Devouring flame, p.6
Devouring Flame, page 6
“A challenge. I know.” He clapped Forrest on the shoulder. “We’ve got your back.”
Forrest nodded briefly, then loped over to where one of the carpenter gnomes had knocked over a pot, and began murmuring comforting nothings to the traumatized twig.
Smith chuckled softly and sent a quick text to Brooke, asking her to request reinforcements from Andy. There had barely been enough time to dispatch a flower fairy messenger to Faerie and back before he got the affirmative response.
Smith sighed as he tucked his phone in his pocket. He missed their old colleague. Andy was a top-notch event coordinator—which was making him a pretty kick-ass consort to the Faerie Prince. Brooke was coming into her own too, but they’d been a team for so long that when one of them disappeared—even for a joyous reason like Andy’s marriage—it left a big hole in their hearts.
Smith left the garden-to-be and strolled onto the midway. Hazel’s team had already made a huge dent in the cleanup. They’d removed the inches-deep dust that had covered the grounds, revealing rather battered grass. It wasn’t exactly lovely—and Smith had no intention of asking Forrest to give it a boost—but everything would stay much neater without clouds of dirt being kicked up every time the vampires swooshed one of their cosplay capes.
And speaking of vampires….
Smith frowned at the extremely pale men wandering the midway, peering at all the game stands, sneering at the crew hoisting a new ring toss sign into place, and studying the big stone gates that led to the laser tag/paintball labyrinth. A bunch of vampires—what was the collective term for vampires, anyway? A horde? An infestation? A suckage?
Whatever. Several were lurking in front of the sideshow stage where Smith had first seen Hashim. He pulled out his phone again and called Brooke.
“Hey. I thought the grounds were closed to visitors now.”
“They are.”
“Then what’s with the vampire incursion?”
She groaned dramatically. “Their board of directors insisted on sending observers in to approve the venue.” From the edge to her voice, she wasn’t happy with the insinuation that EO wasn’t able to deliver on their promise of absolute client satisfaction.
“Any other contract concessions I should know about?”
“No. That’s all. And they should be gone as soon as they’ve had a chance to snoop around. I’d appreciate it if you could keep them away from Forrest, though.”
“You got it. Later.”
As he disconnected the call, a figure in loose-fitting white pants and an abbreviated vest burst out of the sideshow tent. Hashim. Smith’s heart did a stupid sideways bump, and he told it to settle the fuck down.
The vampires trailed after Hashim, calling something Smith couldn’t make out, like a bunch of jocks baiting the class nerd. Where are the fucking security trolls? Smith growled and picked up his pace. He’d had more than enough of that kind of bullying in his life, usually from Pures who thought aitcher-baiting was the height of amusement.
Then Hashim turned with a snarl, and the vampires laughed and sauntered off. Hashim resumed his determined stride, his hair floating in the wind, his fists clenched by his sides. Not good. I knew vampires were trouble. If they were harassing the Carnival employees before the convention even started, what would they be like hopped up on once-a-century cocktails and canapés?
Smith checked on the vampires, who were plucking at the threadbare velvet rope across the labyrinth entrance, but decided that even if they snuck inside before the door was repaired, there wasn’t much they could do to a stone maze.
He took off across the grounds after Hashim. Even though Hashim had betrayed him, Smith didn’t want him to be abused.
He trotted to catch up. “Hey.”
Hashim whirled, fist raised and teeth bared. “Oh.” He dropped his fist. “It’s you.”
“Yeah.” Smith adjusted his cap. “Listen, were those guys bothering you?”
Hashim glanced back the way he’d come. “It hardly matters.”
“Yeah, it does. They’re our clients, but that doesn’t mean they can behave like assholes to the staff.”
Hashim raised an eyebrow. “‘Staff?’ Is that what I am now? Your minion?”
Smith frowned, his belly lurching as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet. “Of course not. We’re subcontracting the Carnival for the duration of the convention and naturally we’d like the entertainments to be the same, but you’re not required to do anything other than your usual job.”
Hashim’s expression was still wary, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Business as usual, is that it?”
“Well, business as usual in a less seedy environment.” He gestured to one of Hazel’s brownie crew, scuttling by with another load of dust in a wheelbarrow. “We’re working on that, and your boss is supposed to be doing the same.”
“He’s doing something,” Hashim muttered, “but I wouldn’t call it business as usual.” He glared at Smith. “I suppose I have you to thank for that too.”
Smith blinked in surprise. “For what? I can’t help it if you work for a douchebag. You had other options.” Suddenly, the hurt and anger boiled up and over. “But you chose this instead of—”
Hashim held up his wrists, with their decorative cuffs. “You think this is my choice?”
“Well, it sure wasn’t mine. If you don’t like it, quit and do something else.”
“That’s all you know,” Hashim said, his lips twisted in a sneer.
“Listen, the only thing I know is what I see, what you tell me, or what I find out despite your less-than-stellar communication skills.” He stepped closer. Hashim didn’t flinch or move away. Good. “You smuggled a gods-bedamned fire gem into the Consort Race. You gonna tell me that was a mistake?”
“If I did, would you believe me?”
“Why should I? You—” Another vampire sauntered by, looking them both up and down and licking his lips. In your dreams, pal. “Let’s go somewhere where we can talk.” He took Hashim’s elbow.
Hashim jerked it away. “Fine, but don’t touch me.”
Smith held up his hands. “Still your choice.”
Hashim glanced around. “This way.” He led Smith to a nearly invisible door on the side of the labyrinth and passed his cuff over the lock. The door clicked open, and he slipped inside, Smith following before the door clished shut behind them.
They stood in an industrial-style corridor that could be anywhere with its fluorescent lights and concrete floors.
Hashim whirled and propped himself against the institutional green wall, crossing his arms. “You want to have this out here? Now? Fine. Yes, I brought the fire gem, but it wasn’t my choice.”
“No? Only following orders, were you?”
“I’m a conjured ifrit, you arrogant swine. I have to follow orders.”
Smith frowned. “Conjured ifrit? What does that mean? Aren’t you spawned like any other demon?”
“Ifrits are smoke and fire made flesh. Something—or rather someone has to do the making. Sometimes—very rarely—it’s spontaneous. But a wizard who learns the ancient spell can conjure an ifrit from the djinn crèche. A wizard who names us, controls us. Like any other demon, our names are our weakness.”
Smith’s anger didn’t subside, but it veered in a different direction. “You mean you’re slaves.”
“No. We enter into a bargain with the wizard, to do his will in exchange for our chance at body and mind.”
Smith frowned. “So you were forced to use the fire gem?”
“I was forced to bring it with me. To deploy it. But I was supposed to sleep with the prince and use the fire gem to capture his soul, enslave him to Yashar’s will. But I was weak.” Flames leaped in the depths of Hashim’s near-black eyes. “I didn’t sleep with the prince.”
Smith struggled to swallow, feeling as if ice coated his throat. “You slept with me.”
Hashim nodded. “Yes.”
“So you tried to use my true name to capture my soul, enslave me?”
“No, I explicitly did not try to capture your soul. Why do you think I left, you asshole?”
“I notice you didn’t tell me your name.”
“I couldn’t.” Hashim shrugged. “I don’t know what it is.”
Smith rubbed his temples, a headache starting to build from the base of his horns. “But when he conjured you—”
“He named me, but he enclosed my name in an artifact—what, I still don’t know. For the pact to remain intact, he must keep it hidden from me because if I should ever learn my name, I would be—”
“Free?”
Hashim smiled wryly, shaking his head. “Loose. At large. Subject to the ILE laws regarding rogue demons.”
“Okay, yeah. That sucks. But why in blazes didn’t you tell me about the fire gem before I told you my name?”
“I didn’t ask you for your name. If you’d kept your mouth shut, the gem wouldn’t have activated.”
“You—” Smith scrubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, that’s fair. But you still should have told me about the fucking gem.”
“I… forgot.”
“You forgot?”
Hashim pushed himself off the wall, glaring at Smith. “How was I expected to think when you were doing… you know.”
Heat flared in Smith’s chest, and he could tell it reached his eyes because Hashim’s breath caught, just as it had that night. “I’m not sure I do know. Maybe you should refresh my memory.”
Hashim lifted his chin. “I refuse to give you the satisfaction. If you don’t remember—”
“I think”—he extended one claw and drew it along Hashim’s jaw—“it was something like this, wasn’t it?”
Hashim shivered but didn’t pull away. “No.”
“Was it this?” Smith leaned closer and nuzzled under Hashim’s ear, Hashim’s hair teasing his skin, Hashim’s scent, like wildfire on the desert wind, making him dizzy.
“N-n-no. Not that.” Hashim’s voice vibrated down Smith’s bones.
Smith drew back. “Clearly I’m crapping out at this. My memory must be for shit.”
Hashim’s eyes grew heavy-lidded. “Does this ring any bells?” He pulled Smith flush against him, grinding their stiff cocks together, those soft pants of Hashim’s leaving nothing to the imagination.
Smith mentally cursed his jeans. “I think it’s coming back to me.”
“Perhaps I can give you a few more—” He nipped Smith’s chin. “—hints.”
“Hints would be good.” Smith’s voice disappeared in the middle of the last word.
“How about his one?” Hashim tilted his head, stroking Smith’s cheek with his own, until their lips were a breath apart. “Or this one?” Then Hashim’s glorious mouth was on Smith’s, his lips warmer by an order of magnitude beyond any of Smith’s past lovers.
Then Hashim parted his lips, his tongue flicking into Smith’s mouth. Heat roared through Smith’s veins and out his fingers and toes, as if his hair sizzled, as if his skin were living fire.
He threaded his fingers through Hashim’s hair, angling his head to bring them closer until they might as well be fused into one molten ball of flame. He’s right. It’s fucking impossible to think like this.
He pulled back, gasping, shocked that his clothes weren’t reduced to a pile of ash at his feet. “Lucifer’s balls, Hashim. It’s never been like that with anyone else.”
Hashim’s eyes glowed in the dim hallway. “That’s because we fit. With anyone else, I would have to hold back. But not with you. You can take it all and yet crave more.”
“Yes. More.” Smith growled. “I want it all. I want you. But not here. Come back to my place with me. I’ve got an interface talisman, so you can go Earthside. Come with me, Hashim. Please.”
Chapter Eight
HASHIM stared into Smith’s smoldering eyes. What am I doing? I can’t be with him. I can’t go with him. I can’t even leave the grounds. Bad enough that Smith knew Hashim was created expressly for servitude, but if he knew the truth? Hashim shuddered. “No. It’s too far. Come.” He took Smith’s hand. At least we can have one last time together. “We can cut through to the carnies’ dorm behind the labyrinth.”
Smith’s grin, accompanied by the single dimple in his cheek, beguiled Hashim in this dreary place just as it did in the luxurious resort where they’d met. “There’s a shortcut to the dorm in the labyrinth?”
“Yes. The customers pay to encounter monsters, after all. It lessens the effect if you see one of them eating an egg salad sandwich on the bench next to the carousel, or laughing at the Punch and Judy show.”
“Would I? See that, I mean?”
“You might. My friend Rion is quite fond of egg salad sandwiches, although not so much the Punch and Judy.” He took Smith’s hand. “Come.”
Hashim led Smith to the low door at the end of the corridor. He presented his cuff to the locking spell, and the door swung open, the heavy stone blocks on its other side making it a slow and laborious process. He ducked through and drew Smith after him, the door grating shut behind them to disappear into the neighboring stones.
Smith peered around him. “This sure looks like someplace vampires would lurk.”
“Vampires?”
“Our clients, including the guys who were following you. It’s their convention we’re staging here.” He glanced at Hashim as they rounded the first corner. “Didn’t your boss tell you?”
“Ringmaster doesn’t believe in unnecessarily burdening his acts with information,” Hashim said dryly.
“I knew he was an asshole,” Smith grumbled.
“You have no notion.”
“Makes me doubly grateful for my own boss. But you know what?” He tugged on their joined hands to draw them close together and wrap his arms around Hashim’s waist. “I don’t want to talk about them.”
“No?” Hashim trailed his fingers up Smith’s arms. “You want to discuss baseball, perhaps?” He flicked Smith’s cap. “You came with the appropriate headgear.”
Pink washed across Smith’s cheekbones. “That’s just to hide my horns.”
“Why hide them? They’re beautiful.”
Smith snorted. “Hardly. Full fire demons have horns with at least one curl. Humans don’t have any at all. I’m defective on both teams.”
“You are not defective.” Hashim framed Smith’s face with his hands. “You are yourself, just as I am myself, and I find you perfect as you are.” Hashim pulled the cap off and sent it sailing down the hallway.
“Hey!”
Hashim chuckled. “You need not hide. Not here. Not with me.” He traced one horn and sent a little burst of heat through his fingertip.
Smith gasped, closing his eyes. “That’s—Fuck.”
“Very eloquent. If you—”
But Hashim’s words were lost when Smith’s mouth came down on his, hot and insistent, devouring him. I must remember this. Every moment. Every touch. Every thrill. Because after today, I will never have it again.
Smith trailed kisses across Hashim’s jaw and down his neck, dipping his tongue in the hollow of Hashim’s throat. He skated his hands under the edges of Hashim’s vest, the heat of his fingers igniting Hashim’s skin. And for an ifrit, that is the embodiment of a dream.
“You know,” Smith murmured against the curve of Hashim’s shoulder, “I really like this outfit. No buttons. And the pants—” He skimmed his hands down Hashim’s ribs and over the curve of his ass. “They’re so light, it’s almost like you’re not wearing anything at all.” He drew back to grin, his eyes sparkling. “Although actual nothing would be much better. Where’s that room you mentioned?”
“Not far. It’s small, but—” He grinned before giving Smith another heated kiss. “—at least it’s fireproof.”
“I’d say we should just stay here, but these stones are too rough against your skin.”
“At least they can’t catch fire either. Why?” He twined one of Smith’s curls around his finger. “Do you fantasize about taking me against the wall?”
Smith growled, sending a spark down Hashim’s spine. “Would you like that?”
“I’d like almost anything at this point. But you’re right. Not here.”
Grabbing Smith’s hand, he led him further into the maze, taking the first right and the second left, Smith so close behind him that Hashim could feel Smith’s breath on the back of his neck.
As he knew it would, the passageway dead-ended in another wall of rough-cut stone blocks. Smith crowded up behind him, his mouth hot on Hashim’s shoulder.
“I thought you knew the way,” Smith murmured between incendiary kisses. “Is there another secret door here?”
Hashim leaned back into Smith’s wide, solid chest. Nobody else had ever made him feel this grounded, this safe. “I must have been distracted.”
“Should I distract you more?” Smith’s hands curved around Hashim’s ribs, his thumbs slipping under his sash.
Hashim grabbed those wicked wandering hands. “That sash is the only thing holding my pants up. If you loosen it too much, they’ll fall off.”
Smith chuckled. “I don’t see a problem with that.”
Hashim turned in the circle of Smith’s arms. “I thought you wanted to get to my room quickly. It’s much harder to walk with one’s trousers around one’s ankles.”
“True.” Smith dropped a quick kiss on Hashim’s mouth. “If you think—Lucifer’s balls. I can’t—” He pulled Hashim against his chest and dove in for another kiss, his lips firm and supple, his tongue like flame as it stroked Hashim’s own.
Hashim groaned into the kiss, unable to keep his hips from rolling as if he were in the midst of his fire dance. Remember this. Remember. Remember. Because memories would have to be enough. What if Ringmaster summoned him now? What if—
Smith broke away, panting. “I’m sorry. You taste so good, you feel so right, I can’t think straight.”
“Then don’t.” Hashim leaned in for another kiss, but Smith angled his head away.
“No. I want to do this right. In a bed. With no hidden agendas.” He grinned, a rakish tilt of his lips that melted Hashim’s bones. “No hidden anything.” He wrapped his big, square hands around Hashim’s ribs and set him firmly a foot away. “But if we don’t get there soon, I may not be able to walk.”
