Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 (9 page)

BOOK: Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2
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“You saw her? She is a stunner, that one. Reminds me of my younger sister, and a little of you without the fatalism.”

He had a younger sister? She’d never thought about him having a family. People other than Shev. People he wasn’t allowed to see until his punishment was over.

Ram shrugged. “And yes, I’ve watched your movies. It makes me feel like Jinn again, only I’m peeping on prerecorded actors instead of the real thing. I have to do something to occupy my time while you’re screwing the poo—
oomph
—the Enforcer,” he finished with a groan, gripping his stomach where she’d punched him. “No more canine humor. I’ve got it.”

He was acting like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t been an ass, and then irresistible…and then an ass again. She was feeling a definite case of emotional whiplash. “You need to pick an emotion, Ram. You’ve been so…”

“Angry and unavailable?” he offered. “That wasn’t an act, Aziza. I’ve been a snake, and I know it. This isn’t easy to adjust to, being stuck here and not getting what I wanted.”
Her
. It was left unspoken, but she knew. “There are too many limitations. But for the last week or so I’ve been getting tired of the crush of all that bitterness. And then this started happening. Underbridge is a small community, so I have heard of the losses. I knew the two women. I want to help.”

He had heard? He knew them? Of course he did. He was right about kink communities. They were just that, communities. Like-minded people who spent time together and shared more than their predilections for play. Brandon would add that to Ram’s guilty column. More ammunition to take in her Jinn.

“Three now,” she told him.

Ram’s eyes widened. “Three?” He looked around and lowered his voice. “Who?”

“We’re out of the cab,” she said, “and my mind-your-own-business button is still pushed, so I think we should talk.”

“Now? On the sidewalk?”

“There are things you need to know.”

Aziza quickly and quietly laid out the events of the night before as people walked by, oblivious. She told him everything. Finding the girl—though she had no idea who she was—what she’d said, the other murders, even the fact that she was getting glimpses into the Niyr and Jinn worlds.

She wasn’t sure why it all came out to him when she hadn’t been able to tell Brandon. Maybe because she knew he had no one to report back to and no room to judge her.

Because it was Ram.

Ram’s expression was thoughtful. “You know I would rather flay myself alive and serve my organs to my enemies than admit this, but Brandon has a point. The blood draining? The designs carved into the bodies? That’s more Jinn than Niyr. Even Razia let Harash do the dirty work while he directed from a distance. In fact, it sounds like—what would you call it in English?—soul casting. Something that was forbidden ages ago.”
 

He frowned. “I wish I’d been able to see one of the bodies. I might recognize one or two of the symbols. But if the Enforcers follow their usual procedures, all the remains will have been cremated and their human detectives will have handed over any detailed pictures. No traces left for curious human eyes.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the building, waiting until they were alone in the lift to speak. “What is soul casting?”

“It was a kind of a ritual. A spell that required sacrifice and blood. The priests of Qaf and our current leaders don’t like to talk about it, but there was a time when we lived through something similar to your Dark Ages. We didn’t have the balance we do now between war and peace, art and ignorance, mysticism and the sciences.” Ram noticed her stunned expression and smirked smugly. “Reports of my inattentiveness have been greatly exaggerated. Shev was an overachiever, yes. She was…” he stopped smiling, “…well, she was what she was.”

This was the first time he’d mentioned her name since they’d left the Stewarts’ country manor. The first time he’d really talked to Aziza in what felt like forever.

A part of her wanted to stop the lift, stop time and keep him talking. She knew she’d missed him, but she hadn’t realized how much. She wished it hadn’t taken murder to get him communicating again. “So there is some kind of purpose to the killings? A goal other than anarchy? What would Razia, or any Jiniyr, hope to gain by performing that kind of ritual?”

Ram shook his head. “I don’t know. But I do know they’re not getting what they want.”

Dread tightened her throat. “Why do you say that?”

“This ritual was so powerful it was only done once a decade. Maybe twice. Three bodies in as many weeks has to mean they aren’t sure what they’re doing. Which makes sense, since all we have now are stories. Artwork that depicts the ritual. They haven’t gotten it right yet, but they’re obviously practicing until they perfect the recipe.”

The lift had stopped and Ram was holding open the door as he spoke, but Aziza was having a hard time moving her feet. They were practicing on innocent women. What the hell were the twisted bastards planning and what did it have to do with her?

Ram frowned. “Aziza, are you okay? I would help you more but I don’t have access to the information. I can’t even ask around since any Jinn who sees my cuff knows to ignore me.”

She stepped out of the lift and looked at him suspiciously. “Won’t you get in trouble for telling me all this?”

“You’re concealed and I’m in exile. As long as I don’t commit an unforgivable act, I’ll eventually be pardoned. Until then, I’m not bound by the laws of Qarin or warrior.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “Besides, I’m your hero, remember? If I’ve watched enough movies to learn anything, it’s that this is what heroes do.”

She’d forgotten how dangerous the charming Ram could be to her equilibrium. “Are you coming in?”

He shook his head. “With you and your boyfriend fighting and Enforcers outside guarding the flat? He’d be here before I could sit down. It isn’t a good idea for any of us at the moment.”

He had a point. “Ram? You said you knew the first two victims. How well?”

His lashes lowered and a muscle twitched at his jaw. “I played them.”

Fuck.
“Recently?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped away from her. “They both asked for me days before they disappeared.”

“Damn it, Ram.” That was information the Enforcers obviously didn’t have. If they did, he would already have been in their custody. “Do you have any idea why the Jiniyr are trying to set you up?”

His eyes blazed as he studied her. “Just like that, precious Aziza? No doubts? No worries my darker, demonic Jinn side got the best of me and I joined the Jiniyr out of spite?”

She leaned against the door. “You are many things—a lover of shortcuts, impatient, demanding, a sexual deviant—but you didn’t kill those girls. I know it. We have to find out who did before the werewolves decide you’re the most convenient suspect.”

“We? Are you asking for more of my help?”

She shook her head. “You’re asking for mine. Greg and I will see you tonight.”

“Tonight?”

She sent him a smile that darkened his emerald eyes. “West invited us to Underbridge. Since he’s been such a good friend to you, I couldn’t turn him down. And now?
You’ve
invited me to play.”

Ram lifted one eyebrow. “Did you accept? Did we negotiate terms?”

Aziza bit her lip. “What was it you said in the garden? No limits? No rules? But let’s make it something public, make sure everyone can see.”

His smile was wicked. “It pains me more than you know to point out that the Jiniyr would never come after you, Fireborne. They want you alive.”

“Maybe. If this blood ritual has anything to do with the reason they want me, then as soon as they get it right they’ll be after me anyway. But even if it doesn’t, I know the dynamics of a club like this. Up until now I’ve just been watching, a member but still an outsider. The other women will confide in me—trust me—if they see that I’m one of them.”

Ram chuckled. “Clever. I’m assuming you want me to top you and not the other way around. That is what I’m known for there.”

“Yes.”
Oh yes.

“Are you sure you are ready for my brand of play, Aziza?” He moved closer, his voice lowering. “This won’t be lighthearted make-believe or a simple spanking. Not if we’re doing this right. If we’re putting on a show. The other girls were used to harder play, asked for it, but you haven’t experienced as much of that as they had. Are you willing?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “We should practice. Say ‘Yes, Sir’.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And as much as I love it…” his smile was sensuality and sin, “…if I’m going to maintain my infamous control, you are not allowed to wear your schoolgirl outfit. Wear something restrained—for you. I’ll put everything else together.”

“I can do that.”

“What was that?”

Aziza inhaled. “I mean, yes, Sir.”

He backed away with a grin, heading back to the lift. “I love how that sounds. The game is afoot, Ms. Lane.”

“Way too much cable television.” She laughed breathlessly as she unlocked her door. “And you should know it’s a sacrilege to confuse Superman with Sherlock. The detective doesn’t wear tights.”

She refused to think about why she was smiling. Why she was breathless with anticipation, her body heating with an arousal she didn’t want to examine too closely.

Ram was going to play her tonight.

Chapter Four

Aziza was in the shower, getting ready for her night at the club and still thinking about him. Ram was back to being his wickedly irresistible self, and right now thinking about him was better than thinking about what she’d received in the mail today. What was even now waiting on the bed for her to open.

She’d thought she would be, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. She would rather think about anything else. She would rather think about Ram. Their confrontation at The Hangar. The ride home.

Their plans for tonight.

She was still with Brandon—she’d
chosen
to be with Brandon—and Ram was the exiled Qarin who’d ignored her the last time she went to Underbridge to see him. Instead of talking to her, he’d played a scene onstage where he “granted wishes” with paddles and a cat-o’-nine-tails to multiple women as she watched.

Was that the kind of play he was talking about? Whips?

Aziza shivered and pressed her thighs together. She’d thought then that watching him was her penance. Her own personal torture. And Ram had taken that opportunity to show her what she was missing. To remind her that she had her own needs that weren’t being satisfied.

But they
were
. She
was
satisfied. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t arranged a scene since she’d been with Brandon—until tonight. And maybe she hadn’t dressed in her favorite schoolgirl outfit, the one that, when combined with her youthful Stewart appearance, had driven her past play partners wild.

The one Ram had forbidden her from wearing for their scene.

She’d missed the adrenaline of playing at a club, but that was all. Brandon was more than willing to fulfill her needs
at home. Dominant enough to drive her wild with desire for him. She might be mad at him, but she wasn’t lacking in that department. She didn’t need anything else. Anyone else.

You don’t want to need more. But you do. You also need answers.

Fuck, she was crazy to do this. She could have chosen someone else. A human. A woman. Someone that Brandon wouldn’t kill if he found out they’d touched her.

But Ram was as much a link between the victims as Underbridge was. He had to be the one who played her.

Ram will give you what you really need. He knows you, knows a Fireborne craves experience. He would share you.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She was going to find answers and stop the Jiniyr. It had nothing to do with Ram. Nothing to do with sex.

Liar.

She didn’t need her abilities to know that he wouldn’t hold back tonight. That he would punish her for making him wait. He’d told her as much. And the ways he could punish her were suddenly all she could think about. How he would make her pay for putting him off. For pretending that nothing had happened between them. For choosing someone else over him.

He would share her if she wanted him to.

The fantasy began to form in her mind before she could stop it, and she slid her hand down her wet stomach and between her thighs in search of relief.

In her mind she was on the main stage at Underbridge, and the dance floor was crowded with people watching with hushed anticipation. A single desk from the Classroom, one of the playrooms at the club, shone in the spotlight.

Ram stood beside it, waiting for her. He was in charge here. He made the rules. He crooked a finger at her and then pointed to the floor in front of the desk. Aziza didn’t hesitate to obey. She knew what was coming. Even when he turned her to face the desk without a word and pressed his palm against her back until she was forced to bend over, she knew. And she wanted it.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Aziza,” Ram intoned. “Bad enough to wear this outfit when I told you not to. Bad enough that I’ve kept you after class to teach you a different kind of lesson.”

BOOK: Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2
7.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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