Light My Fire
Page 46
“You must exercise control, Aisling. Without it, you’ll never be able to harness the fire. It is a tool for you to use. Make it into what you want.”
I flicked my tongue across the tip of his penis, savoring the salty drop of moisture collected there. I gathered the fire within me, holding a mental picture of just what I wanted to do with it. As I opened my mouth to take him in, fire blazed out, setting the lower half of his body ablaze. I concentrated until the fire was in a fine stream, and licked a fiery path along the length of his shaft, sending a blast of it at the sensitive underside of the head.
Drake shouted and just about came off the bed. I laughed. “You can’t tell me you don’t like that.”
“Christos, like doesn’t even come close to it.”
“What does it feel like?” I prompted, using both hands with my mouth to set up a rhythm that had his hips thrusting upward.
“It’s an agony of ecstasy,” he groaned, his fingers tangled in my hair. I glanced upward to see his eyes closed, his jaw tight as his fire and my mouth worked their magic. Agony of ecstasy was a good description, so I decided to let him off the sharing hook, and concentrate on bringing him to the very edge of rapture.
Our bodies were coated in flame, Drake groaning nonstop and begging me to climb on him and end the torment, when a cool breeze whispered along my back. Dragon fire being what it is—formed from the originating dragon’s well of emotions—it had never yet harmed me, or left me feeling anything but empowered and usually aroused. But for some reason, this time I was left slick with sweat, as if the fire was impure.
Just as Drake had had enough and was hauling me over himself, his penis poised to impale me, I caught the flash of something yellow from the corner of my eye.
That’s when I realized that what I had thought was sweat was really water. . . coming from the overhead sprinklers.
“Imps,” I yelled, sliding off Drake to point at the nasty little yellow creature bolting for the opened window. Although Drake’s bedding had been fireproofed, the rest of the room hadn’t been so treated, and everything from the drapes to the wardrobe, uncomfortable Louis XIV chairs, and a squat, ugly desk in the corner was aflame.
As the word left my mouth, a smoke detector near the door went off, sounding a piercing siren that seemed to cut through the thick black smoke that was filling the room.
Drake snarled an oath and was across the room before I could blink, the imp in his hands for a second before he hurled it out the window to the ground three stories below. He slammed open a second window.
“Not again,” I cried, grabbing up his discarded shirt to slip on as urgent voices sounded in the hall. Pal and Istvan burst into the room, both bearing fire extinguishers. Drake snatched a third out of the bathroom, and mindless of his nudity (thankfully, he no longer exhibited visual evidence of his ardor), stood with the other two men to put out the fire.
“What is going on here? What is that appalling noise at such an unholy hour?” Drake’s mother stood in the doorway, clad in an elegant rose-colored silk negligee, her scowl enough to douse any flame. Her eyes pierced me, narrowing at the sight of me standing in nothing but Drake’s shirt. “You! It is all your doing, this unpleasantness!”
The smoke billowed out around her as Nora appeared, peering over Catalina’s shoulder, her eyes owlish as she watched the three men quell the last of the flames. “Imps again?”
“Yes. Drake caught one as it was trying to leave.”
“Aisling, I am prepared to be tolerant of many things, but this situation with the imp kingdom must come to an end,” Drake said, coughing a little as the last blaze died under the white chemical foam. “My house is well prepared to deal with the commonality of dragon fire, but it is not built to withstand fires set by murderous arsonists.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” I wrung my hands, feeling utterly helpless as I surveyed the damage caused by the fire. It hadn’t had long to burn, and yet the furniture was destroyed, the walls stained black by the smoke. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
“I knew it was her doing. All those lovely antiques destroyed,” Catalina said, shooting me another scathing look before sweeping past Nora and returning to her room.
My shoulders sagged.
Outside, in the stillness of an early London morning, sirens sounded. Drake’s security system must have kicked in and alerted the fire authorities.
“I’ll tell them it’s controlled,” Istvan said, clad in only a pair of pants. He, too, gave me a look as he walked past, although it wasn’t nearly as daunting as Catalina’s.
My spirits took a nosedive.
“I’ll get a cart to start clearing this mess away,” Pal murmured, avoiding looking at me altogether as he, barefoot and also wearing only a pair of hastily donned pants, scooted around me.
Guilt, despair, and a frustrating sense of impotence filled me.
Drake eyed me closely. “You are all right? You did not breathe in too much smoke?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said miserably, unable to meet his gaze. “Drake, I’m really, really sorry about this. The fire and ... everything.”
“I dislike having any of my possessions taken from me, but I would rather lose a few pieces of furniture than you,” was all he said, and despite the misery swelling within me, his words formed a solid little core of happiness.
That happiness died with his next words. “You have twenty-four hours to take care of the imp situation, or I will do it for you.” He grabbed a pair of pants and shoes from a second wardrobe and retired to the bathroom.
I thought about crumpling up into a little ball and wishing the world away.
Jim burst out the moment the door was opened. “Fires of Abaddon, what’s going on in here? You guys having an orgy or... oh, man.”
With lips pursed, Jim surveyed the mess. Slowly, the demon turned to look at me. “You had a barbeque and you didn’t invite me?”
Two fat tears of self-pity rolled down my cheeks.
“Come, Aisling. No one was hurt, and not much destroyed.” Nora put her arm around me and escorted me out of the room. “Let’s have some breakfast, then put our heads together about how we’re going to placate the imp kingdom.”
“Breakfast! Great idea, Nora. I could really go for a couple of grilled imps right about now,” Jim said, following us out of the room.
I flicked my tongue across the tip of his penis, savoring the salty drop of moisture collected there. I gathered the fire within me, holding a mental picture of just what I wanted to do with it. As I opened my mouth to take him in, fire blazed out, setting the lower half of his body ablaze. I concentrated until the fire was in a fine stream, and licked a fiery path along the length of his shaft, sending a blast of it at the sensitive underside of the head.
Drake shouted and just about came off the bed. I laughed. “You can’t tell me you don’t like that.”
“Christos, like doesn’t even come close to it.”
“What does it feel like?” I prompted, using both hands with my mouth to set up a rhythm that had his hips thrusting upward.
“It’s an agony of ecstasy,” he groaned, his fingers tangled in my hair. I glanced upward to see his eyes closed, his jaw tight as his fire and my mouth worked their magic. Agony of ecstasy was a good description, so I decided to let him off the sharing hook, and concentrate on bringing him to the very edge of rapture.
Our bodies were coated in flame, Drake groaning nonstop and begging me to climb on him and end the torment, when a cool breeze whispered along my back. Dragon fire being what it is—formed from the originating dragon’s well of emotions—it had never yet harmed me, or left me feeling anything but empowered and usually aroused. But for some reason, this time I was left slick with sweat, as if the fire was impure.
Just as Drake had had enough and was hauling me over himself, his penis poised to impale me, I caught the flash of something yellow from the corner of my eye.
That’s when I realized that what I had thought was sweat was really water. . . coming from the overhead sprinklers.
“Imps,” I yelled, sliding off Drake to point at the nasty little yellow creature bolting for the opened window. Although Drake’s bedding had been fireproofed, the rest of the room hadn’t been so treated, and everything from the drapes to the wardrobe, uncomfortable Louis XIV chairs, and a squat, ugly desk in the corner was aflame.
As the word left my mouth, a smoke detector near the door went off, sounding a piercing siren that seemed to cut through the thick black smoke that was filling the room.
Drake snarled an oath and was across the room before I could blink, the imp in his hands for a second before he hurled it out the window to the ground three stories below. He slammed open a second window.
“Not again,” I cried, grabbing up his discarded shirt to slip on as urgent voices sounded in the hall. Pal and Istvan burst into the room, both bearing fire extinguishers. Drake snatched a third out of the bathroom, and mindless of his nudity (thankfully, he no longer exhibited visual evidence of his ardor), stood with the other two men to put out the fire.
“What is going on here? What is that appalling noise at such an unholy hour?” Drake’s mother stood in the doorway, clad in an elegant rose-colored silk negligee, her scowl enough to douse any flame. Her eyes pierced me, narrowing at the sight of me standing in nothing but Drake’s shirt. “You! It is all your doing, this unpleasantness!”
The smoke billowed out around her as Nora appeared, peering over Catalina’s shoulder, her eyes owlish as she watched the three men quell the last of the flames. “Imps again?”
“Yes. Drake caught one as it was trying to leave.”
“Aisling, I am prepared to be tolerant of many things, but this situation with the imp kingdom must come to an end,” Drake said, coughing a little as the last blaze died under the white chemical foam. “My house is well prepared to deal with the commonality of dragon fire, but it is not built to withstand fires set by murderous arsonists.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.” I wrung my hands, feeling utterly helpless as I surveyed the damage caused by the fire. It hadn’t had long to burn, and yet the furniture was destroyed, the walls stained black by the smoke. “I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
“I knew it was her doing. All those lovely antiques destroyed,” Catalina said, shooting me another scathing look before sweeping past Nora and returning to her room.
My shoulders sagged.
Outside, in the stillness of an early London morning, sirens sounded. Drake’s security system must have kicked in and alerted the fire authorities.
“I’ll tell them it’s controlled,” Istvan said, clad in only a pair of pants. He, too, gave me a look as he walked past, although it wasn’t nearly as daunting as Catalina’s.
My spirits took a nosedive.
“I’ll get a cart to start clearing this mess away,” Pal murmured, avoiding looking at me altogether as he, barefoot and also wearing only a pair of hastily donned pants, scooted around me.
Guilt, despair, and a frustrating sense of impotence filled me.
Drake eyed me closely. “You are all right? You did not breathe in too much smoke?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said miserably, unable to meet his gaze. “Drake, I’m really, really sorry about this. The fire and ... everything.”
“I dislike having any of my possessions taken from me, but I would rather lose a few pieces of furniture than you,” was all he said, and despite the misery swelling within me, his words formed a solid little core of happiness.
That happiness died with his next words. “You have twenty-four hours to take care of the imp situation, or I will do it for you.” He grabbed a pair of pants and shoes from a second wardrobe and retired to the bathroom.
I thought about crumpling up into a little ball and wishing the world away.
Jim burst out the moment the door was opened. “Fires of Abaddon, what’s going on in here? You guys having an orgy or... oh, man.”
With lips pursed, Jim surveyed the mess. Slowly, the demon turned to look at me. “You had a barbeque and you didn’t invite me?”
Two fat tears of self-pity rolled down my cheeks.
“Come, Aisling. No one was hurt, and not much destroyed.” Nora put her arm around me and escorted me out of the room. “Let’s have some breakfast, then put our heads together about how we’re going to placate the imp kingdom.”
“Breakfast! Great idea, Nora. I could really go for a couple of grilled imps right about now,” Jim said, following us out of the room.
