Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 (13 page)

“Generator kicked in,” he said. “’S okay, I won’t let the menehune get you.”

Predictably, she glared at him. “I don’t believe in your little people, Mr. Smartass. I just don’t like being in the dark in a strange place.”

“Don’t believe in our Hawaiian
mo’olelo
, hmm?” He wondered what she would do if she knew she was in the room with one. “Well, as long as you believe when I tell you to stay with me.”

“I get it,” she said grumpily. “I also get the bathroom first.”

He held out his arm toward the open door. “
Olu’olu.
”

Melia washed her face and brushed her teeth, used the toilet and then looked longingly at the shower. She was sticky with sweat. Impulsively, she stripped off her dress and bikini and bundled her hair on top of her head with a twist, then stepped into the shower. The water cascaded over her skin, cool and refreshing. She stood under it for a long time, soaping herself, rinsing carefully, letting the small ritual relax her.

By the time she dried herself off, smoothed on some of her lotion and pulled on the thin tank top and boxer shorts that served as summer pajamas, she felt better.

Until she stepped back into the bedroom and found Malu already in the turned-back bed, waiting for her. He lay on his uninjured side, his brawny arm crooked under his head. The sheet was pushed down to his waist, and she wasn’t sure he was wearing anything under it. Deep in her belly, arousal twined—he was so gorgeous, she wanted to lap him up like a big mai tai.

“Bedtime,” he said, his sleepy gaze roaming over her.

“You’d better have shorts on,” she said, although she didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

Slowly, he pushed the sheet down, revealing a hard, bare hip. Then his shoulders quivered with a deep
huh
of laughter. He lifted his hand, letting the low waistband of a pair of dark briefs snap back into place. “Your eyes are the size of reef tangs.”

“You are so full of it.” Forgetting her self-consciousness, Melia marched over to the bed, grabbed the sheet and pulled it up over her side of the bed. She lay down on top of the sheet so he was on the other side of it, at least, and pulled the light quilt up over them. “Any body parts straying onto my side of this bed better be scratch- and bite-proof.”

Behind her, he turned off the lamp. Lying in the darkness with him so near, she could feel the heat radiating from his big body. Melia dug her fingers into the soft sheets, resisting the urge to wriggle back toward him.

“Ah, wahine,” he said, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness. “One time soon, you’ll bite and scratch me. But it won’t be to get rid of me.
E huahua’i
.”

“What does that mean?” she asked grumpily.

“It means that when we come together, our pleasures will flow like the hot lava from Pele’s volcano.”

Outside, the storm broke over the house, the thunder rumbling, wind howling. Melia quivered, her body responding as the storm echoed the tumble of erotic images his words unleashed in her imagination.

“In your dreams,” she muttered.
Melia paha.

Chapter Ten

Recipe for terror—take one Hawaiian hunk, light him on fire. Wake up to find all your dreams come true.

But instead, Malu invaded her dreams, as he had since that first night. It was the same dream as the one this afternoon, almost as if it hadn’t been interrupted by waking.

And this time, she went to him, as helpless to resist him as if she were bewitched. He stood framed by the mountain, glowing with that red-gold light. He wore a crown of leaves, but they were red with fire. So was the brief kapa cloth around his hips. Geckoes scampered around him like living sparks on the ground.

As she gazed at him in awe, he turned and held out his hand to her. His dark gaze, the sensuality in the slow smile he gave her were so compelling, her body reacted helplessly.

So aroused that she was breathing in ragged pants, Melia climbed the path to him. The geckoes scampered back, making way. Slowly, she reached out her hand, wanting desperately to lay it in his. But the heat that surrounded him became too much.

She hesitated, yearning to let his heat envelop her but afraid of the results. Would his passion burn her up, leaving her empty?

Melia woke with a gasp. She lay on her back in the bed, her heart pounding, desire twisting inside her. The dream had been so real.

Rain beat on the roof overhead, trickled down the gutters and splattered on the windowsills. But only on one side was she cool. Her other side was hot, uncomfortably so, as if she were too near a fire. And the heat was emanating from the man sleeping at her side.

Melia turned her head and stared. Her breath froze in her throat; her heart skipped a beat and then began to pound even faster. Was she still dreaming?

Malu still lay on his side, facing her. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful in slumber, his big body relaxed. And she could see all this clearly, because
he was glowing.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut, willing it to be her imagination, a trick of the storm, of the Hawaiian night. But when she opened them again, it was the same. The night was dark, the rain blotting out any moonlight that might have strayed in the windows. The only light was the red-gold glow that shimmered not around, not over, but
from Malu
.

Slowly, clumsy with fear, Melia pushed back the blanket and began to inch away from him. She made it to the very edge of the bed, had one foot on the floor, when his eyes opened, and he looked at her. It was like gazing into the heart of dark fire.

“Damn,” he rumbled, his deep voice husky with sleep. “Didn’t mean to do that yet.”

With a whimper, Melia jerked away, tangled her legs in the quilt and would have fallen on the floor had he not shot out his arm and caught her. His grip was hot as if he were burning with fever.

“No! Let me go, let me go!” She struggled wildly until he let her hand slide from his grasp. She stumbled back, landing with a thud against the wall, shaking so hard that only the wall held her up.

Malu sat up in the bed, holding his hands out placatingly. The red-gold shimmered around him as he moved. “Hush,” he said. “
Mai maka’u, wahine
. ’S okay.”

Melia clutched her arms around her middle, shaking her head in negation. “No, no, it’s not. W-what are you?”

He smiled faintly. “I am
Ho’omalu.
”

“I know that,” she managed. “But what
are
you—have you been taking some kind of weird drugs or something?” Oh God, she was talking with a man who was on fire. Or worse. He reminded her of something—lava, that was it. He glowed like the live lava she’d seen pouring from Kilauea on a video. The sight had given her the heebie-jeebies then, but nothing to compare with this.

“I am Ho’omalu,” he repeated patiently, although that stern look was back, his wide mouth straight. “One of Pele’s Guardians.”

“G-guardian of what?” She shot a sidelong look toward the door and slid sideways along the wall. Only a few steps and she could run for it. She had no plan other than escape.

“Melia,” he chided. “You are safe with me. I will never hurt you.”

She forced herself to nod, even tried to smile. “Th-that’s nice.”

Then she bolted for the door. She felt a rush of heat behind her, and his glowing arm shot over her shoulder, slamming it just as she reached it. And of course it wouldn’t budge, no matter how she yanked on it.

“Melia,” he said in her ear, just as a small gecko dashed down the door to stop before her, its jewel-bright gaze fastened on her. The tiny mouth gaped as if in warning.

Melia let out a squeak of fright at the creature’s sudden appearance right in her face. Then, blessed anger overcame her fear. This was the last straw. Even his darn little buddies, or mascots, or whatever were out to get her. She whirled on Malu, glaring up at him through her tumbled hair. She backed against the door, choosing the gecko over him. “You get away from me, you—you big freak! I
helped
you! Now get away!”

“You’re safe,” he repeated, looming over her. The eerie glow was fading quickly. She could barely see him in the darkness. But he was still so hot. The heat enhanced his scent that had so enthralled her only a short time ago, magnified like sexual incense.

Now it only reminded her of her peril. He was male, larger, stronger and faster than she—as well as being some kind of human torch. A sob caught in her throat—when he’d burst in the window after Dane, he had seemed a monster. Now she feared he was one.

“Melia,” he rumbled. “I’m not a freak, I’m not taking drugs, and I will never harm you.”

“Then let me go!” To her humiliation, her voice trembled. Malu reached for her, and Melia swatted at him with her balled-up fists. It felt good to let out some of her fear and frustration, so she punched him again, on his broad chest. This blow sent painful shockwaves up her wrist.

“
U oki
,” he chided. “You’ll only hurt yourself.” He wrapped his arm around her, bent to thrust his other arm under her knees, swinging her up with dizzying ease, high against his chest.

Melia found herself clutching him for support, which made her even angrier. “No! Where are you taking me? You put me down, Malu. I’ll—oh!”

He put her down, all right—in the bed. Before she could move a muscle, he was leaning over her, his arms trapping her there, wrapped in heat. He moved, and she flinched. The bedside lamp flicked on—he had only been reaching for it.

Her heart pounding madly, shaky from the aftereffects of adrenaline racing through her veins, Melia stared up at him.

“Why aren’t you glowing anymore?” she quavered. “Does that just h-happen when the lights go out?”

His heavy brows quirked. “Like a big night-light? No, ku’u ipo. It’s a little more than that. It’s healing.”

He moved, and she flinched. His face tightened. “Melia,” he growled. “
I will—not—hurt—you
.”

“Then let me go,” she shot back. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll just leave, and you can—can do whatever it is you do.” She broke off because he was scowling at her now, his neck and shoulders rigid, hands digging into the quilt beside her shoulders.

“Why don’t you believe that you are safe with me?” he demanded. “Safer than with any other man.”

Something in her snapped. “Because none of the other men I know glow in the dark!” she retorted, her voice rising to a shout.

For a moment, they glared at each other, nose to nose, and then his eyes narrowed, the anger morphing into something darker, hotter.

“Until now, you’ve never known
me
,” he told her. “But you will.”

His shoulders blotted out the lamplight as he leaned over her, enclosing her in the heated cage of his arms. His scent enveloped her, his breath bathed her cheek, and then his mouth closed on hers, hot and demanding, muffling her words of protest.

Melia slapped her hands on his bare chest, intending to push him away.

But as he cocked his head over hers, his soft, firm lips exploring hers, she somehow lost the will to do so. She would, oh, she would. But…oh, my. Oh, why shouldn’t she have just a few seconds more of his hot, slow kiss? It would be the only time, the last time. Because she feared him, feared what he was, what he could become… Didn’t she?

Except that it was hard to fear a man who was using his mouth to explore hers with such slow, heated care. As if her mouth was the most delectable fruit he had ever tasted, and he wanted to experience every nuance, every quiver of her reaction.

He nudged her lips gently with his, then, when they parted, opened his mouth, melding it seamlessly with hers, his tongue just meeting her own, coaxing her to taste him back. And how could she resist when he tasted so perfect? When his silky skin shivered under her touch, the powerful muscles of his chest swelling as she spread her fingers wide, stroking him with helpless delight.

He thrust his fingers into her tumbled hair, cradling her as he deepened the kiss. His tongue tangled with hers in erotic play. Melia shivered with pleasure as he held her, his thumbs splayed over her cheeks, stroking, coaxing her to open her mouth a little farther, give him more.

She heard a soft sound in her own throat, and this time it wasn’t fear.

She tasted sweet as ripe mangoes, her flavor so perfect Malu was ravenous for more and more. He trembled with the effort of restraining himself, of not frightening her. He sipped at her lips when he wanted to suckle them, brushed her tongue with his when he wanted to thrust his into her mouth, held her as carefully as a bird when he wanted to bear her down into the bed, their bare bodies melded seamlessly.

His cock was hard as a chunk of
ohia
, straining against his briefs. Ah, with one tilt of his hips he could be cradled against her little mound, coaxing her to let him in, let him send them both rocketing to heaven. He deepened the kiss, taking as much as she’d give him, luxuriating in her surrender. When she whimpered, he nearly groaned in response. He lifted his head just enough to speak.