Phoenix Burning

Phoenix Cahill is experiencing the Awakening, transforming from an asexual tantric vampire nestling to an adult who feeds on the orgasmic energy of her partners. Though any man will do, the only one she craves is her mysterious new neighbor. But feeding from the same man too many times could kill him, and Phoenix won’t be satisfied by just one night....

Getting close to Phoenix was supposed to be only part of vampire enforcer Ivar LeBlanc’s mission to find her father and bring him to justice. But the plan becomes complicated when he rescues Phoenix from an attack—and gives in to his own desire for her. Now he must choose between the woman he loves and the clan lord to whom he owes his life....

Phoenix Burning

Patti O’Shea

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

The idea for Phoenix Burning came in a dream, but I didn’t know I’d write it until the characters arrived. Ivar, the hero, did most of the talking. He let me know that my original vision of him as an assassin was wrong. The fact that he was so adamant about this told me there was something in his past that I needed to know. I was right.

My heroine remained quiet and I’ve learned to be suspicious when this happens. Characters who don’t share much are the ones who drop bombshells. And sure enough, Phoenix did this, too. It turned out that she wasn’t human like I believed, but a different kind of vampire, and what she is shaped the entire story.

I hope you enjoy my not-a-normal-vampire heroine and her vampire enforcer-not-assassin hero. I love to hear from my readers. You can contact me through my website, www.pattioshea.com.

Best wishes,

Patti O’Shea

Dedication

For my writing buddies—Crystal Jordan, Dayna Hart, and Trish McCallan. As always, thank you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

About the Author

Copyright

Chapter One

The air in the apartment felt heavy, the pressure enough to keep her skin sensitized. Phoenix pressed her legs tightly together, trying to deny the arousal. Shaking her head to clear it, she forced herself to focus on the laptop screen. The cursor on the blank page flashed in time with the throb between her legs. Putting her fingers on the keyboard, she tried to find the zone, the place where there was nothing but her and the story. Instead of words, though, there was only heat and the need for release.

Desperate to distract herself, Phoenix searched for something, anything, to get her mind off sex. Her gaze landed on the sheet of paper that had been shoved under her door a day or two ago. A reminder from the apartment building’s management to pick up mail more often. It had been at least a week since she’d opened her box.

Phoenix grabbed her keys from the table as she got to her feet. She was halfway to her door before she stopped and checked what she was wearing—a pair of loose yoga pants that rode low on her hips and a black tank that left her midriff bare. Good enough.

She took the stairs two at a time, and as soon as she reached the bottom, headed left into the vestibule where the bank of metal mailboxes was built into the wall. She stopped short as soon as she saw him, but it wasn’t quickly enough. Less than a foot separated her from the guy and Phoenix had no desire to move.

His back was to her, his head bent as he sorted through his mail, but he didn’t need to turn for her to identify him. There was only one man in this apartment complex whose mere presence left her buzzing with desire. Her next-door neighbor.

She took the opportunity to gawk at him while he was oblivious to her presence. His brown hair was cut short, leaving his nape exposed and Phoenix curled her fingers to stop herself from tracing that bare skin. His navy T-shirt was pulled taut across his broad shoulders and his jeans were faded enough to mold his gorgeous ass. The urge to caress him had her taking a step closer before she stopped herself. It had been drilled into her head not to touch without an invitation and telling herself he wouldn’t mind wasn’t the same thing as consent.

Without warning, he straightened, and before she could move aside, he pivoted and walked into her. Phoenix staggered, not only from the impact, but also from the feel of his hard muscled body pressing against hers. The mail hit the floor and his arms went around her, helping her keep her physical balance, but knocking her control askew. Her nipples peaked and she shimmied, rubbing her breasts against his chest.

His grip tightened, stilling her. There was heat in his eyes, but there was reserve as well, and though he appeared reluctant, he put her away from him and stepped back. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”

Phoenix had to clear her throat in order to speak. “Not a problem,” she assured him. She thought about apologizing herself, but didn’t. What would she say? Sorry, I was so busy trying not to run my hand over your ass that I didn’t realize you were done looking at your mail?

He nodded once and crouched down to retrieve his mail. Phoenix found her gaze zeroing in on his butt again, and shaking her head, leaned over to help him before she forgot about all the rules she’d been raised to follow.

There were a couple of letters against the opposite wall and she scooped them up. A paper electric bill? Unable to contain her curiosity, she checked the addressee. Ivar LeBlanc. Unusual name. He held out his hand and she passed the bill and the junk mail over to him.

“Thanks,” he said and strolled out of the vestibule, leaving her standing there.

Phoenix sighed and tried to convince herself it was a good thing that he wasn’t interested in hanging around with her.

She was still trying to persuade herself of this right up until the minute she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the shower. Warm water sluiced over her body and Phoenix shivered as her nipples tautened further. The water teased her, caressed her and aroused her, negating the two orgasms she’d already given herself since returning to her apartment.

Reaching for the lever, she swung it as far to the cold side as she could stand, but instead of calming her hormones, the sensation of cool water on hot skin made her writhe. Damn.

After a few minutes, she gave up. Reaching for the knob again, she adjusted the temperature to something bearable, and grabbed the soap. As soon as her finger was coated, she slipped her hand between her legs and brushed her clit. Just that light touch raised a gasp and made her eyes slide half shut as she fell into the sensation. With her other hand she rolled a nipple between her fingers. In her mind’s eye, she could see him—Ivar—in the shower with her, the water making his brown hair even darker. She rubbed a little faster, imagining it was his hand between her legs, his hand on her breast.

He was tall enough to make her feel petite and his wide shoulders amplified that perception. It was so easy to imagine blue eyes—laser-blue—filled with heat, holding her gaze, refusing to let her look away or deny what he did to her. Phoenix needed his mouth on her, wanted to feel his facial hair tease her skin. It wasn’t a beard, not quite, but it was fuller than a goatee. It didn’t matter. On him, it was so damn hot, she began to cream every time she saw him.

Her finger circled with greater urgency, orgasm bearing down on her fast. His cock would be hard, and with one, smooth stroke, he’d push deep, and fuck her until she was weak from the number of times she’d come. And it wouldn’t matter, she’d need him again. The fantasy was so strong, she could nearly feel him moving inside her. It sent her over the edge. Her head fell back and she arched her hips, pressing more firmly into her hand. A sound that was part moan, part wail escaped and Phoenix bit her lip, trying to contain any other noises she might make.

When she regained full awareness, she was leaning against the fiberglass wall of the tub enclosure, almost limp from the strength of the pleasure. It wasn’t enough. Her nipples remained hard and her pussy ached, craving cock. Craving his cock.

And she couldn’t have him.

With a curse, Phoenix forced herself to finish showering. This was it; she couldn’t ignore it any longer—she’d reached full Awakening. It explained why self-induced orgasms weren’t dousing the fire any longer. For weeks she’d used masturbation to tide her over, to resist her instincts, but it satisfied for shorter and shorter periods. Hell, there were days it felt as if she’d spent more time playing with her vibrator than she had working with her computer.

Phoenix hissed as she ran the washcloth over her stomach and between her legs. She wanted to get off again, wanted it bad, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Nothing except having sex would help now.

Thoughts of her new neighbor snuck into her brain and she grimaced. No matter how much she desired him, Ivar was off-limits.

Phoenix might not be sure what he was, but she did know he wasn’t human. If he was a demon, feeding from him could kill her and if he was a wizard, there’d be retribution after the fact. Wizards always got even if they felt wronged and she didn’t have the power yet to deal with them or their magic.

But even if he was an ordinary person, she wouldn’t be able to have him. She’d been taught that when she came of age she had to be careful. Among other things, that meant not feeding too close to home, and the man who lived in the apartment next to hers definitely fell into that category.

Grabbing the towel as she stepped from the tub, Phoenix dried off, trying to ignore the way the terrycloth teased her skin. Even the warm air from the blow dryer made her scalp tingle and that shot heat through her.

After her hair was dry, Phoenix stared into the mirror. Her eyes were dilated, leaving nothing but a small ring of her irises visible, and her lips were parted, her breathing quick and shallow. She reached for the perfumed lotion. Putting it on would test her willpower, but the scent was part of the lure. She warmed the cream between the palms of her hands and began to rub it into her skin. It was no surprise that moisture pooled between her thighs.

Awakening. She thought she’d known what to expect, but this was nothing like what she’d been told would happen. It was supposed to take around a year to transition from Stirring to this point, but she’d done it in weeks. How?

Phoenix shrugged. She’d think about it later; the whys were beyond her right now. It shouldn’t be possible, but the fire burning inside had grown unquenchable and that told the story.

With the towel wrapped around her, she put on makeup, creating a dramatic look much different than her usual style. Powdered, perfumed and primed, Phoenix left the bathroom and opened her closet door.

Over the past month, she’d shopped, adding clothes that showed off her body and that were a far cry from the casual choices she’d made in the past. Her hands shook so hard she had trouble stepping into the thong panties. No nylons—she didn’t want them getting in her way. The skirt came next. It was a respectable coffee color with a subtle paisley pattern, but it was so short and tight that there was nothing modest about it.

She picked brown ankle boots with a quarter-inch heel. As Phoenix bent to tug them on, the air conditioner kicked on and a cool breeze danced over her bare breasts. Her pussy pulsed, driving her to move faster.

The arousal receded a shade as she started to pull on a bronze-colored tank top and that allowed her to think. It was as tight as her skirt, and the outfit edged outside her comfort zone. Considering what she planned to do, it was a stupid worry, but she tossed the tank on her bed and grabbed a beige sweater instead. It had three-quarter sleeves and was cropped short, but it fit her loosely and appeased her modesty.

This whole Awakening thing, well, it was scary. It didn’t matter that she’d heard about it her whole life, that she’d been warned and prepared and educated on what to expect. Once she left her apartment, everything would change. Radically. Only a fool wouldn’t be anxious.

Phoenix walked to the door, locked it behind her and slid the key into a pocket of her skirt. Along with the nerves, though, was anticipation. Excitement. She couldn’t deny the spring in her step as she went down the stairs and out onto the street.

When she came home, she wouldn’t be a nestling any longer, but a full-fledged adult vampire.

Chapter Two

Ivar came to a sudden halt in the middle of his apartment as he felt Phoenix’s arousal. His cock swelled. Again. How many times was the woman going to bring herself off tonight? He’d made it through her first two orgasms without losing it, but he wouldn’t survive a third go-round. The temptation to go to her door, knock lightly and take care of her fever—and his own—was strong. He’d desired her from the first instant he’d seen her and running into her tonight, feeling her rock against him, had only amped up his need.

He couldn’t get her out of his head—long legs, long dark hair, brown eyes that he’d gotten lost in and a smile so sexy, it made heat flood his being. Bumping into her in front of the building’s wall of mailboxes had been unexpected and it shouldn’t have been—he should have been aware of her presence. Instead he’d turned and collided with her.

Ivar couldn’t clear his memory of the feel of her breasts pressing into his chest, her scent—something spicy and as sexy as she was—or the fullness of her lips. He craved them beneath his, he craved—

His thoughts flipped back to the present. Ivar knew she’d begun to touch herself, and before he could rein in, he moved. He didn’t stop until he was in his tub, standing at the wall that separated his bathroom from hers. His hearing was acute. He picked up her gasps and moans over the water running in her shower and he could imagine her...so beautiful. So sensual. His willpower unraveled. Tugging at the snap, he lowered the zipper of his jeans, and shoved them and his shorts to his thighs.

The head of his cock was already wet and he ran his palm over it, teasing himself with light touches. What was he doing? He was an enforcer, damn it, and prior to that he’d been a knight, entrusted with the greatest of responsibilities. He should be able to withstand one woman even if he was so attracted he couldn’t see straight.

His effort to manufacture anger was halfhearted at best, and with Phoenix’s groan, he surrendered. He shuddered as his hand closed around his shaft.

Though he couldn’t see her, he could feel her level of arousal and Ivar tried to pace himself. He intended to come with her, not before, but she made him hot—and he’d desired her for so long—it was all he could do to keep from racing to the finish.

Resting his forehead against the fiberglass tub wall, he closed his eyes and wished they were in the shower together. He wanted to touch Phoenix, wanted her to touch his cock. And he hungered for more than that. He’d dreamed about her putting her lips around him and sucking until he couldn’t stand another minute. The thought of coming in her pretty little mouth almost brought him to climax and Ivar slowed his stroking. He was going to shoot hard, but he didn’t want to come yet.

Fool, the voice inside his mind mocked. It was true, he was a fool. If he was focused on his job the way he should be, he wouldn’t be jerking off in the bathtub. This lust was a complication he didn’t need and that was truth.

She came without warning, the riptide of her pleasure clawing at him, her wail making his balls tighten. His own orgasm roared down on him and he rode out the pulsing climax until it finished.

He was in sorry shape, Ivar decided once he had the strength to move. He cleaned up, tucked and zipped, and even though he’d come just moments earlier, he remained about half-hard. Because she was still aroused.

Phoenix Cahill was an assignment, a pawn in a larger mission, and he couldn’t let her affect him like this. He just wasn’t certain how he could prevent it. She got past his defenses and left him tied up in knots.

One big aching, throbbing knot.

Ivar put his hands down on either side of his bathroom sink and leaned forward, chin dropping to his chest. He wished he could blame his lapse on what she was—tantric vampires fed on sexual energy—but he’d been a normal, blood-drinking vampire for seven hundred years, and knew better. Rare though her kind might be, Phoenix wasn’t the first tantric he’d encountered. Those others, however, hadn’t left him in a state of near-constant heat and they hadn’t rattled his control. Phoenix alone did this to him and he didn’t like it.

He was mentally detailing all his stupid actions when he detected the sound of her door opening. Ivar straightened, tipping his head to hear better, but he wasn’t wrong. Where the hell was she going at 2:00 a.m.? As he listened, she went down the stairs and out the building’s front entrance.

Ivar rushed after her. For a moment, he paused on the front stoop and let the night enfold him. Darkness had a rhythm, an ebb and flow that seemed to match the low throb of want that he couldn’t smother if Phoenix was close.

His eyes scanned the area, seeking her out. It was instinct more than vision that helped him locate her. Clouds obscured the moon, but instead of staying in the pools of illumination cast by the streetlights, Phoenix traveled in the shadows. While her night vision should be as acute as his own, she’d always acted like a typical human when she’d gone out. Up till now.

Maybe she was meeting someone; maybe the man he’d been ordered to bring back to the clan lord’s estate. Maybe Ivar could wrap up this mission and get the hell away from her before he lost what was left of his self-command.

Phoenix seemed to be moving with purpose and he picked up his pace. She hadn’t taken her car. Why not? The apartment building might be in a safe area, a quiet area, but this was Los Angeles. His protective instincts surged and Ivar found himself in another battle, this one to remain hidden from her.

He wasn’t certain why he worried about Phoenix. It wasn’t as if she were some mortal woman who would be almost helpless if confronted by a mugger. Tantric vampires had the strength, stamina and powers of regular vampires and pity the man who thought he’d found an easy mark. That made his lips curve.

Until he realized that she was hunting.

He choked back a string of curses. This complicated things. He’d noticed her becoming more and more nocturnal since he’d moved in, but he hadn’t realized she’d reach this point so quickly. The idea of Phoenix feeding on the orgasmic energy of any other man made his fangs drop. It was purely possessive—a vampire male ready to fight for what was his.

Ivar clenched his fists, retracted his fangs and swallowed the growl. The streets here were empty, but he didn’t have much time to make a decision—did he watch her feed from another man or did he offer up himself as her prey?

Sex got knocked off center stage as Ivar felt a flicker strum his senses. It was light, a mere whisper against his nape, but it caught his notice.

He’d been so locked on Phoenix that he’d forgotten all about scanning the vicinity for potential threats. It was a stupid mistake. Reading energy was second nature to vampires, but whoever—whatever—he’d picked up was trying to hide himself from detection. He simply wasn’t quite powerful enough to remain completely invisible, not with Ivar’s strength.

Now that he was paying attention, the brief shimmers were as distracting as a strobe light. Scowling, Ivar pushed out farther with all his being, trying to pick up additional information, but the identity of the other remained unknown.

Not a human, that much was obvious. Only the wizards had the ability to block him and he was certain this wasn’t a wizard, not with the telltale crackle of magic missing from the short flashes he discerned.

Vampire or demon?

He didn’t know, but what Ivar sensed was pure malevolence and without question it was aimed at the woman walking ahead of him. His talons extended from his fingers, and this time when his fangs dropped, he didn’t force them to recede.

Someone meant Phoenix harm and no damn way would he allow anyone to hurt her.

Chapter Three

Ivar scowled. The protectiveness he felt for Phoenix was unwelcome, but it couldn’t be denied. Even as he shook his head over his idiocy, he tried to locate the threat. The flashing energy might have caught his attention, but it also made it difficult for him to pinpoint where the stalker had concealed himself.

Studying the area, Ivar tried to use his years as a warrior, his centuries as an enforcer, to narrow the options. In a fraction of a second, he took in the trees and bushes, the underground parking garages, the shadowy doorways and alleys, and grimly realized there was no shortage of good cover. The enemy could be anywhere and could attack Phoenix from any direction.

She continued walking and the distance between them widened far enough that Ivar had to battle his instincts. He wanted to be beside her, ready to defend her, and he couldn’t be. He needed to stay back, to ensure that he didn’t leave himself vulnerable when the attack came.

And it would come. His instincts said as much and they were too finely honed to dismiss.

He knew when the hunter moved to keep pace with Phoenix and Ivar trailed behind them, still searching. The fact that his adversary was mobile ruled out a few of the hiding places he’d tagged as possibilities, but it didn’t eliminate enough of them to make a difference in his tactics.

The clouds that covered the moon thickened, leaving the streetlights as the only illumination as Phoenix approached a corner. Once she turned, she’d be on a street with a lot more activity. Ivar flexed his talons and shifted, putting more weight on the balls of his feet, preparing himself to run. To fight. His instincts weren’t wrong.

At the first hint of motion, he raced toward Phoenix. Her surprise made her slow to react, and even with his preternatural speed, Ivar knew she’d be on her own for a few seconds, long enough for her to be hurt badly.

Long enough for her to die.

But in less than an instant, Phoenix began to defend herself. She wasn’t practiced in hand-to-hand combat, that was obvious, but she wasn’t cowering.

Long, sharp talons slashed toward her throat. Raising her forearm, Phoenix blocked the blow.

Blood dripped from her arm and Ivar dug for more speed. He reached her in time to prevent a second strike. Grabbing the assailant by the shoulder, Ivar spun him around.

Masked. A vampire then, he decided although the other continued to shield his energy. A demon wouldn’t need to conceal his identity, but another vampire might.

Talons raked toward his eyes.

Ivar knocked the strike off target, but the tips ripped his cheek open. He grunted and put the pain out of his mind. Vampires healed fast and his body had already begun to repair the damage.

He used his own talons, striking with speed and accuracy. The vampire connected with his chest, his arms, even his jeans, but Ivar ignored the blows and focused on his next attack.