Fire Kissed Read Online Free Page B

old fear as deep as her scars. Nobody put their hands on her. The very wealthy, influential businessman got an elbow in his face. She got a wet smear on her silk sleeve.
    Kaye wrenched open the door to meet Max Hampstead, the Wake Hotel’s owner, and two burly security guards. Mr. Hampstead was stroking the silk of his tie. He wore his wealth in a preen too dapper to be hetero. One guard stayed behind to see to her client, now cursing furiously in the conference room. Too bad about that. The other was probably going to take her to her room. Which was a-okay with her.
    “He got his time,” she said to the air, hoping Mr. Hampstead heard. The floor oddly pitched upward. She had to go. Now.
    Kaye didn’t want the tight grip at her elbow but didn’t really mind its steadying effect as she pushed out of the business suite and into the loud common area of the hotel. The hotel speaker system pumped the new pop hit “Shadow Is My Drug of Choice . ” She winced against the driving rhythm, as well as the layered bells and whoops from the nearby banks of slot machines. She was so done with this place.
    The guard held her upright in the elevator, though it had a gold bench, and he used a key card to let her into her room—very handy, as she’d lost hers again—then left her to herself.
    She kicked off a shoe in the mini foyer, the other in the suite’s living room. Untucked her blouse as she headed for the bedroom. Her vision was darkening, like she was already halfway asleep. Must have been a very strong drink. She managed one button on her blouse but gave the rest up and crawled the length of the bed toward a lovely, soft pillow, waiting just for her.
    Beneath the last flutter of her falling lids, in the city glow at the window, she saw the shadow-shape of a man.
    A sob of terror and relief knotted in her throat as thick sleep dragged her into its black depths.
    No more waiting. They’d come for her. At last.
    She wouldn’t, couldn’t run this time.
     
     
    Jack Bastian regarded the wanton collapse of Kaye Brand. How the mighty Fire bloodline had fallen. The family had changed their names to start afresh in the New World—Brand—but the centuries had been hard on them. The old mages would be glad they were dead, if she was their legacy.
    Her skirt was hitched up around her thighs, high enough that he could see a patch of a pink undergarment. He grabbed the edge of the skirt’s hem and gave it a hard tug down. The blouse he could do little about, tangled as it was around her midriff and skewed at her shoulder and lace-covered breast. A flash of pink told him the skirt had crept up again. The woman had curves as irresponsible as her nature.
    His gaze narrowed on her face. A lock of her dark red hair concealed most of her cheek, some of the strands caught in her mouth. He wanted to see the scars, so he stroked the strands of hair away. Her skin was satin until his fingertips came to fine lines gone white with time. They ran from her temple to her jaw, a cruel trophy from a vicious attack. She’d have scars on the other side of her face to match. Her survival proved she had the necessary mettle for his task. Well, maybe—she was now drooling on her pillow.
    Jack checked the pulse at her throat—sure and steady—then grabbed the edge of the bedsheet, flung it over her exposed body, and strode from the room to let her sleep it off.
    He settled into a chair in the main room. Head down, eyes closed, he lightly steepled his fingers to meditate.
    The mind chatter of the hotel’s guests filled his head. The transparent flow of thoughts on Earth was the boon and bane of being an angel. This late at night, most of the guests were contemplating or engaging in self-indulgence. Money and sex—it was always the same in places like this, regardless of the age, and he had had eleven tours on Earth to know.
    In the quiet moment, time lashed his memory farther back.
    A roar of wind and screams. Billows of smoke rolled across the