Phoenix Burning Page 6

  Pressing a kiss to the top of Phoenix’s head, Ivar closed his eyes and savored the warmth of her body against his. He’d never believed in no-win scenarios, but he was smack-dab in the middle of one and the only way he could see to get out of it was to convince the clan lord to let his thirst for vengeance go. Sure.

  Ivar grimaced. He and his honor were both going to be fucked.

  Chapter Ten

  Phoenix rode Ivar hard and fast, her gaze locked on his. Slow and tender were great. She loved slow and tender, but sometimes a tantric vampire just needed to fuck, so she’d rolled him on his back and had taken over. He didn’t look as if he minded. Damn, she loved the feel of his hard cock deep inside her. Nothing and no one else would ever feel as good as he did.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” she told him. “I’ll never get enough of you.” Because she was gasping for air, the words had come out haltingly, but his growl and the way his hands tightened on her hips told her he understood.

  In this position, he wasn’t going to be able to sip her blood. She thought about leaning down so he could get to her neck—she loved the eroticism of his fangs penetrating her skin at the same time his body was moving inside hers—but Phoenix didn’t want to lose the pace and she would if she bent to him.

  Next time. He could drink from her next time.

  “I’m close,” he said.

  She’d known that. Even if she hadn’t learned to read him, she would have realized because her receptors were out, ready and quivering with anticipation. They sank into his aura before Phoenix consciously registered the way his hands held her in place or his last, hard thrust before he groaned and shot off inside her. His orgasmic energy flowing into her set off her own climax and she arched harder, wanting him as deep as she could take him.

  The sensations were so intense that she melted bonelessly over him when she finished coming. Phoenix was peripherally aware of his teeth sinking into her throat, of him taking a small amount of blood, but she was too exhausted to do more than sigh contentedly. This was right. This was how it should be every day for the rest of her life.

  She loved him.

  Phoenix turned the thought around in her mind, looking for flaws—hoping to discover some cracks—but there were none. It was truth. She was in love with Ivar LeBlanc and she couldn’t have him.

  His fangs withdrew and he licked at the puncture marks, healing them for her even though they’d close almost as quickly without his ministrations. But his care and consideration were part of why she’d fallen for him. He was still inside her, still partially hard, and she tensed her thighs, wanting to keep him there forever. For the first time in her life, she wished she were ordinary, a human. Then he could transform her into his kind of vampire and they could spend eternity talking and sharing earth-shattering orgasms.

  That was, of course, provided he had feelings for her as well, but Phoenix thought he did. Ivar wouldn’t have talked about his past if he didn’t, right? And he certainly wouldn’t have told her that he trusted her completely.

  Too bad she wasn’t worthy of his trust.

  Phoenix watched him carefully every day, searching for signs that her constant feeding from him was causing issues. She hadn’t seen anything yet, but he was right, as a vampire he could withstand much more than a human and as a strong vampire, it would probably take even longer for the symptoms to appear.

  It didn’t matter. If she wasn’t so damn selfish, she’d give him up for his own good.

  “You’re thinking too much. I’m fine. You’re not hurting me. Let it be.”

  “How much did you pick up?” she asked. And why did he have to read her thoughts right now?

  “Not much,” Ivar said, running a hand over her back. “Your worry for me is such a well-worn thought pattern that it’s become nearly impossible for me to not hear it.”

  Propping her forearms on his chest, Phoenix gazed at him. His hair was falling into his eyes again and she reached out, brushing it back. She wanted to memorize every nuance of his face, of his expressions, so she could bring them to mind in the future when he was gone and all she had were her memories of him. “How much longer before you admit that the vampire who attacked me is gone for good?”

  His lips curved and Phoenix fought the need to kiss him. “A while longer. She might be waiting to catch you alone.”

  “We could set a trap and let her think I was alone—”

  “I’m not using you as bait, my sweet fledgling,” he said. “No, don’t bother to disagree. You won’t win when it comes to your safety.”

  Sadly, she didn’t want to argue with him. Phoenix had appeased her conscience by telling herself she’d let Ivar go as soon as she no longer needed his protection. Without that, she wouldn’t have any more excuses to avoid doing what was right for him. She might be selfish, but she loved him enough to walk away when she had no other choice.

  “Ivar, you would tell me if my taking your energy was leaving you with adverse effects, wouldn’t you?”

  This time, he was the one to caress her, running his thumb over her cheekbone. “I would tell you—my word on it. It’s on your mind too much for me to do otherwise.”

  “And you’re not feeling any different? Tired? Dizzy? Anything strange?”

  “Not yet.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “I promise.”

  She nodded, knowing that with Ivar, his word could be trusted. Still, when he started to show some renewed interest in another round of lovemaking, Phoenix reluctantly separated their bodies and stood. “We should do something outside the bedroom before the entire night is gone and you go comatose again.”

  He sat up and winked at her. “I’m not so conservative that it always has to be in here. We can have sex anywhere you want.”

  Because it tempted her, she picked up his jeans and tossed them his direction.

  Holding them in one hand, he climbed out of bed and stretched. Ivar had an athlete’s grace to his every movement and she enjoyed watching him. “I’ll take that as a no, not right now,” he said with that grin that always made her heart beat faster. “Keep in mind that in seven hundred years I’ve covered a lot of sexual ground and I’m happy to do any of it again with you.”

  Phoenix made a face at him—she didn’t want to hear about all the sex he’d had without her—but before she could smack him in the ego, her cell phone rang. She grabbed Ivar’s T-shirt from the chair, yanked it on, and headed for the living room. A glance at caller ID had her smiling.

  “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”

  “Does something have to be up for me to want to talk to my girl?”

  She laughed. “It’s not Monday and when you call on any other day the answer is usually yes.” Her humor faded, though, when she realized how much had changed since the last time she’d talked to her parents. Her Awakening and having sex wouldn’t cause a ripple, except maybe that the process had occurred so quickly, but both her mom and dad would be angry at her for using Ivar over and over to satisfy her needs. “I have a few things to tell you, I guess.”

  If her father noticed how unenthusiastic she sounded, he didn’t say anything. “Great. I’m in town and leaving LAX now. When I get to your apartment you can fill me in.”

  Phoenix barely heard the rest of what he said and it took her a few minutes after he disconnected for her to hit the end button. Her parents were both tantric vampires and her father was over five centuries old. He was powerful enough to protect her against a vampire and he would defend her with his life. Her mother would be joining them next week and she, too, was an old and powerful tantric. Together, the two of them were formidable, a nearly unstoppable force.

  Ivar came into the living room, but Phoenix didn’t turn. Not immediately. Not until she had herself under complete control.

  “Who was that? Can I ask?”

  “My dad. He’s in town. In fact, he’s on his way here from the airport now.”

  A shutter came down over Ivar’s expression, but Phoenix had no doubt that he’d re
alized the same thing she had. With her father there to protect her, there were no lies left that she could tell herself and that meant only one thing—she had to let the man she loved go.

  Chapter Eleven

  Getting an audience to see a clan lord was not an easy thing, not even for Ivar. It didn’t matter that he was on a special mission for Lord Kýlan or that he’d been one of his top enforcers for years—he had to wait his turn in the antechamber. Maybe he’d get in ahead of a few of the others present because of his status, but perhaps not.

  A sentinel was behind a small desk, guarding the double doors to the clan lord’s office. He looked bored, but then a dozen or so vampires sitting in chairs, waiting to hear their names called, was an everyday thing for him.

  This was novel for Ivar. Normally, he was summoned to see Lord Kýlan and escorted in the instant he arrived. Tonight, though, he was merely another supplicant.

  Not quite, son of my blood, but there are serious issues I must deal with before I can speak with you.

  Is there anything I can do to help, sire? Normally, he would call him my lord, but since Lord Kýlan had referenced their relationship, Ivar had as well.

  Not tonight.

  Contact was severed, and while Ivar could admit to some curiosity as to what had captured his clan lord’s attention, he was too intent on Phoenix to think about it long. She’d kicked him out before her father had arrived.

  That had angered Ivar—wasn’t he good enough to meet her family?—but as soon as he’d heard her father knock on her door and he knew Phoenix would be protected, Ivar had left for the estate. The odds of being released from his mission were small, he was aware of that, but no matter how slim, there was a chance. It was his one hope.

  After spending hours weighing his options and running scenarios, he’d come to the conclusion that if his clan lord didn’t change his mind, Ivar had no choice except to complete his mission. He’d vowed fealty centuries ago and couldn’t discard the oath merely because it was inconvenient now. Lord Kýlan was his sire and not only had he saved Ivar’s life and his sanity, but he’d given him a greater gift—his lord had restored Ivar’s ability to trust.

  Phoenix would loathe him for all eternity after he handed over her father to the clan lord, but there was nothing else he could do, not if he wanted to live with himself. And so he would betray the woman he loved and live with the consequences.

  It was another hour before Ivar was allowed through the doors and into the private suite. “My lord?” he asked when he noticed the offices were empty.

  In the gardens.

  He walked out the French doors onto the terrace. Lord Kýlan sat at a round glass table, a sheaf of papers spread out before him. “Reports,” he said when he noticed where Ivar was staring. “One of the more fun aspects of being a clan lord.”

  “My earlier offer was sincere. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Lord Kýlan smiled slightly, but it didn’t last. “As I told you, not tonight.” He gathered up the papers and stacked them together. “The rogues are becoming a problem that all my enforcers might be dealing with before much longer, but it hasn’t reached a point where action against them would be supported by the other lords.”

  “And so we wait.”

  “Yes, and hope that they don’t do anything that causes irreparable damage to our people.” Lord Kýlan put the stack aside and gestured to the seat at the table on his right. “Sit and tell me what brings you here.”

  Ivar pulled out the chair and took his seat, but instead of speaking immediately, he studied his sire. Lord Kýlan was at least 2500 years old, but he continued to look like a man in his mid-twenties.

  He’d seen his lord with long hair and short, with mustache, with beard, and clean-shaven. He’d seen him dressed in eastern robes, in powdered wigs, and in breeches with a waistcoat. Tonight, he wore jeans and a polo shirt, had his hair short and had no facial hair, but despite the changing, there was something constant about the vampire who’d brought him across, and instead of saying the words he’d rehearsed, Ivar said, “I’ve fallen in love, sire.”

  “And yet this doesn’t make you happy. Why not?”

  His lord had always been too perceptive. “The woman is Phoenix Cahill.”

  “The daughter of the tantric.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  They both sat silently, the only sounds coming from the other parts of the estate. “Does she feel the same for you?” his clan lord asked, and in that question, Ivar heard a father’s concern.

  “I believe that she does, although she hasn’t told me. But then, I haven’t told her, either, so I can hardly complain.”

  “You’re telling me how you feel before you tell her?”

  He met his clan lord’s gaze straight-on. “You’re my lord and my sire. You came to me when I’d been betrayed by all I’d ever trusted—my Templar brothers, my king, even the pope—and you saved me. You showed me that some men are honorable even when many others are not and you gave me a purpose, something to hold on to while I healed. I gave you my pledge of fealty freely and you never left me feeling as if my faith in you was misplaced.”

  Ivar paused, drew a deep breath, and said, “I will not betray you or my promises to you, not for any reason, not even the woman I love.”

  Another stretch of quiet, but Ivar knew Lord Kýlan was thinking through what he’d heard and it didn’t surprise him when his sire asked, “What would you do if another vampire killed this woman you hold so dear?”

  He wouldn’t lie and so Ivar said, “I’d hunt him down to the ends of the earth and make him pay for taking her life.”

  “And yet you want me to put aside my grievance with the tantric vampire who killed the woman I was in love with and let him go free.” Lord Kýlan sounded calm, disinterested, and he was anything but that.

  “That is what I’m asking,” Ivar said. “I know what the answer is because I know what I would say if our positions were reversed, but I had to come to you. I had to find out if there was any chance.”

  For a fleeting moment, Ivar thought he saw sadness in the clan lord’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly, he was certain he’d misread the emotion.

  “Of all the sons and daughters of my blood,” the clan lord said quietly, “you’re among my favorites. If he’d killed any of the other women who I had feelings for over the millennia, I would grant you your wish, but he murdered my true love and I can’t allow that to go unpunished. Not even for you.”

  Ivar nodded once, unable to find his voice while he mourned the impending loss of Phoenix. Telepathically, he said to his lord, The tantric arrived in Los Angeles tonight. I’ll bring—

  Before he could finish the thought, another voice urgently penetrated his mind. Ivar! Ivar, help!

  “Phoenix is in trouble.” He didn’t wait for permission to leave. Ivar raced for the estate wall and leaped over it. He was running the instant his feet touched ground on the other side.

  Lord Kýlan caught up to him in two strides. Ivar’s shock must have been readily apparent because he said, “I’ll help you protect your woman. It’s what any good father would do for his son, right?”

  Thanks. And without another word, they both went airborne.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aythe had commandeered the apartment across the street from the tantric’s daughter and she’d waited and watched, night after night after night. LeBlanc had been glued to her side, giving her no opportunity to get to the girl and Aythe wasn’t going to chance a second attack with him present. It had taken her more than a day to recover from the last time she’d tangled with him.

  She grew desperate, though. If Kýlan should ever question the tantric vampire—Robert something, she thought—Aythe knew her life was forfeit. It wouldn’t matter to her lord that she loved him and had killed the silly human girl because she was unworthy of a vampire such as Kýlan.

  No, he would take his anger out on her.

  A taxi pulled up in front of the building and
Aythe leaned forward, hoping to see LeBlanc get in. Instead, another man got out and came around to the driver’s side to pay the cabbie. She was about to look away when the man paying the fare turned his head and the streetlight illuminated his face. She smothered her gasp before it escaped and watched Robert the tantric climb the stairs to the door.

  Aythe teetered between elation and sheer panic.

  If she could get her hands on the father and kill him before LeBlanc got to him, her problems would be solved. Even if she were somehow implicated in that Robert’s death, she could claim to have done it out of loyalty to Kýlan.

  The panic was born from the fear that Ivar might get Robert first and bring him to the clan lord. She needed a plan. Fast.

  She froze and moved closer to the window. No, she wasn’t mistaken. LeBlanc was standing on the front steps. Alone. What was going on? Didn’t he realize the man he’d been assigned to escort back to the estate was present?

  The puzzle grew more complicated when Ivar took off running, shooting up to preternatural speed in a few steps.

  Was this some trap?

  He was trying to make her think the tantric vampire was unguarded and then he’d grab Aythe? She’d give it a little time to make sure it wasn’t some trick, but then she had to go in, no matter what the risk. There was no other choice.

  * * *

  Phoenix would recognize her dad’s knock anywhere—Robert Cahill rapped with authority. For a split second, she hesitated and then she opened the door. His smile of greeting turned to puzzlement and then it disappeared entirely. “You’ve Awakened.”

  She nodded. It didn’t surprise her he’d known immediately; the change was momentous for a tantric vampire.

  He came into the apartment and waited until she closed to door before he said, “Why did you keep this a secret from your mom and I? We would have been here to help you with the transition.”