Page 88 of Fated By Fire
The elevator doors shudder open, and Caleb’s penthouse swallows us as we step into the vast space—a cavern of cold granite and sharp edges, lit only by the fractured glow of the city below. Even here, across town from the war, the air sears my throat with the metallic tang of burned ozone, the aftermath of battle still clinging to our clothes.
Caleb’s hand rests at the small of my back, possessive but trembling faintly, as if the presence of the Heartstone in my jacket pocket might scorch him.
“You’re sure you want it here? The stone?” he’d asked in the car, his voice graveled with exhaustion as we’d sped through deserted streets.
“If I let it out of my sight, Malakai’s thugs will be on it before dawn,” I’d replied, my fingers curling possessively around the relic’s jagged edges. “Or have you forgotten how we got into this mess?”
“You think I could forget?” His grip had tightened on the wheel, tendons cording. “That stone’s been the single most important thing to my family for centuries—”
“Well, now it’s my responsibility too,” I’d cut him off, the Heartstone pulsing hot against my ribs as if in agreement. “So humor me a little. I need to feel it close. Besides, do you think anyone would be stupid enough to try to take it from me?”
His silence had been answer enough.
Now, alone in his apartment, the stone’s pulse throbs against my ribs, matching my heartbeat. Caleb locks the door behind us, the deadbolt’s click too final. His reflection glowers in the mirror across the hallway—blood smeared across his jaw like war paint, his shirt torn where Malakai’s claws had grazed him.
Alive.
The relief leaves me lightheaded.
“Thank God we made it,” I exhale as I turn to him. The sight of him still makes my chest tighten. When he’d stormed into that vault where Malakai was holding me, it was like my fear melted away.
“I can’t go through something like that again, Elena.” He cups my cheek. “You… I can’t lose you.” His throat works.
“I can’t lose you either,” I say, surprising myself. A month ago, this man didn’t exist in my world. Now, I can’t imagine a world without him. Gazing up at the hard lines of his beautiful face, I need him so badly that I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.
I don’t wait. I surge toward him, lips grazing his, taking him by surprise.
“Now you hesitate?” I laugh when he looks startled. I shove him against the door when he pauses there, my fingers twisting in the ruined fabric of his collar. His breath catches, eyes flaring with something wild. “After all we’ve just faced together?”
“Elena, I’m worried—”
“No.” I press closer, the adrenaline of the fight still roaring in my veins. “You don’t get to lecture me about risk. Not after you charged into that vault like a goddamn suicide bomber.”
He growls, low and dangerous, and suddenly, my feet leave the ground. His arms band around me, crushing me to his chest as he strides down the hall. The penthouse blurs—sterile artwork, a liquor cabinet glinting with cut crystal, a hallway lined with doors that I have no interest in right now. He kicks the bedroom door wide, and I’m airborne for a heartbeat before I hit the mattress.
It makes me shriek, but the sound is nothing like the screams of earlier. I’m light and happy. Laughing as I look around briefly.
The room is pure Caleb—crisp white sheets, a vaulted ceiling streaked with pre-dawn light, a single painting of a dragon coiled around a mountain. No warmth, no softness. Just him, looming over me, his shadow trailing across the bed.
“I need you to be careful, Elena.” He braces his arms on either side of my head, his breath ragged. “You can’t do that again. My heart won’t take it.”
I wish I could say it won’t happen, but I sense that in our new shared world, it very likely will. But now’s not the time to think about it.
“Enough talk, Craven.” I claw at his belt; the need driving me is sharp and demanding. “We’ll deal with that later.”
His mouth crashes into mine, teeth sharp, tongue hotter than any human’s. He bites my lower lip, and the sting melts into a rush of heat that pools low in my stomach. The bond ignites, a live wire between us, and suddenly, I’m drowning in him—the iron grip of his control, the wildfire need he’s buried since the moment we met.
“Show me,” I breathe against his jaw, my nails raking down his spine. I’m not quite sure what I’m asking for, but I know it will come to me.
He tears my shirt open, buttons scattering like shrapnel. His hands map my ribs, callouses scraping skin, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts. My pants are off, too, and then I’m ripping at his clothes, leaving them in a crumpled heap at the end of the bed.
“Show you what?” he asks breathlessly.
That I’m not another pawn. That this bond isn’t a cage.
“Everything,” I whisper fiercely.
His lips blaze a trail down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic pulse at my neck. When he reaches the swell of my breast, he pauses, breath searing my skin. I reach for him, thighs splaying as I hook a leg around his hip.
