Page 2 of The Lawgiver's Firebrand
An imaginary night with his fantasy female would begin with dinner. Perhaps afterward, they attended a concert. He would invite her to his place for champagne and slow seduction. Her hair would be in a chignon, which he would let down. One pin at a time. He would stroke her silky skin until she whimpered. Of course, she would leave in the morning, satisfied and as well-nourished as he.
The breed was unimportant. He was not a purist like Rike. Daire enjoyed the bite of a vampiress, the screams of a demoness who fed from his orgasm, or the moans of an ylve who tasted his soul.
He had, however, never dreamed of a female in combat boots and a halter top with two short blades strapped to her waist. His assignations would not be dancing on a table in a bar or swilling beer. He must be hungry for touch. Or hitting a mid-life crisis.
After the female chugged a few brews and wiggled her ass for her audience, she hopped down from the table to the cheers of herfrerons.
One of his companions, Nerina, had resumed explaining her proposed legislation now that the crowd had quieted somewhat. “Too many of our orphans fail to be adopted. They…”
Daire heard every other word, his gaze still fixed on the young Firebrand witch who was rapidly becoming the life of the party. And the object of his obsession.
****
Firebrandsfrom Ari’s assigned stronghold in North Shelters, the shifter region under Nace’s command, had lugged her inside the Blood Shed on their shoulders.
After she’d accepted the call of the Phoenix, rigorous training began. Because she’d finished that, celebration was the order of the night.
Hoo-rah.
With loud tunes blasting through the Shed, herfreronshad slammed her boots onto the table, propping her on her feet. She raised her brew high and gyrated in time to the music.
Oh, yeah.
Ari was feeling no pain.
Nine Inch Nails’s “Closer” came on. Her arms shot up, the beer splashing out of its mug. Her hips bumped into overtime, popping to the beat.
Craven, a huge-ass berserker, jumped from the floor to join her on the table. Counting herself lucky it didn’t collapse, she put extra sway into her movements. She was an excellent dancer and knew it.
Herfreron’sarm circled her waist while he mimicked her moves. Stepping closer, he jutted his groin forward. Damn aroused male Firebrands. Did they always have a hard-on? Too bad she wasn’t attracted to him. He was hung.
Oh, well. It didn’t hurt to play. When his dick brushed her stomach, she bowed into it, earning a few raised fists from her fellow Firebrands. Craven ground harder against her until somebody toppled him to the floor amid rowdy hoots and hollers.
When the music stopped, another brew materialized in her hand. Jumping from the table, she landed solidly on her shitkickers, barely jostling the foam on the beer. Then herfreronsbegan recounting tales of her training exploits.
Mix, Commander Nace’s second at the North Shelter’s stronghold, tossed in his two bits of jolly. “My fave was Ari’s first time on the climbing wall. Remind me, how many times did you fall on your bony ass?”
“I didn’t take notes. But it wasn’t the bruises on my cheeks that bothered me. It was the lame offers to kiss my ass to make it better.”
Craven chucked down his brew. “We’re a caring lot.” He snagged the arm of a passing female. “Barmaid,” he shouted, “keep our drinks topped off. We have a newfreronto celebrate.”
“If you don’t remove your meaty paw from my arm, I’ll kick you in your balls.” The waitress smiled.
“You shameless flirt. What else do you want to do with my boys?” Craven turned her loose with a wink.
“Thought you’d never ask. Lick ’em. Stroke ’em. Suck ’em into my mouth. I’m off duty in an hour, berserker. Book us a room. In the meantime, I’ll top you all off.”
Craven groaned. “I’m fucking in love.” He rushed off, probably to reserve a room through the bartender. His night was looking good.
Ari had no one to celebrate with after this was over. She wouldn’t be going home to a dinner with kin in her honor. Her parents disapproved of her chosen occupation since she came from mages whose moneymaking family business was to sell spells. For exorbitant prices. They had counted on the income she would have generated.
She wouldn’t be joining a boyfriend because she’d dumped the psycho who couldn’t handle her new warrior status. He’d sent her off with a you’ll-be-sorry.
And her cousin, who’d once been a close childhood companion?Well. He’d made it clear he resented the Phoenix choosing her as a Firebrand rather than him. They’d almost gone witch-to-warlock—spells and fists—over her appointment. She’d tried to soothe his ruffled feathers, but no go. Only one chosen from a family per generation, he had claimed. It should have been him, he shouted, the door hitting him on the ass as he stormed out.
Ari sensed eyes slicing into her back, interrupting her reminiscences. She glanced around the bar. Seated off to the side on sofas were five Aeternals. If clothes were the measure, and they were, they all had beaucoup money. And the arrogance that accompanied it. She locked gazes with an incubus. Though caught staring, he didn’t stop.
Feeling adventurous and strangely drawn to the proper, uptight-looking male, she toodled a wave at him. No smile. No acknowledgment. He appeared not to see her. Oh, well, she gave him her back again. Gorgeous but stiff, elegantly cold, and a damn incubus. Everyone knew they made females mindless with lust. Not her gig. She liked keeping her wits. Maybe not tonight.
