shadow, a sound that shot up my spine and made me shiver in my seat. As much as I hated the thought of needing a protector, there really was something incredibly hot about a Prince Charming coming to your rescue. But fuck if I’d admit that out loud. Ever. Especially not to the prince who might have wanted to lock me away in his tower.

The short fucker crossed his arms. “I don’t remember asking for your advice, Shadow.”

“And I don’t remember you being such a prick, but here we are,” Shadow said, advancing a step, pushing the little guy farther away from me.

Shadow’s arm brushed my leg as he angled himself more solidly between the short guy and me. The contact made my entire body flush with desire, so much I nearly whimpered. Good Lord, he needed to get away from me before I exploded.

“Magnus,” Rebel hollered from across the room, glaring at the short shifter. “Come with me, now.”

Shadow watched as the short guy stormed off, his glare still firmly in place, his growl a solid, sustained rumble.

And then he looked at me, sending my soul up in flames.

“You okay?”

Oh for the sake of the Goddess, his voice. The hard look in his eyes. The scent of him as he leaned close. He was killing me with his Shadow-ness, and that just pissed me off even more.

“I don’t remember asking for your help,” I said, infusing my voice with anger even as it wobbled. “I could have handled that on my own.”

He seemed to be unable to look away, his eyes roaming over me as if in some kind of inspection. Not like Magnus had done, not checking out my assets, more checking out the state of said assets. Making sure I was okay. Caring about me.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” He leaned in, and I swear he sniffed me. “But just because a person can handle a situation on their own doesn’t mean I’m not going to jump in. Guys like Magnus don’t hear women. Your no is meaningless to him, but mine bears weight. It sucks, but it’s the way his mind works.”

“Yeah, well.” I shook my head, the fight draining out of me, the need to wrap myself around him so damn hard to resist. “I didn’t need you to fight my fight for me.”

“I never thought you did.” His eyes went dark when he saw my hands. Every fingertip screamed, the skin an angry red color, burned from the flames I’d been preparing to use in my defense. I curled them into fists, hiding the evidence no matter how much they hurt.

“You sure you’re okay?” His eyes met mine again. Deep, beautiful, the eyes of someone kind and caring. I wanted to get lost in them, to stare at him for hours. To press myself against him and—

“It’s fine,” I said as I shook off the pull of the red thread. Not real, I chanted in my head, trying to keep from acting on the wants the Fates showered me in when Shadow was around. “This is nothing. It happens all the time.”

He frowned. “Looks painful.”

“Only the first thousand times.”

His eyes met mine again, and he raised a single eyebrow. Damn that look. It made him appear so smartass and sarcastic. And hot…definitely hot. Motherfucker.

“If you say so.” He gave me one last look-over before turning and walking away, disappearing into the back hallways of the denhouse. Leaving me shaking at the bar. Alone again and no closer to understanding why I couldn’t turn off the mating bond within me. Because I wanted to break that connection to him, and soon.

At least that’s what I told myself.

Two hours after the incident with Magnus, and I still couldn’t control my growling. All three sides of my personality were on the same side for once, and that agreement was wrapped around a sense of frustrating rage. The jackass had dared to touch my mate without her permission. He’d made her burn herself—set her own damn fingers on fire—to ward off his advances. Those red fingers, the obviously painful burns, had destroyed what control I’d found while being in the same building as her. I’d wanted to grab her and hide her away, wanted to protect her with my body. But that would have been a bad decision, as she hadn’t seemed interested in having me help her in any way possible. That woman had some thick fucking walls around her, ones with turrets on top and guards with guns ready to shoot anyone who dared come near.

I’d had to leave the denhouse once I’d made sure Scarlett was okay. If I’d seen Magnus again—if I hadn’t felt Rebel punished him enough—I probably would have challenged him to a true shifter brawl, one settled with claws and teeth and blood. And I would have won, even if I had to kill him. Even if I had to reveal my roar instead of my howl. But with the trouble brewing around the Omegas and my responsibilities in Chicago, I couldn’t deal with the added drama of a dumbass shifter pushing me to out myself as a mixed breed.

Besides, Scarlett had made it abundantly clear…she didn’t need or want my help.

Pacing, I ran a hand through my hair and sighed, growing more agitated by the moment. I was hungry…starving…famished. The call to shift to my wolf and run through one of the Metroparks south of the city was strong. The thought of having to deal with cooking or ordering or even lifting a fork to my lips did not appeal. My beasts wanted to hunt live prey, and I was almost ready to give in to that desire.

A sudden knock on the door made me spin and snarl, ready to attack. Rarely did I allow myself to fall so deeply into my thoughts that people could sneak up on me. This drama with Scarlett was truly messing with me.

Assuming one of my den brothers was on the other side of the door, I inched down the hall and sniffed, the shifter way of saying “Who’s there?”

And then I whimpered.

Fire and ice, a light sooty flavor wrapped around lavender and snow creating a cocktail of seduction I’d know anywhere.

I rushed to the door. Scarlett had never come to my apartment before. Hell, she had only just come to the denhouse for the first time today. If she sought me out, there had to be something wrong. I would rip myself apart if Magnus pulled something again. If he’d hurt or scared her. Well, I’d rip myself apart after I destroyed him.

The door flew back as I yanked, leaving me standing in the opening and staring at my mate. Amazed. Scarlett stood in the hallway, sexy and adorable and
there
with some sort of covered dish in her hands. Her eyes locked with mine and she flushed, looking all kinds of uncomfortable and almost shy. Such an odd expression for her beautiful face. Brash and ballsy, tough…that was Scarlett, not this shy little creature. She seemed more like Little Red Riding Hood coming to see the big bad wolf than a rough-and-tumble warrior with defenses made of stone.

But hell, as long as she was at my door, I was happy. She’d searched me out and brought me dinner, it seemed. Between the food and the scent of my mate so close, I practically drooled on the carpet.

“Zuri sent me. This. She sent this.” She thrust the dish forward, trying and failing not to look at me. But look she did. I felt the burn of her gaze as it dropped down my body, responding with a quiet growl, liking the attention. She stared hungrily, her eyes absorbing me, consuming me. True, I had taken my shirt off when I came home, but I’d donned my old gray sweat pants as well. Baggy, ratty, and faded, they were something I never left the house wearing. I needed a shower, a shirt, and a pair of jeans to be presentable, yet my mate couldn’t stop looking. Or rather, trying not to look.

With a sigh and a small shake of her head, she finally met my gaze. Her eyes stayed on mine as she placed the dish in my hands, being careful not to actually touch me.

“We’ve never really been introduced. I’m Scarlett Weaver, Zuri’s sister, and this is for you.”

“What is it?” I asked, not sure if I was asking about the dish or something else. Something more about her. About why she’d felt the need to come here when she could have sent Phoenix or Amber.

“Picadillo. It’s a kind of stew.” She tugged at the hem of her shirt, her eyes repeatedly darting to my chest as we stood mere inches away from one another. “It’s a family thing, kind of. Our mother taught Aunt Sarah to make it before she died. My mom, not my aunt, that is. Before my mother died. Though they’re both dead now. Not that it matters.” Her eyes went wide as I cocked my head. “Oh God, not that it matters to you. It totally matters to me and my sisters. But you…probably not so much.”

I pulled up one side of my mouth in a smile, fighting back my laughter as she blanched and scrunched up her nose.

“Damn it,” she hissed before taking a deep breath and giving me a very strong stare. “It’s a sort of Cuban stew, and it’s delicious. Zuri makes it better than any I’ve ever had. You just have to heat it up.”