Page 111 of Playing with Fire

The very air caught on fire and flooded my lungs, but its heat didn’t burn me when I breathed.

What had I done? I hadn’t resurrected mere birds. I had summoned living gods, and they cawed their laughter. In it, I heard their amusement and mockery. In it, I heard an echo of their promise, the bargain we had made, which they would keep—for now.

“Well, that’s one way to do it. That batch of gorgon dust isn’t going to last long.” Quinn’s grandfather also sounded amused.

Why was everyone so happy? My babies were gone, and they had become gods. There was nothing okay about the situation.

The phoenixes screeched, and red, yellow, and white light pierced through my closed eyelids. I sucked in a breath, turning my head. Underneath the roaring of the flames, someone—no, a chorus—sang.

I remembered the notes and the angels who had sang them, and the melody tugged at my soul. I swayed to its rhythm, holding my breath so I wouldn’t miss anything.

Angels greeted the phoenixes with a triumphant song, one filled with welcome, love, and jubilation. When the final distant notes faded, the light dimmed and left me in darkness. A choked sound emerged from my throat.

“It would help if you opened your eyes, little one.”

Oh, right. I did.

What had once been stone gleamed in the light of a pair of burning feathers, which drifted over the floor where the vat had once been. Of Prince Ozmose, I saw no sign. “Oh no.”

Quinn’s grandfather touched my shoulder. “It’s all right. He was long dead. He sacrificed himself to make that dust, by his choice, the fool. Everything makes sense to me now. There are two ways dust can be—”

“No,” Quinn growled behind me. “I’m pretty sure nothing about you two being here makes any sense at all.”

Uh oh. While I loved the way my husband growled, he sounded pissed. I considered my options. Pixie dust? Sedative? Both? If I ignored him, would he go away? I ran fast, but I doubted I could outrun Quinn for long.

Warm arms slid around me and my back pressed against Quinn’s chest. Running lost its appeal, and with a pleased murmur, I leaned against him. Soft, hot lips brushed the side of my throat. “Where did you get two phoenixes from, Bailey Quinn?”

I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and made myself comfortable against my husband.

“She’s probably a little tired,” Quinn’s grandfather murmured. “She requested them from the CDC because they wouldn’t give her napalm. She was very concerned about the dust.”

Quinn nibbled on my neck, and his teeth scraped against my skin, sharper than I expected. Sucking in a breath, I tilted my head to the side to give him easier access. “Quinn, they made the dust go away.”

“I see. Well, I’m not finished here. You, however, are.” Quinn shoved me forward, grabbed my wrist, and spun me around. The instant I caught my balance, he pushed me back against the tunnel’s stone wall, melted smooth by the phoenixes’ flame. Capturing my other wrist in his hand, he forced my arms over my head.

Twelve crimson-hooded cobras swayed from Quinn’s dark hair. They stared at me, their forked tongues flicking and tasting the air. While incubi had black wings, instead of the leathery black ones I expected, his were feathered and banded with sky blue. His tail, unlike his incubus brethren’s, was covered with down. With startling strength, it constricted around my knees and forced my legs together.

“Quinn!” I squealed.

Kissing was his favorite way to shut me up, and the desperate heat of incubus-inspired desire flooded through me. I needed him, and I whimpered, struggling to pull free of his hold on me so I could reach for him, pull him closer, and make him mine all over again.

Breaking our kiss, he brushed his lips against mine, released my wrists, and unwound his tail from my legs. I strained to reach for him, but something cold and hard held me in place. I twisted to see what was stopping me from getting closer to Quinn and ripping off the rest of his shirt so I could touch his bare skin.

Stone encased my arms from wrist to elbow and trapped my ankles and feet.

“Quinn, you fr—”

He covered my mouth with his and swallowed my words, smothering my protests. Another surge of heat washed through me, and as always, he left me breathless. When he pulled away, I panted, and a soft, desperate moan slipped out of me.

“How did you get here, you sneaky woman?”

I wanted to kick him for being so far away. I wanted to run my hands over his chest, stroke his wings, and explore every inch of him. A sane woman would’ve been at least a little concerned about being close to twelve cobras. I had no idea if their crimson hoods signified anything, but unlike his gorgon grandfather, Quinn’s skin remained a rich golden tan.

When I broke free, I’d give him a piece of my mind about tying me up and leaving me hanging. “If you hadn’t left, I—”

Damn him and his kisses. I closed my eyes, and without the stone holding me up, I would’ve melted into his arms.

Quinn’s grandfather cleared his throat. “Little Samuel, perhaps now is not the best time to be doing such a thorough examination of your wife’s mouth with your tongue.”