Kindling Flames: Flying Sparks (The Ancient Fire Series Book 2) (22 page)

Both of the leaders looked up at Darien.

“What outside source?” Rupert asked.

“Wasn’t it the wolves causing all the problems?” Daniel sneered, and the two groups broke down into yelling at one another again.

Elliot shook his head and went to help Darien control the chaos.

Dakine and his fay stepped back out of the fray.

Vicky watched the excitement from her side of the circle, not sure if she should step in and try to help. As she held her ground, she considered what she could do that Elliot wasn’t already doing. She let out a cry of surprise when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Her back was pulled into a very warm, male body.

The fighting between the vampires and werewolves stopped abruptly at the sound of Vicky’s scream. Every head turned to see what had caused the mortal woman to cry out. A tall man dressed in reds stood behind Vicky with his arms wrapped tightly around her. One arm held her across the middle and the other held her at the throat. The ifrit had fine features set in olive skin, with long hair the color of wet ashes. The top of his hair was pulled up into a bundle at the back of his head.

He grinned as shock rode the face of the group inside the circle.

Elliot grabbed the hilt of his sword as Darien clenched his hands in anger. The pair started towards the ifrit.

“Stop there, or I will kill her.” The ifrit’s voice was warm and full of promise.

Darien and Elliot stopped in their tracks and glared at the jinni, pressing its sharp nails into Vicky’s throat. Zak had circled around outside the barrier so he was as close as possible. The little fay snarled and thrashed his tentacles.

“What are you doing here?” Darien growled at the intruder.

“I came for what has been promised me.” The ifrit rubbed his cheek against the side of Vicky’s head.

Vicky whimpered slightly at the contact. Zak snarled louder behind him. “You have no right to her!” Darien yelled. “Release her.”

The ifrit laughed a sultry sound Vicky recognized from the fire at her apartment. “You may have prevented me for a while, vampire,” the jinni taunted, “but you can’t keep me from what is mine.” He squeezed her tighter, and Darien clenched his teeth. “Your little charm may protect her from my powers, but you can’t stop me now that you are bound by your own magic.” The laugh came from the creature again. Vicky’s mind whirled as she thought about what to do with the ifrit taunting Darien. She could feel the strength in his hands and knew she’d be in serious trouble if she fought back.

“Release her,” Darien snarled at the ifrit again. “She’s mine!”

This drew another laugh from the creature holding Vicky. “No, vampire,” it purred. “This one does not belong to you. No bite addles her mind. No ring binds her heart.” The ifrit’s hand shifted so that it grabbed Vicky hard across her stomach, driving a pained noise from her. The intruder clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “She doesn’t even know your seed.” The ifrit shifted his hand up Vicky’s body, and trails of smoke curled up as he rent her shirt with magical fire. He slipped his hand in against her exposed stomach and caressed the skin lovingly. “How could you resist such tempting flesh?”

Darien took another step forwards, and the ifrit squeezed Vicky’s throat, causing her to squeak in pain. Darien stopped again.

Vicky could feel the power rolling off her boss. “That creature has more of a claim to her then you do.” The jinni jerked his head towards Zak, thrashing against the wall of the shield. “And that can easily be taken care of.” The ifrit moved his hand to Vicky’s hip, and a line of blue flames ripped down the side of her pant leg, just brushing against her skin. The flame caught the delicate ring of flowers, and the bracelet snapped and slid to the ground with a soft tinkle.

Zak roared and doubled in size, trying to get into the circle. Darien growled, and Elliot grabbed his shoulder to stop him from stepping forwards again.

“Remember the parlay,” he warned Darien.

“Yes, remember your parlay,” the ifrit mocked, rubbing against Vicky again. He pulled his arm up to caress her flesh. “You can’t do anything to stop me.” She whimpered as the man holding her nuzzled the curls just behind her ear. “I can do anything I want.”

“I’m not bound by the parlay when it comes to you.” Darien pulled his power to him.

Vicky could feel the air in the circle thump with the energy Darien was gathering.

“True, but if you try for me, you will hit your precious woman.” The jinni peeked around Vicky, using her as a shield. “It would be nothing for me to break this charm away and disappear with her.”

Darien trembled with rage.

“Just a little tug and she would be free from you.” The ifrit caught her necklace with his finger. “I was just going to burn her up and take what was promised to me, but I think it would be more satisfying to savor this one.” The ifrit turned burning eyes to Darien and taunted him again. “To feel her flesh against mine as I burn her from the inside. Or, I could just pull her heart out while she lives.” The grin that spread across the ifrit’s face was pure joy. “I might even tape it so I can enjoy her screams over and over again.”

Elliot released Darien and took a step in anger.

The ifrit stood up a little. “I could send you a copy so you can enjoy it, too.” The ifrit pulled on the cord and pushed Darien over the edge.

Roaring in anger, Darien drew up a ball of energy and hurled the raw power at the ifrit. The creature laughed and dropped Vicky from his hands. Darien quickly drew another blast and cast it at the pair before the first ball hit. The energy of the first attack skittered warmly across Vicky’s skin. It tingled and stole the rigidity from her muscles, but it didn’t hurt as the magic governing the parlay rebounded the power back on the caster three times over. She fell to the ground as the second, and significantly larger, ball of energy flew over her head and slammed into the ifrit, pushing it back through the tear in reality from whence it came.

It felt like an eternity as Vicky lay on the floor twitching from the power coursing through her. The din Zak made as he hammered on the barrier didn’t quite drown out the commotion from the crowd around the room. She listened to the worried cries as she tried to regain control of her body.

Elliot knelt next to the limp woman. “Are you all right?” His hands were gentle as he pulled her into a sitting position.

Zak stopped screaming as Vicky sat up and leaned against the tall vampire. She raised shaking hands to her face and breathed deep, trying to recover from the numb feeling in her body. “I think so,” Vicky said as she slowly regained control.

Zak let out a garbled bark, calling to her.

“I’m okay
,
Zak,” she called to the ball of tentacles that was now the size of a Great Dane. He wiggled helplessly outside the circle, trying to get in. “What happened?” she asked as Elliot checked her over for injuries.

He carefully helped Vicky to her feet. “Master Darien broke parlay and attacked you and the ifrit.” She leaned heavily on him, unable to stand properly. “He was trying to drive the ifrit off you, so he could hurt it.” Elliot supported her against him as they turned to where her boss was crumpled on the ground.

“Darien!” Vicky gasped looking down on his still form. Someone had shifted him to a comfortable position on his back, and the dark-haired elf knelt by his head with a slender hand pressed to his forehead.

“He’s not dead, or the circle would have broken,” Elliot reassured Vicky as he helped her limp over to Darien. “But he
is
an idiot.”

She looked up at the blond holding her.

Elliot shook his head and sighed. “He hit you with something he judged was survivable three times over, but he forgot to take your medallion into account. The energy he sent came back to him six times over.” She looked down at the motionless vampire but couldn’t see any physical injury on him.

“Master Darien does live,” Roisin said softly. “But the spark fades. He needs blood.”

Rupert started pulling up his sleeve to expose his wrist. “Take mine.”

“No, wolf.” The woman looked up at him. “Your blood has too much magic in it. It could overpower the spark and kill him.”

Rupert dropped his hand to his side.

“Will mine work?” Clara asked.

“No.” Roisin looked up at Vicky. “He needs blood untainted by magic, and quickly.”

Vicky drew in a breath as she realized what the fay wanted. “Mine.” She stepped forwards on trembling legs.

The woman nodded.

Vicky’s heart pounded with fear as she sat on the floor next to Darien. The thought of feeding someone her blood terrified her, but the circle Darien had placed kept out anyone else who could help. If she didn’t do it, he would die. She couldn’t allow that.

Vicky pulled the dagger from where Darien had stuck it in his belt and drew the blade out. The light glinted off the steel as she took a deep breath and told herself that it was just like donating blood.

Roisin touched Vicky’s hand before she could pull the knife across her wrist. “Just a little is needed to call him back,” she warned, “but it will take more than blood to call to his mind. When he first wakes, he’ll be driven by need alone. You must bring his mind back, or he will not stop.”

Vicky swallowed hard as Roisin’s words hung in the air. There was no need for the fay to go into graphic detail about what would happen if Vicky failed to wake him. She nodded her understanding and moved a little closer to Darien’s head.

The sharp edge of the dagger parted Vicky’s skin almost painlessly. She squeezed her hand, and the little nick on her right wrist bled lightly as she moved it to Darien’s mouth. Roisin stood up and away from them as Vicky rubbed the blood on Darien’s lips before forcing her wrist into his mouth. The blood ran across his tongue, but nothing happened. Vicky held her breath as she bent her wrist slightly so the cut would bleed a little faster. She shuddered when she felt his fangs lengthen against the skin of her wrist. His hands came up from his side to her arm, and he bit down, breaking through her skin. Vicky winced in pain as he started to feed.

“Mr. Ritter,” Vicky called to him, “wake up.” She tried patting his head. “Come on.” With her free hand, she ran her fingers through his hair. “Master Darien, it’s time to wake up.” She tried, but he did not respond. Vicky called to him several more times in different ways. Trying to pull her wrist away only made him growl as he continued to suckle at her. “Stop that right now!” she scolded to no avail. The light-headedness that comes with blood loss was starting to press at her. Leaning her head forwards, she rested it on his forehead. “Stop
,
Darien,” she whispered. She was starting to feel cold. “Please.” The last word was breathed against him just before passing out.

Darien’s eyes blinked open as reality slipped back into him. Shocked by the taste of blood in his mouth, he pulled his fangs from his assistant and released her wrist. Elliot took the chance to grab the limp woman away from Darien’s side and passed her back to the waiting hands of the fay.

Darien panted on the floor, staring up at the grave faces around him as he tried to work out what had happened. He moved to sit up, but Clara dropped to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him down.

“Be still,” she said softly. “You’re hurt.”

“Victoria,” Darien breathed. He had never consumed her blood, but he had tasted it enough to recognize the sweet flavor in his mouth.

“She’s just saved your life,” Clara informed him. “Lord Dakine is seeing to hers. Now be still for a few more minutes so you can mend.”

Darien’s breath was fast as he registered the injuries caused by the magic that had burnt through him. He closed his eyes and willed himself to recover faster. The feel of Vicky’s blood in him told him that he had taken more then he should have. He licked the blood from his lips and teeth before slowly sitting up. Rupert handed him a white handkerchief to clean the red from the corners of his mouth. The air behind Darien was thick the magic as Dakine healed the tears in Vicky’s skin and forced her body to produce enough blood to keep her alive. Darien looked down at the red marks on the white cloth, and a pang of regret tore through him. He had nearly killed the girl in his bloodlust.