The Fire Within

Chapter Nine

When Darius arrived home promptly at six, it was to find Marcus and Cadmus glaring at each other over a chessboard with Samantha laughing as she watched.

“What’s going on in here?” he murmured, entranced with her laughter. He’d never seen her so free or so happy, and he hated the niggle of jealousy that she’d found joy with his brothers instead of with him.

When she turned to face him, her eyes lit with welcome, it was all he could do to nod and smile, as if his cock hadn’t hardened to the point of pain, as if every breath she took didn’t arouse him on some level.

Giving her space to accept him, to come to grips with this whole mess, was killing him. He’d gone out of his way to avoid her this week, continuing his work at the bar even though he’d rather have watched over her at home. But spending the night so close to Samantha without being able to touch her, well, it was more than he could handle. He needed space to adjust to her presence in his life too. But if this past week was anything to go by, he knew he could never let her go.

“Darius, welcome home.” Samantha glowed, and only by sheer will did he force himself to remain in place.

“Who’s winning?” He nodded to the game.

“I can’t tell. Every time Cadmus moves a piece, the game board shifts and water pools under his bishops.”

“You always were a sore loser.” Cadmus sneered at Marcus across the table. He moved his queen. “Check.”

Marcus raised one brow and the board flooded, pieces going everywhere.

Darius rolled his eyes, his lip curling in humour. “Come on, Samantha. We’ve got a date, remember?” He watched her with hungry eyes, aware she felt his need. The closer she drew, the more she tensed. When she bridged the gap between them, he reached out and took her hand in his, stifling a groan at the sensual burn spearing his body.

“Guys? I’ve got her. Thanks for all you’ve done this week,” he said gruffly. “Why don’t you celebrate? Go out and get laid—” he stopped that train of thought when Samantha glared at him. “I mean, go out and have a good time, at a bar or something.”

He grabbed her coat from the hall closet and helped her put it on, waiting for her response. It wasn’t until they entered his truck before she let loose.

“Nice, Darius.” Her words were clipped, and he stifled a grin. “Go out and get laid. You are such a man.” He gathered man was supposed to be insulting. “What’s wrong with your brothers hanging out together, or staying in tonight? Maybe they’d rather get to know a woman before banging her brains out.”

He laughed and reached for her hand to give it a squeeze. “Come on, Samantha. You’ve spent a week with my brothers. Do you really think Marcus and Cadmus are the type to get to know a woman? All touchy-feely?”

“I’m not sure about Marcus,” she answered slowly. “But I like Cad. He’s been nothing but a gentleman all week long, and I felt bad he was made to stay inside because of me.”

Darius groaned. “He volunteered to stay with you, Samantha. I’m not the bad guy here. The only reason he wasn’t trying to get you into bed is because he knew I’d kill him if he tried. Gentleman, ha.”

So Cadmus had tried impressing Samantha with manners and compliments? Nice try, and apparently Samantha had fallen for it.

He only hoped she didn’t expect pretty words from him. He paused in thought. “So is that the kind of guy you like?”

It would kill him if he had to act like a ‘gentleman’. He’d tried it once and had met with disastrous results. The woman hadn’t cared about his words, only his looks and position in high court, but his brothers, well, they still liked to tease him about the ‘bouquet’ incident.

“What?”

“The kind of guy you like, a guy who’ll flatter you and bring you gifts.”

“Please.” She huffed and he felt the tension drain right out of him. “I’ve never been one for false praise, and I’m not much on flowers. They last maybe a week before you have to throw them out. Now chocolates, on the other hand,” she paused and licked her lips, making him groan silently. He shifted in his seat, his erection straining his jeans. Damn, he needed relief.

“We shouldn’t have to wait long to eat,” he said to change the subject. “I made reservations for six-thirty. I would have been home earlier but I had a few errands to run.”

“For Father Denton?” She stared at him with a strange glitter in her moss green eyes.

He flushed. Cadmus and his big mouth. Now she probably thought he was a soft touch. “It’s no big deal.” He tried to shrug it off and felt his embarrassment grow as she studied him like an exotic bug. “What?” he barked.

Her lips pursed in a smile. “Nothing.” She cleared her throat and he relaxed. “I appreciate the time you’ve given me lately, to gather my thoughts I mean.”

“Oh, right.” Keep your mind on the road, not on the fullness of her mouth.

“I haven’t seen you much. I hope my being at your house hasn’t kept you away.”

“Not at all,” he lied. “I’ve been putting long hours in at work—”

“And teaching self-defence classes.”

“—so I’m sorry if being watched over by my brothers has been annoying.”

“Not at all. Still, you were gone an awfully long time this week. Even Cadmus commented on it.”

“Did you miss me?” She coloured and satisfaction filled him. Deciding to give in a little, he admitted, “Staying away from you has been killing me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a patient man.”

The startled look on her face was priceless, as was the unadulterated mirth that followed. Husky and deep, Samantha’s laughter encompassed the whole of her, making him really look at her. Such genuine caring lingered around a heart that had been battered but held strong—and that in itself was a powerful magic.

The pure joy of the moment, of just being with her, convinced him he would succeed, that he could persuade Samantha to accompany him home, to join with him as his royal affai.

“So pensive,” she murmured, studying him with curiosity.

“Hmm?”

“It means thoughtful, preoccupied, brooding—”

“I get it,” he growled, but couldn’t contain a chuckle. “You’re as much a pain in the ass as I am. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

Her eyes shone bright and her lips drew into a large smile, one that made his heart beat faster. As he drove into the parking lot, he wondered how fast he could end dinner and begin making love to her. He sent out a subtle probe and felt an answering response lingering in her thoughts.

Damn. Now dinner would prove excruciatingly long. He just knew it.

A half-hour past their reservation time, his prediction had come true. Sighing, he decided to make use of the time.

Swigging ale far inferior to the house brew at Outpour, he stared into Samantha’s lovely eyes and ignored her last comment, asking the question plaguing him for days. “Just how much can you see into the future, and how long have you had such a gift?”

She paused in the act of sipping her wine and blinked. “So much for answering my question about service at Outpour.” She took a larger swallow. “I knew you’d get around to asking me about the dreams sooner or later.”

The hostess interrupted, announcing their table was ready. After seating Samantha, Darius sat across the table and waited to hear her explanation. Suddenly, a long dinner didn’t seem like such a poor way to spend their time together.

“The first dream I recall ever coming true happened when I was four. It was during the holidays and I’d wanted a mini-baking set for Christmas. Well, I ruined any surprise by ‘seeing’ everyone’s gifts the following day.

“I didn’t tell my parents or my sister about the dream. But when I next visited my grandmother I mentioned it. Seems precognition runs in the family. Skips a generation here and there, but basically carries through on my mother’s side.”

“So your grandmother had the gift? Did your mother and sister?”

“No, it skipped Mom and Cheryl. Far as I know, I’m the last Varell, that’s my mother’s maiden name, to have the ‘gift’. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

He studied her, aware of the pain she didn’t mention. He caught an echo in her thoughts of her earlier conversation with Cadmus. “It must be hard, not having anyone to share your ability with.”

She nodded. “Speaking with Cadmus today felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I’m not crazy,” she said firmly, as if he might be harbouring such thoughts. “And it’s nice to talk with someone who understands.”

That ‘someone’ should have been him. He frowned. “Give me a chance, Samantha. I understand more than you might think.”

She flushed and would have answered when the waiter arrived with menus. Once he’d left, Samantha changed the subject.

“So what’s it like having three identical brothers? Growing up with an irritating older sister was bad enough.”

He chuckled. “It has its moments. Despite our looks, each of us is decidedly different, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed.”

“You can say that again.”

“But we have our similarities as well. We can sense when one of us is in danger, but nothing more telepathic than a shared feeling of foreboding. We like women.” He playfully leered at her and was gifted with an eye roll and a broad grin. “But more than that, each of us loves our homeland, our people, and not the least our family.”

He smiled, remembering his mother’s warm smile, her strength in the face of his father’s death, and her unique scent, one that always made him feel at home.

“It’s obvious you have a tight family.” She sounded envious.

“And you don’t,” he said softly, again feeling her pain in the wake of what she perceived as a failed relationship.

“No. My sister, as I already mentioned, was irritating in the extreme. It started when she turned five and commandeered all my dolls. It never got any better. My mother and father love me, I know, but we have so little in common it’s pathetic.”

The waiter returned and they quickly ordered. Darius, however, would not let the conversation end, though he sensed Samantha’s relief at the interruption. The insight into her character fascinated him. He wanted to know everything about her, from her likes and dislikes to her dreams and disappointments.

“Do your parents live near?”

“No.” She frowned at his persistence in pursuing the conversation. “They live in Philadelphia near my sister and her husband and three kids. I visit during the holidays when I can, but it’s uncomfortable for all of us. Frankly I’d rather spend my holidays alone, or better yet, working.” She speared a tomato off her plate. “Anything else you wanted to know about the Brooks family, Mr. Nosy?”

He gave her a wry grin and shook his head. Despite the sympathy he felt for her troubled relationships, he couldn’t help rejoicing in her lack of ties to this world.

“What’s with that look in your eyes?” She sounded suspicious.

“What?” he asked, all innocence. “I was just thinking we started talking about your gift and somehow got off track. You never answered my question about how much you can see into the future. Do you still have visions?”

“Well, the vision, I guess you could call it, of that thing with the teeth, that Netharat, and ’Sin Garu was pretty damned powerful.”

“Yes, but that was something else, an insight into the present. What about the future? What have you seen?” He continued to prod, wanting to see more of the sensual dream she’d had of him, the one that every now and then briefly appeared in her mind’s eye.

She blushed scarlet and he knew she’d recalled it, but her inner shields blocked him from seeing it. “There was one dream I had shortly after meeting you.”

He leaned closer, wanting to know what put such a rosy glow on her cheeks. An image of his face tense and hungry over hers, his eyes red and his naked chest looming over her flashed through her mind and into his.

“Looks nice,” he murmured, staring into her eyes.

“Yes, well,” she fumbled lamely, turning back to her food. “I was on a celibacy streak and then I met you.” She sounded irritated and he laughed. Then she glanced up at him, no longer abashed, her eyes intent. “In the dream, just as you were making love to me, you called me ‘affai’.”

His laughter dried up, and he stared in surprise. He searched inwardly for some clever reply but could only come up with, “Really?”

“Really.” She stared at him, quiet while the waiter cleared their plates and brought the main course, two steaming hot dishes of broiled shrimp and crisp, colourful vegetables. “Funny how you and your brothers clam up at mention of the word. Affai. Affai. Whatever can it mean?”

Funny, but the more she said it, the better she looked sitting by his side in the Royal House. Morose thoughts of marriage faded under the strengthening bond between them. His body throbbed to join hers, but as he sat talking to her, he revelled in her intelligence, in her charm and wit. She didn’t bow to him, as so many others had.

“You don’t care at all that I’m a prince, do you?” He had to know.

She started. “Is this another way to distract me from my question? I asked what ‘affai’ meant, and don’t tell me it’s a term of affection. Cadmus almost swallowed his tongue, and I thought Marcus was going to suffer a fit of apoplexy when I asked.”

“You’re not impressed with royalty?” he persisted.

“No.” Her eyes cooled considerably, disdain frosting them into a muted forest green. “I’m not. Just because you come from money or royalty or whatever,” she flailed her hands in the air, “doesn’t make you better than me, than the rest of us.”

Good answer. No, make that, great answer.

“Now are you going to tell me what affai means or do I have to beat it out of you?”

Staring at her, wondering if her tendency towards impatience would complement him or serve as a handicap in their joint rule, he pondered how best to answer.

“Darius,” she growled and he shrugged.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if it’s not what you want to hear.” She didn’t so much as blink and he swore, colourfully and creatively in his native tongue. He hadn’t meant to approach her this way, but what the hell? She’d forced the issue. This was as good a time as any to see what she was made of. He just wished explaining the word didn’t make him look like a stupid, heartsick ass.

“Affai means beloved. It means heart mate, the other half of my soul. Happy now?” he muttered under his breath, feeling colour rush over his cheeks. He hadn’t blushed since his tenth year. This was worse than the bouquet incident. Much worse.

She stared at him in bemusement, her mouth wide open, and he felt his nerves flare to life. The sudden attack of alarm scared him—that he could feel such fear over a woman’s acceptance, and that he could lose control over his elemental powers as a result. Staring at her wide eyes, his mouth grew dry and he stifled the urge to smash something.

His reactions made no sense. She was just a woman, just a foreign woman from an alien world with no magic, who held no power over the Prince of Fire.

She licked her lips and he swore his temperature rose a few degrees. “Darius? Are you telling me the truth?” She stared at him with suspicion while biting her lower lip, unaware of the vulnerability of the gesture.

“Does it matter?”

Wanting to hear a passionate declaration of love before he admitted to anything more, he knew the remote chance of that happening and felt a huge wave of frustration climbing, needing an outlet. Why couldn’t she tell him how she felt?

He tried to sneak a peek at her thoughts but was rebuffed by a strong inner wall. And she said she had no power. As his frustration built, her napkin began to smoke and she hastily smothered it with her water glass, glancing up at him in surprise.

“What was that for?” she sounded most definitely annoyed, and the prickly tone made him want her all the more.

Damn it all to hell. He was in love.