Thunderfire

Chapter One

Ashley Westfall loved to stand in the audience to one side of the mosh pit. Out of the way of the frantic bodysurfing and head-banging but close enough to feel the action and be part of it. And rock concerts were her favorite spectator sport.

The sight excited and sickened her in equal measure. Pure Wildfire, “the hottest rock band on the planet”, according to the media, was dynamite onstage. Ryan, the vocalist, tore out the soul of the audience and then hurled it back, owning the thousands of people gathered here in Wembley Stadium. Jake Keys, bass, and his brother Chris on drums provided a heavy, steady thunder that rolled behind every number and came to the forefront in a few inventive solos.

Then the two lead guitarists, Corinne Hawthorne and her husband, the legendary Splinter, aka Aidan Hawthorne, astounded and rocked. Splinter played like a man possessed and Corinne’s more precise, cutting-edge style complemented him faultlessly, keeping his wilder excesses in check, framing his solos and extemporizing her own.

Nobody knew when Corinne and Aidan would perform their “double guitar” solo or even if, but tonight, halfway through “Lost In Space”, Splinter handed his Stratocaster to a roadie and headed across the stage to stand behind Corinne and her Gibson. His long-fingered hand controlled the individual notes and Corinne kept her hand on the fret, reaching with her other hand to grab Splinter’s thigh while he palmed her breast.

Ashley’s body heated under the influence of the music and the fantastic sight of two people in love all but getting it on in front of several thousand people. When Corinne was onstage she somehow became something different, a performer, someone Ashley didn’t know, not the sister she’d grown up with. The glittering, sparkling notes sounded pitch-perfect, even when Corinne bent the strings. Nobody knew how they played as one person like this. The music press speculated wildly about it but Ashley knew, though she wasn’t supposed to.

Telepathy.

Her knowledge came from a chance conversation she’d overheard one sultry afternoon through the open windows of the studio where Corinne and Aidan were practicing. It had taken Ashley a while to come to terms with the idea but she could see it clearly now. Corinne and Splinter played like a single being in a way that crystallized both their styles, their solo a distillation of some of the best guitar playing in rock.

Ashley had a gentle empathy, she could sense people’s moods without any outward sign but she couldn’t do any more. Her twin Paige couldn’t even do that, so their older sister Corinne had all the luck. It didn’t seem fair. Corinne had it all. Out of the three daughters of John Westfall, Corinne was the most famous, talented and successful.

Watching Pure Wildfire dominate the crowd like this made Ashley feel both exhilarated and depressed. Ashley loved that Corinne had found her own place in the world, independent of their managing father, but hated that she had never done so.

Paige and Ashley had their own band, the Celtic Chicks, one of the support bands here tonight. They were trying a new brand of folk they called punk folk, but Ashley didn’t like it. Paige had guilted out their father and manager, who’d abandoned them recently in favor of more lucrative acts, and he’d got them this gig with Pure Wildfire. Ashley didn’t know whether John had bribed or used his legendary powers of persuasion on the tour organizers, but they’d landed the extra support spot. And now Ashley knew for sure why she felt so conflicted every time she watched Corinne.

She would never be that good. Never. Her voice sounded all right after years of training and classes. She was okay, average, ordinary. Only her father’s management kept her and Paige in work. But Corinne, who’d broken from their father years ago, was good, really good. She possessed a style all her own.

The Chicks had plenty of fans, especially now Paige’s new husband, Fred Royle, had given it a new edge, but they’d only ever be a top twenty, gimmicky sub-folk ensemble. The edge didn’t go deep enough to mean anything honest and lasting. Now Paige and Fred were talking about starting something new, leaving the folk image behind, and Ashley knew it meant leaving her behind too.

She should care more but she couldn’t. Apathy, depression or something else she couldn’t define made her realize she’d lost her enthusiasm years ago. She liked Fred, liked his ideas, but they weren’t for her.

Ashley needed to work out what she wanted out of her life, because she would never become this good, however much she wanted it, however hard she worked. And second best wouldn’t do anymore.

Splinter and Corinne kissed and the spotlight on them faded while Chris and Jake took over, increasing their inventive, powerful bass lines to create a new heartbeat for the audience. Then they stopped, the stage went black, only to explode in blinding flares for the next and last number. By that time Aidan stood on the other side of the stage to his wife, holding his Strat once more. Nobody here tonight would forget the moment when their lips met, or the dynamic connection they made.

The crowd screamed when the band left the stage and screamed harder when they returned. The encores began but Ashley headed for the exit at one side of the auditorium. She pushed her way through the heaving mass of humanity pressing toward the stage, where Ryan continued to whip the fans into a frenzy.

The muscleman at the exit was one she knew. She’d signed a program for him earlier. He nodded to her and let her through. At least he recognized her. Not that Ashley blamed the crowd for not knowing who she was. She’d changed into jeans and a t-shirt, removed the heavy makeup, replacing it with a light touch of mascara and lipstick, brushed her hair out into its natural smooth length and the light in the arena wasn’t exactly bright anyway. Paige would have gone out in her stage clothes and enjoyed the glory but Ashley found more pleasure from moving around unobserved. She’d become good at it in the last few years.

Inside, with the headliners about to end their set, half the people watched the TVs. Some already sat in the chairs set out before the makeshift dais and the long table set on it. Photographers and press people owned this room—it acted as a pressroom tonight. Here Pure Wildfire would do a few interviews after the concert and then go through to the private area. They didn’t always give interviews, sometimes they went straight to their dressing rooms and then to the inner sanctum of the rest area set aside for them but the media always waited, always hoped.

“Excuse me, aren’t you Ashley Westfall?”

The man who owned the smoky, masculine voice looked good, with dark hair cut short, deep brown eyes and a nicely filled-out t-shirt. She stood too close to see what he packed in his jeans without making it obvious where she was looking. Still, her first impression gave her a good start. His shirt held no tag, only an access sticker proclaiming his right to be there. “Who are you from?”

He frowned but his face cleared and he laughed. “Oh I see! No, I’m not with a paper or TV company or anything, I’m staff with one of the bands.” He frowned. “You look tired.”

Ashley blinked at the sudden concern. Not something she expected here, where the light wasn’t the best and most people only interested in what they could get for themselves. “Just a busy time. We’ve all worked hard.”

“Sure you have. I thought you were great.” Someone should bottle his smile. It could sell for a fortune.

Ashley felt better. “Thank you.”

Outside, Ryan howled the final lines of the last song of the night. Three encores here at Wembley to a house sold out within minutes of going on sale. “They’re better.”

He grimaced. “Good but I like the subtler stuff.”

Ashley blinked, surprised at his comment. Pure Wildfire wasn’t just a thrash rock band—Ryan’s lyrics and the careful construction of their numbers saw to that. They were plenty subtle. But she’d take her compliments when she could get them. “Thanks. We try. Paige and Fred want to take the band in a new direction with the new album. You might have read about it.” In the recent interview they’d given to one of the cable channels without her.

If she got the “new direction” tag in first, the press might assume it included her. She wanted to keep her place in the media until she decided what to do, to give her a platform to announce her own new direction. After being in the spotlight one way or another for most of her life, spin came like second nature to Ashley Westfall.

She was beginning to hate it. So much spin she couldn’t tell the real from the made-up. Except the music. That mattered. The way Corinne had bloomed since Splinter began to support her and help her go in the direction she wanted was nothing short of miraculous. It wasn’t Corinne’s fault Ashley didn’t have a direction, so she no longer begrudged her sister her place in the sun, although at one time she had resented it. She’d grown up plenty since then.

“Do you know where you’re playing next? I’d love to come and see you.” This guy sounded sincere.

Ashley narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was for real. “We’re supporting Pure Wildfire on the American leg of the tour so we won’t be doing any more gigs in the UK for a while.” By rights, the possibility of supporting Pure Wildfire should excite her but the thought of performing songs she no longer enjoyed for the long American tour ahead did nothing but depress her.

“A shame.”

Holy mother of God, she must be slipping because she actually believed him. “Well, it was good meeting you, er—”

“Will. Will Thomas. Good meeting you too. You’ve made my evening.”

Well that was—nice. Someone bumped her from behind, shoving her forward. Ashley tipped forward. Right into Will’s arms.

She couldn’t deny it felt good with his arms around her. Will felt strong and ready—wow, was he ready. His erection burned into her thigh but only for the short time it took him to restore her to her feet and stand back. His face flushed hotly. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He must have realized she’d noticed.

She considered him a little closer. At one time she’d been all about the quick fuck but now she limited her sexual encounters, after waking up one too many mornings in a bed she couldn’t remember getting into. Sober and clean. What a life. But she’d promised Chris Keys she’d sort herself out, and to be honest, to think clearly for the first time in years felt good.

So she decided to hang on to Will for a little while yet. “It’s getting a bit hectic in here. The band will come through in a minute, so I’m moving on. You want to come?”

“Sure.”

The next door led to the section where some lucky fans would manage to get through and the business people—promoters, managers, agents and so forth. They needed a place to wind down after the performance where they didn’t have to watch everything they said, so journalists couldn’t follow her here. Two rooms, one for the support bands and the inner sanctum, where Pure Wildfire would go after their press conference. Personal guests only, but since Ashley was the sister of one of the band members, that included her.

Ashley let Will touch her, put his hand in the small of her back in a protective gesture she liked. “Are you sure you’re not a journalist?”

“No, I promise. I got my pass because I’m with Kick Me One More Time.” The support band who’d gone on first, garnering even less interest than the Celtic Chicks had but unlike the Chicks, they were young and fresh, at the start of a promising career.

When they got to the door, she turned and smiled and—what the hell—stretched up to kiss him on the cheek. A flash went off but she took no notice. “Thanks.”

Then she reached in her pocket for her Access All Areas pass.

“Shit.” It had gone.

Will stared at her with concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“My pass—it’s gone.” She could call Paige on her mobile, except the engineers didn’t like them to keep them on during performances but she’d bet Paige had ignored it, the way she ignored most advice, good and bad. It came from years of being under their father’s thumb and Paige, being the most extroverted twin, had it worse. Now she wouldn’t listen to anybody. Least of all their father but he still controlled them. Managed them. When he could be bothered.

The guy at the door stared at them. Security staff provided by the arena for this venue. She gave him a weak smile. “I’ve lost my pass. I’m Ashley Westfall.”

The man glared at her, his disbelief obvious in the way he had his arms folded over his massive chest. “Yeah? Prove it. Girls’ll try anything to get through here.”

In the old days, all you had to do was flash your tits and they’d let you through. Now, with four out of five members of the band happily married, they were more restrictive. Chris Keys, the only single and non-monogamous band member left, could only handle so many women a night, even with his legendary sexual capacity.

Ashley shrugged and turned away. A surge of noise behind them told her Pure Wildfire was entering the pressroom. Ashley wanted out of there. She’d seen their performance here before, all sweaty and sexy, fresh from the gig and buzzing with excitement. She didn’t need any more reminders of her inadequacy as a player or a personality. In the last year she’d lost all interest in it. That, she realized suddenly, was her problem. She didn’t want to do it anymore. Any of it, new direction or not.

“Hey, we’ll use mine, okay?”

Under her suspicious gaze, Will produced one of the coveted passes. It wasn’t an AAA pass but it got them into the next room, where the support bands and their staff hung out.

Waking to the heart of her problem lightened her spirit. She smiled at Will. “Yes, okay.”

He grinned. “I’ll tell you in confidence what I do. I’m a financial adviser, working with Kick Me One More Time.” His grin widened. “Even rockers need to manage their money. Not that they’d admit it. If I hadn’t recognized you I would have told you I was a roadie or something. They don’t want people to know they’re taking sensible financial advice.”

Ashley giggled. They had a financial adviser of their own but they’d never made any secret of it. To hide it showed sense though. And her father, John Westfall, managed Kick Me One More Time too. She’d bet he told them to get themselves sorted out financially. John’s large portfolio of bands and his new TV career didn’t leave him much time to give his acts much personal support but he usually got to see them at contract time.

He showed the man his pass and he reluctantly let them through, eyeing Ashley suspiciously as they walked past.

The sound lessened with their entrance but not by much. Here a party was in full swing and Ashley knew she’d be okay here. She owed Will so she’d pay him back. “Thanks. There are people here who know me so I can get through the rest of the way. I’ll take you through to the other room in a while, if you want. Stick with me.” This time someone she knew enhanced the security at the far door. One of Randy Norwood’s assistants stood with the arena security guy, clipboard of guests in his hand. Randy was Pure Wildfire’s manager, protective of his clients and one of the best in the biz. Unlike John Westfall, he had few bands on his roster and he cared for them all personally. He was doubtless inside the first room with the band now.

“It’s a bit like the different layers of heaven,” Will commented.

“Or Dante’s Inferno,” Ashley added sourly. She saw Paige at the far end of the room, arm around her husband’s waist as much from unsteadiness as affection. Drunk already. Or something. The “or something” was becoming more erratic alarmingly quickly. It worried her. She liked Fred, she loved Paige and she wanted them out of that scene.

“Come on.” She grabbed Will’s hand and headed for the small crowd surrounding Paige and Fred.

Paige waved her glass at Ashley as she approached. “I wondered where you’d gone.”

Like hell she did. Fred was Paige’s only passion these days, together with the stimulants that kept her increasingly divorced from the real world, a passion Fred shared and encouraged. Not that she hadn’t tried at first. She’d joined them.

Until Chris Keys had talked sense into her. He was brutal in his explanation, sparing her nothing when he told her about the band’s descent into drugs and drink. That had been the main reason there was such a gap between Pure Wildfire’s first album and its second, interspersed with a live album hastily gathered from their early, amazing performances. The death of Ryan’s then love, Maria, sobered them all up for good and they’d gone into rehab and survived. Chris loved sex and joined in with Paige and Ashley sometimes but not the drugs, not any more.

For Paige, madly in love with both Fred and the drugs, it might be too late but Ashley drew back from the brink. She’d always be grateful to Chris for taking the time to talk to her then. Not that he regarded her as anything more than a toy he wanted to keep healthy and happy. She played with Chris sometimes and until last year, Jake too, always with Paige as the main instigator. She’d missed her sister’s companionship. Perhaps one day she’d get it back. She had to keep them sweet, because if Paige decided to turn her back on her one connection with sanity, then Ashley would lose Paige and Fred with her. So she’d play bed games, drink with them, but not to the excesses of times gone by, and refuse the drugs.

Now Paige’s smile broadened when she saw Will. “Hi. Are you a new friend?”

“No. He’s on staff with the other band. I don’t know if he’s into our games—you’ll have to ask him.”

Fred was staring at Will too, then his tongue came out to moisten his full lips. “Yeah. Sounds good to me.” While Paige and Ashley didn’t interact with each other in bed, much as their lovers asked them to, they didn’t object to sharing a lover. Will wasn’t even that. Not yet. And Fred wasn’t fussy what sex his bed partners were. He’d had Paige and Ashley and Chris Keys as well as most of his own band before he joined the Chicks.

A swell of noise from the other room alerted her to the band coming through. She turned to watch.

Sweaty, towels around their necks like runners after a marathon, the men naked from the waist up, Pure Wildfire entered the second room to a wild storm of applause. Ryan lifted one eyebrow at his brother Aidan, who, hand in hand with his wife, grinned broadly as if they’d spoken. Telepathy again, Ashley would bet on it.

Jake and Chris nodded at Paige and Ashley and she felt a faint touch to her mind, difficult to describe but as if someone brushed their consciousness against hers. She had the feeling a lot around Chris and put it down to some kind of simpatico, because she wasn’t telepathic. It was pleasant to see him cross the room to her.

Ignoring everyone else for now, he slipped his arm around her waist and bent to kiss her cheek. At six foot four there weren’t many people Chris didn’t have to bend to but she was almost a foot shorter than him, so he had to dip considerably. Then Paige presented her heavily made-up cheek for him and he pecked it. Unlike Ashley, Paige hadn’t removed her stage makeup, although she wore a Goth outfit instead of the gown she’d worn as a Celtic Chick. Even the “medieval gown” was veering wildly away from anything a medieval lady would have recognized, the beginning of the “new direction”.

Chris kept his arm around her waist. “Want to come through? I bet you’re hungry and I ordered some of your favorite sandwiches.” Typical of Chris to remember her unreasonable passion for prawn salad sandwiches without mayonnaise. And he’d ordered them so they’d be under wraps, waiting for him—or rather, her. Ashley hadn’t realized she was hungry before but her stomach growled at the mention of food.

Only then did Chris notice Will, standing silently by her side. Most men would have faded away confronted by over six feet of powerful, virile male but Will did not. He glared instead.

“So who’s your friend?” Chris sounded relaxed but an edge in his voice warned Ashley he might not be altogether casual.

“Will Thomas.” She stretched up to whisper, “A financial adviser.”

Chris laughed. “What, here?” His voice rumbled through the room and several people turned their heads and smiled. “Wanna come through?”

Will blinked. “Sure.”

“Any friend of Ashley…” Chris said, turning, his arm still firmly around her waist.

Paige and Fred followed them and passed through. Nobody denied the right of Corinne’s sisters to move into the other room. Chris murmured to the men at the door, who nodded and let Will through too.

The applause startled her until she realized it was for Chris. It had been a long time since anyone spontaneously applauded her or Paige, if at all. With a father like theirs, the early attention they’d received was probably bought and paid for.

Chris hugged her as if he could hear her melancholy thoughts. “Come and eat. You girls worry me. You don’t eat nearly enough.” He led her to the table at the far end and watched an assistant as he pulled out a container of sandwiches from under the table and unsnapped the cover. Then the man opened a couple of bottles of German lager, the kind Chris liked. Nobody, even in the relative safety of this room, ate or drank anything they hadn’t seen opened for themselves, if they had any sense.

Ashley picked out a sandwich and examined it, lifting the brown bread to see the contents. “No mayonnaise.” She tucked in, content for the first time today.

Chris nuzzled her ear, taking the opportunity to murmur to her. “What’s up, babe? I don’t have to be a mind reader to know you’re not happy. Is this guy bothering you?”

“Sometimes I think you are a mind reader.” She couldn’t resist the tease.

He took a sharp breath. “It’s in every line of your body. No, don’t stop eating.”

She picked up another sandwich. The lettuce was crisp, the prawns dewy fresh and the bread wasn’t soggy. Perfect. She took another bite, chewed and swallowed before she answered him, taking the time to think about her answer. “Just one of those days, I guess.”

He stared at her, his brown eyes revealing his disbelief. “On the day of a performance? Is it because it’s your last for a while?”

“Perhaps ever. And what really bothers me is that it doesn’t bother me.”

He hugged her once more before letting her go. “Okay, not the time or place. And I’m exhausted. Come and play tonight and we’ll talk later. Can you stay?”

Chapter Two

Now it was Ashley’s turn to hold her breath. She had never stayed the night with him. Come to think of it, she’d never been alone with him. Chris, ever greedy and gregarious, liked to share his bed with as many people as could fit into it. And he usually preferred a big bed. Few people ever gained the sanctum of his apartment and Ashley hadn’t yet had the privilege. Chris hired suites in hotels or went to other people’s places for his R&R. So now she tried to sound laid-back, just in case he didn’t mean it. “Yeah, thanks.”

Jake, Chris’ brother, and until recently another bedmate, approached them. He bent to brush his lips against her cheek. “Hi, Ashley.” She smiled up at him. Last year Jake had found the love of his life, at least he said so, and from the way he gazed at Teri when he thought nobody was looking, Ashley knew it for the unvarnished truth.

Teri stood next to Jake, watching her warily. Ashley couldn’t blame her. Jake had been in bed with her and Paige when he’d got the news about Teri’s partner’s death and hot-footed it to Springwater, Texas.

Teri’s hair feathered over her cheeks in a clever new style. In an effort to break the ice, Ashley gave her a sincere compliment. “Good hair, Teri. It suits you.”

Teri gave her a smile. “Thanks. Jake got me in at Steven Dorinda’s.”

Ashley gave a low whistle. “I had to wait six months for an appointment like most other mortals, but Jake persuaded him to take you just like that?”

Jake exchanged a smile with his wife. “He’s a friend.”

Ashley tried not to be jealous. Teri was a bit quiet but it was clear she adored Jake and she was nobody’s pushover. She never tried to hide her love for him. A shame they didn’t share. Jake had been a phenomenal lover. But Ashley never got in the way of true love. That way lay hurt for everyone concerned. And she’d learned the hard way.

She gave Jake a wholly open and sincere smile, happy for him. She’d never seen him glow so much. Ryan glowed too, with his wife Gina firmly tucked under his arm, her arm circling his waist. This party wouldn’t last much longer. They’d want to go home soon and be with each other. Ashley tried not to think wistful thoughts.

Chris’ sinfully deep Texan voice sounded in her ear again. “Hey, baby, you’ve still got me.”

“So I have.” For now. It wouldn’t be long before Chris got himself a woman to love but it wouldn’t be her. Like Jake, he’d find a fresh, sweet woman of his own, not used goods like her. It didn’t do any good to tell herself she didn’t care, she’d go her own way, because she did. The happiness the members of Pure Wildfire had with their partners gave her a glimpse of something she’d probably never find for herself.

“It’s dead here,” Paige commented. “We should go and party somewhere else. How about our place? The cleaner visited today, so it’s pretty decent and she refills the fridge too if we slip her a good tip, so there’ll be something to eat.”

“Sounds good,” Chris rumbled and Ashley’s heart sank. She wanted him to herself tonight, not another marathon session with Paige and Fred. But when he was relatively sober, Fred was inventive and good. And fun.

“Okay.” She recalled the man she’d brought here. “I need to talk to somebody, then I’ll be right back.”

Glancing back on her walk across the room, she saw Chris watching her and unaccountably her heart warmed. He’d shoved another sandwich into her hand before she’d left him to find Will and she munched it as she walked. She hadn’t drunk one glass of wine or anything else alcoholic tonight. Although drinking was never a problem—she could always find her mouth—sometimes she drank too much. She should cut down a bit more. At five foot four and just over a hundred pounds, she could hardly keep up with the much taller and heavier Pure Wildfire drummer, although she’d tried a time or two. Without her realizing it, Chris had become her friend and she’d had precious few of those in her life.

Remembering, she smiled sunnily at Will. “We’re going to split soon and go home but I didn’t want you to think I’d run out on you.”

“Are you with him?” Will indicated Chris with a jerk of his chin.

“Oh you mean…” She laughed. “No. I know it sounds cheesy but we’re just good friends.”

He laughed too, the ice created by her announcement broken. “Well, it’s good of you to tell me. I’ve enjoyed tonight. The band is insane onstage and to see them afterward like this is a revelation. They appear almost normal.” He took a sharp breath. “I’d like to see you again. Is there any chance I can take you out to dinner or something?”

“Yes, I’d like that.” She fumbled in her jeans pocket and found a business card to hand over. “Sorry it’s a bit crumpled but it’s got my cell phone number on it.”

“Thanks.” He gave her a card from a little metal case that looked custom-made. Efficient and businesslike. “This is the one with all my numbers on it, home and work.” Immediately Ashley felt sorry she’d given him her “other” card, the one with the cell phone she used with everyone, not the private phone. But she wasn’t as popular as she used to be, so she hardly needed it anymore.

“Call me, okay?” She favored him with another broad smile before she went back to where Chris waited.

He dragged her to his side and waved at his band mates, the ones still there, because Aidan and Corinne had already slipped away.

They left with Paige and Fred and then it was Ashley’s turn to wait while Chris signed autographs and chatted with the fans. To her mild surprise, she had some autographs to sign too.

They piled into Chris’ SUV and he got behind the wheel. Ashley ended next to him while Paige and Fred sprawled on the backseat, already making out. Chris glanced at her and rolled his eyes, forcing a laugh from her. He drove to Paige and Fred’s new apartment in the Barbican, a building noted for its hideousness. Fred had a parking space but since he was currently banned after yet another speeding conviction and didn’t have a car, Chris used it.

He opened the back door of the car and grabbed Fred by the back of his collar, dragging him off his wife. Fred giggled and hauled Paige out too. She tore the hem of her shirt on the way out but she only laughed and grabbed hold of Chris. So Fred grabbed Ashley.

It took a good ten minutes to get inside the apartment. Ashley stopped Fred kissing her, not because she was averse to it but because good CCTV pictures had a market. Now that Paige had her enhanced boobs and new hairstyle, they couldn’t even substitute for each other, like the old days.

Paige and Fred’s apartment was spacious and beautifully clean, thanks to a cleaning woman who must approach sainthood. Paige had never been one for putting down roots, and anyway, she and Ashley kept their old rooms in the family home in Surrey, in the mansion containing their father’s recording studios and offices. It said a lot for John Westfall’s concerns that he hadn’t bothered to come to the concert tonight. He could have made much more promoting his two bands performing there tonight than he had.

Not that Ashley cared. He’d never been much of a father, always a manager. Even when Tom Albright had dumped Corinne for Ashley, John hadn’t shown any interest. He’d used Tom as a pawn to keep them in line, Ashley realized now. When Tom disappeared out of their lives he’d not left a trace behind him. Idly she wondered what had happened to him and decided she didn’t care. Tom had helped her father bug their apartments, the main reason they’d decided to move out. Bastard.

She hugged Fred, who was at least friendly and easy. Fred wanted drugs, Paige, fame and riches, probably in that order. It was good to know where she stood with him. Since she and Paige had often shared their lovers, Fred didn’t seem any different at first, despite Paige marrying him. But they did love each other, and sometimes Ashley felt isolated, even when sharing a bed with them. But tonight Chris added spice and someone for her to cuddle when she fell asleep. Almost like having someone of her own.

Fred wanted to stop at the bar but Ashley knew from experience that if he did, he’d crash on the floor and nobody would get any action tonight. So she hauled him toward the bedroom where, finally, Fred got the idea and turned her into his body for a full-bodied, wet kiss.

She melted against him and let him tug at her t-shirt. His recent shave made his cheek enticingly soft when she lifted her hand to stroke along it to his ear.

She pulled away long enough to pull her shirt over her head, and as she did so, Fred unclipped the front fastening of her bra. Not too wasted then. Immediately he buried his head in her cleavage and licked his way to her nipple. Ashley let her head fall back against the door and enjoyed Fred’s attentions. She lifted her hand, then dropped it when she saw his hair, the short spikes stiff with gel. A shame, she liked to touch a man’s hair. But he had an extremely talented tongue. It worked around her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth.

He kept his hands busy too, stripping off her jeans and panties. Her chain belt fell heavily to the floor and she sighed happily when Fred wasted no time but pushed his hand between her thighs. He worked her legs open, which was a bit difficult since he hadn’t taken the time to remove her shoes, so she was trapped in the tangle of jeans and panties around her ankles. But they managed it and Fred reached her damp slit and tweaked her clit in welcome.

Ashley let her head fall to one side to meet the burning gaze of Chris Keys, unabashedly enjoying the show she and Fred were putting on. Usually Chris would wink or smile but he seemed too engrossed. His hand rested on Paige’s plump breast and he was casually tweaking her nipple but his attention remained on Ashley.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about it but with Paige’s husband making himself free of her body, she wasn’t in a position to assess the sudden pang of—jealousy?—that the sight brought her.

Jealousy seemed entirely wrong for this situation. Easing away from Fred, she kicked off her shoes and the rest of her clothes and headed for the rumpled bed in the center of the room. Some fashionable interior designer designed the apartment in the spare style currently in vogue. The bedroom was designed to be uncluttered, with a king-sized bed with built-in nightstands, lightwood paneled floor and sleek closets but this room had to be the untidiest minimalist interior in London. Clothes lay strewn across the floor and the door to the closet lay open, revealing further disarray within. The ceiling was one big mirror, slightly distorted so the occupants of the bed could wonder if their eyes had gone funny when they opened them in the morning.

Ashley managed to fall on the bed with Fred on top of her, licking down her body. Ashley hummed with pleasure and opened her legs properly for him.

Fred loved going down on women. When the media wondered why this skinny, average-looking musician drew so many women, his girlfriends exchanged amused smiles because they all knew. A man who adored the taste of a woman was a treasure, whatever his appearance, and Fred wasn’t bad-looking either.

When Ashley flung out her hand, she found it taken and gripped hard. She knew it wasn’t Paige, the hand was much too large for that. Somehow the gesture seemed more intimate than Fred’s talented sucking, even though Chris was keeping Paige happy. She watched them and enjoyed the sight of Chris’ big, strong body as he kissed Paige and lifted her over him to his already condom-clad cock. Paige squealed girlishly when Chris pushed deep into her and lifted his unencumbered hand to her waist to steady her.

Ashley’s first spike of orgasm came fast and high, driving her shoulders into the bed and her head back. Chris turned his head to watch her and moved closer for a kiss.

He drank Ashley’s orgasm, not letting her get away from his questing tongue. Down below, Fred drove his tongue into her pussy to lap her juices, groaning against her sensitive flesh. He was the only person on the bed still wearing clothes but his jeans rode so low on his hips it wouldn’t be long before he joined them.

She shrieked but not as much as Paige, riding Chris hard and fast. He held himself steady for her, pushed up, his teeth baring in a feral smile as Paige slid up and down his hard cock.

Ashley opened her legs a little more so Fred could get to every part of her. His tongue slid to her perineum, then her anus. She widened her legs and came into contact with Chris’ flesh.

A sudden slash of heat on the outside of her upper thigh brought Ashley back to reality and she glanced down.

High up on Chris’ thigh lay a mark, like a tattoo of a small bird, the most beautiful tattoo she’d ever seen, and that was where the heat came from. Glowing in hot shades, from gold to crimson, every feather was crystal clear and carefully delineated. For an instant in time, divorced from what was happening around her, Ashley stared at it, transfixed.

Then Paige lifted her thigh and covered the mark, not seeming to notice its heat. Ashley’s head jerked up when Chris touched her hand and she met his eyes. Mutely, he shook his head. Don’t say anything. She got the message but she wanted to see the little bird again. When Paige moved again the bird was gone and Fred was setting her on fire all over again.

Ashley had no more time to think. Fred moved up to her, lips glistening with her juices, and sat up to grab a condom off the nightstand before slapping it into her hand.

“Watch me, baby,” he said and he wasn’t talking to her. Wide-eyed, Paige flicked her hair back from her face and stared at her husband. Sheathed by Ashley’s expert hand, he hovered over her, his cock grazing her pussy. Paige watched avidly, her eyes unnaturally wide, the effects of whatever she’d taken that evening.

Then Fred entered her and Ashley didn’t worry about anything for a while. She loved sex, adored it and rarely went long without it. Fred plunged deep and pulled out to plunge again. Although his cock was barely average in size, he made up for it with enthusiasm and technique, and sure enough, he paused and shifted slightly so he could hit the spot when he reentered her. Better. Oh yes, much better.

Ashley moaned and let go. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the sensations simmering through her body. Warmth, togetherness and companionship as well as sheer physical sensation drove her higher, faster and she cried out at her point of orgasm.

Dimly she heard Paige’s shriek of fulfillment and the thought meandered through her mind—why couldn’t Paige reach a note like that onstage? Pure and clear, it echoed through the suddenly hushed room. Fred lay over her, panting, her breaths matching his. Chris remained quiet, still watching her. Paige lifted off him.

Chris was still erect. When Ashley lifted her hand to him, he took it and shook his head slightly. “It’s okay.”

The men she and Paige slept with tended to prefer them totally alike, so they could fantasize about twins. However much they asked, Paige and Ashley didn’t do each other, because it turned neither of them on. Incest wasn’t high on their list of things to do. Neither twin had ever been into providing titillation to others at the expense of their own enjoyment and the one time they’d discussed it, they’d had exactly the same response. Shudders of revulsion.

Now they’d made the twin fantasy even more remote. Paige wore her hair long and blonde, with extensions twisted into dreadlocks. Ashley kept her naturally dark hair long but straight. Paige’s recent boob job made her shape totally different than her sister’s and Paige had tattoos where Ashley had none. So much for the twin fantasy.

Now that Paige was married and the twins spent less time together outside work, they were developing differently. But Ashley deliberately kept close, terrified for her sister because of her drug habit and unable to do anything about it. But one day she would, and she knew that if Paige ever overdosed, if she could, she’d call Ashley. If Ashley let them drift apart, she wouldn’t be able to do anything for Paige, or for Fred for that matter. She liked Fred, but he was too easily led, too eager to try the newest drug, the next experience. With any luck they’d wise up before it was too late. And she’d be there for them.

Paige, spent, fell on to the sheets by Chris’ side. She lifted up on one elbow and grinned at her sister. “You want a turn?”

Ashley glanced at Chris who raised a brow. “Do I get any say on this? After all, it’s my dick.”

Paige and Fred laughed as if he’d made a joke. But Ashley didn’t.

“Hey.” Chris moved toward her but a sound from Paige stopped him.

Paige threw up. At least she had the decency to turn her head away but she gave no warning and if Chris hadn’t moved quickly, she would have decorated him too. He leaped off the bed at the bottom and headed for the bathroom, allowing Ashley to slide across to her sister.

Who turned, a gleam in her eye. “Well, aren’t you going to do him?”

Fred, at her other side, lay still, his dark eyes unreadable. But he was erect and it didn’t subside at the sight of his wife, vomit decorating the ends of her hair extensions, her mouth glistening with its remains.

Ashley ignored her roiling stomach. “Paige, are you okay?”

“Sure, I must have eaten something that didn’t sit right with the smack.”

Chris, in the process of returning to Paige, glass of water and towel in hand, stopped. “You took heroin tonight?”

Paige grinned at him.

Chris’ dark stare turned somber. “Where?”

She lifted her arm.

“That’s not what I meant. Where did you take it?”

“At Wembley just before we went onstage. It makes the performance go better, you know?”

At last, Fred climbed off the bed. “We got another bedroom. Go and wash up, baby, and we’ll move into the other room. The cleaner can take care of this mess.”

The cleaner came once a week and she’d visited that day. They’d leave the mess for a week? They couldn’t be thinking straight. They’d surely clear it up tomorrow. But Ashley knew they wouldn’t. Her stomach roiled, but she fought it down.

For the first time deep down in her heart Ashley saw her sister as she really was—an addict, hopelessly hooked on drugs and alcohol. Paige must have drunk a bottle or two of wine while Ashley watched Pure Wildfire at the front of house. All on top of the heroin and God knew what else she’d taken before the Chicks took to the stage. It could be that Paige was too far gone for her to help.

Her stomach lurched again and she scrambled away from Paige to grab her panties. At least she’d left them on the other side of the bed.

Chris glared at Ashley and instead of feeling naked and sexy, she felt open and raw. Ashamed. “Did you know about this? That Paige brought drugs backstage? You know Pure Wildfire’s policy. We don’t allow drugs backstage.”

The band never compromised on it. No drugs backstage, imposed when the band was fresh out of rehab and still vulnerable. Ashley suspected the band’s manager, Randy Norwood, continued the ban because it made his bands work harder. Certainly they were more together these days. They couldn’t have reached the heights they did if they’d still been strung out, at least not for long.

Paige would be another shooting star if she wasn’t careful. Flying high, falling hard. Already moving away from their classical and folk roots into gadgety pop, she’d have success but not for long. When she started to fail, she’d fall harder.

So now Ashley answered Chris truthfully. “No, I swear. I don’t touch the hard stuff anymore and I didn’t know Paige had.”

Chris glanced at her, his face set in stone, and something brushed her mind. Before she could come to grips with the strange presence he snapped, “Get dressed. I’ll take you home.”

Glad of an excuse to dress, Ashley reached for her clothes and dressed in silence. Chris grabbed his jeans. “You’re finished as Pure Wildfire’s support band. I’ll talk to Randy tomorrow. It’s the one rule we never break.”

“You’re not serious!” Fred grabbed Chris’ arm. “I’ll stop her from doing it again. No more drugs backstage.”

“Look, man.” Chris kept his head down and climbed into his boxers and jeans. “We don’t say what you can and can’t do in your spare time. She could have taken the stuff before she got to the gig. She could have risked going outside or out front. Not backstage. We don’t do it. If word got out, dealers would swamp us again and we’re not going back there. Been there, done that, not interested anymore. And anyway, you need some time to get your act together. You’re no good as a folk band, your classical stuff stinks and you might just have new stuff you can use but you need rehearsal time to get it working. You were all over the place tonight. They had you blasting on the speakers backstage and it was painful. But you can do it, man, you’ve got the talent, just back off the drugs and drink for a while and rehearse.”

This decision meant the Celtic Chicks weren’t going to the American stage of the tour with the band. The band was finished if this got out. In the old days their father would have worked his magic, spoken to the press, persuaded Pure Wildfire to reconsider, probably spun the story to make them look good if he couldn’t change their minds. These days he was too busy crossing and recrossing the Atlantic, giving no-hopers airtime on his TV program, to worry about his has-been daughters.

A has-been. At twenty-five she was a has-been.

So why did Ashley feel so relieved?

Chris spared her a glance. “Coming?”

Ashley nodded. In a choice between a threesome with her sister and her husband, knowing about the mess in this room, knowing they were out of it or going home to her tasteful, impersonal flat in Kensington, she’d take the flat every time.

At least it was clean. “Yes. Go and shower, Paige.”

Paige was sitting up, wide-eyed and smiling, although her eyes were glazed and the smile a bit slack. She wouldn’t die tonight.

Even if she is, there isn’t much you can do about it.

She jerked around to face Chris. Had he spoken? He might have done so, although nobody else responded to it and in any case she hadn’t spoken her thoughts aloud. Or had she? Was she losing it? Or did the telepathy she knew Corinne and Aidan shared extend further than she’d thought?

Chris held out his hand to her and Ashley made up her mind. She took it and let him lead her out of the room and the flat. They’d even left the front door open. Anyone could have come in. She clicked down the lock before she pulled it shut behind them.

Chapter Three

Chris simmered with rage as he drove through the night, not sure why he felt so angry except he’d allowed them to draw him into a scene he didn’t really want to join. Tired and energized at the same time, he hadn’t known what to do with himself after the concert and preferred to wind down with somebody else rather than do it on his own.

He loved to perform. Coming offstage was always a letdown for Chris Keys. Nothing compared to the pounding, driving energy that came in waves from thousands of people, all of whom paid a considerable amount of money just to see and hear Pure Wildfire.

His brother Jake got off on the studio sessions and working with him to create new bass lines and rhythm patterns, but Chris loved performing live best. Loved it. Sometimes he sat in with other bands, just for the buzz.

And always he had to face the sinking feeling when it was all over and he left the stage, excitement still pounding in his veins. He needed it like a vampire needed blood.

So he got himself into scenes like this just to get rid of the adrenaline. Ashley and Paige were always around, never demanding more than he wanted to give or trying to take his secrets or his money. And safe, for him anyway. They didn’t know it but he couldn’t catch diseases from them or at least one shape-shift would put paid to anything nasty.

“I should have stayed.” The voice, so quiet, reminded him he wasn’t alone.

He glanced at Ashley, then took a left and a right. “No you shouldn’t. You couldn’t do anything.”

“But she’s my sister.”

He slowed a little. He shouldn’t drive through London at this speed anyway. “So what? What has she done for you lately? Are you going to be a doormat all your life, Ashley?”

“What?” Her eyes sparkled and Chris had to force himself to keep his attention on the road. That sparkle was too tempting. “I’ve never been a doormat!”

“What do you call it then? You’re letting them take their drugs and drink without saying anything!”

“That’s why I’m still here. The drugs. I love my sister and I like Fred. I keep hoping they’ll come around before it kills them. You did it for me. I tried to do it for them, talk to them, but they’re never straight enough to reason with. One day they will be and I’ll be there.”

His lips tightened. “And what about the band? You’re letting Paige and Fred change the direction of the band without raising a whimper.”

Her sigh stirred the air between them. “Because I don’t care. I’m leaving the band. I never wanted my life to go this way and I won’t do it.”

He came to a decision and took a left, heading back the way he came. “Maybe but you can’t just drift.”

“Can’t I?” She sighed again. “It sounds so good.”

Her tiredness beat at him. “Close your eyes, get some rest.”

He slipped into her mind and soothed her to sleep, disturbed at what he found there. Ashley was exhausted, desperately worried about Paige and about her life’s choices. He drove in silence, his turbulent mood settling as he concentrated on her.

She’d gone along with her father’s management, learned the music he wanted her to but he’d pushed her hard since she was a child, probably giving her no time to think for herself. Now his control had relaxed in favor of his new TV venture, Ashley was probably only just beginning to understand what he’d done to her. She needed a friend and he suspected he was the only one she had.

Not much of a friend. A different species than her, much older, different nationality, someone who took her to bed from time to time but didn’t much care about her in between. He hadn’t even trusted her enough to take her home, preferring to rent hotel rooms for sex. And she’d gone along with it. His bad, not hers.

What did that say about the way Ashley had grown up? Exploited by their father for their fame, the way he’d used Corinne before she’d met Aidan. But Corinne had a true talent, one that easily survived her father’s machinations.

Ashley didn’t. She sang fairly well, her voice trained and honed, what there was of it, she played the keyboard okay but nothing stood out about her to the music-buying public. Without clever marketing she’d disappear in the morass of new acts and gimmicks emerging every year.

Now she wanted to. As the traffic thinned a little he relaxed behind the wheel and by the time they reached his apartment, the night was more than half over. Chris couldn’t sense the sun like a vampire but by his tiredness he knew it must be around four a.m. with dawn maybe three hours away. He checked the clock on the dashboard. Almost spot-on. In the old drug-taking days he wouldn’t have known what day it was. He liked this time of day, when night still held sway and the atmosphere felt cool and calm, as if it was taking a breath before starting over.

He found the gadget to open his garage door, pressed the button and drove inside, braking as softly as he could so as not to jar Ashley before he switched off the engine and got out of the car.

The chill of the night hit him through the unheated garage and goose bumps rose on his skin. He shivered and looked around for a blanket for her. He was sure he had one somewhere. Yes. He grabbed the tartan traveling blanket from a shelf in the corner and turned to get her out of the car. He’d put her to sleep in his bed and use the spare room for himself. His bed had an electric blanket but the guest bed didn’t. Firebirds felt the cold.

He opened the car door before he saw her eyes were open. She blinked. “Where am I?”

“My place.”

Her eyes opened a bit wider. “You don’t take anyone home with you.”

It was true. Only the other members of the band and a few trusted people set foot in his apartment. Ashley and Paige Westfall had never set foot in it before. But tonight he didn’t want to spend the night in her cramped Kensington flat. And he didn’t want to leave her alone. Not tonight.

“I’m making an exception.” He reached for her but instead of going into his arms, she used his forearms as balance while she descended from the high SUV. He gazed down at her before throwing the blanket around her shoulders. “It won’t be warm inside. I keep the heating off at night but I can put it back on for you. Can you bear it?”

Ashley laughed but it sounded strained. “I’m English, what do you think? You Texans have thin blood. You should take this.” She made to push the blanket off but he wrapped it more securely around her. She looked cute wrapped in the garish red and green wool.

“Come on.” He led the way to the small door at the back that led to the main part of the building.

Chris lived in a converted warehouse in what used to be the main hub of London’s docks but what was now a fashionable residential area. The apartment had cost him more than he liked to think about but he loved the view over the Thames and the cool light the big windows let into the large rooms. When he bought the place it was decorated in neutral shades but he’d changed much of it in the six years he’d been here and made it all his.

He thought about calling the elevator but led the way up the stairs instead, making sure Ashley was keeping up with him. Her feet dragged a little and he knew she didn’t think he’d noticed. But he did.

“Here we are.” He opened the door. He had keys, as well as the panel he pressed his thumb over before he pushed the key in the lock. His mental barriers were easy for him to undo and he did it almost without thinking. They would have given any unwelcome intruder more trouble than the panel or the lock, feeding them a strong urge to get away fast. He didn’t want Ashley to pick that up.

Once inside, he took a deep breath. He always did that and he wasn’t sure why, except here something inside him relaxed. Probably another reason he never invited many people here.

Chris wasn’t even sure Ashley would notice but when he flipped the light on and headed for the panel that held his heating unit, he heard her gasp.

“Wow. This isn’t real, is it?”

He stood at the other end of the ten-foot work of art decorating his hallway. “Yep.”

She stepped forward, gazing at the painting as she walked slowly toward him. “It’s so beautiful.” She never took her eyes off the painting once and he watched her gaze move over the trails of dripped and trailed paint. “I love these. The continuity and the way he took from Arabian Moorish traditions and gave them a new look.”

He linked his hand with hers. “Yes,” he said more firmly. He didn’t tell her he’d bought the painting while it was still wet. He loved the work, the artist a little less and his smoking habit had made Chris choke but he couldn’t have left the studio without it. “I was lucky. I got it from a private collector for a very good price.”

“Pollocks that size cost a fortune.” At last she took her attention away from the painting. When she glanced at him he recognized a spark that hadn’t been there before. “I didn’t know you liked art. I mean, I heard you collected but—well—many rock stars collect all kinds of things. Just for the kick. But this—you live with this. It means something to you.”

“Well—” He wasn’t sure what to make of the rock star comment. “Yes, I do. But I don’t tell many people.”

“So that’s why the security outside is so tough?”

He grinned. “Yes.” Her eyes sparkled again, in the way he’d missed all evening. He had no idea she loved art. That showed how much he knew about her.

He took her hand again and led her into the living room. “It should warm up soon. I have to keep some residual heat in the house because of the art but I don’t like it hot at night.”

“Neither do I.”

“Really?” He found himself grinning. Something else they had in common. “Want to see the rest of the stuff?” He felt awkward, offering to show her his treasures, bought to live with and enjoy.

She loved “the stuff”. From the small medieval miniature glowing on the far wall to the exquisite Henry Moore on the plinth by the window, she loved them all. She lingered over every piece, asking before she touched, knowing when she shouldn’t touch something too valuable or fragile.

This could be dangerous. Far more so than the occasional friendly fuck.

Chris watched her and made coffee for them both, decaf by her request. At this point their connection had unnerved him, pushed his protective instinct into overdrive and if he hadn’t had the cream she wanted for her coffee he would have gone out and found some. Hunter-gatherer behavior that made him pause for a moment, but only for a moment.

Chris didn’t collect paintings and sculptures because they were fashionable, part of a décor scheme or for investments. He bought the work he loved. He’d tried to be an artist once, enjoyed splashing paint onto canvas, but he couldn’t do it to the standard he wanted. Something was missing, it was never as good as the image in his head. Not like his music. Usually he achieved what he went for.

So he’d become a collector instead of a painter and in the past, a patron, paying to make it possible for people with artistic gifts to follow their dreams. Some of them never made it but at least they’d had the chance.

This woman, a woman he was beginning to believe he’d never truly known before, admired his collection. This was only a small part of it. Since he didn’t believe in locking it away in bank vaults, Chris lent a lot of work to museums and art galleries. His accountant was delighted, since there were some useful tax breaks in lending art but Chris didn’t care about that. It wasn’t as if he needed more money.

He did care about the rapt expression in Ashley’s eyes as she gazed at the paintings and the similar feeling he got when he entered the forefront of her mind, the part he could enter without her knowing it.

Watching her, he didn’t want to interrupt her, wanted her to look her fill but she turned to him. “Chris, can I come back here, perhaps in daylight? I’m so tired I can’t do them proper justice.”

Her words convinced him. “Sure you can. But you’re not thinking of leaving tonight?”

She swallowed. “That depends.”

“On what?” Tension seized him when it shouldn’t. He’d already spent time in bed with Ashley tonight, so why should he be so anxious she join him now? But he had to be fair to her. He wouldn’t take her home unless she really wanted it but he didn’t want to force her into doing something she didn’t want. He’d seen how shocked Paige’s behavior had made her and guessed she needed a little time to come to terms with it. It didn’t stop him wanting her, with a rawness that shocked him. “I have a guest bedroom, if you want to use it. You’re welcome to stay.”

To his horror, tears filled her eyes but only one spilled over. It trickled slowly down her cheek and he watched its progress, mesmerized. “Oh Chris, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For getting you into the awful situation with Paige. I should go back to take care of her. Can you call me a taxi?”

He shook his head. “No.” He’d read Paige before they left and she wasn’t in danger of losing her life. Not tonight anyway. “She has a husband and a telephone. She’ll be okay. I swear.”

“How can you know?”

Their eyes met and he knew for sure something he’d suspected for a while. “You know how.”

Surely Corinne had told her sisters something about her new abilities? It seemed she had because awareness pricked at his mind. “I guessed some stuff and overheard things I shouldn’t but I haven’t told anyone. I know Corinne and Aidan speak to each other telepathically. I thought maybe Aidan and Ryan did it too. But the whole band is telepathic, isn’t it?”

He nodded, watching her carefully.

“That’s how you manage to communicate onstage and how Aidan and Corinne can play together so brilliantly. Is that true?” She didn’t wipe the tear away. It glistened at the edge of her jaw, tempting him to lick it off.

“Yes.”

“Why do you keep it a secret?”

Chris wondered what it was like in her world, where hidden organizations didn’t want them dead, where they didn’t have to hide half of what they were. “It’s a bad, wicked world, Ashley, where people curse anyone different to the norm. We have enemies, people who would want us dead if they knew what we were. They’ve tried to kill us before.”

Searching her mind, venturing a little deeper, he found nothing more than a knowledge of the telepathy. He couldn’t admit to anything else. Not that he was a firebird, a shape-shifter, part of a community extending worldwide. Revealing knowledge without explicit permission from a Guardian meant a death sentence.

“And you did that to Paige before we left? Read her mind?”

“I did. She’s okay. I stopped to check her heartbeat and her breathing.”

Ashley closed her eyes and sighed in relief. Chris watched the expression spread across her face, delicious in the way her muscles relaxed. When she opened her eyes, she snagged him. He couldn’t look away but remained trapped in her blue gaze. “She’s my sister. She’s gone the wrong way but I’m still there for her.” She dropped her gaze, avoiding the paintings and sculptures, staring at the highly polished wooden floor. “I did too. Went the wrong way, I mean. Tonight I began to realize just how much.”

When she lifted her gaze to him he was ready for her. Unable to resist any longer, he took the two steps separating them and folded his arms around her. She didn’t pull away. “I’ve done some dreadful things, Chris.”

He bent his head and kissed her before she could confess any more. Right now he didn’t want to know. He opened her lips with a flick of his tongue, thrusting it inside her mouth to taste her sweetness.

This felt like a first kiss. He’d kissed Ashley before, fucked her before but he hadn’t been aware of the woman. Now he took the time to explore her properly.

She tasted of warm, wet woman—his favorite flavor. She responded but not with the mindless passion of their other encounters, with a gentle giving that enchanted him. Chris was a product of a different time and sometimes he felt it strongly. This was one of those times. He badly wanted to seduce her, not just take her, and only if she wanted him to.

Her response seemed as lost as his. He reluctantly drew back and touched his lips to her cheek and her throat. “What perfume are you wearing?”

“I’m not sure. Wait—yes, it’s viens à moi.”

“It’s good on you. Adds a touch of spice to your sweetness.”

Horrified, he watched her eyes fill again but this time she smiled. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Oh yes? How about your fans?”

She chuckled this time, though it was a bit watery. “I mean somebody who knows me.”

“Do I? I’m beginning to wonder.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “Do you want to come to bed with me or would you rather get some sleep on your own?”

She stared up at him and he brushed away her tears before cupping her face in one large hand. “Tell me the truth, sweetheart. I won’t mind.” He would but she didn’t have to know he had the sudden need to take Ashley Westfall to bed and make love to her instead of fucking her senseless. “Do you want the guest room?”

Mutely she shook her head.

“You know I have etchings in my room?”

To his delight, she laughed. “Then you’ll have to show them to me, won’t you?”

Chapter Four

He slid an arm around her waist and led her toward the stairs. They took their time because he had small watercolors hung on the wall up the curving length. “I don’t think I can take much more beauty,” she murmured.

“I can,” he replied and he knew exactly what kind of beauty he had in mind.

Glowing lights illuminated the stairway, an open flight of wooden slabs set straight into the wall with seemingly no support. Ashley didn’t hesitate at their seeming precariousness but climbed up by his side, her attention held by the little paintings.

The bedroom lay over his study and kitchen. It was a large, airy room he usually preferred to leave open to the vista of the river beyond but tonight he didn’t want that. He wanted privacy, so he pressed the button by the door that closed the drapes. Here he kept his Old Masters, some of the paintings he loved but couldn’t find a place for anywhere else. Only he usually saw the inside of this room.

“Oh!” She made a beeline for the far wall and the medieval Annunciation, painted in glowing colors.

“Has to be North Italian, has to be fourteenth century, maybe early fifteenth. Tempera on panel.” She stared at the painting and he tracked the movement of her eyes, scanning it like a pro, top to bottom, edge, before she moved to one side to see how the light raked over it, displaying the brushwork. Only she wouldn’t see much. At this period the artists used such thin glazes, built up layer by layer, that brush-strokes ceased to be visible and the whole work glowed like light through stained glass. “Is this by the Master of Treviso?”

“It’s thought to be.”

She turned to him. “You think it is, you mean.”

Chris felt a flush rising to his cheeks and marveled at it. That hadn’t happened for a hundred years. “Yes, okay. I spotted it in an auction catalog and I knew I’d seen the style somewhere before. It was a bargain but I’ve since had it authenticated.” He gave a short laugh. “You know you’re wrecking my image here, don’t you?”

“You mean about rock musicians?”

Still smiling, he crossed the room to her. “No, about drummers in particular. How do you tell if the stage is level? The drummer is drooling from both sides of his mouth. What do you call a drummer who breaks up with his girlfriend? Homeless. What do you call a drummer with half a brain? Gifted.”

When he finished, she was laughing. “That’s better.” He took his opportunity to kiss her and reach down to snag her t-shirt and drag it over her head. “I’m thinking you might like a shower before we go to bed.”

Ashley had never imagined Chris Keys could be so considerate of her. Yes, she’d love a shower. Tired though she was, she wanted to rinse the experience at Paige’s flat off her body, get rid it before she went to bed with Chris.

Maybe his telepathy helped him understand but it didn’t explain his love of art. And he did love art. Her father was a collector but he collected pieces his financial advisers assured him were sound investments, went with his décor and were done by fashionable artists.

Chris didn’t do any of that. He loved his art. It didn’t match or go together to make a “designed” apartment, although he’d tried to place the pieces where they worked best, and his collection didn’t have a theme or a decoration scheme. The Pollock in his front hall took her breath away and then she’d seen the large living room with its beautiful Henry Moore. Chris loved art as much as she did.

Now she knew why he didn’t bring people here often and why he’d never thrown a party or allowed photographs. The official reason, that he liked his privacy, didn’t explain it adequately. This art wasn’t just beautiful, it was valuable. And Chris Keys lived in an intensely personal place. She couldn’t believe he’d brought her here, now that she’d seen it for herself.

Ashley didn’t fool herself. She was the unforgiven as far as Corinne was concerned, the woman who’d stolen her fiancé Tom, who’d trailed after Pure Wildfire for years, who hadn’t the talent to succeed on her own. Ashley assumed her sister had communicated it to the rest of the band. She’d slept with them all, except for Aidan, but now that Ryan and Jake were blissfully married, there was only Chris left. And her other men. Ashley was far from the pure maiden she appeared onstage. She’d given up on that a long time ago.

Here, in this lovely place, she felt cheap and sullied, not adventurous and liberated. So she turned away from Chris. “Maybe I should use the spare room after all.”

His hand on her shoulder stopped her. She didn’t want a fight, so she didn’t fling his hand away. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

A gentle movement in her mind told her he was there. He must have spotted her discomfort. “If you can read my mind, you know.” She wasn’t sure she liked this feeling although he felt incredibly warm and soft there.

“Don’t hold it against me.” Reluctantly she turned around to face him. He spread his hands in a gesture of apology. “It’s natural for me and my kind. I’ll try to stay out of your head if you want me to.” A tinge of sadness colored his words.

“Too late.”

“Yeah.” He lifted his hand to her upper arm. “Sorry. Ashley, I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t want you here. Once I saw your reaction to my collection, I knew I was right, although I originally meant to bring you here because I didn’t think you should be alone tonight.”

She sniffed. “I don’t cry much. Already you’ve got me close again.”

“Talk to me. If you want to,” he added hastily. “But I’m a friend and I know something about what you’re going through. Don’t cut yourself off, Ashley. I want to be with you. I don’t think you’re any of the things you think or no more than I am at any rate. Promiscuous? I can match that and probably double the number of people you’ve been with. So if you are, so am I.” He guided her to a door at the far end of the room. “Shower? On your own or not?”

She sighed. “Not. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” He sounded relaxed but she knew he wasn’t.

She went through the door, not altogether unsurprised to find a big, luxurious bathroom on the other side. The shower stall could hold two, maybe three people comfortably and four if they wanted to move over. However, Chris was one big Texan and he might find it a squeeze. It might be the sort of squeeze he enjoyed if he let anybody else in here.

She stripped, knowing he’d seen her naked before but unaccountably shy. The rustle of clothing told her he was undressing too. Bare-chested, he walked to the shower and turned it on but reached under it to feel the temperature. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “This is supposed to be a luxury apartment but the heating system isn’t luxurious.”

Although the water might be cold, suddenly Ashley wasn’t. Flushing with unaccountable embarrassment, she crossed her arms over her breasts and then, realizing the gesture was silly, forced herself to lower her hands to her sides. She smiled but she felt the tremble at the corner of her lips.

He came to her and slid his arms around her waist. “It’s been a hard day for you, Ashley, hasn’t it?”

She nodded and allowed her forehead to rest on his broad chest. It felt so good.

“Come on, the water’s warm now. Don’t do anything, I’ll take care of you.”

He led her to the shower, currently exuding steam, and herded her inside the ivory-tiled space. The click signaled the moment he closed the glass door. The fitments were brass, not deliberately old-fashioned but not aggressively modern either. She liked them. He reached for a bottle and steered her under the main stream of water, although three heads currently spurted down on them.

“What are those?” she asked when she lowered her head so he could rub shampoo into her hair. Several openings adorned the walls, about a foot from the bottom of the shower.

He grinned at her. “Toys.”

He flipped a button on the panel just above the toiletry shelf and water sprayed from the lower openings, hitting her at the top of the thighs. He watched her, his fingers busy delivering a wonderful scalp massage. She opened her legs and he drew her forward until she gasped. The spray hit her pussy, massaging her clit and opening with delicious warmth. She groaned. “I’ve got to get one of these.”

His hands worked up the lather and then drew her back under the shower to rinse. She moaned when the shower spraying between her legs moved away from her clit and he chuckled. “Want to go back?”

“Does a cat love heat?”

She moved back and sighed in pleasure. “This feels so wrong, in such a good way.”

“Good.” He leaned over her to pick up another bottle and she managed to catch his nipple between her teeth. It was his turn to groan. “Very nice.”

She liked this gentle, playful side of Chris. Liked it a lot. He stayed where he was but the scent of lemons told her he’d opened the bottle and his hands moved lower on her body, rubbing the sweet-scented gel against her back and shoulders. “Mmm. So good.”

She licked and he rewarded her with a groan and a moaned, “Oh I like that.”

The tickling between her legs was becoming—not enough. She moved back, releasing his nipple, and admired her handiwork. It stood proud, reddened by her attentions, so she moved on to the other one in the interests of symmetry.

Chris pulled away but only to work the gel around her breasts. His touch, firmly cupping and rubbing, soothed and excited her at the same time. She lifted her head for his kiss.

He didn’t disappoint. When he bent to her, she felt heat radiating off him and moved closer to rub her body against his. He chuckled against her lips. “You feel like a cat.”

“Not a slut?”

“What?” He drew back and stared at her, his dark eyes fierce, sparkling with the gold lights she’d noticed a time or two before. “What did you say?”

“It’s only what people call me sometimes. I don’t mind.”

“Yes you do.”

“Are you in my head again?”

“I don’t need to be. I can see it in your face. You mind all right.” His arm snaked around her and he dragged her close. His erection pulsed between them but anger sparkled in his eyes. “Who calls you that?”

“Just people. The press sometimes, my father a lot.”

“Oh sweetheart, don’t listen to them. You do what you want to, that’s all. Nobody has the right to call you names.”

“But I do.” She felt like a little girl, stripped of all the layers she’d carefully applied to give the impression of a sophisticated woman of the world who went her own way. “I have to stop this, Chris.”

“This?” His hold on her relaxed.

“No. The way I live.”

He caressed her back, smoothing his hands along her spine. “If it makes you happy, then you don’t have to give anything up.”

“But it’s not. Making me happy, I mean.”

Abruptly he reached up and switched off the water, opening the door with a touch of his foot. He grabbed a couple of large bath towels and swathed her in one, roughly drying himself with the other before he dropped his towel on the tiled floor and reached for her.

He dried her with soft strokes of the towel, rubbing her hair until it didn’t drip any more but not bothering with anything else. Then he took her hand and led her back into the bedroom, not stopping until he stood by the bed.

He turned to face her. “What we do in this bed is between us and nobody else. The offer of the guest room still stands but I want to be with you tonight.” He didn’t allow her to reply but took her mouth in a deep kiss. His tongue plunged into her mouth as his erection rose between them once more, hardening against her stomach.

Drawing away, he pulled back the dark purple comforter to reveal crisp ivory sheets. He guided her to sit, then lifted her feet to lay them on the bed before he joined her. Immediately he took her into his arms and resumed their kiss.

She could have let him do anything he wanted to her until she realized she always did that, always waited for someone to tell her how to position herself, what to do to her partners. Tentatively she smoothed her hands down his back to his firm buttocks and cupped them. She couldn’t reach any lower. His low groan into her mouth told her he liked what she was doing. When she pushed his shoulder, he rolled onto his back and she lifted on one elbow to stare into his face.

His gaze met hers and she caught her breath. She’d never seen Chris so open before. “Do it, Ashley. Whatever makes you feel good.”

She smiled. “You make me feel good, Chris.”

“I’m glad.” And he really seemed so. “Ashley, I never really saw you before tonight. You were Corinne’s sister, a hanger-on and a fuck buddy who didn’t make a fuss when I went on to someone else. But you minded, didn’t you?”

She bit her lip. “Sometimes. I’ve been passed over all my life. Oh God, it sounds so fucking needy. I’m not needy.”

“Not from here you’re not. I’m the needy one.”

Chris’ chest fascinated her, with its sprinkling of light brown hair, darkening as it arrowed down his body. It made her want to taste. So she did, touching her lips and tongue to him in light caresses. His responsive moans were better than any music. When she got to his cock she took a minute to take a good look. She’d had this inside her before but never given it proper attention, never taken her time. Always frantic coupling, no nuances, not even any kissing sometimes and Ashley loved kissing.

Long and curved at the end, Chris’ cock looked as if it was kissing his belly. Cut but it showed off the head beautifully. A shame there was no foreskin to play with. As she studied it, she traced the veins with her nails, gently stimulating him. She loved the way he responded and his soft groans filled the void in her heart.

She had to stop thinking like that. Unless she was completely on the wrong track, Chris Keys was offering her friendship. No more. Even that was more than she’d had before. Friendship was a step up from fuck buddy, she supposed.

When she kissed the drop of moisture away from the tip, he sighed her name. She licked him, letting time slip away. He tasted so good, of salty pre-cum and something essentially him, Chris. Without warning, she sucked the cock head into her mouth, not stopping until it hit the back of her throat, then released it, creating a strong vacuum as she sucked, only to let it go again. The rhythm enticed her into doing more, so she cradled his balls in her hand, massaging as she sucked.

The sighs turned into words. “Oh God, oh yes, baby, keep going!” Everything slid away except this, his hot, masculine scent, the hard cock under the velvet-soft skin, her tongue massaging and the suction she never let up until he suddenly said, “No!”

He grabbed her under her arms and hauled her up the bed to face him. He was smiling and his eyes gleamed with desire. “Another time we can do that all night if you want. If I can stand it. You’re good, really good at oral. I’ll have to show you how good I can be, won’t I?” With a shock, she realized Chris had never gone down on her.

He didn’t wait for her answer but grabbed a condom out of the open drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. He ripped the packet apart and reached down to cover himself. Ashley obligingly moved up onto hands and knees but she wasn’t quick enough to see him sheathe his cock in the latex.

Still smiling, he swung her on to her back, bending to touch their lips together in the briefest of kisses. “My turn. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, remember?”

He kept gazing into her eyes as he entered her. Ashley stared back at him, lost. She’d never felt anything so intimate in all her life.

Then she heard his voice in her head. Relax. Let me take you somewhere there’s no sorrow and no worry.

At the moment she’d let him take her anywhere. Distracted by his Texan accent, as potent in her head as it was when she heard it any other way, she smiled up at him but when she closed her eyes he stopped moving. “No, Ashley. Look at me.”

Her eyes flickered open. The blazing intensity in his nearly made her shut them again. She felt open and vulnerable like never before. Nobody had asked this much from her.

“Don’t be afraid, Ashley. Let it go.”

So easy to do something she’d never done before. Ashley relaxed, became a receptacle for the hard, driving strokes of his cock, which somehow hit a place inside her nobody had touched before.

Ashley generally had sex because she liked the man and sometimes because it was easier than saying no. Never because she needed it like this. But with every thrust Chris took her away from the nasty experience earlier this evening and toward something new, fresh and untainted. And all the time he watched her, his eyes open, with the little golden flecks that made them sparkle.

He lifted up, his elbows to either side of her, and his rhythm changed. Something caught inside and Ashley found herself whirled into a new world of sensation, a place she’d never been before.

This time he let her close her eyes but his voice whispered into her consciousness, holding her in his spell. “That’s it, baby, go with it, let me take you there. You look so beautiful, completely lost, as young as you really are.” Her orgasm started with a dreamy vagueness, increasing incrementally to encompass her whole body. Before she realized it, she was crying out in delight, calling to him in the certainty that he was there.

Chapter Five

She opened her eyes onto a new world and new determination. Why a simple orgasm should make her feel that way she wasn’t sure. Before this night, Ashley had enjoyed clitoral orgasms aplenty but the holy grail of the vaginal orgasm was beyond her and she’d simply accepted she wasn’t one of the women who could come vaginally.

How wrong could she be! As she clenched her muscles around him and heard him groan, she dazedly realized she was rising to another climax. This time she concentrated on herself. Now he smiled, small lines creasing the corners of his eyes, and she felt thrills chase each other up her spine as she watched him. He let her see his rise toward his own orgasm, his muscles tightening until he drove into her, jarring her with every driving thrust.

She loved it. Chris controlled her, used her and she drank it all in, absorbed him into her body. “Chris, this is wonderful,” she whispered.

A feather of sound came back to her. “I know.”

His explosion took her back but this time she wasn’t alone. Spinning with him, feeling his arms around her, Ashley let herself experience this new world.

* * * * *

Five minutes or an hour later, she had no idea how long, she opened her eyes to see his. He’d turned them and now lay with one arm tucked under her head and the other around her waist. He’d withdrawn but his cock, soft now and without the condom, nestled between her legs in the liquid heat they’d made together. He stroked a strand of hair away from her forehead. “Better?”

She smiled and nodded. “You’ve helped me a lot, Chris. You cleared my mind.”

“Yeah?”

She laughed at his frown. “I feel better. I can think properly again.”

“Good.”

“You’re right, I’m not my sister’s keeper. I have to leave her to make her own mistakes, even if—”

“If the drugs kill her? Don’t forget we have experience there. Do you want to talk with Ryan?”

She didn’t miss the implications. Ryan had loved Maria and lost her to drugs. Ashley’s breath caught at the thought that the band would trust her. She shook her head, her wayward hair falling over her eyes. “I don’t think so. It’s different and maybe I don’t need to talk to him, Paige does. I’m not strung out.”

The light in his eyes hardened. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve never taken anything heavier than dope? Because I know for a fact that’s wrong.”

“No, I’m not telling you that. But I didn’t like it.” She drew a deep breath. “It’s the way I am. I tried it, didn’t like it, so I never did any more. That might be the difference between Paige and me, just a simple physical one. Because she fell in love with heroin the first time she tried it. Fantastic, she said. Helped her creativity, only if it does, it might finish her.” She buried her face in his shoulder, strong enough to tell him but not strong enough to look at him while she did so. “I’ve never been without Paige. I’m the oldest by a few minutes, the only time I’ve spent without her in my life. We’re identical twins, we have a bond. We went to all those voice teachers together, faced the world together, did interviews together. Even when she married Fred, we kind of shared him so he didn’t come between us at all. But now, now she’s changed so much and I can’t help her anymore. All I can do is turn her in to the police and it won’t make much difference. It’ll only alert the media more than it’s alerted already.”

He stroked her back with gentle sweeps of his big hands. “What about the music?”

“I don’t like it.” Horrified, she drew back to see no condemnation in his eyes. It gave her the courage to continue. “The press says it’s an exciting new direction for the Chicks, a soundtrack to the new generation, but it doesn’t do anything for me. Your music does. I’ve always loved it.”

“Thanks for that but we’re not talking about me now. We went through our bad times when Maria died and we had to face what we’d turned into. Did we want to do the music or the drugs? We chose music but we could have chosen the drugs. Shall I tell you something? I never liked them either. They made me feel lost.”

“Really?” She laughed when he nodded, pure recognition. “That’s how they make me feel. As if I’m missing something because all I do if I take drugs is vomit and feel miserable. And I liked the classical music and I liked the folk stuff but I don’t like this new direction. I don’t want to carry on and I don’t think Paige will be heartbroken if I leave the band. I think she wants to rename it and go on tour. But she’s so fragile, I’m worried for her.”

He smoothed her hair back and lingered to stroke the strands. His hand cupping the back of her head made her feel cared for. She hadn’t felt that way for a long time. “But I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Do you need to know?”

The thought was so novel she stilled. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t need the money, do you? Your father has made you financially independent. It’s not money he’s after, it never was. So take your time, Ashley. Don’t rush into something else only to find out that’s not what you want either. How about college?”

“I did a degree. We both did.”

“Wow. When did you fit that in?”

“Dad insisted. Said it was good for the image.” She smiled. “Have you?”

“Once,” he admitted. “And I didn’t finish.”

“What subject?”

He shrugged. “Architecture. They weren’t offering straight art history then.”

“I did mine in art history. Paige did English. We fitted it around the performances. We were the queens of popular classics then, those little girls with so-called remarkable voices but all we really were was loud.”

He laughed then, an unfettered sound of pure enjoyment, untainted by ridicule. “You were loud all right. But not always in tune.”

She found she could laugh too. “That’s true enough. But there’s always a market for a little girl with a big voice, a bigger one for two little girls with big voices and Dad used it. Paige and I banded together, pretended as long as we had each other we were okay. Corinne didn’t even have that. She never went to college either, although she wanted to. Dad worked her harder than he did us, before she grew up and stopped being so marketable. He did care, he does, I’m sure he does but he thinks we’re as independent as we need to be.”

“So what do you plan to do now?”

She lifted herself up on one elbow and traced patterns on his chest. “I don’t know but I’ll take your advice. I want to take some time out and think.” She glanced up at his face. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“About what?”

“Talking to Ryan. He might give me some advice on how to get her out of the drugs spiral.”

“I’ll talk to him.” He drew her down again so she laid her head on his chest. “Sleep now. You need your rest.”

She didn’t resist anymore but slipped into a doze that quickly morphed into deep sleep.

Chris watched her sleep and wondered what the fuck he’d gotten into. When he brought Ashley back he wanted to give her shelter. Protect her, though where that impulse came from he had no idea. And then he discovered she did need protecting. Wow. Weird stuff. Now, curled up against him, her leg tucked between his and her head on his chest, she felt right there, not like anybody else before her.

True, he’d had his share of lovers. In his two-hundred-year existence, he’d been through more than two hundred women, some he remembered fondly, some he couldn’t remember at all without a deal of effort. But nobody touched him deep down like Ashley had tonight. He’d always known the twins had a form of bravery not easy to see, but Ashley’s courage, now she’d effectively lost her sister to drugs, amazed him. She didn’t intend to give in or to do what anyone else wanted her to do. He’d support her every inch of the way, if she needed him.

He couldn’t help her with her career decisions but her reaction to his collection gave him a few ideas. She could go to university and study what he thought might be her real love or maybe find a job in the art world. He might be able to help with that. Decision made, he dozed off, holding the sprite firmly against him.

A few hours later he eased her out of his arms and watched her whimper a little, then settle down in the warm spot they’d made. Grabbing his clothes, he headed for the shower, then the kitchen so when he woke her he was clean and holding a steaming cup of tea.

He kissed her awake, like a prince in a fairy story, although he was far from princely. He wasn’t the type. Though just for a few minutes he’d have liked to be because to his eyes she looked like a princess, her glowing skin against the ivory sheets a delicious contrast, her dark silky hair spread across his pillow.

She opened her eyes slowly and sighed. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. I brought you tea.”

Her slow smile warmed him. “All these years in Blighty have corrupted you, haven’t they?”

“No, I always liked tea. But at least I know how to make it properly now.”

Chuckling, she snuggled into him before drawing back. “You’re dressed. What time is it?”

“Around eleven-thirty. I have to go somewhere soon, though you’re welcome to stay if you want to sleep some more.”

“No, I’m okay.” She glanced at him, her eyes teasingly mischievous. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll run off with one of your paintings?”

“If you do, I know where to find you.”

She sighed. “Yes you do. I should get a decent flat. I just bought the Kensington place because it was easy and I used to spend most of my time in my apartment at my father’s house in the country. I need to get my life sorted out.”

“Hmm.” He drew his finger along her cheek and tapped her chin. “I’m going to an auction today. Want to come?”

“Really? Yes, I’d love it.”

“Have you been to them before?”

“Once or twice but they were car auctions and general sales. I take it yours isn’t like that?”

A laugh rumbled up from inside him. “Nope. It’s at Bourne’s.”

“Wow.” She sat up and pushed her hair back. “This I have to see. Thanks, Chris. When do you need me ready?”

“How fast can you do it?”

“Fast. It’s not as if I have a big decision about what to wear.” She glanced at the floor but he’d already picked up their clothes and laid hers across a chair. His were in the laundry basket in the corner. Her bag lay next to them, a big floppy velvet affair. “I carry a change of underwear with me. Just a habit I got into.” She gave him a shamefaced look. “Well—you know.”

He did. He wished they’d thought to pick up something at Paige’s before they left. “I do have some tour t-shirts, promotional stuff, so there should be one in your size. If you don’t mind—”

“Isn’t that a bit naff at Bourne’s? Will they let me in wearing jeans and a t-shirt?”

“Darlin’, as long as you buy, they don’t care what you wear. And I’ve seen you do the pouting star before. They won’t dare keep you out.” But if he wanted to get her noticed as a potential employee the look wasn’t the best way to go. Oh well, they’d have to risk it.

“What time do we have to be there?”

“One o’clock.”

“Okay.” She sprang out of bed and nearly made him swallow his tongue when she reminded him how gorgeous she was naked. They might have time—no, they hadn’t. He willed his unruly cock to behave itself but it didn’t do any good. “I’ll be quick. We could always stop off at my place so I can pick something up.”

He mentally calculated how long it would take. “Okay but we’ll have to take the bike instead of the car. It’ll be much faster. You up for it?”

She positively glowed. “Oh yes!” And he got to enjoy the sight of her cute butt as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, she was ready. She made the tour t-shirt look good. He liked it, the band’s emblem of a burning rose, in the same design as the one adorning his upper arm, emblazoned across the back and the dates underneath. The front just had the band’s name, small, in white. At least it wasn’t the “Blues and death” t-shirt from the tour before, which bore an image of Death with a guitar instead of a scythe, leering at the viewer. Though she’d look good in that one too. Another time.

Surprised he was already thinking about the next time, Chris led the way down to the exit and the garage.

Parked by the side of his two cars were his three bikes. One, a shining Harley, a reminder of his homeland and a customized chopper that had cost him a fortune but brought every penny back in promotion. It accompanied the band on tour, done in the band’s colors of red and gold and decorated with the burning rose. He even had a tiny firebird painted in an inaccessible spot, a reminder, not that they needed one, of their other shape-shifted forms.

But they’d take the Kawasaki today. Purists sometimes derided Japanese bikes but they were hard working and reliable. And to his eyes, beautiful. It seemed she liked it too. “I’ve seen the chopper but not the other two. They’re lovely.”

He grabbed the spare crash helmet and handed it to her. “Thanks. You’ve ridden a bike before?”

“Yes.”

That meant she would probably know how to go with the bike instead of against it. Riding with an inexperienced pillion passenger could be hell. Hell on wheels.

“It’s a beautiful design. What model is it?”

“A Ninja.”

“Cool.” She was already fastening the straps under her chin and he could tell by the easy way she handled it she was no stranger to motorbikes.

“Do you have a bike?”

She flushed. “Yes. A Suzuki Hayabusa but it’s in the country. Dad never liked me to ride in public.”

“Holy shit.” The Hayabusa was a racer’s bike, not one he’d associate with the elf-like Ashley Westfall. “How do you handle it?”

“With care.” She glanced at him through her lashes. “I’ve come off it a time or two.”

“Wow.” He’d have to make sure she had a top-notch protective suit when she rode that.

Could this get any better? His three passions, music, art and motorbikes, and Ashley shared them all.

It took him a minute to remember this was Ashley Westfall, the good-time girl who shared as many beds as he did, the girl who’d hurt and insulted his bandmate Corinne in the past. But Corinne could look after herself and anyway she had Aidan on her side. As Splinter or as the powerful phoenix, Aidan was alpha to the max, unless you happened to catch him playing with his son, Sean.

“Better get on.” He straddled the bike and she climbed up behind him. She felt good there, snuggled against his back, as if the Kawasaki was made to hold them both.

After operating the garage doors, Chris ran the hand control that locked it again and reset the code. No chance his garage would be the weak spot an intruder often expected to find.

The powerful machine vibrated between his thighs and he let his mind slip into hers but almost immediately wrenched it away again. She loved the vibrations and her thoughts were edging toward the erotic. Instead, he took off, heading for her apartment, then Bourne’s.

Bourne’s auction house resided in a large building in Regents Street. Parking would have been impossible if Chris didn’t have a permit for the private parking lot. He was more than glad of it today. Half an hour with Ashley snuggled against his back was more than he could stand without stopping and finding a quiet corner to fuck her rigid. Sunday sales were an innovation at Bourne’s, one that he was glad of because he was usually free on a Sunday, unless the band had a television appearance or a concert.

Pure Wildfire’s schedule would step up next week, after the release date for the new album, Thunderfire, was announced on Monday. Later this month they’d fly over to New York for the next leg of the tour. He wanted Ashley with him or if that wasn’t possible, wanted to start her thinking about coming with him on the tour. The strength of his protective instincts surprised him but it still didn’t commit him to anything. Just to look after her. He’d do it for any friend.

Who was he kidding?

He almost wished he hadn’t told Paige she wasn’t welcome to come on the tour with the Chicks but even now the band’s edicts had to stand or they meant nothing. He’d already called Randy and told him while Ashley was asleep, so it was out of his hands now. Randy had cursed but agreed with his decision and already suggested a few names of bands he could book to support them. If necessary, they’d do longer sets. Not a hardship, since they all loved performing onstage.

As he helped Ashley off the bike, he noticed approvingly that she didn’t stagger or sway on her dismount. She was used to riding. He opened the lock box and put the helmets and his gloves inside, allowing Ashley a moment to shake her hair down and run her fingers through it to straighten it out. “Ready?”

She’d applied a little makeup, just eye shadow and a touch of blusher and lip gloss she said, but he preferred her face bare. She was more accessible that way, more open. He slid off his leather jacket and held out his hand. She smiled up at him. “At least the media have seen us together before.”

“True.” He hadn’t told the press he was here. He didn’t exactly make a secret of his collecting but he didn’t announce it either. Besides, the world of antiques rarely crossed the world of rock, so correspondents with different requirements did the press coverage. Most celebrities sent in phone bids but Chris attended when he could. He loved the electric atmosphere of the auction room, watching the other bidders and the auctioneers. His lot wasn’t coming up for half an hour or so but he wanted to watch for a while, get the feel of the room.

He collected his buyer number and a catalog at the desk and led Ashley upstairs to the main room. The murmur of voices told him they’d arrived between lots. A good time to enter and find a place to sit.

He curved his arm around her waist and they went in together. The packed room seethed with its own particular atmosphere and he breathed it in. The arena and the recording studio was his natural habitat but apart from those and his apartment, he felt most at home here. And Bourne’s was one of his favorites. A large auction house, worldwide, many Talents worked here and sold goods important to them. He intended to bid on one today.

The porter held an interesting-looking picture. He leafed to it in the catalog and shared the information with Ashley.

Her attention flipped from one place to another, taking in the paintings on the walls, the furniture and the audience. He also felt her weariness. She was still tired, stress and worry probably adding to it, and Chris wanted to hold her while she slept. Nuts. He was going insane.

Nevertheless he ushered her into one of the seats close to the center aisle, as they began the auction on the painting.

He’d never seen an expression on Ashley’s face like the one now. Completely rapt, a heavenly bliss that made him want to see her in this state some more. Even when they’d made love she hadn’t looked like this. But given time, he could maybe correct that little matter. He wanted to, with an urgency that surprised him.

The murmurs Ashley shared with him through the auction told Chris she was more knowledgeable than he’d assumed, even from her reaction to his art. He responded or let her tell him things he knew perfectly well already. He didn’t care. She was happy here and he had the feeling she’d rarely known much happiness in her life.

A Sunday sale at Bourne’s wasn’t usually a specialist sale but had pieces left over, unsold or late entrants for sales. And was one of the ways the houses disposed of objects owned and used by Talents.

Talents like him could only convert others to their kind with great difficulty. Shape-shifters like Chris only had one chance in their lifetimes to convert a mortal and only then if the mark on their leg heated up during sex, indicating they were compatible.

Like his with Ashley. Chris moved away from the thought. He’d met other women, the mark wasn’t as rare as all that. She couldn’t be the one for him.

Vampires could only convert at the expense of their own lives. So if they died without using their chance, they often donated it or left it in a work of art. Vampires left a token amount of blood, the last drops they shed. Chris’ token was a feather taken from his body with his full consent. Talents were engaged in tracking down and buying back the works they identified. However he hadn’t registered his interest in the piece he wanted today and a non-Talent was at the podium. He opened his mind and scanned for a Talent, finding a porter and one of the auctioneers standing at the side of the room.

I’m interested in Lot 283. I know you can’t interfere with the sale but I’d like a shot at it.

Noted. The woman didn’t look at him but she got the message. She wouldn’t prevent anyone else purchasing it but she’d take his bids in preference to another’s. These days, auctions had to be transparent and open. No backhanders, no behind-the-scenes deals and any rings had to be reported to the authorities. It must make the recovery of Talented art much more difficult.

The auctioneer currently at the podium gave way to the Talent who stepped up and took a sip of water. They were on lot 280 now. He squeezed Ashley’s hand. When had he taken it? He wasn’t sure but he liked the feel of her little hand in his great paw.

The auctioneer knew he wanted to bid, so all he had to do was lift his finger and then nod for subsequent bids. He’d budgeted for around two thousand, so he wasn’t surprised when the bidding went that far. But at three thousand he began to wonder. Ashley leaned over to speak to him. “It’s a bit of a boring piece. I’m surprised you want it.”

Yes, he supposed it was. Certainly the artist had done better. A painting of a cottage by the sea, with a woman and child at the forefront. A typical Victorian decorator’s piece. “I’m thinking of collecting it and maybe selling it on later. I know someone in the States who’d love to have it.”

That seemed to satisfy her.

When the bidding reached four thousand, he began to wonder who was bidding against him. He glanced around for any movement he could construe as a bid. Then he saw it, a flicker of movement when the auctioneer took a bid.

Shit, it was the guy Ashley was talking to after the concert. An art lover? He reached for the man’s mind and found it firmly closed, so his guess was as good as anyone else’s in the room. A financial adviser, Ashley said, so he could have the money for this.

But the man wasn’t a Talent. Okay, so he had to get this painting. He continued to bid. At this rate some of the other bidders would start to think they’d missed something and they’d come back in.

Five thousand, six. He didn’t want to make the headlines over this. He had to stop.

Chris finally dropped out at eight and a half and the damned thing was Will Thomas’ for nine thousand pounds. He never wanted to see it again but now he knew what it was. No doubt remained in his mind once he’d occupied the same room as the painting and felt the power emanating from the grubby canvas. He’d have to keep track of it.

“Wow.” Ashley remained silent through the last part but murmured to him now. “Did you see who was bidding against you?”

“Yep. How well do you know the guy?”

She shrugged. “I met him for the first time last night. I’d lost my pass and he got me through the first door. He seemed nice. Want me to talk to him?”

“Not if it’ll cause you any trouble.”

She huffed a laugh. “No. I wanted to get to know him anyway.”

Chris shot her a sideways glance. This shouldn’t bother him, it really shouldn’t. Ashley wasn’t his girlfriend. In the past he’d avoided this, when he first thought she or Paige were only after the members of Pure Wildfire for their status or their kudos. Now he knew better but he’d never given her any clue he wanted an exclusive with her. But it bothered him all right.

“Sure. I’d be interested in knowing why he went so high. Perhaps he’s just somebody with more money than sense.”

“What, like you?”

Unlike hers, his laugh wasn’t muted at all and several people turned around to stare. Oh great, fucking great. Draw attention to yourself, why don’t you?

Now Thomas had seen them for sure, even if he hadn’t before. But Chris suspected he knew whom he’d been bidding against all along. Maybe he wanted to impress Ashley but he’d have to do better than that. Ashley wasn’t impressed one bit because she didn’t like the piece.

He wanted to make it up to her and when a little painting appeared he knew he could do it. She said nothing but a wave of warmth emanated from her when the porter lifted it up and it flashed on the screen behind the auctioneer. He checked the listing in his catalog. “Portrait of an unknown woman, reading. Artist unknown.” The painting dated from the middle of the nineteenth century, he’d guess by the style and her costume.

He liked it too. The colors and composition worked well, a small, intimate scene, the sitter’s pose based on the famous painting by Fragonard. He lifted his hand to bid. When he bid on more important work, he tended to come in late and finish the bidding but this was at an early stage. “Would you like to bid?”

She grinned. “But you do it so well.”

Chris kept his chuckle soft this time.

He won the painting for fifteen hundred. It could be a bargain but it wasn’t a large work and he didn’t recognize the hand. An attractive piece, probably the best one the painter ever produced. “It’s for you,” he said.

“No! Chris, I can’t—”

“Yes you can. You love it, don’t you?”

She bit her lip before she answered. “Yes.” Another nibble, sharp teeth on her deliciously full lower lip. He wanted to take a bite too.

“Then take it. I’d love to give it to you.”

At the word “love” she faced him, her eyes wide with shock. Before she suppressed it, he got a sense of what she was thinking.

She was falling in love with him.

And he wasn’t sorry.

Chapter Six

Ashley and Chris left when Will Thomas did and Ashley did a good job of waylaying him, giving him her best smile while Chris went down to the garage.

“We meet again.” His smile was as warm as she remembered.

“Was it really you bidding against Chris?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head. “Any objections?”

She shrugged. “Of course not. Do you come to auctions much?”

“No. From time to time.” He glanced away. “I just liked that work of art.”

“You’re a collector?”

He hesitated. “No but I have a house to decorate. Want to come home and see it?”

She saw no guile in his friendly gaze but something didn’t feel right to her. “Not now. I came with Chris. It’d be rude to run out on him now, wouldn’t it?” She deliberately left the invitation open. Feelings or not, she still liked him.

“How about lunch tomorrow? Or dinner if you like? I’m a fair cook, we could go out or I can give you dinner.”

“That sounds nice. Dinner sounds great.”

“Okay,” he said. “How about if I ask your sister and her husband too and I do the cooking?” He wanted her at his house. Well, she could still leave with Fred and Paige if she decided against fucking Will. She could be the designated driver. Yes, that would work.

“I’d love it.” She fumbled in her pocket and found a piece of paper. “Here, put your address on this and I’ll find it. I’ve got a gps so I should be fine.”

He found a pen and scribbled his address on it. “Notting Hill, not so far,” she commented when she took the scrap. “Thanks. When do you want me?”

“All the time,” he said with a wry grin. “Around eight is fine.”

Paige and Fred would be up by then. “I’ll tell my sister. Looking forward to it.”

She had no doubt he wanted to get her into bed but she wasn’t sure it was what she wanted as well. As she ran down the steps to find Chris, she wondered why not. He was good-looking, pleasant, and if he was a financial adviser, intelligent too. But he wasn’t Chris Keys.

The following evening saw Ashley at Paige’s house. Relieved to see they had in fact called the cleaner and paid her extra to clear up the mess Paige had made the other night, she hardly minded waiting for her sister to get ready. They arrived at Will Thomas’ house only half an hour late.

Will Thomas lived in a narrow three-story house that was all his. He took them up to the first floor, chattering inconsequential nonsense, giving Ashley a chance to take in the surroundings.

She thought he’d employed someone to decorate the house for him. The uniform, designer look remained unmarred by personal artifacts but Will explained that as he ushered them into a perfect but soulless dining room, set for an informal dinner, without the linen tablecloth, crystal and silverware she half expected. A relief, because crystal tended to get smashed around Paige and Fred.

“I only bought this place six months ago and I’ve been working too hard to see to it,” Will said when Paige commented on the beautiful rooms, while glancing at her sister to share the joke. Ashley and Paige had lived in just such a house. Their father never bothered with décor, just kept it impressive, hiring an interior decorator every so often to keep it up to date. Their apartments got a makeover with the rest of the house.

“I’m taking a vacation soon, so instead of going away, I’ll see what I can do about personalizing the house. It’s why I wanted the painting at the auction yesterday. I want to put stuff I like here instead of stuff that goes with other stuff.”

A beautiful way to describe it, Ashley thought. “Yeah. I thought the house looked a bit designer chic.”

Will shrugged. “I bought it from a friend in the City. He hardly spent any time here. But underneath all this polish is a genuine historical house. I wouldn’t mind restoring it.”

In this area it would be a worker’s house. Ashley wondered if he knew restoration meant putting the pig back in the basement or making sure the windows fitted badly and the floor went uncarpeted and unvarnished. She said nothing, just smiled and wandered over to gaze at the painting adorning the wall.

A decorator’s piece, an abstract in the same shades of maroon and violet that formed the colors and accent of the dining room itself. She did like the maroon curtains, though, draping heavily to brush the parquet floor with its heavy satin. The effect was sensual, like the touch of a big hand caressing her back.

Where had that thought come from? After the auction Chris had taken her home, only warning her to be careful with Will and not take any chances.

She hadn’t told Chris where she was going tonight. He’d taken her home and kissed her goodbye. He had rehearsals, he said, and a meeting with the band. One she was most definitely not invited to. Although he’d promised nothing, Ashley still felt hurt by his implicit rejection of her and he didn’t ask to see her again, so she didn’t tell him about this date with Will Thomas. It appeared they were returning to their previous arrangement. A pity but she was a big girl now. She’d get over it.

Chris wasn’t known for fidelity, he’d never had one girlfriend, never given anyone an exclusive, so Ashley was glad she had some breathing space to regain her equilibrium. What he’d done with her, the tenderness and care he’d shown her came as a revelation to Ashley. No one ever gave her that much consideration before. No one. Her mother had moved on to another husband when she and Paige were babies and their succession of nannies and caregivers proved efficient but not usually fond. They weren’t paid to care, so they didn’t.

She was in danger of thinking too much about Chris. What he might see as simple kindness from him she was beginning to think of in far more dangerous terms. Love. And she only had herself to blame for letting her guard down.

“This is nice, it’s a good base for whatever you want to do with it,” she said.

Will sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yes but I don’t have any imagination. I liked the other painting at the auction yesterday, the one Chris bought. I thought it might go in the hall. The colors, you see.”

She did see. Yes, the colors in the painting did echo the colors in his hallway but she’d never thought of art as something that should match the decoration. “I’ll talk to Chris for you if you like. What would you offer for it?” For some reason she didn’t want him to know Chris had promised the painting to her.

“What he paid plus five hundred?” Will spread his hands. “I don’t know. I just liked it. But I talked to a porter afterward and he said Chris Keys is a regular customer.”

“Which porter?” They weren’t supposed to give any information out at all. That could have serious consequences for an auction house.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask for his name. Tall man, thin, dark hair.” He grinned. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. Chris doesn’t mind but it doesn’t fit the image the press have given him. He’s like you, he just likes art.” Her mind went back to the incredible pieces in Chris’ apartment. Pieces she knew were his favorites because he chose to live with them every day. “I could help a bit.”

Paige laughed. “Art’s her hobby. When we go on tour, she heads for the art galleries. Me, I go shopping.”

That was true enough and most of the items Paige bought ended in untidy heaps on her floor or strewn about her flat like colorful confetti. Jewels, real and costume, shoes, CDs and books, mostly unread.

Whatever kept them happy. Their father was short on time, not money, so he brought them up the easy way, with money to buy trinkets and toys rather than time and interest used on them. Spend what you like as long as you keep quiet and do your job.

They sat and Will brought in a huge casserole and set it proudly in the center of the table. “Chili. I made it myself.”

The chili was too bland, but for a beginner, it wasn’t bad at all. And certainly much better than she could manage. Ashley wasn’t a cook, never had the opportunity but Paige enjoyed it and she could see from her sister’s face that she wasn’t impressed. She made a face at Ashley and Ashley made a face back. Just like old times when it was Paige and Ashley against the world.

They ate and conversation slowly turned to Pure Wildfire. “What’s it like, being on tour with them?” Will wanted to know. “Is it all drugs and women?”

“No drugs, not anymore.”

Paige turned her gaze onto Ashley and she knew what Paige was about to say. “I made a mistake at the last concert and Chris flew into a temper. Ashley was going to ask him for me.”

“He meant it, Paige. The Chicks are gone from the tour.”

Paige wriggled in her seat. “I’d agree to a search. It could be hot. As long as I get to choose the guy who does it. We’ll have to talk to Dad. He’ll work it out for us.”

“Mmm.” Watching a hot man body search his wife would turn Fred on. Ashley saw it in the way his dark eyes gleamed. The whole orgy thing started because Fred liked to watch. At least he was honest about his fetish, didn’t try to do it up as anything else. Ashley detested hypocrisy. She’d seen too much of it to find it fun.

Fred laughed at Will’s barely hidden shock. “I like to watch and Paige likes to perform. We both get off on it.” He glanced across the table at Ashley. “Shall we introduce Will to our cozy little club?”

Ashley smiled slowly. “If he wants.” Inside she felt nothing. Sod all. Will was good-looking with his neat, dark hair and dark eyes, tall and slim but not so slim as to be wimpy. The kind of man she liked to amuse herself with but he stirred nothing inside her. All she could think of was a bulky, brown-eyed blond giant.

“I don’t know if I want to go on the tour. Dad can find us something else. At least I can take what I need there instead of observing some stupid fucking ban.”

“Yeah.” Typical of Paige to think of her own concerns first. “

Paige shrugged. “Their loss.” The strap of her slinky satin top slipped off one shoulder but she didn’t pull it back up.

The games had begun. Ashley had seen this too many times before, the way Paige drew a man in and used him. A slow strip, seeming carelessness in dress, inviting him to touch, then the seduction.

Her new life started today, she decided. She wouldn’t do it if she didn’t want to. But she didn’t want to hurt Paige who would undoubtedly get upset if her sister didn’t join in the fun and games. Ashley had never given her sister any indication she didn’t enjoy herself because up to now she’d enjoyed their games. Perhaps she’d started to grow out of it. About time, she supposed, but then remembered several musicians all older than herself who were still playing, some of them pathetically old for it. They embarrassed their children.

She didn’t want to. So now she used the age-old excuse. “I’ll just watch, if you don’t mind. I feel like shit today, hung over I guess. But don’t mind me, you do what you want to.”

Paige would understand that. “Oh babe.” She reached out her hand.

Ashley touched her and smiled. “I’ll just sit here and eat this excellent chili.”

Will beamed and she felt good that she’d complimented him. A spark deep in his eyes told her he’d caught Paige’s not-so-subtle remarks and they turned him on. Good for him. She hoped he enjoyed himself. “I’d feel like a bastard if you weren’t happy,” he said.

That was sweet. “No, I’ll be fine. Like Fred, I like watching sometimes too.” She put down her fork and picked up her wine.

“I like you, Ashley. Really like you.” Will beamed. “I never thought music people would be so pleasant. I guess I’m a bit star-struck.”

“You don’t seem to go short.” Fred’s matter-of-fact statement took in the house and its contents.

“I’m in finance. Not so glamorous but it pays well. And I have the knack for it.” Will was what the old-time mamas would call “a good prospect” then.

“Don’t you have a hobby or something? Or don’t you have time?” She didn’t want to do anything other than get the conversation off sex. These days all Paige talked about was sex, drugs and shopping. And occasionally music.

“I don’t think you’d call it a hobby, exactly. More a way of life.”

Oh here it came. He was probably some kind of religious nut. He’ll be asking them if they’d found God next.

But he didn’t. “Have you heard of vampires and shape-shifters?”

Paige laughed. “Of course. I’ve even got some books about them.”

Will turned a sharp stare on to her. “What books?”

Paige shrugged. “Romances, mainly. But our father is keen on the occult. Or he used to be. He seems to have abandoned it recently but he used to collect old books, he called them something—”

“Grimoires,” Ashley said, remembering the glass case in her father’s office. The books were rare, she’d always thought of them as one of her father’s collections but he did read them sometimes.

“Ah.” Will leaned forward to pick up the wine bottle. Whatever kind of nut he was, at least he wasn’t a teetotaler. “Yes, that’s more in the Wicca line, witchcraft. I think that stuff is best left alone. No, I’m talking about real shape-shifters and vampires.”

“Ooo.” Paige let the other strap slip and Ashley wasn’t at all sure she did it deliberately this time. “Tell me more.” A new kink. Bloodsucking.

“They walk among us, they are here. And they want to destroy us all.”

“Why haven’t they then?” Ashley had no time for that nonsense. To claim they existed was odd but the second statement suggested a logic she didn’t begin to understand.

“There are too many of us. They keep trying to take over. They used to rule us, many years ago. Old, secret writings confirm it.”

Ashley exchanged an eye-rolling glance with Paige. “You mean there’s a secret conspiracy?”

“Exactly.” Will sounded smug, as if they understood. “We have the proof. Both that they exist and that they want to rule over us again. Vampires are incredibly powerful and a shape-shifter in his other form is nearly invincible.”

“Werewolves?” Paige’s eyes gleamed again. “Wow, a threesome with a werewolf would be awesome. Where can I get one?”

“You wouldn’t want it. He’ll kill you after sex or kill you with sex.”

As Ashley could have predicted, it didn’t put Paige off one bit. Her camisole was only hanging on to her nipples halfheartedly now but they stood out like diamonds through the silk of her top. Will glanced at them and the tip of his tongue emerged to lick his lips.

“Wanna see?” Paige wriggled and lost the top. It fell to her waist. Ashley noted again how little Paige had eaten tonight and the way her collarbones poked against her skin but Will wasn’t looking at her collarbones. His gaze fixed avidly on her large breasts and his mouth dropped open. Paige obligingly jiggled them and he watched. She glanced at her husband and he lifted his brows. “Wanna taste her?”

Slowly Paige got to her feet and walked around the table to Will, taking her time, making her breasts bounce with every step. To Ashley they didn’t look real but Will must have liked what he saw because he didn’t take his eyes off her. Fred chuckled. “So tell us about werewolves, Will.”

He cleared his throat. Slowly, Paige sat on his lap watching him, a smile on her face. Will’s low groan broke the sudden silence. “I’m not sure this should be happening.”

Neither was Ashley. Suddenly she saw, as she never had before, how they loved to shock and seduce relative innocents. They’d done their own share of corrupting.

“Go with it, Will,” Paige crooned. “Tell us about werewolves. Keep talking and I’ll keep playing.”

“Ah, um, yes.” Will’s flush told Ashley how difficult he was finding his task. Paige’s tits swung in front of his face and he swallowed. “There are no werewolves but shape-shifters exist. Dragons, griffins, creatures like that.”

“Ooo.” Paige lifted her breast for him but when he tried to take it into his mouth, she tutted and took his hand, placing it on the nipple. “You can’t talk if you suck. So tell me more and feel me up instead.” She lifted her head and glanced at Ashley who sat up straight. The gleam in Paige’s eyes was more than sex, more than drugs. Paige really wanted to know.

“They’re powerful creatures, scary.” Will’s hand skated across Paige’s breast, massaging it, and she pushed it farther into his hand. Since her boob job, she needed a firm touch. “They want to conquer the rest of us, rule us like they used to. There are plenty of old books that tell you about it, if you know where to find them. Pictures and details. We know they work all the time against us. We have to fight, fight to kill them all.”

Ashley saw Will’s expression, rapt, unlike his usual amiable openness. “What is it, Will?”

“Don’t you know?” Will turned a face of complete amazement to her. “The members of Pure Wildfire—we think they’re shape-shifters!”

With a groan Ashley leaned back in her seat. “Are you nuts?” She knew the answer already. She just hadn’t realized how nuts they were. Any feeling she had for Will died right there and then.

Paige got to her feet, ignoring Will’s whimper of protest, and finished stripping. She kept her pussy bare these days. Another difference between the twins, although Ashley might try it again someday. Her sister sat down again, this time on the table, while her husband hastily moved the plates and cutlery aside, onto a small sideboard standing against one wall. Such consideration! Probably because it wasn’t their house and they wanted to know what Will had to tell them.

Paige sat on the table and opened her legs. “All yours, baby,” she murmured and this time Will wasn’t slow taking advantage. He shoved his fingers into Paige’s cunt, making her gasp. Ashley wasn’t sure it was a pleasured gasp but Paige glanced at her and nodded that she was okay. “Keep talking,” she managed.

“They have stuff called Cephalox,” Will managed. He rotated his hand and Paige moaned for him. “It stops them shape-shifting. When they’re in their human form they’re vulnerable, so if we inject them with the drug, we can kill them.”

“Have you seen one?” Will inquired.

“Oh yes, I think so. Not the band, though we’re sure about them. Someone else. A dragon.”

Paige’s indrawn breath wasn’t entirely due to what Will was doing to her. “Wow. I’d love to see a dragon.”

“Keep watching and you’ll see a firebird. That’s what we think the members of Pure Wildfire are. Firebirds.”

Ashley swallowed. She didn’t believe what he was saying for a minute but the band was in danger. And that meant their sister, Corinne. These idiots would kill them. She exchanged a glance with Paige and yes, she’d seen it too. “Who are ‘we’?” she managed.

“The PHR. Perfect Human Race,” Will said.

“You can fuck me now,” Paige said. “Give him a condom, Fred.”

Fred grinned and dug in his pocket, tossing a pack across the table. Panting, Will grabbed it and tore one open, his other hand working to undo his slacks.

Will had a long, slender prick. Ashley studied it dispassionately, her mind working. She had to warn Chris. And she had to find out more so they could go to the police. This wasn’t the first time they’d faced a mad fan or an obsessive. A few years ago a stalker kept sending the twins emails until their father had the man arrested and this could be something like that. Wishful thinking leading to obsession and delusions.

No way what Will claimed could be real. Surely not. Telepathy had to be all the band had going for them.

And she had to talk to Paige and Will. Right now Paige was enjoying her distraction. She lifted her hand to Fred, who took it, licking her fingertips and watching Will pound into her body, his eyes hungry. “I’ll fuck you next, baby. We’ll fuck you silly.” He grinned at Ashley. “Are you sure you won’t join in? You know I like to watch you too.”

She shook her head. “Not tonight, thanks, Fred. Watching is fun though.” She wasn’t sure why she said that because she wasn’t enjoying herself at all and watching wasn’t her thing, despite what she’d said earlier. Perhaps so she wouldn’t hurt Paige’s feelings.

Will stood up and dragged Paige’s legs apart, heading right for the bull’s-eye. He pushed into her with no more preliminaries and she gave a happy moan and fell back onto the table.

Ashley wanted to leave. When had she enjoyed doing this? Sure, it had been fun once, lots of sex with men, but not now.

She wanted more of what Chris had given her. Personal attention, kindness, consideration.

Will could be anybody. Any of the men who passed through Paige and Ashley’s lives, their names interchangeable, the only memorable part of them their genitals. The chances were strong that Paige would have forgotten his name by morning.

Will looked at Ashley, grinning, his face flushed, his usually neat hair disheveled. “Sure I can’t help you along a bit?”

Ashley shook her head. “Not in the mood.”

She wanted more than this, more than a good, hard fucking on an expensive dining table. She wanted holding, touching. Loving. As well as hard fucking on an expensive dining table but Will was the wrong man.

Paige and Ashley had banned the word “love” in their private vocabulary, although they used it often enough onstage. It meant nothing. A few years ago Tom Albright had thrown Corinne over for Ashley and then, having been engaged to them both, he just disappeared. As if he’d never been part of their lives. That was the last time Ashley had fallen for anyone and she never wanted to do it again. She’d do a lot to avoid it. Or so she told herself now.

Watching the writhing bodies in front of her, Ashley knew she’d had enough of this scene. Fred took a more active interest, his hands at his fly hastily getting his cock out to shove in his wife’s mouth. The sight only increased her feeling of restlessness. She needed to move on.

Her mind drifted to memories of last night. She’d loved that, being held and holding, stroking—taking their own sweet time. Of course Chris Keys couldn’t be her one and only but just knowing she was ready helped her to make up her mind. She wanted commitment. Hell, she wanted love. Even if she wasn’t worthy of it.

Fred watched Paige giving him head almost unemotionally, both his hands on either side of her head. Will, who’d tucked his cock back in his pants, was sitting at ease with a glass of wine in his hand, for all appearances like a perfect host. Which, by Paige’s standards, he probably had been. Fred glanced up and grinned at her. “Sure you don’t want to join in? I always wanted to see you eating her out while I fucked her mouth.”

Ashley shrugged. “I said no. I’m not in the mood, Fred.” And sick of being asked. Putting on a pleasant expression, the one she usually used for the press, she deliberately turned away from him to Will. “Tell us more about this organization. What will they do for us?”

“We can get your sister out. They’ll have taken her. Probably used her. They’re not very fertile and they have a better chance with humans.”

“Sean,” Ashley breathed. Aidan and Corinne had a son, a mischievous child they both adored. So did Ashley. “What about him?”

“He could be lucky. Offspring might have the genetic traits of the mother or the father. If Sean takes after Corinne, he’ll be human. It’s too early to tell yet.” He took a delicate sip of his wine. “But the PHR might decide it would be more humane to destroy him before he suffers the agony of knowing he’s not human. That he’s not right.”

Everything in Ashley stiffened but she worked hard at not letting it appear on the surface. Years of practicing in front of her mirror came to her rescue now. She forced her limbs to stay lax, kept her face still and receptive. This man was talking nonsense. Insane nonsense, and in her experience, people who talked insane nonsense could be dangerous. She had to tell Chris.

Chapter Seven

“Okay, that’s good. We’ll go with that one.”

The disembodied voice came as a relief to Chris, who hadn’t been feeling right all day. He couldn’t put his finger on why he didn’t feel comfortable with himself. The full moon had just gone, so it wasn’t the urge to shape-shift but something was wrong.

Was it Ashley? No, not possible. He twirled a drumstick in his fingers, automatically using the tricks he’d learned way back. Way, way back. Over a hundred years before Ashley was born. Not a huge amount to a shape-shifter, who could comfortably expect a five-hundred-year lifespan and maybe more.

Couldn’t be Ashley. They’d had a good time the other night and he’d helped her through a bad patch with her sister. Paige was as tough as nails. She’d come through

A beep told him Jake, standing closest to him in the spacious studio, had activated his cell phone. “Teri? We’re about done here. How about lunch?” Jake chuckled. “It is? Well, what do you know? Dinner then? Out or in?” Then a pause before the timbre of Jake’s voice lowered and he growled into the small instrument. “Oh yeah. Let’s do it. About an hour then. I can’t wait.”

He snapped the phone shut and glared at his brother. “What?”

Chris raised a brow. He didn’t have to say anything but he did anyway, just for the hell of it. “Wasn’t it you who once said marriage was a fate worse than death? How is death, anyhow?”

Jake’s lip curled back, baring his upper teeth. Then he relaxed and huffed a short laugh. “It’s great. Better than I ever imagined. You’re just jealous, brother mine. Get a woman of your own.”

“Oh I have plenty.” And he had. He could turn on his own cell and have half a dozen women panting for him in an hour. No joke.

So why didn’t he want any of them? Jenny, who could do wonderful things with her mouth, Darlene, who could take any man in any orifice and come in ten minutes, Dawn, who made him laugh more than any other woman he knew? Because his women were more than fuck buddies. They were independent people who knew how to have a good time and not worry too much about it afterward. Just the woman he liked. Women like Paige and Ashley Westfall, who fucked, sucked and ducked away from any involvement.

The spark of anger that rose up when he thought of Ashley with another man didn’t just surprise him, it shocked him senseless.

“Hey.” Jake sounded concerned. “I felt that. What’s wrong?”

Fucking psychic connection. Jake and Chris’ telepathic communication had always been strong, stronger than Aidan and Ryan’s, stronger than most other Talented siblings he knew. Not that there were too many of those. With shape-shifter women limited to two children per lifetime, brothers so close in age were rare. There was barely ten years between him and Jake. Aidan and Ryan had a hundred between them.

“I’m okay. Just thinking about stuff.”

“That’s bad for you,” Ryan’s lazy voice echoed across the room to him. “Drummers don’t think.”

Jibes from the band didn’t hurt because they knew what he was and how he spent his free time. Senseless jokes from others, thoughtless comments made by the press that sometimes needled him, although he always pretended they didn’t. And nobody knew any different, not even Jake.

So he took this one in stride and tossed the drumstick into the air, catching it again with a dexterity he found automatic. “I feel a bit restless is all. With you guys playing happy families, partying isn’t the same any more.”

That brought him a few concerned glances. Aidan snapped the clasps shut on his guitar case before he looked around. His amber eyes, sharpened by concern, focused on Chris. “We couldn’t stay single forever.”

Chris shrugged. “I have. Not a wife, not a long-term love. Well, not in this life anyway.” As far as the world knew, he was thirty-five and single, a party animal. Two women in his life had meant more than the others. One drifted away to a man who didn’t appear the same at fifty as he did at thirty and one had been taken from him when a bomb landed on the nightclub where she’d been singing. That had stopped hurting about thirty years ago and now he remembered her with fondness and affection. By then, the partying had become a habit. The famous adage about who would be left at the end of the world had been altered in his honor. “Cockroaches, Keith Richards and Chris Keys,” people now said.

He fervently hoped not. There wasn’t a gay bone in his body, though if there was, he wouldn’t object to a round or two with Keith. He drew the line at cockroaches, though.

Perversely he felt worse at the leap of happiness in his chest when the door opened to admit Ashley. “They said you’d finished.”

“Yeah.” Corinne sighed. “Come in, Ashley.”

Corinne had never gotten along with Ashley and Paige, who, aware of their lack of musical talent and Corinne’s real gift, had resented her. Chris always suspected their father had nurtured the jealousy along “divide and rule” lines but he had no proof. Now the instinctive jolt of pleasure warned him he might be getting in too deep too fast. Time to back off.

“Hi, Ashley.” He bent to check the skin on his snare drum, something he knew he didn’t need to do but it gave him a minute. He gave the instrument a sharp tap with the fingers of one hand and sensed her hesitation.

Oh fuck. He couldn’t be casual with her. It might be better to let the affair run its course. It wasn’t as if Ashley wanted any more than a few friendly nights exercising each other’s sex organs. So he reached out and grabbed her hand when she came close enough and dragged her into his arms.

Heedless of the drum kit, he swung her onto his lap and gave her a smacking kiss. “Glad to see you, baby.”

She seemed unnerved and he sensed a prickle of alarm in her. Immediately, he released her. “Hey, something wrong?”

Jake frowned at him. She’s on edge.

You think? he replied, giving the words a sarcastic edge.

But Ashley didn’t climb off his lap. Neither did she drape herself over him, as she might have done when he’d first met the twins and they’d wanted to show off their new possessions. Before they learned better—nobody owned Pure Wildfire. No, she snuggled in as if she belonged there. And damn, it felt good.

“I need to talk to you.” She cleared her throat and raised her voice. “All of you.”

Corinne spared her a glance. “So talk.”

“Not here. It’s private.”

Ashley knew as well as they did how “private” a recording studio was. So he broadcast his agreement. She’s worried about something, I think we should listen to her. It might be Paige.

Most likely. Corinne sounded resigned but every member of Pure Wildfire knew how worried she was about her sister. Paige was going off the rails and she never drove completely on them to start with.

Jake’s mental sigh told Chris how much his brother was looking forward to his evening with his wife. The last to get together, deeply in love, Jake and Teri were still getting used to married life. Not that Aidan and Ryan weren’t as lost in their wives as Jake, just they’d had a little longer to get used to it. And anyway, Corinne was here and Gina, Ryan’s wife, was involved in a business meeting until later in the day. Ryan had told them when he arrived, warning them he’d want to stop at seven so he could go meet her. It was barely five, so Ryan had time to spare. Just.

“Okay, let’s go to my place. It’s closest. Just let me call Teri and tell her I’ll be a few minutes.” Jake opened his cell phone again. Chris could almost taste his brother’s regret and a thought, quickly suppressed, of why he had to call Teri. Their evening together hadn’t included many clothes.

Chris hated the glimpse into something none of his business. Usually he could put it away without concern but tonight with the fleeting erotic surge Jake felt when he thought of his wife came tenderness and care. It bothered Chris.

He wanted it for himself. He never had before and when he looked at Ashley, he saw it there. That had to be wrong. But he hid it all and smiled at her in what he hoped was a friendly way, rather than something deeper.

“I have the car today. Can I give you a ride?”

She blushed and he knew why. Perhaps their night together meant more for her too. He’d enjoyed attending the auction with her the next day and he rarely saw any of his lovers outside the bedroom. Hell, he didn’t recognize them with clothes on, sometimes. But he’d know Ashley anywhere.

The drive to Jake’s house passed in a friendly way, nothing except pleasantries exchanged. Chris determined to keep Ashley at a distance until he knew his own thoughts better but if she looked at him sideways one more time he’d stop the car and do what his rising cock was telling him to do. So he wouldn’t let her talk about them or their affair and since she was saving her news for later, they chatted about inconsequential stuff during the journey.

Chris parked a street away and without thinking, took Ashley’s hand for the short walk to the house. It felt good there and he was reluctant to pull away but when they turned the corner onto Chris’ busier street, he did so. The media made an ever-present threat, so they both found it automatic not to give too much away. There were times he envied Jake, Aidan and Ryan, who could be as affectionate as they liked to their loved ones in public. Corinne too, for that matter. When—if—he found the woman he wanted to commit to, he could do the same.

Armed by familiar mind-sets of independence and freedom, he walked into Jake’s house.

Jake lived in a large house overlooking Regent’s Park in a fashionable area not generally known for its rowdy residents but they’d learned to live with Jake who had never been as outrageous as his brother or Ryan. Aidan and Jake were the quiet ones, the first to crash at the wild parties in the old days. Now Chris went alone. Left alone sometimes too. That never used to happen.

The long, airy living room stretched the one side of the house, opening from the central hall. No sign of the violence that erupted there last year remained, the time when Teri had nearly lost her life. Now the hardwood floor was freshly sanded and polished and the antique desk, almost destroyed in the struggle, was replaced by a bookcase. Holding paperbacks. It was typical and endearing of Jake that he chose a beautiful old bookcase, then filled it with his favorite reading matter instead of antique books. Chris wasn’t close enough to read the titles but he didn’t need to. If he wasn’t mistaken, he owned a few of them himself.

The others waited, sprawled over the two long, low sofas, one against the wall, the other at right angles to it. Jake had his arm around his wife, Teri and Chris got the feeling it would stay there until well after they’d all left. Aidan and Corinne sat together on the same sofa as Jake and Teri, and Ryan occupied the other.

Chris put Ashley between him and Ryan. Right in the middle. The others looked at her expectantly.

As they listened to her account, Chris could feel the tension rising.

“I met Will Thomas at the Wembley concert. He said he handles financial advice for one of the supporting bands there. I wasn’t really listening because I’d lost my pass and I needed to find somebody to tell them. But he asked me for a date and he was nice and all, so I said yes.”

Chris’ tension had nothing to do with the story. And it only got worse when she told them she saw Will last night. The night after he’d taken her home and to the auction. Let her into his private life. The surge of anger he felt was entirely unreasonable and he couldn’t understand it or didn’t want to. He’d chosen to take her home, not to arrange to see her again so he had no right to expect anything.

The night of the concert he could have taken her home to her featureless apartment and shared a friendly fuck. She wouldn’t have minded or known any different. So why had he taken her to his apartment, shown her tenderness and care, let her in to his life?

Because he was heading for sanctuary. The scene with Paige and Fred had disturbed him and made him take a good look at himself and what he wanted. What he’d once enjoyed had become tedious. He still chanted his old mantras of bachelorhood but he had to face it—that might not be what he wanted anymore.

“We had dinner with Paige and Fred,” Ashley said, looking everywhere but at him. Her gaze darted around the room restlessly, as if nerves had overcome her. Without thinking if it were wise or not, he slipped into her mind, intent on soothing her.

He saw what she’d seen, what exactly was making her nervous. Double fucking, Will at one end, his neat appearance incongruously marred by his open fly and untucked shirt and Fred at the other. But it wasn’t Ashley. They were doing Paige.

Relief swept through him and he did what he’d planned to do, passed a soothing wave through her outer mind, the only part he dared enter.

Ashley swallowed and spared him a glance, a nervous smile flickering at the corners of her delicate pink lips. “Will told us some weird stuff and I got worried. I think he might be a stalker or half mad, anyway.”

An image of a red-tinged wing flickered at the corners of her mind.

“What did he tell you?” Shit, he said that too sharply. If they were to laugh Will’s suspicions off, at least where Ashley was concerned, he had to be a bit more laid-back. They hadn’t agreed to tell Ashley anything about their Talents, and if Aidan said no, he’d have to abide by his decision. Knowing about their telepathy was enough. The whole enchilada would have to wait.

Ashley glanced at him and he gave her an encouraging smile. “Go on, baby.” Jake shot him a glance. Baby?

I remember you calling her that once.

What? Jake hadn’t shielded well enough and he caught Teri’s indignant message. Jake’s hand tightened over his wife’s where they lay on his thigh and whatever he said to her he shielded but Chris imagined he had some explaining to do.

Served him right. Chris’ lips threatened a smile but he held it back. He didn’t want Ashley thinking he was laughing at her and she wouldn’t have caught the telepathic exchange.

She was a receiver, as most mortals were, so she couldn’t pick up anything not sent to her and she couldn’t send anything unless someone rested in her mind. As Chris did now, gently reentering to settle her mood and help her, if she needed it. He’d instinctively withdrawn at the sight of the wings but he was here for her. Whatever that entailed.

Ashley licked her lips and glanced around. “I know Chris is telepathic and I know Jake is too, because I kind of pick up on these things in—in certain situations.” During sex. She might be sensitive, in which case they’d have to be more careful with their thoughts because sensitives could do more than receive.

Aidan stiffened at her words but Corinne nudged him to keep him quiet.

After glancing at him, Ashley carried on. “But Will thinks you’re were-creatures. Some weird shape-shifting creatures.” Silence but more the silence of shock than of incredulity. “He says you’re firebirds. I’ve never heard of them but I looked them up on the Internet today and they’re Russian, like phoenixes but there’s more than one of them.”

“Did Will say anything else?” Aidan asked tightly, his voice sharp and alert, totally unlike his usual relaxed manner.

“Yes. He said he belonged to an organization—hang on, I wrote it down.” Ashley fumbled in her jacket pocket and Chris noticed her hand shaking when she drew out a scrap of paper. “When I got home last night I made a few notes so I wouldn’t forget. Here.” She unfolded the scrap, smoothing the paper out on her knee, and unbidden, Chris got an image of what that thigh looked like naked. Smooth, soft as a pillow with underlying muscle that made his mouth water. Jesus, he’d got it bad. He wrenched his mind back to what he should be thinking about.

“The PHR, an organization to kill monstrosities and deviants he said. Nasty. People who say things like that are always a bit mad.” She stared at the paper. “They want all shape-shifters dead. He said he belonged to a cell with some influential members in it.”

Chris saw Ryan and Aidan exchange a glance. They’d taken out the cell that pursued them a couple of years ago, but one of the “daisies’, or the person who linked with another cell, escaped. So their nightmare might not be at an end.

Shit, that sucked. The attack on Teri last year had seemed a one-off, a weirdo stalker but maybe not.

We need to talk. Get rid of Ashley and come back.

Aidan was still the Phoenix and a Guardian, a person of authority in the Talented community. Chris had little choice. But they still had to deal with Ashley.

“He sounds nuts,” Teri ventured. “One of those insane types attacked me last year. Keep away from him, Ashley.”

She shuddered. “I will, don’t worry.”

“Unless you want to see him for us,” Ryan said mildly. Chris glared at him.

Ashley stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “What do you mean?”

“It’s difficult to prosecute someone who hasn’t done anything wrong, who only talks the talk,” Ryan said calmly. Chris wanted to kill him for even suggesting Ashley go into danger. “Even people in our situation. We might be able to get a restraining order but they’re not very effective when you’re performing in front of a few thousand people every night.”

Ashley blinked and Chris read the fear and confusion in her mind, although her face seemed tranquil. Only now did he begin to realize the calmness to the point of indifference he’d noticed in her before was nothing more than a clever mask, made early in her life and perfected over the years. Ashley cared all right. “No. Leave her be, Ryan.”

Ryan shrugged. “Just a thought. Ashley could find out more for us.”

If Chris knew Ryan and he did, it would be more than a thought, unless he stopped it. He didn’t intend to send Ashley into danger. Especially since the band had used and taken her for granted for so long, together with Paige.

“No,” Ashley said abruptly. “I’ll do it, if you want. Will fancies me and because I didn’t put out last night, he might want me more.” Relief surged through Chris, confusing and disturbing him. He had no claim on Ashley. What was he thinking? But he wanted to keep all her sweetness for himself, not share it with anyone else. “I’ll wear a wire or something.”

Aidan forced a laugh. “Maybe. We just need to know for sure. We’ve come across this stupid organization before. Delusional fucks who target anyone they’re jealous of. The shape-shifting stuff just gives them an excuse. The police refuse to take them seriously.” The police had never heard of them, both sides had made sure of that but some places would take great interest in any evidence against the PHR. They organized like terrorists, in small cells, and they behaved like them too, as if the laws of the countries where they operated were optional extras, so most government agencies had the PHR on their hit lists. “If we can trap them or get something on tape, perhaps someone will take notice.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

Chris’ jaw snapped with an audible click of teeth. If she did this, he wanted protection for her. These people were dangerous.

He had no choice. He wouldn’t leave her alone tonight and he wanted a guarantee for her. If she agreed to help them entrap Will it could be dangerous for her. The PHR didn’t fuck around, they killed and maimed people.

He wanted the chance to convert her if she got hurt. At the very least, she had the right to know what kind of creatures she was offering to help. They owed her that if she agreed to put herself on the line for them. So he got to his feet. “Come on, Ashley, I’m taking you home.”

She stared at him, startled by his sudden move. He held out his hand to her. “You’ve told us and we’ll take it from here. Thanks.”

“Yes, much appreciated,” Aidan said. “Really, Ashley. Don’t talk to anybody about this and we’ll keep you informed. Don’t go near Will for now, you can’t trust crazies like that. We’ll let you know, okay?”

Chris broadcast to them as he helped Ashley to her feet. I’m coming back. I need to talk to you all about this.

Ryan groaned and reached in his pocket for his cell, typing in a text message. Chris guessed it was to Gina.

Chapter Eight

Forty minutes later Chris had dropped Ashley off at her flat after promising to call her. He said he had some business to attend to but didn’t elaborate. He hated to leave her alone but her flat was well secured, so he felt reasonably safe. He wanted to return after he’d made his position clear to the rest of the band. He’d had it with using Ashley and her sister.

He stormed back into Jake’s house but stopped at the murmur of conversation, male and female. He scanned and felt a new presence. Gina, completing the inner circle of Pure Wildfire and its mates. Unseen so far, he heard men and women chatting and for the first time since he’d helped form Pure Wildfire, he felt isolated. The only one without a woman of his own, the only one alone. Like a child ostracized in the playground for being different.

He was nuts, he knew they’d welcome him but he was right about one thing. He was the odd one here. The last time had been more than a hundred years ago, in his dim and distant youth. He’d ridden with Jake into a Texas town called Springwater, deciding to open a general store. Jake met a woman he married and Chris felt so awkward in the same house as them that he’d left town. Jake never realized, Chris always told him he felt restless and wanted to move on. The woman had died and Jake joined him again after the not-so-good citizens of Springwater had discovered exactly what he was and thrown him out of town. Now here he was again, the odd man out.

Opening his shields so they knew he’d returned, he entered the airy living room to the welcome sound of laughter. “So you want to tell the press we’re a foursome?” Aidan echoed.

“Nah, not really, I just thought it would stir some shit.” Ryan shrugged. “Besides, there are enough rumors about us already without us adding more.”

Their faces sobered, reminded of the reason for this meeting. Chris retook his seat. “If you want to send Ashley in to spy for us, I want permission to tell her everything.”

The deep intake of breath was universal, a gasp that seemed to take the oxygen from the room.

Aidan was the first to regain his voice. “You’re not serious!”

Chris concentrated his gaze on Corinne. “Why not? I want her to know why she’s risking her life.”

“But—” Jake began but it was his turn to receive Chris’ hard stare.

“You’re not saying she won’t be, are you? Every time we face the PHR, those fuckers try to kill our women first, especially the newly converted or the mortal. Striking at our weakest point. Ashley won’t be any different if she does this. If I let her do this.” His lip curled in a snarl he didn’t try to hide.

“So are you more involved with the twins than we thought?” Ryan asked calmly. He gripped Gina’s hand. His relaxed pose and lazy drawl didn’t fool Chris one bit. Ryan’s mind was as sharp as a tack, never sharper when someone threatened his wife’s safety.

“Because Ashley had a few bad years doesn’t make her any less worth consideration.”

Corinne opened her mouth. “We can’t trust her—”

Pissed now, Chris didn’t wait for her to say any more. “She’s a woman, frightened and alone for the first time in her life. When you were kids, Corinne, when you lived in your father’s house, you had your music and Ashley had Paige. Now she has nothing. Paige left her for Fred and drugs, you left her for Aidan and the band. She doesn’t have a gift for music like you do, Corinne. Westfall nurtured what little they had for his own ends. Now he has his own show on primetime TV and he doesn’t care about her career anymore.” He jabbed a finger at Corinne, ignoring Aidan’s warning growl. “That’s where she’s at. You want her to lead someone on, someone who could take her right into danger and you won’t even tell her why? Well piss on that. If you won’t give me permission to tell her, Aidan, I’ll fucking well show her. I’ll shape-shift in front of her, then I won’t have to tell her anything. If you want her to do this, she deserves to know why she’s doing it.”

Much to his surprise, he wanted to be there for her, didn’t want her to be alone when the inevitable happened and Paige crashed and burned. It would happen. He’d seen it before, hell, he’d nearly experienced it himself when his bandmates burned high, bright and dangerous in their drug years.

He spun around and left the house, not giving the others a chance to say anything.

His own bitterness drove him—because he felt alone and left out again and knew it was a childish emotion, one he shouldn’t feel but he couldn’t help it. He felt it anyway. Ashley drew him as one wounded, lost soul to another. At least that was what he told himself, how he rationalized his feelings as he drove to her apartment.

Hardly sparing the concierge a passing glance, he walked right past him up to her apartment and swore he had to get her out of this place. Soulless, this block of luxury apartments was no place for anyone with a heart. And he knew she had one of those.

When she opened the door to him, he felt her sorrow and knew she’d been crying, even though she’d washed her face. She even forced a smile.

He walked inside and closed the door firmly behind him. “You should have a camera installed. That peephole in your front door isn’t good enough and your doorman seems more interested in his TV than the people walking through the lobby.”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” Turning away, she led the way into her living room. “I don’t think anyone cares enough about me to seek me out.”

He hated the way she said that. He didn’t hear any self-pity or complaint and there was none in the part of her mind open to him, just matter-of-fact acceptance.

The parade had moved on and where a few years ago the Celtic Chicks were hot, now they weren’t. Paige and Fred were about to start a new project and leave Ashley behind. She knew it, she accepted it. He read all that in her mind.

Deeper down, just where her thoughts faded into her own private oblivion, he sensed sorrow. And it made him mad all over again.

He stared around her living room. Full of expensive, fashionable furniture, long, low leather sofas gleaming dully in the carefully atmospheric lighting, pale wood bookcases that held a collection of neatly arranged rows—and one row of well-read paperbacks, their spines creased from rereading, the room spoke of nothing. It could be an apartment for rent that many of the upmarket agencies offered visitors to London who preferred not to stay in a hotel.

And a little nineteenth-century oil painting on one wall of a young girl reading.

Without that one row of books and the painting, anyone could live here, move in tomorrow and learn nothing about the occupier.

Ashley shouldn’t live in a place like this. Not the art-loving, lively woman at the center of the slender creature in front of him. His heart lodged in his throat when he realized where she should live.

His apartment. Equally luxurious, equally fashionable but filled with pieces he’d chosen because he loved them. When he’d bought the loft, it had come with furniture like this but he’d gotten rid of it all because he hated it.

“Like it?” She forced a smile.

“No.” He frowned at her and her smile faded.

“Why not?”

“Are you going to tell me you chose all this yourself?” He showed what he meant by sweeping his arm around to encompass the living room and, by extension, all the apartment. Much smaller than his, he couldn’t have lived here without getting claustrophobic.

“Well, no but I’ve not been here long. Only six months.”

And he’d never visited her previous apartment either. Their occasional hookups had been at concerts or at someone else’s place or in the endless hotels they found themselves in when on tour. If they happened to be in the same place, it was sometimes easier to work off their energy after a concert on each other. They both knew what they needed after the adrenaline-charged performances. Never giving themselves the indulgence of getting to know each other, just using each other’s bodies to gain some respite from the constant adrenaline highs.

Not that he’d know a lot more about her from visiting this place. “It could be a great apartment but I’d want more of you in it.”

Her flush of pleasure surprised him. “Me? Why?”

“You have to ask?” Giving in to temptation, he took a pace and pulled her into his arms. “Ashley, you’re worth knowing.”

To his shock, tears filled her eyes, although they didn’t spill over. The blue centers sparkled and glittered with the extra liquid. “Don’t say that, Chris. You never wanted to know me before and I’m happy with what we have.”

“You shouldn’t be.” His teeth bared in a growl when he understood just what he’d given her. Not a fucking thing. “Expect more. Ask for more.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re worth it. Everybody is.”

Again, she startled him when she gave a watery giggle. “You sound like a hair dye ad. You know, ‘Because I’m worth it’.”

Reluctantly he grinned, her sudden mischievous smile lightening his mood. Even he hadn’t missed that ad and he watched precious little TV. “Well, you should take a leaf out of their book. You are worth it, Ashley. More than you think.” And to prove it, he kissed her. Gently, as if they had all the time in the world, not with the raw, savage passion he’d used in the past when he took her.

Until recently, they’d always gone at each other like they had no time to waste. Always ravaged, never seduced. But he’d liked their recent, gentler times. Although it didn’t mean he’d gone off the rougher sex. With Ashley, that was good too. Her small body was deceptively strong.

At least he’d always thought so.

She sighed when he released her and her eyes fluttered open. “That was lovely.”

Just a kiss brought a pretty flush to her face and the smile to her soft lips. The sight made him smile too.

“Oh baby, you are so worth it.” He took her again, deepened the kiss and lengthened it. Like discovering a new lover, he explored her as if he’d never been there before, never kissed her.

And in a way, he hadn’t. This was Ashley. Not Paige’s twin or Corinne’s sister, not a fellow musician who understood the hungers tearing at him after coming offstage, nothing but Ashley.

So he kissed her again and this time he folded his arms around her tightly. She melted into his grip, flowed against him like hot molasses. Then she hummed her pleasure against his lips and Chris was a goner.

She drew back just enough to murmur to him. “Want to go to bed?”

“Sounds good.” This time he wanted her in a bed so he could take his time with her. Sometimes raw sex worked, sometimes it didn’t. This was definitely a didn’t.

Comfort took many forms and he could comfort her in a bed as well as he could out of it. Maybe better. Deliberately he entered her mind, settled there and waited for her to let him in deeper. Her eyes flicked open. “I can feel you,” she whispered, almost in awe. “How do you do that?”

“Practice.” He grinned and lifted her up, turning her around. “Lead the way, Ashley.”

She did, taking his hand so sweetly. She drew him out of the living room into a bedroom that seemed equally soulless, except the closet was open, showing carefully hung clothes. Not many of them either.

Despite his preoccupation with her, it seemed wrong. “Is that all the clothes you have?”

She chuckled. “Silly. There’s a walk-in closet over there.” She waved a hand toward two doors on the other side of the room. The other one must be the bathroom. Good to know. Maybe she’d like a massage in the shower later—an internal one.

The room was decorated in pale creams and browns. Not Ashley’s colors, her skin needed something—he wasn’t sure. Maybe cooler colors, blues and greens. She needed something else. Hell, there was a bed, a bathroom, what more did he want? Bewildered by the constant feeling of not-quite-right pouring through his mind he firmly blocked it all out and kissed Ashley again.

That was right. That felt great.

He pulled her to the bed and down on to the soft comforter but when she lifted her legs up to grip his waist he sighed and pulled away. She stared at him, blue eyes wide and questioning.

“Let’s take this as it comes, shall we? You’re tired and don’t even think about denying it. When did you last sleep well?”

“The night before last.”

He remembered. “When before that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I can go without sleep. I’ve been too worried about Paige to sleep the night through.”

“We have to talk about that. I want to help you get her into rehab. But not now, Ashley, not now. We both need something else. Don’t we?”

Her soft smile warmed his heart. “Yes. I think we do.”

Hooking her arm around his neck, she drew him down for another kiss and he spent the next few minutes exploring her mouth, discovering the places that made her melt. She liked him tonguing the roof of her mouth, touching and then stroking it toward her front teeth, so he spent a while doing it, intrigued by the little wriggles and squirms she gave him as reward.

He drew away and smiled down at her. “You’re delicious.”

“You’re pretty yummy yourself.”

He ached to see the shadow in her eyes and feel it in her mind. He wanted it gone. But part of it was the trouble with her sister and Will Thomas, so they had to clear that up too.

Telling her wouldn’t be easy but he couldn’t send her blind into a situation that would cause her danger. Either they couldn’t ask her or she’d do it in full knowledge why. He wouldn’t accept anything else. But for now, he wasn’t going to worry. Later. Now he just wanted to make her feel good.

It seemed he’d succeeded when he ran his hand down her side and felt her shiver. Her mind echoed it, pure pleasure running through her. He fed off it, loved it and lifted her to pull off her black t-shirt.

Underneath she wore a virginal white lacy bra, enhancing the creamy loveliness of her skin. His hands, always bronzed, complimented it. They looked good together.

But her ribs lined her skin, their edges clearly visible. His heart ached to see it. “You’re not eating.” He traced a rib with one finger. “I’ll have to take care of that.”

“What, you’ll feed me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Her laugh made her stomach quiver deliciously. He wanted to see the rest of her. Time to eat later. Maybe. But he would make sure she cared for herself better.

Slipping his hands into her hair, he brought her close for another kiss and then nipped and kissed his way down her neck and along her collarbone. “I love your hair like this.” As nature intended, not twisted into weird and wonderful styles or colored improbable shades. It felt warm and silky against his hands, even the fingertips, long calloused by wielding the drumsticks—and other things.

The soft length soothed his desire, rising hot and hard within him, too hot, too hard. He didn’t want to take her frantically, not now, not yet.

In the past, when people had discovered what he was, the firebird nature under the human, they’d called him “animal” and “mindless”. Most of all he remembered the ones who had turned from him in disgust or fear. Not many but enough to make him wary of revealing himself now. He wanted to show Ashley he could be as romantic and gentle as any man.

Before he told her what he was. And he would tell her.

Reluctantly he let her hair slip through his fingers and sat up to take his own t-shirt off. As he did so, his cell phone rang. With a curse, he grabbed it off the waistband clip and glanced at the screen. With an apologetic grimace, he answered the call, although he was tempted to let it go to voice mail.

“Permission given,” Aidan said and hung up.

While he didn’t appreciate the interruption, he appreciated the call. Aidan sounded as if he’d just had a tooth pulled but he’d made the right decision. Aidan was a Guardian, empowered to give him permission to tell a non-Talent what he was.

“Who was that?”

“Aidan with some information, that’s all.” He turned the phone off this time before he returned to her.

“You look purely gorgeous,” he murmured. He bent to press kisses on her stomach, moving up slowly to her lace-covered breasts. When she stretched to take it off for him, he stopped her with one hand over hers. “I want to do it.” He raised his head, smiling at her.

Ashley caught her breath. His amber-flecked eyes gleamed with intensity, all of it focused on her. “Lie back, baby. Let me do it to you.”

Wow. She’d always thought Chris preferred active participants but now he was telling her to lie back and take it. The other night, she’d been too tired to think, too tired to participate but with normalcy restored, she’d assumed they’d go back to their hammer-and-tongs approach. “I thought—”

“Not tonight. Tonight is for you.”

Wow again. She had no idea what had happened to make him like this but she was sure as hell determined to enjoy it. The scene at the house earlier had upset her but she’d known worse. A lot worse. When Chris drove her home in tight-lipped silence and left with a terse, “I’ll drop by later,” she’d been certain she’d lost him. What she’d had of him in the first place.

That wouldn’t have stopped her doing what they asked but she wanted Chris more than she should and wanted more than he would ever give to her.

But this was a start. His lips felt soft against her skin, seductive, something Chris never bothered with before. Not with her, anyway. Had he with anyone?

It seemed important for her to know. “Chris, have you ever been in love?”

He lifted his head from her breasts, a slight smile twitching at his lips. “It depends what you mean. I love my brother, for instance.”

“Just in love with a woman.”

Instead of answering, he propped his head on his hand and unclipped the front fastening of her bra. “Have you?”

“I thought I was once.”

His mouth tightened. “Tom Albright.”

“Yes.”

“Forget about him. That wasn’t even close.” His voice lowered to a growl and he bent to take her nipple into his mouth.

She did as he told her and lay back. His mouth worked her nipple deliciously, his tongue curling around her nipple and then lapping at the tip, coaxing it to peak until she cried out and arched off the bed. When he gave a resonant hum, she squirmed and he released her nipple with a wet pop. “Tom Albright is gone.”

She sighed. “I saw a picture of him with his new wife the other day. I didn’t feel anything.”

“Good. You shouldn’t. If I’d had my way, that bastard wouldn’t still be walking the earth.”

She caught her breath when he kissed her other nipple, sensitized by the treatment he’d just given her. “Forget him. This is us, now.”

What did he mean by that? Ashley refused to wish for something she knew she wanted. And she wanted Chris. With every lick and kiss she wanted him more and not just for tonight.

“You taste of strawberries.”

She chuckled. “Probably my soap.”

“Oh no.” He lifted his head and she saw the mischief sparkling in his eyes. “This is most definitely not soap.” He dipped his head and licked across her navel and chuckled when her stomach tightened in response.

“Let’s see if you taste like strawberries everywhere.” He unsnapped her jeans and pulled them over her hips, not a difficult job because Ashley was wearing the pair she liked to use at home, loose and comfortable. Her panties came off with them and he didn’t stop until he’d removed her thick socks as well.

Now she lay naked, only the straps of her bra loosely over her upper arms, the cups fallen away. And he was still dressed. But not for long. She watched as he slid off the end of her bed and stood up to shuck off his own jeans. Rampantly naked, he came back to her, climbing up from the bottom of the bed like a male harem slave crawling up to his mistress.

She loved that thought and held her arms still, pretending they were tied. She played harem and slave games in her head sometimes, although she’d never met anyone she trusted enough to do it to her in reality. Not even Tom. Some fantasies were never meant to be fulfilled.

She lifted her head to see Chris propped up on his elbows watching her. He said nothing, not aloud anyway but in her mind she heard a wicked chuckle. Oh yes, he’d heard her thought. Another night we’ll play, his voice came to her. Not tonight, baby. You’re too tired. “Relax, now.”

His voice purred through her and when he bent his head to lick her, opening his mouth over her clit, she felt the liquid pour from her needy pussy. He filled her, her head and body. She wanted more.

He gave it to her when he worked the tip of his tongue into her tight pussy and laid the flat on her cleft, almost swallowing her clit, his lips over the top of her mound. She was so going to shave for him.

No, baby. I’m gonna shave you. One day. You just think about that.

His arousal heated her. He liked that idea and the more she thought about it the wetter she became. Tied up and shaved, open for Chris.

“Oh fuck, that’s hot!” She knew it didn’t matter if she said it or thought it. He’d linked with her, deeper than he had before. She felt his warmth in her mind, as much of a turn-on as his possession of her pussy.

Nobody ever worked her like that before—she’d never been so hot and wet. She arched up into his mouth and felt his hands on her hips, holding her in place so he could do what he wanted to her. Whatever he wanted.

And God, did she want him to do it.

The first flutter of an impending orgasm rippled through her. It spread from the base of her spine to her neck, blossomed in every part of her body, warmed her properly for the first time that day. Heating her impossibly fast.

With a strangled cry, she came but he didn’t stop, only slowed and lapped at her while he rode her climax, waiting for her clit to desensitize enough for him to start again. He let her read his purpose in his mind, swelling her need for him until she could hardly remember her own name. She became a living, sensate being, no future, no past, nothing but now.

He muttered something against her skin, the shuddering, hot breaths adding to her senses, then he returned to his task, pulling at her with his mouth, this time concentrating on her clit to urge another climax from her.

This time she came less explosively, more a surge of warmth turning into heat, and it didn’t end. He came up to her, his cock taking the place of his mouth, and she didn’t care if he wore protection or not.

For a lucid instant she roused, shocked by her thought. She had never, ever slipped before, always ensured her partner wore one condom, maybe two if she was feeling extra cautious but hell, it didn’t matter now as long as he didn’t stop.

I’m protected.

Thank you.

Shock echoed through her body. She could speak to him telepathically. And so easily, she’d responded without thought in the same way he spoke to her.

He pushed and she opened for him, felt his satisfyingly thick cock breach her and push farther. He felt longer than usual but maybe it was because she was soaking wet for him and wide open. Usually he had to work his way inside her but tonight he slid inside with no impediment.

He nipped her earlobe. “I told you. Strawberries for sure,” he whispered, the sound teasing her with a delectable tickle of nerve endings.

“Chris, oh Chris!” was all she could manage.

“Oh yes, that’s right, baby, remember who’s doing this to you. Keep saying my name, never forget it!”

As if she would. But she chanted his name anyway. With every deep thrust she cried out, yelling into the quiet of her bedroom. When she lifted her legs to curl them higher around his waist, the inside of her thigh brushed against a hot spot on his leg. The beautiful little mark showing itself again. She’d ask him about that. Sometime.

He showed her no mercy but pounded into her. He took her mouth in a ravishing kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth to share her taste.

Strawberries. She could taste them. Or was it him, persuading her? She’d tasted herself before and she’d never tasted like that. Salty-sweet, a flavor she’d never been able to identify but tonight, yes he was right. Strawberries.

He stroked the roof of her mouth and she came, hard and high, screaming into him. He wouldn’t let her go, holding her down, pressing his big body hard against hers.

She couldn’t breathe but she didn’t care. As soon as she gasped, he rolled to one side, still inside her but he drew out to lie on his back and pull her across him to nestle against his chest.

With his arms around her, holding her, Ashley could hardly remember what she was scared of, what she’d done tonight. Or even who she was. Chris murmured to her and kissed her forehead, gentle where he’d commanded a moment before. “Sleep, baby. You need it. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You won’t go?” Too many of her lovers had crept away in the night for her to ever take it for granted they’d be there in the morning. Sometimes she’d been glad of it but tonight she wanted Chris there when she awoke.

“I’ll be here,” he said and tilted her chin for one last kiss before he slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She kept her eyes open, watching the thin sliver of light under the door. The toilet flushed, then the taps came on over the sink. She could tell by the sound. The bath taps made a deeper, harder sound. They might bathe together in the morning. She’d enjoy that.

When he returned she was barely awake but she wanted to make sure he came back to her. He opened the bathroom door and then muttered a curse and turned back to switch out the light above the sink.

In the dim light she saw the mark glowing on his leg, as if his tattoo was alive. She’d seen it once before, on that memorable night with Paige and Fred, but events ran away with her and she hadn’t asked him about it then. She turned back the quilt so he could get into bed and hold her again. As he snuggled into his arms she murmured, “Great tattoo. When did you get it done?”

For an instant, he stiffened, his muscles tightening then relaxing again. “I’ll tell you in the morning, sweetheart. Sleep now. I can feel your weariness so don’t tell me you’re fine.”

Too used to hiding her emotions, using the faces she kept as “showtime” even in bed, this time Ashley allowed herself to drop every last artifice. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt him kiss her brow again.

She liked that. Really liked it.

Chapter Nine

Yawning and stretching against a hard chest had a lot going for it, Ashley decided the next morning. That she knew for sure who the chest belonged to struck her as even better. Then he stirred and drew her up for a kiss, one hand palming her cheek.

Perfect.

But as her senses kicked in, Ashley remembered who she was—and who he was. Not so perfect. She wanted him, wanted him badly but she knew she couldn’t have more than she had now. So she might as well make the most of it.

His tongue entered her mouth, lazily tasting. Shit, he tasted good, slightly minty.

Ashley opened her eyes when he finished the kiss. “You’ve cleaned your teeth. I must have morning breath.”

“I told you. Strawberries.” While she couldn’t believe that, she had to believe he liked her taste because he was smiling.

He didn’t allow her any more words but kissed her again, deeply, reminding her of the sublime night they’d shared, the night that had started so badly with the scene at Jake’s house.

“Why did you come to me, Chris? Yesterday, after you took me home and went back to Jake’s, why did you come back to me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to be alone. Hell, because I didn’t want to be alone either.” He lifted himself up onto one elbow and she couldn’t help herself. She touched his chest, flattened her palm over the hard, warm expanse. “And because I have something to tell you.”

She looked up at his face, smiling, but he didn’t smile in response. Her jaw muscles tightened. Her singing coach had always scolded her for that habit but she didn’t have one now and she could tighten her jaw whenever she damn well liked.

“So tell me,” she said. She didn’t move, felt his big, hot body as a comfort but she knew he wanted to tell her something important here. “You don’t want me to find out more from Will?”

He cleared his throat and his gaze shifted to her body before returning to her eyes. Abruptly, he twitched the bedcovers over them both although, unlike him, she did keep her heating on at night and they didn’t need it. Except for some kind of protection but she didn’t know which one of them he was trying to protect.

Uncertainty shifted in his eyes. “That mark you saw last night,” he began.

His discomfort made her edgy. She’d never seen Chris as a man who doubted either himself or anyone around him. He was too confident for that. But it seemed underneath lay someone a little less certain. That made her warm to him even more, the humanity under the rampant alpha shell.

“I didn’t see the design properly.”

“It’s a little bird. A firebird.” He watched her carefully. “It’s not there now. It only happens under certain—circumstances.”

Ashley began to get impatient. “Just tell me what it means!”

“It means you’re compatible.” He was making no sense but Ashley held her sarcastic comments inside. Chris’ uncertainty disturbed her. This was important. Whatever it was. “It means I can convert you to—to my kind.”

“What are you talking about?” She wished she hadn’t snapped because he sighed and rolled onto his back. He wasn’t getting away that easy. She followed, lying half across his front, propping herself up so she could look at his face. “Tell me, Chris.”

“You won’t like it.”

“Fuck, just tell me already.”

He took a deep breath and met her eyes again. “I’m a firebird.”

Shock jolted her. She’d listened to Will Thomas spouting his nonsense, looked up the gorgeous birds on the Internet, but to accept them as real? That step might be too big for her to take. Maybe he didn’t want her to take it literally, maybe it meant he belonged to a secret society like the Freemasons. Her mind worked overtime, searching for a rational answer.

“I can read you.” He smoothed his hand over her hair, cradling the back of her skull in a protective gesture that soothed and stimulated her at the same time. “You know about the organization that hates us and wants to destroy us.”

“What, the stupid organization Will belongs to?”

“Yeah. The PHR, Perfect Human Race they call themselves. Organized into small independent cells so they’re fucking difficult to take out. In the US, there’s a government department that wants to take them out and they have to do it cell by cell. There’s a similar one over here, though I don’t know as much about it.”

“So tell them these idiots are after you.”

“Not so easy, sweetheart, but yeah, Aidan’s contacting them today. But to a great extent we have to take care of ourselves. They attack our women. Teri, Gina and Corinne have all been targeted and we protected them by converting them, making them part of us.”

“Firebirds? There’s an initiation ceremony or something? Cool!” She liked the thought of that, even more when a few kinky scenarios sprang to her mind.

Chris groaned and she felt his cock twitch where it lay next to her leg. Interesting. “No, don’t go there, Ashley, not yet. Let me tell you this first. I’m a firebird. A shape-shifter. I have two forms, baby, this one and the bird. I’m both, they’re both within me all the time. As far as we know, it’s because human beings come in more than one type. Genus or species, who the fuck knows?” Now that he’d started it seemed he couldn’t stop and she let him babble, trying to take in what he was telling her and make sense of it. “I was born this way and there’s not a lot I can do to change it. But I can convert one person, nature’s way of providing us with a mate, I guess.”

Still not taking him seriously, she asked, “Aren’t there enough lady firebirds to go around?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Listen to me, baby. And then I’ll prove it to you. Just listen. Yes, there are lady firebirds but they can only have two children each before they become naturally infertile. That’s not enough, when you take the ones who don’t have any children, the sick ones and infant mortality. So we have the ability to convert.”

“Do the females have the ability too?”

“Yes. Which totally doesn’t make sense, I know, but it’s nature’s way.”

“What, not to make sense?”

He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Seems like it.” He leaned forward and stole a quick kiss. “I love your attitude. Never lose it.” He lost the smile. “I’m offering to convert you. If you want it.”

“Because of that tattoo?”

“That’s it. And because you’re doing something for us. This is important. We’ve been attacked before and while the press thinks it’s the usual crap rock musicians have to put up with, in fact it’s the same source. The same organization and we have to stop it, if—well, never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

He studied her closely, no expression on his face. “No, it doesn’t matter. Just accept we have a contingency plan but it’s one none of us wants. The equivalent of going into a witness protection program.”

She understood. They would disappear. That couldn’t happen, not when they had so much going for them. Whatever else he told her, she knew he was telling the truth now. “Let me get this right. The press says it’s weird fan-attacks but you’re really being targeted by some cult or extremist organization. You’re laughing it off publicly but it’s real. And Will Thomas is a member of this PHR shit. Because he’s interested in me, you want me to help by talking to him. And because he’s a member of the PHR, you think I might be in danger.” She planted a kiss on his chest. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll only meet him with somebody else there as well.”

He snorted. “Paige and Fred? You kidding? No, I want to make you this offer.”

She sat up. “Something you can only do once? Now I know you’re kidding.”

With a convulsive motion he swept back the sheets and got out of bed. “Kidding, am I? I have to do this. Watch and then tell me what you want.”

She watched, smiling at first, but her smile faded when she saw the first feather.

A bright red one popped out of his lower arm. Optical illusion. Had to be.

Then another and another, speeding up until they covered his arm—wing. Jesus, his wing. And his body covered with feathers, now resting on taloned claws, big bad talons.

She was dreaming or hallucinating. Chris had dropped her some acid, there was something in his kiss.

He wouldn’t do that. Shit, this was real.

Paralyzed with fear, Ashley watched him, saw those eyes she knew so well grow, the pupil elongate until they became the eyes of a great bird. The beak, curved like an eagle’s, could rip her apart with a single sweep.

Ashley fought to regain control of her frozen limbs and finally made it. Jolting up from the bed, she shot backward and fumbled for the bedroom door. She jerked it open and bolted through it.

Her apartment, shit, why did she keep it so tidy? Where were clothes when she needed them?

She had to get out of here. Now, before that—that creature in the bedroom got to her. The cupboard in the hall. Thank God, a coat. She dragged out the greatcoat and shoved her arms through the sleeves, pulling out a pair of boots and hauling them over her feet and calves.

“Ashley, Ashley, wait!”

Chris’ voice from the bedroom. Jesus, she couldn’t let him get to her! In a blind panic she jerked open the front door and ran through it. The door slammed closed behind her.

She knew this building better than he did. There was more than one lift so she took the one nearest to the building’s exit and luckily it was there, waiting for her. He had to get some clothes on and he had to find a lift, probably wait for one. That gave her minutes. She needed to make the most of them.

Bolting from the building, she looked around wildly and saw a black cab approaching. Shit, no money. She’d worry about that later. She hailed it but when it showed signs of not stopping, she stepped out into the road. If it didn’t stop, she might well be dead. The thought of that wicked beak spurred her on.

Despite cursing long and volubly, the taxi driver took her and she directed him to Paige’s apartment. They’d have to get out of there too, it was one of the first places Chris would look for her. She hadn’t worn this heavy black coat for a while, it was last year’s fashion, still in the closet because she hadn’t bothered clearing it out recently. She groped in the pockets and found a ten-pound note and—miracle of miracles, a cell phone.

She pulled it out and recognized it immediately. She’d bought a new phone last year with a new SIM card when a fan got hold of her number and put it online. When she switched it on, she saw several missed calls, one very recent. Yesterday. And she knew the number.

If anyone could save her, this bastard could. She hit dial, praying there was enough credit to get this call through.

“John?”

“Ashley, where are you?”

She glanced out the cab window. “The Aldwych. I need your help.”

“The Savoy. My usual suite. I’ll see you then.”

Never, ever had she been so glad to hear her father’s voice.

Ashley knew she couldn’t expect emotional support from John but he could get her the money she needed. And the protection. Most of all the protection. The wicked creature she’d seen in her bedroom scared her witless.

She hit the phone and dialed for Paige but the phone died as the call began to ring. When she reached the Savoy she thrust the ten-pound note at the cabbie, not caring if the fare was higher or lower. He’d have to take it, that was all. She scurried inside to find her father.

John Westfall always took the same suite when he visited London. Many famous people had lived at the Savoy, and despite owning a beautiful country home close to London, John preferred the convenience and luxury he found at the hotel.

Unfortunately these days he rarely stayed there on his own. The girlfriend of the moment, the hangers-on and his staff inevitably accompanied him. Having come to public stardom late, John knew what he was doing and the hangers-on were carefully calculated to bring him the most publicity.

And Ashley was so not ready to face that crowd. The first person she looked for when she gained admittance to his suite was one of the few people with the power to get her straight through to her father.

Lucky waited for her. A New York Italian who had taken the nickname of one of his heroes, Lucky was a lot more intelligent than his hulking demeanor would suggest and he did his best to hide it from the world. That gave him a definite advantage. But John must have told him to wait for her because as soon as she appeared he put his arm around her and guided her to the small sitting room her father used as a private study. Like the kings of old, with their drawing rooms and withdrawing chambers, this was the equivalent of the privy chamber, which only the highest ranking and the most privileged guests ever saw. Ashley supposed that made her a princess.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling less like a princess. To return to her father, after he’d used her and dumped her, made her feel as if she’d accomplished nothing recently. Here she was, back in the Savoy, asking favors. But she’d never wanted one quite as desperately as she did now.

John Westfall’s pin-neat appearance, today in black slacks and a white polo shirt, typified his image, like his personality, honed for TV but not essentially changed by it. He wasn’t much taller than Ashley, probably five foot seven or eight to her five-four but his presence radiated through the room. He’d always been that way, pulling people to him, and now that he was in front of camera he made a charismatic center to the cheesy shows he starred in. Laconic, sarcastic, very British, he sharpened and honed his persona for the camera but in reality he was harder and far crueler. He used to send his minions to do his worst acts so he could distance himself from them but as his daughter, Ashley had seen him at work.

Which was exactly why she turned to him now. She hadn’t even known he was in England until his phone call—he shuttled across the Atlantic so frequently she lost track of his whereabouts but if anyone could protect her, it was John Westfall.

And she needed respite, time to think, to work out what to do. Her instincts told her she should trust Chris but how could she after what he’d just shown her?

“Ashley!” John crossed the room and took her into his arms, releasing her after a brief hug. Quite something when there weren’t any cameras present. John didn’t often do hugs. He frowned. “You look like shit. What are you doing dressed like that?”

“I ran, John.” She hadn’t called him “Dad” in years. “S-something in my flat. Someone.”

Only then did she glance around. Shocked, she saw Paige, awake and with some kind of comprehension in her eyes. At ten in the morning that was a miracle in itself, She sat with Fred and Will Thomas around a table that held coffee, a laptop and a bunch of papers. The aroma of the coffee permeated her nostrils. She’d never smelled anything so welcome.

“Come and sit. I can guess what you saw.” John took her to a chair and helped her to sit. His solicitude unnerved her. He never showed real emotion this side of the camera.

She glanced at Paige and received a small smile, a flicker but she didn’t miss it. Will poured her a cup of coffee and she folded her hands around it, relishing the warmth.

“Do you want to take your coat off? It’s rather hot in here.”

She smiled at Will. “I don’t think so. I don’t have anything on underneath. I left in a hurry.”

His warm expression sharpened. “You saw it, didn’t you? You saw him shape-shift?”

Ashley couldn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes. I saw him turn into a bird. A great red bird.”

Will smacked the palm of his hand with his clenched fist. “I knew it! Firebirds!”

“Oh yes.” John smirked and regarded his daughter with more approval than she received when she and Paige had achieved their first—and only—number one. “My researches showed it. I nearly had them before but this time we’re going to get them.”

Ashley sipped her coffee and moved to avoid Will when he would have taken her free hand. She didn’t want to touch anyone. Even her father’s hug had been hard to bear, even though it didn’t mean much to her. And she still didn’t like Will or trust him.

“You can stay here,” John announced. “I’ll have a room made ready for you. I need you close. You know it’s true what I told you all those years about different beings.”

Something he’d said stuck in her mind. “You knew this all along?”

Her father flashed a smug grin. “Oh yes. Aidan Hawthorne thought he’d wiped my memories but he’d just been through a trauma himself and he wasn’t in top form. I kept some of the memories, guarded them well and I relearned. But I bided my time. These creatures are evil and we can’t attack them except from a position of strength.” The last statement didn’t work with Ashley. Not when her father said it. He didn’t mean it.

“So you want to kill them?” That wasn’t right. Surely it wasn’t, to want to kill them in cold blood. Whatever they were, they were alive and they hadn’t done any harm that she knew.

“No. I want them alive. I want what they have. Hell, it’s worth changing into a bird every now and again if I can have the rest of it. Do you know?” Now it made sense. Her father never did something for nothing, so what would attacking the band get him? Nothing, unless he wanted something from them. And he did.

Chris had offered her conversion but she hadn’t stayed for long enough to find out what it meant. “No.” She finished her coffee and put it on the table with a quiet click against its glass surface.

John grinned. She hadn’t seen him in this good a mood since he’d landed the TV show. “Immortality or pretty near it. Super-strength in the other form. Amazing powers. Yes, I want it. But I need to take one of them alive.”

That didn’t jive with what Will had told her. “I thought you were purists? Wanted them dead?”

Will shrugged. “I do but you have to think of the greater good. John here is on our side. If he’s converted he’ll still be on our side. Bigger, stronger, harder. And a potential spy.”

John must know the PHR would kill him as soon as he wasn’t of any use to them any more. Of course he knew. He’d take it into consideration and make plans. Nobody caught John Westfall napping.

“So you have a plan?” As far as Ashley was concerned, knowledge was power. She needed to find out as much as she could about firebirds, about what they wanted, about what her father and the PHR wanted. Then she’d make up her mind. Her mind, on her own. Not Chris’, not John’s, not Will’s. Hers.

“We have some kind of plan,” John said. “It involves you, Ashley darling. You’re having an affair with Chris Keys, aren’t you?”

She nodded. Stupid to deny it. “But we’ve been doing it for years. Jake too, until he married Teri.”

Her father bared his teeth for a moment of pure animal fury. “We nearly had them last year. We got his wife. She was one of them, did you know?” How could she know? Ashley remembered she and Paige had been in bed with Jake when he’d got the news his wife was dead. Murdered. And she hadn’t seen him again until he turned up with Teri in London, married and happy.

That meant Teri and Chris and Jake and Ryan and Gina and Aidan were firebirds. And—dear God—so was Corinne. Her sister was the equivalent of an alien in those movies where a strange person turns up, a substitute for someone you think you know.

Shock raced through her. She couldn’t take much more of this.

“John, I need to rest.”

“Okay.” His solicitous tone almost soothed her until she realized who was saying it. Her father, the man who cared nothing for her. He’d abandoned his daughters and let them fly in the wind once a better prospect turned up. One daughter had turned into a sex-hunting junkie, the other into a restless, listless woman with no idea who she was or what she wanted to do. That was her. John Westfall was all about John Westfall.

But he would give her safety, enough time to rest and think. “Then we’ll talk. I’ll get some clothes for you. Paige, can you take care of it?” Paige nodded. “Our big advantage is they don’t realize I got my memory back. Aidan Hawthorne didn’t scour it as clean as he thought. Enough for me to find out what I’d researched all over again. They probably think you’ve run to Paige so I want you, Paige and Fred,” he spared the almost comatose Fred a glance but it was clear Fred wasn’t really paying attention, probably out of his mind on something or other, “I want you to go home and make it appear as if Ashley’s with you. I’ll send you in a car with somebody, a secretary, maybe. In Ashley’s coat.” Ashley clutched her coat around her body. It was all she had now. “Let them see you helping her indoors. Then stay there.”

Paige nodded and got to her feet, swaying only slightly. “Come on, Fred, let’s get going.”

“Wait for the coat.” John barked a few terse instructions into the phone and a man came to take Ashley to a bedroom. Soulless, bleak, just like her room at home. Not that it mattered. She hadn’t ever dared put down roots because the one time she had she hadn’t been on her own.

Her apartment at her father’s house had been bugged for a very long time. So long the decorators had painted around the old bugs and planted new ones. That knowledge had made Ashley realize she was never safe, anywhere. If she let anything of her true self out, someone would find out. And they’d use it.

Paranoia was sometimes there for a reason.

She was too exhausted to think properly. She couldn’t imagine what she would do but she’d take her father’s sanctuary and use it to think. And she had to think fast.

Chris let out a roar the minute the door slammed behind Ashley’s fleeing form but he didn’t waste time, not even to dress. Fury that she’d escaped him and even more anger that she even thought she had to escape. Whatever she decided, he’d look after her, on his own if he had to.

The thought made him pause, his hand on the front door. What the fuck was he thinking?

But only for a second.

That second was enough to let her make her getaway. As he raced into the hallway, he heard the elevator doors slide closed and the subdued whirr as the carriage descended.

Then the click when the door to her apartment clicked closed behind him. There he was, stark naked, standing in the hallway of an apartment block with a security camera aimed right at him. So he did what he could. He moved out of view, shape-shifted and took out the camera with his beak, taking vicious pleasure from ripping the wires out of the wall. He could have melted the contacts with a sharp beam of telekinesis but he preferred the beak work. That wasn’t all he wanted to rip and tear. First, anyone who hurt Ashley. Then himself, for being stupid enough to force the knowledge on her too fast.

He shrank down until he became the size of a fly and flew toward the exit. It burned him that he had to fly right down to the first floor before he could get out of the building but the windows in the hallways were sealed tight. Must be some fire regulation against it but the knowledge wasn’t going to help him now.

She’d gone. He put out his senses but she’d closed to him. He hadn’t even known she could do that. She wasn’t on this street. Where the fuck had she gone?

On his way home, after he’d shifted to his full size and fuzzed the air around him so no one would notice the humongous red bird in the sky, Chris thought furiously. If he told Aidan and the others, they might panic, might rush after her. Might condemn her. He’d give himself a day to find her and then he’d have no choice. He’d have to tell Aidan.

It didn’t take him a day. It took him ten minutes of zapping around the TV to tell him the only place she could have gone. John Westfall was back in Britain and staying at the Savoy.

Chapter Ten

“Good morning, Father.” Ashley looked up from the breakfast table in their private dining room when her father entered. She tried to appear calm, as if she’d had a good night’s sleep.

He raised a dark brow. “Good morning, Ashley. What’s with the ‘father’?”

She shrugged. “Trying it out for size. I think I prefer to call you John after all.”

“Glad to see one of my daughters knows what seven-thirty in the morning looks like.” He grabbed a plate and lifted the lid of the heater on the side table before helping himself to a pile of bacon and two eggs. If his personal physician saw him now, he’d give him hell but he wasn’t here and Ashley didn’t much care if John clogged up his arteries. He put the plate on the table and poured himself a cup of coffee, waggling the pot at her. She nodded and he topped up her cup. She needed the caffeine after last night. She’d survived on much less sleep in her time but she needed a clear head today. Now she wanted her father sweet, so she could find out exactly what she needed to know to make her mind up. She knew Chris was a firebird, she’d seen it for herself, the only way she would have believed him. But he was still Chris. Not some evil entity.

She needed to know her father’s plans, how he wanted to take Pure Wildfire down, how he intended to help the PHR in its ambition to slaughter the band. After that, she’d decide and act accordingly.

Ashley lifted her cup to her mouth, careful not to allow the slightest shake of her hand.

John sat opposite her. Nobody else interrupted their breakfast. Ashley knew from the old days of the house in the country that John preferred to eat his breakfast sans stress, banning his staff from the room while he ate. Later he’d have working lunches and business dinners, but for now he wanted breakfast.

When she finished her meal, Ashley poured another cup of coffee and waited, cradling the cup in her hands.

A few minutes later, John sighed and pushed his empty plate away. “Okay,” he said. “This may be the only time we get alone today, so I want to talk plans to you. I’m ready to dump Paige and Fred.”

Ashley gasped. “Just abandon them?”

“Only managerially.” He dabbed his lips with a clean white napkin, the Savoy’s monogram embroidered on one corner. “I don’t intend to abandon Paige as my daughter. So I want to know for sure. How strung out is she?”

Ashley knew John was Paige’s last chance to turn her life around. Paige wouldn’t talk to anyone except her and John was the only person who could force Paige to take the rehab course she needed. Dropping her as an artist was the right choice to take her away from temptation, the drugs offered free to the band so the dealers had a ready market in the employees and hangers-on, the never-ending drinks. But Paige wouldn’t like it.

So Ashley told the truth. “Remember Pure Wildfire just before you took them on? They were lost, all strung out. You had to put the live album out just to fill in the long space between albums.”

He gave a tight grin. “First thing I did. It gave them the chance to sort themselves out. If they hadn’t, I’d have dropped them.”

“Well, Paige is in the same state. She thinks she’s brilliant and at the moment she’s holding it together but she doesn’t come to rehearsals and her—private life is getting too much, even for me.” In short, terse words she described the horrendous evening that had resulted in Paige vomiting and Chris taking Ashley home, leaving out the sex and making it sound more like a social affair. Not that she had any hope of fooling John about that aspect, she was just uncomfortable discussing it. “She won’t listen to me, gives me the old ‘I can handle it’ routine.”

“Well, I have somebody else on board now,” John said.

She knew at once. “Will Thomas.”

“That’s the guy.”

“Did he ever do financial advice for that thrash band or was he always working for you?”

“He works for me. He gave the band financial advice but on my behalf. I like my signings well looked after. Promising band or so they tell me, although their music isn’t to my taste.” A big difference between the management styles of Pure Wildfire’s manager, Randy Norwood, and John Westfall. John saw it all as business. Randy only signed bands he loved and his personal care of them went way beyond management. Being a giant of a man, he had worked the door for his very first signing but his combination of shrewd intelligence and brute strength had bamboozled the many organizers, record labels and venue managers who lay scattered in his impressive wake.

John would serve his bands as long as they continued to provide him with one of two things, preferably both—kudos and cash. Failing that, he’d drop them like hot potatoes. Organizers didn’t lie scattered in his wake but the remnants of once-promising bands did. So giving a new, promising band financial advice was good for them both.

So was using Will to keep an eye on the increasingly wild antics of his daughter.

Outmaneuvered again. John specialized in that. “Did you ask him to seduce us?”

John gave a satisfied smile. “Only if he thought it necessary. But I have to tell you, Ashley, he likes you. Paige, not so much but that’s just as well. She’s married—at least for now.” He watched her, his smile fading but not disappearing. “He’s a great financier but he wanted to do something for his organization, so I used that too. I’ve joined it, by the way.”

“The PHR?”

“Yes. But only for now. I don’t believe in extremism that drives out common sense. The PHR is useful to me, that’s all. You know what I want, Ashley.”

“No.” Not until he said it directly. She wanted to hear him. In her mind, she tried to alert Chris but didn’t dare do too much. If John had skills in telepathy, he might notice. And Ashley wasn’t even sure she could do it at all.

“I want,” said John, never taking his gaze from her face, “the power someone from Pure Wildfire can give me. From my enquiries, it appears that only Chris Keys has that ability left. But they will know others. However, it would be better if I got it from Chris.”

“What do you need?”

“Only what they have. Power, longevity. I want all that. Bring me the feather.”

She frowned. “What feather?”

“You need a feather. He shape-shifts for you and you choose a feather. Then you use that to convert. Instead of converting, bring it to me.”

Shit. And Chris had offered to convert her. She remembered that. Not that she’d tell John. “Why should I?”

“Because if you do, I’ll make sure Paige is cared for. I’ll have her kidnapped and sent into rehab if she says no. By the time she finishes, she’ll realize her mistake and you’ll have her back. Otherwise, I’ll drop her and let her swing in the wind.”

While his threat didn’t entirely surprise her, nevertheless it filled her with appalled fury. But fury wouldn’t do her any good at this time so she forced it back, letting only a part of her horror show. “You’d do that to your own daughter?”

“For immortality? In a heartbeat.”

For once, he wasn’t hiding. Ashley saw the real John, the man concerned only with himself and his needs and wants. Usually he covered it with a veneer of caring but not here, not now. “Don’t you need Chris as well for that?”

His gaze sharpened. “Do I?”

A gap in his knowledge. A weak spot. From what she’d seen, she was fairly sure she was right. But she shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m only guessing.” She met his gaze boldly. “So you want me to go back and get this feather?”

His lips curled back from his teeth. “Exactly. But I do have a contingency plan. As you well know.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You went to the auction at Bourne’s. Will was acting on my behalf when he bought that painting.”

Her father collected art but only the fashionable kind and that painting wasn’t nearly as trendy as a Damien Hirst or a Van Gogh. So he hadn’t wanted it for its aesthetic qualities or even its market value.

“So why did you want that painting? It’s not worth what you paid for it.”

“Oh yes it is.” She waited for his revelation. John had great timing for breaking news, good and bad. “Haven’t you guessed? That painting contains dragon’s blood. Blood from a dragon who didn’t convert anyone. When they die without using their gift, they will sometimes try to enshrine it. It doesn’t always work. But this one will. I’m almost sure of it. I’ve spent years tracing the provenance and this is it.”

She felt as if she was walking deeper and deeper into Alice’s Wonderland. But she’d carry on walking, at least for now, so she knew what her father wanted. “But how would you use it?”

“There’s a way to release the power. You think I’m going to tell you how it’s done? Ashley, please.” He gave her a pitying look.

He didn’t know. He wanted her to find out. Otherwise he’d go ahead and do it all on his own. “And you’d destroy a painting for that?”

He looked at her like she was feeble-minded. “For God’s sake, Ashley, think. It’s not a great work of art.” He paused and added in a reflective tone, “But if it was the Mona Lisa, I’d still do it.” His gaze sharpened. “Tell you what. You get me the feather and you can have the painting and the way to extract the power from it.”

“And the rest of your art.”

“What?” He frowned. “What have I missed?”

“That I love art, that I might have made a career in the field? I want you to endow a museum somewhere. Let the public see your collection.” That might just be worth fighting for, working with the devil. But not selling her soul, and not betraying Chris.

He gave a short laugh, his quick intelligence going straight to the advantages he could get from her plan. “Jesus. Fuck, that’s brilliant!” New respect edged his voice. “Oh yeah. The Westfall Foundation. All that stuff I’m tired of, the crap costing me a fortune in storage. Hell, if that’s what you want you can have it anyway.” His face shone with delight. “Ashley, that is genius. Maybe you do have some of me in you after all. What a publicity coup!” He crowed with laughter.

Ashley caught her breath. A future. Something she could have for herself and she wanted it. Oh yes, she wanted it. Until her father mentioned it like an afterthought and then saw the angle he could work on it, she hadn’t realized how wonderful the idea was. A foundation. She didn’t care what its name was, couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t thought of it before. Her father bought art and then changed his décor according to whim or fashion, putting the other stuff in storage. He rarely sold it because what was his remained his, a maxim he’d spent his whole life confirming, although he’d given a few lesser pieces away for the pleasure of seeing his name on the plaque museums put by the work.

He had several Henry Moores, at least one Renoir and a whole firing by potter Bernard Leach. And that was only for starters.

Her head swam with the possibilities. She’d need to find a suitable building—or have one built. Hire staff, publicize the opening. Oh yeah and look after the art. Maybe persuade her father to give it an endowment—not difficult considering the tax advantages he stood to gain. Her excited mind raced through the time-scale, only to fall to ground with a crash.

What was she thinking? Her father had, unwittingly or not, offered the one thing he could give her that would make her do almost anything for him. She’d sell her soul for a foundation like that.

Except she wouldn’t sell this. Not the gift her father wanted, to make him live longer, become stronger. John wouldn’t want to leave his achievements behind, remain secret and hidden like Chris and the rest of the shape-shifter community. He would want everyone to know what he was, what he’d achieved, how fucking powerful he was. James Bond’s Blofeld would have nothing on John Westfall.

But that wasn’t why she wouldn’t get him this feather. If it worked or not, it couldn’t be right. He’d tried to capture the members of Pure Wildfire, he’d tried to have their women killed, used their weakest points to exploit and blackmail them. He’d nearly succeeded. Well, he wouldn’t succeed this time either. So he wouldn’t help her achieve her dream once he knew which side she was on.

Her heart bled for the stillborn Westfall Foundation, then she put the dream firmly aside. Maybe she could get something like it on her own. Or a job as curator with a museum. That would be beyond cool.

Yes, she’d work for that. But not sell out, not even for a dream like this.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I can arrange to see Chris later today.”

His confident smile broadened. “Good girl. I take it we have a deal? When can I expect to see the feather?”

“When I see the Foundation in legal documents or at least the start of it and Paige is in rehab.”

John nodded. “You’ve got a deal.”

A tap sounded on the closed door and he grimaced. “I have a meeting. I’ll see you here later.” He got to his feet and squeezed her shoulder as he passed. “I’ll get Will to look after you. You’ll be okay. I’m proud of you, Ashley, and I promise you won’t be sorry.”

Oh yes I will.

Ashley waited until she’d finished her breakfast, forcing herself to choke down at least two slices of toast before she left the dining room. She needed all her wits about her and if she didn’t eat, she’d get lightheaded and spacey. She couldn’t afford that now.

The spacious living room outside was empty except for Will Thomas, dressed in a pin-sharp business suit and white shirt. She remembered how he’d looked fucking Paige. Like this, exactly like this, only a bit more tousled. He hadn’t cared about Paige, he’d just taken what was on offer and moved on. The bastard.

He gave her a friendly smile. “So your father’s blown my cover, eh?”

“Only that you work for him, not the band.”

“Kick Me One More Time? I gave them some good advice but I didn’t stay around to see if they took it and they haven’t contacted me since. I guess they decided to waste their money on drink and drugs.” He got to his feet and crossed the room to her. “Some things I didn’t lie about though. I always fancied you and Paige. I’ve had Paige. Now I want you.”

As his mouth descended to hers, Paige sent up a small prayer that she wouldn’t have to put up with him for long. But a kiss, that meant nothing.

Except it did. She hated his mouth on hers. Once she might not have done but he reminded her fatally of someone in her past. Tom Albright. Will didn’t look like him, didn’t behave like him. Tom was a spoiled brat and Will was brighter, less handsome but more masculine. But they were both under the thumb of her father and that was enough to put her off. She couldn’t trust anyone who worked for him.

She endured the kiss, drew back when he tried to deepen it and draw her closer but he pursued, gripped her harder. Hard enough to bruise.

Will wouldn’t have heard the growl that sounded deep in her mind but before she could betray herself by slapping him or shoving him away, she pulled out of his arms, just about managing to keep a welcoming expression on her face. “Down, boy. Later. We have business to take care of first.”

She twisted around and made for her bedroom, closing the door in his face and re-emerging with her mobile phone. Keeping eye contact with Will, deliberately keeping him at simmering point, she lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hi,” she said to Chris.

“Ashley, are you okay? Baby, I was so worried when you ran off like that. I would have gone rather than you—”

She cut him off. “I know. I understand. So you’re busy today?”

A moment of dead silence before he said, “Is there someone else there? Are you being held against your will? Do you want me to come get you?”

She had no doubt that if she breathed the word “yes” down the phone he’d be there in ten minutes. The thought staggered her. She’d never had that kind of support in her life before. Never. “I’m fine.” She glanced at Will who looked at ease but the fists clenched by his side were a dead giveaway. “Especially after the other night.” She had to sell this. “I’m sorry I had to leave so fast but my dad wanted me. Yeah. Well, he’s still my manager, you know? Okay.”

All through this one-sided conversation Chris remained silent but she felt his presence as if he stood in the room. Eventually, she gave in and told him what he really wanted to know. “I guess it was a bit of a shock, that’s all. I want to meet you and talk.” That was the truth. She really wanted to know more. Now that she was over her initial shock she knew she could trust Chris not to hurt her, knew it like she knew her own name.

“You sure? Would you meet me in private or maybe with the band?”

No, not with the band. The thought of that angry red bird multiplied by five made her want to scream in terror. But not meeting Chris on his own.

Tension filled her. She still wasn’t sure about her participation in this scheme. “You know I like you, Chris. And Jake but he’s not available anymore. Yes, I’ll meet you.”

The door slammed open and her father strode in, followed by several minions. One look at his taut features told her he wasn’t happy, far from the relaxed, powerful tycoon who had left such a short time before. “Got to go. Call you later.”

She cut off his protesting “Ashley, what’s wrong?” before she snapped the phone shut and put it in her pocket.

Her father stood before her, legs apart, hands straight by his side. His body language shouted angry. Ashley wondered what could have set him off like this. Very few things did these days. It was bad for his blood pressure. Red stained his cheekbones, telling her that maybe that blood pressure wasn’t doing him any favors at the moment.

“Pure Wildfire’s manager told me he wouldn’t let any of his acts perform with any of mine,” he said baldly. “Something about drugs backstage.”

“Ah God. Paige.” She remembered Chris’ threat. They must have told Randy Norwood about Paige’s flouting of the backstage rules. The headliner got to make those kinds of decisions, drugs, groupies and so on. At least they did when it was one of Norwood’s bands. “But you knew about that. The Chicks are dead, you said that yourself.”

“He’s been investigating and he says all my bands regularly flout their rules. He won’t talk to me. The bastard, he’s been looking for this chance. So none of his bands get to appear on any of my TV shows.” A woman dressed in a tight gray business suit nodded and made a note on her Blackberry. “If he wants war, he can fucking have it.”

He slammed into the study, leaving Paige staring after him. Then he opened the door again and gave a single jerk of his head. “You two, in here.”

They went inside. The woman, the latest in a series of P.A’s who John wore out with depressing frequency, either by fucking them or working them to exhaustion, looked fresh and alert. She must be new. She stood by John’s side, half a step behind him like an obedient harem slave.

“We need to make this right.” He glanced at the woman. “Get me Norwood.” He needed to make it right so his daughter could continue seeing Christopher Keys, not for any other reason. A war might be good for both sides in publicity.

The woman left the room.

“I want you to do this tonight,” he told her. “Find him, fuck him, get me what I want before this storm breaks.”

She’d find him and fuck him all right. But she wasn’t coming back. There had to be somewhere in the world she could go for some peace, a little sanctuary. Stuck between these two powerful men, John Westfall and Chris Keys, with Will Thomas waiting to catch the pieces, Ashley felt more than a little battered.

She wouldn’t tell John what he wanted to know, wouldn’t get him this feather he craved and would try to get the painting back for the band. After that, it was up to them. Restore the status quo and leave. That was her plan, as far as it went.

While her decision would make the band happy, it would make her father furious with her. She’d need all the protection she could get. Maybe Randy Norwood could help—his bouncers were formidable and strictly professional. When this was over, she’d need them.

This was the end of her music career, no doubt about that, because although he might try to use her contract to force her to compliance, John couldn’t stop her if she never made another album or appeared professionally as a singer.

Ashley couldn’t be sorry about that, although she tried. The owner of a competent voice, the recipient of endless singing lessons in her childhood and teen years, for a short while she’d believed the hype but proximity to someone with real talent, namely Corinne, and close observance of the passion of real exponents, some of the people her father managed had taught her otherwise. She was a Sunday choir kind of girl, the kind of person who enjoyed a good sing but would be happy to leave it alone for a while. It wasn’t her life. She didn’t live for her music.

Neither did Paige but she’d have to make her own decisions. Time for Ashley to leave the nest. Siblings they would always be but their association as professional partners was fast coming to the end of its days.

So that evening she set out for home, fully aware she had bugs planted on her person, in her cell phone and probably spares in her bag, one of her father’s goons following discreetly at a distance, ostensibly to protect her. In reality to keep an eye on her.

She arranged to meet Chris the next day, giving herself a night to get her thoughts together. And to get some sleep, hopefully. After arriving home—home! she thought, looking around her at the meticulously tidy dwelling, where she hadn’t even chosen the décor—she found a change of clothes and showered, making sure she raked her hands several times through her hair to make sure all the bugs were gone.

Accepting all those tracking devices made her feel dirty. Her father had given her a new cell phone and told her he’d planted a bug in there “for her own safety”. She wasn’t supposed to know about the others but with her previous experience of his obsessive tracking, she guessed the truth. When she went looking, she found one tucked into her purse but she left it there—she’d rather know where they were than give him the excuse to plant more.

The greatcoat, the jeans, t-shirt and sneakers her father had sent out for, even the underwear, she laid aside.

He’d probably bugged her flat. She hadn’t exactly locked up well. At the thought, she shuddered but forced herself into bed. There wasn’t a lot she could do about that, except warn Chris when she met him in the morning.

Chapter Eleven

Ashley sat up, wondering what had woken her. It had taken her a long time to get to sleep, exhausted though she was by worry, but now she came wide awake.

Then a sense permeated through her whole body. Her pussy dampened and her whole body heated.

“Chris?”

It couldn’t be him.

But it was. He shimmered into form by her bed. Stark naked. And aroused. It was hard to hide anything from her in that condition and he wasn’t even trying. He gazed down at her. She swallowed and raised her finger to her lips.

He frowned but contacted her mentally. What is it, baby?

The endearment sounded even more intimate in her head. She felt her body soften for him and a trickle of liquid seeped out of her pussy to meander down the cleft between her buttocks. She found enough wit to answer him. My father’s had the chance to get in here. He’s probably had this place bugged.

He grinned broadly. He did. I deactivated them.

How? “How?”

He tapped his forehead. “Power of the mind. I shorted them. I’m not the best at telekinesis but I can manage that. It’ll look like a power surge.”

Her jaw dropped. “My God.”

“No, just me, little ol’ Chris.”

He didn’t look very little to her. “Where did you come from? How did you get in here?”

“I can’t vanish like mist, I just came in a tad small. If you want to keep a shape-shifter out you have to block all the windows and doors.” He eyed her curiously. “So why aren’t you screaming and climbing the walls at the sight of me?”

“Because you’re Chris Keys.” When he remained silent, she explained as best she could. “I’ve been thinking. You have to admit, finding out you’re a shape-shifting firebird had to be a bit of a shock but whatever form you take you’re Chris. I know you. I thought about you as I lay in my bed at the Savoy last night, about what you showed me and I realized that you are one of the few people who has never let me down.”

He tilted his head on one side, eyeing her quizzically, his eyes gleaming in the dim light from her bedside lamp that she’d left on when she’d fallen asleep. “I was worried about you. You ran into the night, no money and for all I knew naked. But you got away. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His expression, taut and concerned, warmed her as nothing else had that day. This was real. He cared.

Her mouth tightened when she remembered how she’d run from him. “I panicked. I had my old mobile phone with me and Dad called me to tell me he was here. He always calls us when he’s in town, though we don’t always rush to do his bidding anymore.” She sighed. “I didn’t know he was coming. He flies across the Atlantic several times a month, so it’s hard to keep up with him.”

“I wondered.”

Her gaze flew to his. “You did?” Biting her lip, she realized that yes, it was pat, it did sound odd. “I swear I didn’t know he was coming and I didn’t know he intended to pull this.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you?”

He nodded. “I know you better now. At least, I think I’m beginning to know you. Ashley, I didn’t come to see you for any reason other than to ask you to be quiet about what you know, what I’ve told you.”

She stared at him, drinking in his form and the intent expression in his eyes, but she didn’t feel him in her mind or asking for entrance there. She knew what that felt like now and she missed it. Two people facing each other was no longer enough for her. She wanted that link, craved it. But she couldn’t ask for it. She’d run from him. Why should he trust her anymore?

She could make him that promise though. “I already decided to do that. But Chris—I’m so confused. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I need to think.” She lifted her hands and let them drop to her lap in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know. Everything I believed in, all my life has changed. I knew my father would take care of us in his own way and I knew he was obsessed by the occult, which turns out not to be so stupid after all. He collected weird people, even married a couple.”

“Your mother?”

She nodded and patted the bed next to her. He dropped to sit, not touching her. The expanse of a pillow lay between them, the pillow she’d hugged as she slept, wishing it was a warm, male body. “She lives in San Francisco now and we never see her. She was the daughter of hippies and she believed in some weird stuff. Corinne’s mother was even weirder, the real deal if my father is to be believed. She taught him things.” The expression on his face made her pause.

Chris definitely looked concerned and if that expression held an edge of pity she was going to kill him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Your mother. I didn’t know she was still alive. Corinne’s mother is dead, I guess I assumed yours was too since neither of you ever mention her.” He reached out, then pulled back and rested his hand on his thigh. “It makes me mad. At myself. I never asked about you, never cared, never found out. I just used you.”

She gave him a grin. She didn’t do pity. “Don’t flatter yourself, Chris. I used you too. You can’t say I didn’t know a bit about you when I first slept with you, can you? Except I didn’t know everything.”

A small smile curled his lips. “No but I had a reason for keeping things quiet. I’m bound to. It’s against our law.”

“Ooo, you have a secret code?”

He rewarded her with a short laugh. “Only two rules. Never tell, never compel. Until Talented society decides as a whole to come out, we don’t tell anyone who or what we are. And you know we’re telepathic—we’re not allowed to compel obedience or force someone to do something that they wouldn’t agree to do. Both punishable by death. No appeal. Apart from that, we pretty much have the same laws as everyone else.”

“Wow.” Death. That could be terminal, she thought but she didn’t say it aloud. She was too fond of puns as it was but these days she kept most of them to herself, too tired of the groans she received when she articulated them. “But you told me.”

“I told Aidan I was going to. He has the authority to sanction it and he pretty much had to agree or condemn me to death. I didn’t give the poor fucker much of a choice.” Again his hand moved as if he wanted to touch her but although she gave a good impression of coolness, she was far from feeling it. Not yet. The naked man in her bedroom she could handle. The naked man who flew through keyholes was something else. Intellectually, she’d accepted the truth but she was still wary about resuming her relationship with him.

Instead, she reverted to the subject of mothers. She lost no tears on her own, the flighty, impulsive creature who’d dumped two babies on her father and run. Ashley had met her mother a few times and always felt she was more of a sister than a mother. No maternal connection. She could have done with a bit of motherly love when she was younger but that was long gone now and she was still here. Just about. “Corinne’s mother died before we were born but from the little we heard, I think she was the real deal. Something powerful.” She stared at the pink bedcover and traced a pattern on the smooth satin. “I never believed in all that before. I wanted to, I even read books, novels about it but I couldn’t see how it worked. But it does, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” A short pause before he asked her, “What do you mean, the real deal? What kind of real deal?”

“How should I know? I don’t know what kind of deals there are in your world. But she was something. John used to say she was a sorceress.”

“A Sorcerer?” His voice sharpened.

“Yes, I always thought that was strange. Aren’t sorcerers men?”

“Not always. Sorcerers are a race of people originating in Middle Europe. Most can trace their ancestry back to one family in Hungary but it was a pretty prolific family. Listen, Ashley.” Again he reached for her and again he drew his hand back before he touched her. “Everyone has some psi powers, you know, stuff like telepathy and telekinesis, but just after birth most babies develop a mental barrier. They never explore that part of their legacy, most are totally unaware it even exists. Sorcerers are born without the ability to develop the barrier. They have to learn it instead, once they’re old enough for someone to teach them. They’re immensely powerful, more than any other race and they are scary-ass dudes. But most of them are good guys.”

“I was meaning to ask you that,” she said, keeping her voice steady although he rained shock after shock onto her. “Who exactly are the good guys in this?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, maybe two, only watched her. Maybe it wasn’t as long as a minute but it felt like it. Stupid question anyway. As if he’d to tell her he was the bad guy. Bad guys didn’t do that.”

But he didn’t tell her he was a good guy either. “Baby, that’s something you’re going to have to decide for yourself. I really appreciate that you’re not going to tell your father about me and the band but I’m guessing he knows already.”

She nodded. “He told me a lot about firebirds and your powers. He knows a shitload of stuff. I don’t know how much of it is accurate but if half of it is true, you are one scary man. Or bird.”

“I’m both. Man and bird. Both live in me.” He paused, biting his lip. “What does he want?”

She guessed he’d know that but she told him anyway. “He wants you to convert him. He wants what you’ve got.”

He gave a snort of disgust. “He tried that once before. Aidan cleared his mind but that was just after—a crisis and he wasn’t sure if he’d done it right. Besides, if Corinne’s mother was a Sorcerer, she probably taught him some techniques that could overcome a mind wipe.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head as if trying to clear a headache. “Jesus, what a mess.”

Without thinking she stretched across the pillow that lay between them and touched his arm. “Chris, we’ll cope.”

A moment of complete stillness before he looked up, straight into her eyes.

Something shifted then, something deep inside her. She wasn’t alone anymore.

“We will. We’ll cope just fine.” He took his hand away from his face to cover hers where it lay on his arm. “So have you decided whose side you’re on?”

“No. Not yet. I’ve known my father too long to dump him completely but he wants to steal something that belongs to you. I grew up fast, a long time ago.”

“Corinne decided after Aidan came out to her. By accident. He was trying not to scare her—there’s a drug we can take to stop us shape-shifting during the compulsory three days of the full moon—and she thought he was a junkie before she saw what happened when he didn’t take Cephalox. Freaked her out.”

“Like you freaked me out the night before last.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “But your dad gave you both courage. You and Corinne both face reality and decide for yourselves. I know that now.”

“Didn’t you know it before?” She laughed shakily. “No, of course you didn’t. Why should you? But about two years ago, I think, about the time Ryan met Gina, I started to grow up. And Paige started to, well, age in reverse I guess. She got less responsible. Or she didn’t care anymore. I started to wonder what I really wanted out of life when I realized I didn’t much care about things anymore. Nothing. Not my singing career, not being a success, whatever that means. I decided to get by, like most people do and I have my trust fund, it’s not as if I’ll starve. I think I might be finishing the growing up process round about now.” Her crooked smile reflected the understanding in her heart. She knew a lot of things that she hadn’t fully understood before. “There aren’t any men in white hats and men in black hats to help you decide who is right and who is wrong. Goodies and baddies, you know? And good people can make mistakes and do selfish things sometimes, the same as the bad guys can sometimes do good stuff.”

He nodded. “I’m just me. I try but I’m no saint.”

Recalling scenes in the past, she smiled. “I’d say not. I wouldn’t like you so much if you were. But in this, I think you’re wearing a white hat.” She sighed heavily. “Which means my father is in the black hat. He wants what you have and he’s not fussy how he gets it.”

“Has he asked you to do anything?”

“He thinks I ran to him for sanctuary.” She paused and bit her lip. “He wants a feather. Does that mean anything to you?” Perhaps her father’s information was flawed, false. A faint hope but the chance existed.

His grave expression dashed all her hope. “You know it does. I offered to convert you. That’s how I’d do it. I’d shape-shift and you’d choose a feather. That’s the one to convert you. The only one.”

“Do you have to be there to convert him? Does he have to take you captive?”

Slowly, Chris shook his head. “No. I have to touch it, acknowledge it’s the one but that’s all. Some of my kind have left their essence hidden, in an artifact or just locked away.”

When she said, “I know,” he stared at her, startled, so she explained. “He has that picture. The one you tried to buy at Bourne’s.”

“Shit, then it was a power-piece after all!” Chris growled low in his throat. She hadn’t known birds growled but this one sure did. “I wasn’t sure. When Will Thomas outbid me, I let him. I thought I could do a little breaking and entering after I’d done some more research but I left it too long. He bought it for your father, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

“Then why does he want my feather? The painting is enough. It has dragon’s blood in it.”

“I’m fairly sure he doesn’t know how to use it. Plus, he’s greedy. He chased you long before the painting came his way. He doesn’t let go.” Owning a way of converting someone else would be the ultimate bribe. “If he uses the painting to become a-a dragon, can he then convert someone else?”

“No. Only shape-shifters born can do that.”

“So Corinne can’t do it?” He shook his head. “Is Sean a-a firebird?”

“He will be at puberty, when his first shape-shift occurs. We’ll teach him to use his psi powers.”

She looked away, stared at his hand lying on the bedcover. “It’s amazing. People like you living alongside us and we had no idea!”

“We’ve taken great care you don’t.” She heard the soft tone to his voice, understood he was working hard to help her find her way. He hadn’t entered her mind yet, not as deeply as he had before. Even the light touch she felt warmed her as few things had ever done.

“What do you want to do now?”

She knew exactly what she wanted. “I want to give my father something to persuade him to leave me alone. If this feather fails to convert him, he can blame it on himself. Can you give me something like that or should I give him any old feather?”

“If he’s a Sorcerer or if a Sorcerer has brought out his latent psi Talents, he’ll know it’s mine. He’ll feel it.”

That put paid to that plan then.

“I’ll give it to you,” he said, startling her enough into forcing her attention on her face. Amber-flecked eyes blazed acceptance at her. He took her for what she was, he always had. Accepted her, given her what she wanted and taken what she was willing to give. Now he wanted to give again.

Her heart ached for him. “You can’t do that. You just can’t. He’ll use it against you.”

“We’ll do it. I’ll shape-shift and you can choose a feather. Only after you’ve done that, take another one. You see?”

Comprehension dawned. It would be a feather, just not the feather, the one that would perform the magic John wanted. “And then I can give the first one back to you.”

He eyed her curiously. “We’ll see,” was all he said and he got off the bed to stand before her. “This won’t freak you out again?”

“I-I don’t think so.”

He moved to stand aside, so she could make a dash for the door if she wanted to. “Just in case. But if you can’t bear it, don’t leave the apartment this time. Promise?”

She jerked a nod and watched him transform.

Feathers emerged, just like before but not in the same places and he shape-shifted faster this time, so the transformation looked more like a shimmer. He stayed man-sized and she felt his mind in hers, asking to let him in. She opened for him gladly.

Not blinded by terror this time, Ashley took a good look. He was beautiful. Lethally beautiful. Dark crimson on his back and wings bled into lighter oranges and golds and the ones high on his breast shimmered as if twenty-four carat.

Okay? His voice, anxious in her mind, sounded exactly as it always did.

“Okay.” Slowly, as if she’d startle him by moving too fast, she pushed the sheets aside and got out of bed. Her oversized t-shirt, emblazoned with an elephant, glimmered in the mirror on her wardrobe as she climbed out from under the covers. The incongruity, the garment she loved to wear when she slept on her own and the living, breathing mythical beast in her bedroom, seemed almost surreal, something painted by Dali in his heyday. Not real.

Except that it was. When she reached out to touch him, her hand shook but she ignored it. His mind remained locked in hers, soothing and calming waves washing through her head.

“I’m not scared.” She eyed that lethal beak. “Well, not too much anyway.”

He chuckled inside her head but the bird didn’t make a sound. Go, Ashley. Take a feather.

She did. When she touched him he felt like any other bird, the breast feathers softly caressing her fingers. To her surprise, she found she loved that feeling. Under the plumage, he felt hot. Did he run hot as a bird?

Not usually. You’re making me hot.

Oh my. Sex with a bird.

This bird only has sex with other birds. And it’s not half as exciting as sex as a man. Or it wasn’t until now.

He made a sound, a low rumble deep in his chest, like one of his growls. She’d know that sound anywhere. Ashley, you feel good. Take the feathers before I do something I shouldn’t. A low rustle alerted her to a move but he didn’t touch her.

“I’m not scared anymore.” The truth surprised her. He could rip her apart with that beak and those talons but she knew he wouldn’t, any more than the man would beat her to a pulp. Then she felt it. Feathers softly stroking her back, caressing her bare calves. He’d curved his wings around her in a protective gesture that melted her heart.

She dipped her fingers into the down covering his chest, reveling in his responsive shiver. He didn’t feel the same but he still felt like Chris in some indefinable way. But he wanted her to hurry up.

I’ll stay like this as long as you want me to. I don’t want you to be scared of me, Ashley, in either form.

She wasn’t. “Can you take me for a flight sometime?”

It would be an honor.

Wow. To fly, really fly.

Her hand must lie over his heart now. She felt it beat, steady and firm under her palm. Something heated it, made her pull away until she realized it was a single strand. This was the feather she should take.

Does this work every time?

If you’re compatible and if I’m willing, yes.

So you’re willing?

I told you I was. If you want it, you can have my gift. Take the feather.

With a sharp tug, she pulled it out. A small drop of blood welled where it had been but the hot liquid didn’t overflow. Before he repressed it, she felt his wince of pain in her mind.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

Don’t worry about it. That’s a good sign. It means you have the right one.

She looked down at the feather lying on her palm. About the same size as her hand, wrist to fingertip, it gleamed at her, beautiful and golden. Instinctively she felt the power throbbing through her body. It warmed as she stared at it.

Put it away or choose to convert now. It will heat more. Your choice, Ashley.

What do you want me to do? She found it easier to talk to him telepathically with each communication.

I want you to do it. You can withstand most things in this form, even as a fledgling you can protect yourself better.

She couldn’t. When she thought about it, her throat tightened in fear. Becoming something different, something new wasn’t something she wanted to do in haste.

So after he lowered his wings, she walked to her nightstand and opened the box she kept there, placing the feather carefully at the top, over the jumble of glittering jewels, like the topmost treasure in a pirate’s chest. After one gentle stroke of the still warm feather, she closed the box and turned back to where Chris stood patiently waiting for her.

Pulling out the next feather didn’t hurt him at all. She opened to him and felt his lack of response. No blood seeped through.

This one is just a firebird’s feather. It won’t do anything for anyone. No powers.

Promise?

I swear.

She climbed back into bed, over the pillow and pulled the covers back up. “You can change back now.”

This time he didn’t linger and his transformation was a shimmer. One minute a lethal-looking crimson bird stood there, then it was Chris, his golden hair the only reminder of the creature that had occupied her room a moment before.

She glanced down at the feather in her hand. He took it from her and put it under a book on her nightstand, to stop it falling off, she presumed. Then he sat where he’d been before, the pillow between them.

“Do you want me to come with you when you go to your father tomorrow?”

“How can you?”

“I can shape-shift down to the size of a fly and hide in your pocket.”

She thought about it but shook her head. “I don’t think so. He might sense you. And I’ll be fine. He doesn’t want to hurt me but if he had you, he’d do something for sure.”

“I’ll stay nearby and I’ll keep in touch with you telepathically.”

“Yes.” She’d like that.

Because he was in her mind, he felt her shiver of fear and she felt his instinctive reaction, soothing her with a stroke of sensation.

“What is it?”

“When I saw you yesterday, when I ran. I was so scared, Chris.”

When he murmured, “Baby, I’m sorry,” and shoved the pillow aside, her reaction was to let him move closer and take her in his arms. When he did, her whole body welcomed him. Despite what she knew about him, despite the shock to her system he’d delivered, she still trusted him at a deep, instinctive level she had to believe. Something inside her knew she would be safe with him.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. I know what you are and how you always treated me. You’ve never done anything I didn’t want you to, always encouraged me to find myself.”

“But Ashley, I didn’t care enough.” She heard the strain in his voice. “I saw some of the things you did weren’t right for you, I knew it but you didn’t mean that much to me for me to go out of my way to tell you. It’s not right that you think I’m better than I am. You were a fuck buddy, fun to have around because you didn’t expect more than I wanted to give you.”

“That was it. You didn’t expect. Everybody else did.” She lifted her face and pressed a shy kiss to his cheek. It didn’t compute that she felt shy with Chris but she did, as if it was their first time together, their first embrace. In a way it was. They were moving to a new understanding tonight, one that would make or break them as a couple. Even as friends, and friends should be honest with each other. “From when I was a kid, everybody wanted something. Could I look pretty, stand still, sing nicely, pose for the camera, all that. You wanted to sleep with me but if I’d said no you would have shrugged and walked away. You wouldn’t have resented me, wouldn’t have thought any different of me. Not caring has a power of its own, you see.”

“Well, you’re going to have to wave goodbye to that one,” he murmured, bringing his lips next to hers, “because I care now.”

Their kiss was long and unhurried, careless of what waited for them tomorrow, beyond the bedroom door.

Relief surged through Chris, knowing she accepted him again. Everything he was she knew—he didn’t have to hide anything anymore. He dragged the cover that lay between them away and rolled over her, easing her thighs apart with his knee. “Baby, I want to make love to you but I don’t want to use anything. I want to do it without protection.”

She tensed, her muscles hardening under his body. “Aren’t we skipping a few steps here?”

He chuckled softly. “I can’t get you pregnant, it’s not the right time of the month.”

That made her frown, a delicious little furrow marking her brow. “I thought that was my line.”

“I’m only fertile around the time of the new moon. I can sense it too. I can’t pass on anything nasty either. The shape-shifting takes care of that.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow, I’m beginning to understand why my father’s so desperate to be one of your kind.” She hooked her arm around his neck. “Then what are we waiting for, big boy?”

He loved her like this, playful and teasing. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her when they first met, this tendency to take everything lightly. Now that he understood her better, he saw it as her defense mechanism, a way of coping when nothing meant anything much. Except that underneath, he felt an elfin mischievousness that was such a fucking turn-on. He eased the soft t-shirt up her body, pulling it off over her head when she lifted her arms for him and felt her skin against his own. So good.

When he entered her body, easing through the hot liquid in her pussy to the snug little entrance, he let his mind slide deeply into hers too. Soft and sweet, he sent her reassurance and care.

Not love, not yet, although he had a feeling it might not be far behind. But he still wasn’t entirely sure about that and he sensed she wasn’t either. He didn’t want to push the issue. Losing her had scared the shit out of him and not just because he was afraid she’d run to her father and tell him everything. Because she left him, rejected what he was.

Now she accepted him and it felt like heaven. No, check that, she felt like heaven. Sliding into her hot, wet heat felt like nothing but Ashley and like nobody else on earth.

He was careful not to push too hard when all he wanted was to drive her to oblivion, fast, and follow her there, but Ashley’s pussy felt tight, probably from the remnants of her tension. So he urged, pressed with a controlled action that eased the flaring, sensitive head of his cock inside her.

After that it was easy. She arched up to meet him as he slid into her, her eyes half-closing and her mouth opening a little to reveal another hot, pink cavern. He wanted that too. He wanted everything. Whatever happened now, he would cut out all his other women to give this a chance. Not that he’d had any others since the night before the concert. If this affair was what he was beginning to suspect, it would be more than worth it.

“You feel so good,” he told her, and touched their lips together in a kiss. “I’m beginning to think you’re more addictive than crack.” And he knew how addictive that was.

He muffled her long sigh with a kiss, soft but penetrative, tasting her carefully. He wanted to please her tonight. She liked a gentle start to their lovemaking, at least she did now. Reading her without purpose, just absorbing her mood helped him to give her what she needed.

Surrounding her with his strength, he lifted, letting the muscles in his upper arm flex more than they needed to, demonstrating the power he could use on her behalf if she wanted him to.

She melted against him, her soft body caressing his from breast to thigh, then lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, her heels resting on his buttocks.

Oh yeah. Hell, yeah.

Moving easier now, his passage helped by a fresh gush of fluid, he pushed harder, felt her feet push against him, urging him back down to penetrate her deeper.

Keeping his thrusts deep and slow, he heard her first soft groan with a thrill of triumph. Then he let go.

Chris always controlled sex, preferred to work to bring his partner to climax before he came. Over the years he’d learned how to hold the woman back, bring her to the step below the peak and keep her there for a while, a technique he needed to think about and work toward. His sense of triumph was almost as good as his own orgasm.

But not this time. He let his body take over, relaxing all his faculties except the one keeping both of them safe, the internal radar that would tell him if anyone was close and about to interrupt them.

Slowly he worked her, drove into her hot, wet body, felt them both grow hotter, felt his cock harden and then grow the extra inch he could only give to certain women—the ones he linked with deepest.

That hadn’t happened for nearly half a century and then it was with a woman he regarded as a close friend rather than a potential mate. She was long gone now. If he had anything to do with it, he’d take Ashley with him, not leave her behind. Make her as strong, as long-lived as he was. But not tonight. Tonight he’d love her.

At some point they rolled so she lay on top but it didn’t make any difference to the way they worked, except she uncurled her legs and slid them to either side of him. He flexed his thigh muscles, hard from the running he liked to do for exercise, harder from night after night kicking that big ol’ bass drum.

She gasped and murmured something against his mouth and he opened for another taste of her, angling his head to make the kiss deep and lasting.

Locked together like that, he had his first totally shared orgasm. He wasn’t sure which of them let go first, who lifted that last few notches to tighten and release but he felt his explosion within her, long, slow throbs that released his seed in slow motion, pulse after pulse reducing him to a blob of sensation, lying on the bed covered by the petite, lithe body of the woman he was fast coming to love.

Ashley was the first to move, shifting so he slipped out of her. He gave a murmur of regret. Her laugh trembled against his neck, making him shiver in delight.

“I am not letting you go, Ashley Westfall. You know that, don’t you?”

She lifted just enough to look at his face and he caught his breath. He couldn’t ever remember seeing her like this. And he didn’t feel trapped like he sometimes did in bed with a woman. He’d made the commitment, not her.

“We don’t know where this is going yet, Chris. I don’t want to rush things, not with all the other stuff we have to face. Can we let this take its course, not put any strain into this? Then, if we do part, it will be as friends.”

His heart ached when she talked about parting and he wondered if he wasn’t getting too deep, despite what she said. But he recognized her stress so he didn’t push it. Not now. Instead he lifted his hand to cup her cheek and bring her to him for a gentle post-sex kiss.

“I’ll see you through this. You can rely on me, I swear. I won’t leave you until I’m positive you’re not in any danger anymore.” Maybe not even then. “Don’t push me away, baby, because I’m not going anywhere.” He was going to add, “Not for a while,” but on second thought he left it. He had the strong feeling he wasn’t going anywhere, period.

Chapter Twelve

“John?”

Her father sat alone in the large sitting room of his Savoy suite, a steaming pot of coffee in front of him. He gestured at it. “Help yourself.”

She did, and at his nod, helped him too. An internal door clicked and she didn’t have to turn around to know Will Thomas entered the suite. Thanks to Chris’ helping her open a little more of her mind, she felt his presence. Empathy multiplied.

She poured him a cup too but left it to the men to put cream and sugar in for themselves. Polite she might be, a chattel she wasn’t.

Only now, when she studied the two men, one sitting next to her on one of the long, low sofas the suite offered and the other seated opposite on a similar sofa, did she realize her father had thought of her in that way. A chattel, a possession.

Well, nobody owned her anymore. Not these two, not Pure Wildfire, not her sisters. No one. Not even Chris. Although in that case, she might consider chattel status, which just showed how insane she was growing over him.

She leaned into the corner of the sofa, stretching her legs so that Will couldn’t get too close. Already he encroached on her space, sitting with legs apart, elbows resting on them, trying to spread himself over to her side. She ignored him and addressed her father. “What are you doing with Paige and Fred?”

John smiled. “Recruiting them. With any luck it will help Paige with her problems. Until you deliver. Then everything is in place to kidnap them and send them to rehab.” He turned the smile off like he had a switch inside him somewhere. Ashley had seen him use that trick before so it didn’t affect her at all. “Once they’re there, it’s down to them. If they don’t want to give up the junk, they’ll be able to check themselves out. Is that good enough?”

It would have to be. John told the truth, if they didn’t want to give up the drink and drugs, nothing could stop them driving themselves to an early grave. He would play fair in this. After all, Paige was his daughter as well as Ashley’s sister and she’d given him years of steady income, just as she had. She gave a short nod. “Let me know when and where and I’ll go talk to her.”

“No.” For once John seemed sincere, his eyes steady on hers. “She won’t listen to you, Ashley. You’ll appeal to her better nature, to what you once had, you might even plead with her. I’ll tell her the truth and she’ll trust me to tell her. If she doesn’t go through rehab now, she’ll be dead in a year or have burned so many brain cells it won’t matter. And I won’t be doing that for you or for her or anyone else. I just believe in telling the truth, when it matters. What people do with it is up to them.”

Ashley found the truth galling but her father specialized in that—telling the truth, however brutal. Sometimes too much and unnecessary but in this case, she recognized it might be the only way Paige would ever turn her life around.

John leaned back with a lazy smile. “So what stopped you going the same way?”

The question would have taken her off guard but she knew her father. She’d guessed something like this would happen, that he’d use her temporary vulnerability to get inside her head. So she answered but kept something back. Told him a partial truth. “Boredom.” Partly true. “I tried drink and woke up too many times with a hangover. I tried drugs, I found them interesting but limited. I didn’t trust the feelings I had with them. I never took heroin or injected. You know I don’t like needles. But I tried some serious stuff before I gave up.” She could put up with them in the right circumstances but injecting yourself for fun didn’t enter the equation for her.

John chuckled. “I remember we had to hold you down for your immunization shots whenever we flew abroad.”

She’d told him enough. She didn’t take drugs because she saw what they’d done to her sister and the members of Pure Wildfire and it scared her. But something told her not to say too much, not to let her father in too deep. He mustn’t know all her secrets. He knew enough as it was. He’d spied on her all through her young womanhood and he wasn’t going to find out anything else if she could help it. Especially her weaknesses.

“So I give you this feather and you send Paige and Fred to rehab?” Her father nodded. “Do you know what to do with it?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Do you?”

She glanced away and shook her head. “He didn’t tell me. He said he’d be with me when I decided so I didn’t need to know.”

John gave a bark of laughter. “He’s trying to fool you into thinking he needs to be there for you to convert. He doesn’t.” She looked back at him just as his attention sharpened. “You saw him shape-shift, didn’t you?”

What to say to that? Oh hell, she was in deep now. She gave a quick jerk of her head.

“So what was it like?”

“You’ve never seen a firebird shape-shift?”

John caught his breath and beside her, Will grunted. “No, I haven’t. Nearly, once or twice.”

“It was beautiful.”

Will burst into life, his hands spread wide, his voice much louder than usual. “What do you mean, beautiful? Those things are abominations! We only wanted the feather to stop him converting anyone else, isn’t that right, John? We told you we wanted it so you wouldn’t use it yourself.” Her father would have fooled most people with his grave agreement but he didn’t fool her. He didn’t want that feather so he could destroy it. Will only listened to those things he wanted to.

Will ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “One less shape-shifter to kill. That’s all.”

While she was here she might as well try to find out more. “How do you intend to kill them? After all, they’re world famous. It’s going to make headlines.”

“Yeah.” Will’s lascivious grin told her he wanted them for more than their fame. He was jealous. Of their prowess with women, their wealth or their fame, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps all three. “We’ll drug them, then send them up in a private plane. Which, of course, crashes.”

“That works.” And it would work. Except it wasn’t going to. The thought of those beautiful men—and their wives and little Sean—crashing and burning was too hard for Ashley to think about for long. That someone could discuss murdering them so casually sickened her.

She exchanged a glance with John, who gave her a tiny shake of his head. No, he wouldn’t allow it either. He was too bound up in becoming a shape-shifter himself. But she wouldn’t trust him. Ashley believed her father capable of anything if it was for his own purposes.

So far, she knew she could never side with Will and his organization. The PHR members were bigots and she wanted nothing to do with them.

She would find her father more difficult to deal with. He was, after all, her biological parent and he’d done his best, by his own lights, to take care of his three daughters after their mothers either died, in Corinne’s case, or abandoned them, in the twins’. And what he wanted seemed reasonable, on the face of it. He wanted to have the advantages of a shape-shifter. He asked Ashley to get him a feather and certainly pressured her to do it for him but it had still been her choice. When he delivered on his promise, he would do exactly as he said. John always kept the deals he made.

But he should have helped Paige without the bargain he made with Ashley. He should have given them love, not just everything money could buy. Ashley wasn’t sure John was capable of love, outside his bathroom mirror. She’d never seen it. But that didn’t mean that deep down, John didn’t love them. Some people just found it hard to express their love.

She wouldn’t let him have the real feather but was that because she considered it wasn’t right—or did she take after her father and she wanted it for herself?

She didn’t know, she couldn’t be sure. John had made her and Paige into singing stars, bought them lessons, promoted their careers.

Abandoned you when he found something better.

Ashley started, then tried to pretend she had a sudden itch and reached her hand over her shoulder to scratch her back. When Will touched her, she nearly started again but she let him help her scratch the non-existent itch. How are you doing that?

I’m not far away, baby. Just relax. I’m listening in case you need me.

Or did he doubt her? She wouldn’t blame him but a pang of hurt made her heart plummet.

If you think that, I’ll leave now.

I don’t know what to think.

Her father lifted his head a fraction, as if he was sniffing the air, and Chris fell silent. She could feel his presence inside her but then she felt something else. Dear God, her father was probing, tentatively. She felt dirty, ashamed. Chris remained perfectly still, except to tuck himself further inside, a little deeper where her father wouldn’t find him.

Let him. A breath, deep in her mind.

She wanted to push John out but then she realized that would tell him she knew he was there. And he’d been there before, she knew it, she felt it, with a familiarity that told her he’d done it many times before. Read her. Maybe manipulated her.

It felt awful. Nothing like Chris’ presence. He always let her know when he was there. She recognized John’s presence because Chris had made her aware but echoes remained in her.

Her father read her, efficiently and quickly, before he left but a trace lingered. She couldn’t even be alone in her own mind anymore. She wanted to learn, fast, and then she wanted to put mile-high double thick walls up so nobody came in without her knowing it.

“I want something else for the feather,” she said abruptly.

Will’s lip curled in a sneer. “Not satisfied with doing your own kind a favor?”

She gave him a hard glare. “I want to see Dad’s proposal on paper.”

Her father didn’t sneer. He smiled, leaned back and crossed his legs. “That’s my girl. You’re learning, Ashley. I have hopes for you. You’re talking about the Foundation?”

She nodded.

“It’s in the works. Then I take it when I’ve signed the relevant documents and you have your copy, you’ll deliver?”

“I will.” That gave her a little more time.

See you soon, baby. Get out of there now. I’m at Aidan’s apartment in Covent Garden. Come straight here.

Okay. That suited her fine.

She stood up to leave but Will stood up with her and put his hands on her shoulders from behind, holding her in place. Irritably she tried to shake him off but his grip firmed.

Then she felt her father in her mind, back in force, erecting the barriers she couldn’t do for herself.

At first she thought he was helping her and she turned to him, a slight smile on her face, but his dark frown stopped her. More than that. Worse than that.

“He was here, wasn’t he?”

“What?”

“Don’t lie. I felt him leave, I was waiting for it. Christopher Keys. He listened in, through your mind.” He got to his feet in a smooth, controlled movement. “Tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“I-I think he was.” She did her best to look annoyed, turning her mouth down in the pout she always used when she was a child. “I’m out of my depth, Dad. Teach me to be strong.”

He watched her, his eyes grave, then he said, “Hold her tight,” without looking away from her. Will’s hands moved to her waist and he pulled her against him. His erection prodded into her back through the twin thicknesses of their jeans.

For a minute Ashley thought her father had developed a penchant for voyeurism, then the thought passed as quickly as it came. John didn’t have much interest in sex and when he did, he found someone, eased the urge and went on with his life. And he’d never been into anything remotely unusual. One beautiful girlfriend at a time, always around thirty years old and after a few months, that was it. Gone.

But Will was aroused and he held her as if he wanted to fuck her. So tightly she couldn’t get away. She didn’t try hard to fight—Will might enjoy that and the way he held her she’d have to be a ninja to get away. Best to wait and call for help. She reached for Chris the way he’d taught her before she left to come here.

Except she couldn’t do it. Her father had built an impregnable barrier, ringed her mind. She tried to smile, make it seem as if she was grateful. Think, Ashley, think!

“Look at me, Ashley.”

A sharp pain pierced her, right through to her center, the heart of her mind, of her thinking. Ashley had never suffered rape but that was what the intrusion felt like. Her father’s eyes almost glowed.

“You have no intention of giving me that feather, have you? Not the real one anyway.” His face remained steady, firm. “You have to, Ashley. If you do, everything will be all right.”

The soothing tone didn’t calm her at all. Instead, her pulse quickened. She tried bending low to break Will’s hold on her but he was alert and he followed her down, hooking an arm around her waist to grip her tightly. His other arm went around her chest, just under her breasts. Although he was undoubtedly aroused, this wasn’t a sexual hold. Not yet.

The man in her mind searched, opened, found everything out about her. Had he done this before? Her father was powerful, much more powerful than anyone had imagined. He’d hidden it well. She knew, from what Chris had said, that Aidan thought he’d neutralized John, removed the memories and cleared him of any knowledge of firebirds and shape-shifters. She didn’t know how John had done it but he’d fooled them.

Since his mind was open to her, she tried to follow the channels linking them but it was no use. She couldn’t contact Chris or anyone else. Panic, no, she wouldn’t panic, wouldn’t allow herself to lose control.

“Wh-what do you want?” She hated that falter in her voice, like a little girl.

“Just to help you.” His soothing note curled through her mind, calmed her into a tranquility she didn’t feel. So strange, that she should feel panicked but unable to do anything. Not even protest. It was as if she curled up tight in a corner of her mind, watching what her father did.

He erected barriers and blocks, carefully constructing them so only he could knock them down again. He put a desire into her mind, a need, as if she was Pavlov’s dog. She had to get that feather for him. The real one. Not the other, the second one that meant nothing. He knew.

If she did this little thing for him, he’d give her all she wanted, just as he promised. The Foundation, Paige, everything. Just the feather. And he’d destroy the blocks he’d just erected. Most of them anyway.

She said goodbye to Chris as her father walled up her feelings for him but there was some part of her, a tiny part that held the spark close.

“You can go now, Ashley. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, Father.” Will released her and she turned to smile at him. “Maybe we can meet for that meal soon as well.”

Will’s dark eyes glowed. She couldn’t imagine why she’d dumped him for Chris. Chris only used her but Will really liked her. There could be something there for them. It would make a change to have a man with a steady job in her life.

“I’d like that. I’ll call you.” He exchanged a glance with John, presumably asking for some kind of approval. After all, John was Will’s employer.

Before she left, John took her hand. “Will’s a good man. He’ll look after you.” She felt the truth of it, as if he’d burned the thought into her but of course the thought came entirely from her. “I’d like to see at least one of my daughters settled happily. And don’t worry about Paige. We’ll work it out.”

Of all the men in her life, Ashley could always depend on her father.

Chapter Thirteen

Going home, Ashley felt as if she floated in a dream. What was she thinking, to get so involved with Chris Keys? A drummer, no less, one of the band who’d taken her sister from her. Sure, he was hot and talented in bed but for all she knew Will was just as good. When he’d done Paige, Ashley saw his cock, and while not the biggest she’d ever seen, she was sure it would work fine. She looked forward to trying it out.

Now she had to get her father that feather he wanted. Once she’d done it, she could wash her hands of Chris Keys and the rest of Pure Wildfire. They didn’t like her anyway. The one time Chris took her to Jake’s house, they’d all treated her with such suspicion, she felt left out and alone.

Time to face facts. She didn’t belong anywhere near Keys. She never had. He wanted her body, some hot sex, then he’d dump her faster than a hot brick in midsummer.

After this, she’d go somewhere nice with a beach and a cocktail bar for a month, then she’d come home and start her work with the Foundation. That sounded good. With Will to help her, since he was a financial advisor, they could get the place up and running in a year, maybe two. They’d need a good building. London was full of them or maybe it would be better to buy a place in the country. A shame they couldn’t use her father’s house but he had his recording studio there, state of the art and a source of a lot of his wealth.

Still dreaming of the Foundation, Ashley thanked her cab driver and tipped him. A shame Will couldn’t come with her today but he had something else to do for her father. In any case, as her father said before she left him, “Ashley will be fine. She knows what to do.”

Sure. That stupid feather for a house full of stunning art. Worked for her.

Going straight to her bedroom, she crossed to the bedside table and opened the trinket box she kept there. No, that was wrong. Wasn’t it?

Just as she hesitated, the bell rang. Cursing under her breath, she went to the front door and peered through the peephole. Fuck. Chris Keys and he didn’t look happy. She’d get rid of him, then she’d go to her father.

Chris left Aidan’s as soon as he realized Ashley was heading away from him. The minute she’d blocked him from her mind, he knew something was wrong. It felt wrong. He hadn’t waited but climbed on his bike and made absolutely sure nobody could get in his way. If there ever was a time to use his powers of persuasion to keep the traffic out of his route, this was it.

He roared through the streets, cars miraculously clearing out of his way, and parked the bike in the underground parking lot, dumping it haphazardly across a parking space. Ripping off his helmet as he ran, he disdained the elevator, instead partially shifting to make use of the extra speed. Nobody would notice because he fuzzed and put out a field to make sure they didn’t.

Only when he stood outside her door did he let his shield relax. And he prayed, because he couldn’t contact her anymore telepathically. She was completely blocked to him. If she wasn’t here, he’d break in and take the feathers until he’d dealt with her. He had no choice. Those things couldn’t fall into the wrong hands and he suspected the worst.

But he wouldn’t do anything different. He’d still give her the feather. The longer he met that brick wall when he tried to contact her, the more he worried. He shouldn’t have sent her there alone. He prayed he could put right whatever John Westfall had done to her. How could they have misjudged him so badly?

How the fuck could he do this to his own daughter?

Aidan thought he’d taken John’s memories and knowledge of their world away but if John had learned enough, instead of being the dabbler they’d thought him, he could have put up false memories for Aidan to take and shielded what he really knew. At the time Aidan had only just accepted the position he was born for and he had a lot to learn.

Guardian, Phoenix, the possessor of great powers, Aidan refused to accept any of it until he wanted to care for Corinne and realized there might be other Aidans, other Corinnes, who needed what he could give them.

The brief darkening of the peephole told him there was someone in that apartment. If someone was in there with her, hurting her, he’d kill them.

But when the door opened, only Ashley stood there, looking adorably vulnerable and sweet and, oh yeah, sexy. He stepped forward to take her into his arms but she stepped back, giving him the look of cool disregard she used to put on whenever she met members of Pure Wildfire. Unless it was the expression of lasciviousness when she wanted the uncomplicated sex he’d been only too happy to provide.

What had John done to her? He knew her better now. Had she accepted his bribe? God knew it was a potent one. To save Paige and give her his art for a museum of her very own and an endowment—he couldn’t compete with that. All he had was his sense of rightness and his protection that had proved singularly ineffective recently. And the advantages of becoming a shape-shifter, most of which he hadn’t told her about.

So he played along, stepped inside although she didn’t seem to want to let him in and bent to kiss her cheek. At the same time he opened his mind to her, invited her in.

She either ignored his invitation or didn’t notice it. When she turned in his arms, she returned his kiss but broke away and strolled toward her kitchen. “Nice to see you, Chris. Coffee?”

He frowned. That memory was gone. She had no recollection she was supposed to go to Aidan’s so he could bring her home for the fake feather.

He accepted the offer of coffee and followed her into the kitchen, wondering what to do next.

He contacted Aidan, letting him “see” Ashley rather than explaining the situation.

She spoke while she grabbed some white mugs from the cupboard and waited for the coffee to drip through the filter. Her grin went no further than her mouth, lacking the warmth he’d been used to recently. He missed it.

Resting her back against the counter, she folded her arms under her breasts. “Chris, what we’ve been doing has been nice but I’ve met somebody I really want to be with.”

“Who?” he croaked, throat dry. He hardly needed to ask. He already knew the answer.

“Will Thomas.”

Of course. Perhaps Will had the powers. That would explain why they hadn’t noticed them before in John. They’d have to take Will and John before they knew for sure. Unless Ashley could remember but if whoever had done this to her hadn’t removed her memories of the experience, then they weren’t doing a very good job.

Calm down. That came from Aidan. Play it by ear.

He was right. He forced his panic back down and took a few deep breaths.

“Yes, Will,” she said, smiling. Chris had to work hard to force his appalled reaction. Will could have fucked her. Sometimes it was easier to compel during sex and the more he talked to her, the more certain Chris became that compulsion was involved.

Confirmation came from Aidan. Blocks, strong ones, I can sense them. Compulsion.

Whoever had compelled Ashley would die for it. That he vowed. After he’d done what he could to remove the blocks and compulsion.

He kept the easy smile on his face, though it had never been so hard to do it before. “So you want to pursue an affair with Will. Why does that mean we’re finished? It never stopped us before.”

“I never met anyone I wanted before like I want Will.”

Chris ground his teeth.

You should let her go, Chris. Let her take the feather to her father and go on a date with Will. We can track her, even if we have to put an electronic bug in her clothes.

Aidan’s suggestion was utterly unacceptable. You want to make us as bad as they are? Use her to get inside? A Trojan horse? You know as well as I do that if I let these blocks settle, they’ll become real to her. Do you remember removing the ones John set in Corinne’s mind?

He felt Aidan’s wince and a pang when Aidan remembered what John had done to his beloved wife. Okay, you win. Call me if you need me.

I’m going to do what I can. Thanks for the offer.

He needed her relaxed so he could get inside her mind, like a jimmy easing up a windowsill. Like this she was locked up tight. He needed a gap, a chink. And it would hurt her.

“So how about one more time for old time’s sake?”

She blinked. “One more time?”

“Sex. You know. We’re good together, Ashley, and I’ll miss you if you plan to become exclusive.” He tried to keep all emotion except lust away but to his shock he found it really difficult. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep feelings of tenderness and care out of his need for her.

And when had lust become need? Shit, he was in far deeper than he’d thought. His fun lifestyle was turning to dust, fast.

No time now. Instead, he held his hand out to her, waiting, his chest tightening. If she said no, he’d have to think of another way because he couldn’t leave her like this.

She stared at him, looked at his hand, then turned and deliberately switched off the coffee machine. The click resounded around the quiet kitchen. “Okay then,” she said before she turned back to him and laid her hand in his.

It felt good but Chris knew the hard part had only just begun.

Ashley frowned up at him. Chris was never like this. The most careless of her lovers, the one most likely to go off and fuck someone else half an hour after having her, the man who had women queuing up for him at the backstage door, he looked at her now as if she were the only one who mattered to him.

She wasn’t sure she liked it.

Something inside her paused and added a flutter to her breath. Emotion she didn’t want to describe moved her to walk with him from the kitchen to her bedroom. A quick fuck, then he’d go. Had to be worth that to get rid of him. And she did enjoy his company in bed.

But when he spun her against her bedroom door and took her mouth in a deep, exploring kiss, Ashley wasn’t sure she wanted the fuck to be so quick, after all. The man had a talented mouth and he kissed as if there were no tomorrow, making her feel like the only woman he’d ever desired. His hands moved over her, caressing, not ripping her clothes off as if he wanted to do the act and then leave.

This was nice. More than nice. Ashley tilted her head for his kiss, resting on his broad shoulder, enjoying the illusion that here was one man in the world who wanted her for more than her money, her fame or her influence with her father. And in Chris’ case that was true. All he’d ever asked her for was companionship and fun and that was all she’d wanted from him.

So why did this feel—more? As if they’d shared more? She couldn’t remember and when she tried to think about it, a sharp pain lanced through her head. Not surprising she should have pain after the way she’d been trying to keep up with Paige.

Paige—another pain, another hurt but this one she could understand. Not here, not now. Her father promised and he’d make good on it, she knew he would.

This was recreation, R & R for her tired mind and she let herself go, let Chris take her. She’d miss this but she had to give a proper relationship a try. Why, she wasn’t quite sure but the urge lay in her mind. Take Will, give him a chance, as if someone else had told her to.

He drew away. “A smile? That’s better, baby. We were always good, weren’t we?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes, Chris. I always liked you best.”

What sounded like a relieved sigh sent hot breath against her lips. “Yeah. Me too.”

Chris stepped away, drawing her to the bed and down on to it. She lay half over him until he rolled, putting her underneath. Propping himself up on his elbows, he smiled down at her. “Why would you want to give this up?”

She laughed. “Everybody has to grow up sometime.”

He huffed. “I don’t see why,” and bent to kiss her.

At the same time she felt another pain in her head, piercing front to back. Decidedly strange. Ashley decided to see a doctor but she wasn’t overly worried. Hangover city recently, as far as she could recall. Not that much permeated the fog today.

When she groaned, Chris leaned up again, looking down at her, concern in his gorgeous brown eyes. “Anything wrong?”

“Bit of a headache.”

His easy smile soothed her. “Let’s see what we can do to help you with that.”

He tugged at her t-shirt, so she sat up and dragged it over her head while Chris made himself busy with her bra. When she felt her breasts release from their confinement, she sighed in pleasure, even more when Chris latched on for a quick kiss, sucking her nipple into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. He pulled away to help her out of her jeans and underwear, sliding the garments down her legs before stripping off his own t-shirt and returning to her mouth. He seemed to want mouth-to-mouth kisses today, something Ashley always enjoyed, particularly from Chris. He gave lush, slow, exploring kisses that she savored and returned in full measure, making little humming noises of appreciation that vibrated against his lips and tongue.

Again, that piercing pain and this time it didn’t go away. She fought to draw back but Chris’ hold on her firmed. When she put her hands on his chest and tried to push him away, he didn’t budge but he did break their kiss and take her head between his big hands. “Hush, baby, hush. Go with it.”

Scared now, Ashley cried out in pain. It felt like a red-hot needle in her head, pushing inside something she hadn’t been aware of until it suddenly broke.

That hurt even more but what came next astounded her. Memories flooded her head, recent memories, of Chris and his care for her, Chris’ apartment that she’d thought she’d never seen, Chris in the shower, washing her, then taking her with a tender hunger she hadn’t known in him before.

She panted and felt his chest move off her, giving her space to breathe. But no farther. His gaze, grave now, studied her intently. “He’s booby-trapped them.”

“What?”

“The blocks. He’s fucking booby-trapped them. Your father, or Will.” He almost spat the words.

“I must be more hung over than I thought.” She stopped, bewildered. Her memories of hangovers past was more information than experience, as if someone was telling her a story about them instead of them happening to her. The killer headaches she got when she drank too much had gone a long way to her recent cutback on drinking to excess, so she should have remembered them with a wince of pain. But she didn’t.

“Baby, you weren’t hung over. You know more than you think. That pain you felt was me removing a block in your mind. You know we’re telepathic, right?” Ashley nodded. She’d known for some time. “Okay, then someone has been in your head and re-created your memories for you. Planted false ones and covered up real ones. All because he wants you to do something for him, something you weren’t willing to do.”

She listened to him, trying to make sense of it. What he was saying should sound like nonsense but for some reason it didn’t. She frowned. “Can you get rid of them? The blocks?”

He stroked her cheek. “It will hurt.”

“But whatever you did, it made me remember.” She curved her arm around his waist, holding him tight. She felt safer that way. “Before, I thought it was like it’s always been between us. Fuck buddies, all that. Now I remember what we’ve done. I remember the inside of your flat. You have a beautiful Jackson Pollock, don’t you?”

“Trust you to remember that!” But he gave her a fond smile and touched his lips to her forehead.

Without warning she felt another pain. Worse than the last one, it felt as if her head was bleeding, pain spewing out from the fissure Chris forced in her. Because she didn’t doubt Chris was doing this.

His flat, his motor bike, the auction. And the picture he wanted but someone else bought. Will. Will bought the picture.

“Jesus, Ashley, it’s a mess in there.” Eyes closed against the agony, she heard his voice as if from a distance. “Baby, I can do this but I don’t want to make it worse. I don’t know anything that will stop the pain but I can see what he’s done now.”

“What?” Even whispering hurt.

“When I destroy a block, there’s a pain response built in. And I sense other blocks in there. Aidan thought your father had left you alone but he hasn’t. He’s been doing this for years. For all we know he does it every time anyone comes up against him. He did it to Corinne. When she disagreed with him or wanted to do something other than what he wanted her to do, he put a block in her mind. At the time we thought they were done by someone with a cruder method. Maybe he wanted it to look that way. And as far as I know Corinne didn’t have these vicious pain responses. I don’t know how much you can stand of this.”

“It’s only pain.” With the new memories to reinforce what he was telling her, she had to believe him. Everything confirmed the barely believable—that someone had altered her mind, stopped her remembering things, made her think lies were truth.

He shook his head, his shaggy hair tickling her cheek. “It might not be only pain, though that’s bad enough. If he’s any kind of Sorcerer, it’ll be more than that. He’ll build fear, panic, hate, anything that will stop you trying to break those barriers yourself. Too much pain and you’ll see a doctor and he doesn’t want that. Or didn’t. Now he might not care so much because he’s got you locked down tight.”

“Tie me up.”

He blinked. “Say what?”

“I want everything gone, Chris. Now, today. Whatever it takes. You can do it, can’t you?”

“I’ve never seen it so bad, baby. Let me call Aidan—”

“No!” the thought appalled her. “I don’t want anybody else seeing me like this! Please, Chris. If you can’t do it, then I suppose we’ll have to call somebody else but please try. And tie me up to stop me running or attacking you or something like that.”

“You serious?” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed but one hand remained cradling her cheek. She rubbed her face against it, loving the warmth and strength of it.

“Perfectly serious. Chris, can we try? Please?”

He frowned down at her and said nothing. It didn’t take her long to realize why. He lingered in her head, what was available to him anyway, holding her captive while he searched her responses. “I’ll do it,” he snapped and got to his feet. With his jeans slung enticingly low on his hips, he strolled toward her chest of drawers. “Scarves?”

“Handcuffs in the second drawer.”

He paused and glanced back at her, one eyebrow arched in amusement. “I should have known. Adventurous, aren’t you?”

Was she? She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Her father used her like a puppet. So she said nothing but tried a weak smile. She had to stay strong, hide any trepidation from him because he’d back off the minute she showed any wavering.

He found the cuffs and removed all the keys. She kept them in the locks. These weren’t toy handcuffs but the real McCoy, acquired from an old policeman boyfriend. But he’d wanted her just to say he had a famous girlfriend so he hadn’t lasted long. She kept the cuffs. He might have gotten into trouble for giving them to her but he never asked for them back.

Chris held up a set and shook it, making the links jingle and flash in the light from her bedside lamps. Then he crossed to the door and switched on the overhead light. Ashley blinked until her eyes accustomed themselves to the increased blaze, then she met Chris’ perceptive gaze again. “Go on. Do it.”

“You’d trust me to do this?” He shook the cuffs again.

“No one else. With anybody else I ask for the keys.”

“Do you want them now?”

“No.” She didn’t want any opportunity to get out of this. If what he suspected was true, then she’d probably chicken out before he was done without this but she determined to get it over with. All of it. So he might as well do his worst now.

Chris dug into his pocket and put his cell phone on the bedside table. “I have Aidan on speed dial. If I have to, I can call him.”

“What about telepathy?”

His lips tightened. “I’m going to have to use a lot of psi power to get rid of those blocks. I just want to be sure I can contact him if I need to.”

So this would weaken him too. Somehow the thought made her feel better, though she knew it shouldn’t.

He crossed to the head of the bed and clipped the first set of handcuffs to the metal post. Ashley had an iron bed in painted black matte but the posts were strong and arched, which made them a good choice. He hesitated when she stretched out her arm but she glared at him and he secured the cuffs, before slipping the key in his pocket.

He walked around to the other side of the bed and repeated his action, hesitating, the key in his hand. “How will I know the difference?”

“The cuffs have ‘A’ and ‘B’ and so on engraved on them. So do the keys.”

He nodded and put the key with its fellow.

He paused again. “Do you want some clothes on? Some cover?”

Ashley shook her head. “I want to be completely open to you. Don’t ask me why, I just feel better that way.”

He frowned but he did as she asked, securing her ankles to the posts at the bottom of the bed and leaving her bare. Ashley’s neatly trimmed and bikini waxed pubic hair didn’t offer her much cover and she knew what he could see if he stood at the bottom of the bed and stared at her. Breasts pointing up, nipples peaked but with tension rather than sexual excitement, pussy glistening only a little. She swallowed. Every part of her felt dry.

For once, the look Chris gave her wasn’t sexual or needy. Instead, his brown eyes were shaded with concern. Since she left his mind open to her, she felt his worry and he felt her too because he said, “I’m completely open to you now, Ashley. You go down, we both do. I won’t let you go there alone, I swear it.”

She caught her breath. She’d already realized what Chris was about to do might drive her into madness and beyond and she would face it if she could get rid of the abominations cluttering her head that made her something she wasn’t. And the procedure might, just might, change her feelings for Chris. If this removal was going to turn her into something she should be, with no manipulations, then it might remove all her recent emotions too. They both knew it, accepted it and when she felt Chris’ first, tentative moves, exploring her mind to understand the blocks, she relaxed. Whatever Chris was or was not after this was over, he’d remain her friend.

Ashley’s memories of the next half hour blurred into flashes of great pain and startlingly vivid impulses to lash out. Chris was right, her father had booby-trapped his blocks with more than pain. If he’d only used pain, Chris could have knocked her out and taken all of them away while she slept but the needle-sharp feelings of need, hatred and fear would have woken her from any sleep.

During the period of time when she hated him, he removed a series of blocks that uncovered her memories of her mother, the woman she’d seen as selfish and uncaring. Except she wasn’t. Her father drove her away, told her he would give his daughters nothing if she came back or even hinted that she cared.

When this was over, if she got out of this alive, Ashley decided to go to San Fran and tell her mother what she knew.

Before the resolution solidified in her mind, another revelation spewed forth. Her singing teacher, telling her father she couldn’t do any more. John seducing her into doing it. Ashley shouldn’t have been hiding in the bedroom or she wouldn’t have witnessed any of it but her father took the memory from her. When she was fourteen.

Chris’ anger seeped into her emotions and when he took the next block away, she reinforced it tenfold with the blinding surge of rage that took her whirling up and jerking at the restraints. When they rattled and held firm, she screamed in fury, disgorging words and curses worthy of Linda Blair in The Exorcist. “Let me out of these fucking things so I can rip your head off! How dare you do this to me, who do you think you are?”

Chris ignored her, waiting, a still point in her mind until tears of regret poured unchecked down her face. Now they had begun the process, he was as immovable as a statue and as unemotional as one. Nothing stopped him removing block after block. He released emotions as bewildering as anything Ashley had ever felt in her life, the torrent of madness pierced by pain-like shards of glass through her head.

The pain helped instead of hindering and in a rare second of tranquility, Ashley wondered if John had realized that. Maybe one day he would have removed the blocks himself.

Chris’ answer came grimly before she fully realized the thought. These were meant to last a lifetime. He didn’t care what he did to you as long as you did what he wanted.

Or anyone else. He used Corinne as a money machine, even when she lost her taste for the music he made her play, so much that she considered giving up the business altogether. He made Ashley and Paige sing as a duo, quaint folk-classic songs that had about as much reality to real folk music as pop-tenors did to grand opera. When they tried to break away, he compelled them back to him.

The only way Corinne got away was with Aidan, who had scanned Ashley’s and Paige’s minds and found nothing. Perhaps because John worked at them in cleverer, more subversive ways. For longer. He’d never stopped. A light touch in the early years moved to subtler, harder, more frightening methods and better disguises, so nobody scanning would see them.

But Chris looked for them. Hard. He searched out every part of her mind, finding small niches she’d never dreamed existed, never stopping except to assess the effects of the latest booby-trap. He managed to slip some, remove the effect before he destroyed the block but most of them imploded, leaving their nasty after-effect before they disappeared for good.

Deep inside, Ashley rejoiced. Whatever he left at the end of this ordeal would be pure Ashley. Nothing else.

But with her body racked with the kind of pain she’d never dreamed existed before, her mind exhausted by the roller coaster of emotions he released, she lay and suffered and existed. In the end, existing became more important than anything else.

And she didn’t know the end had arrived until he slumped, exhausted, on the bed next to her, falling into a deep sleep more like unconsciousness than slumber.

Ashley ignored everything else but the warm male body next to her, lending her comfort and surcease. Eventually she fell asleep, hardly aware of the drift from consciousness to oblivion.

Ashley woke to dawning daylight but until she turned her head to glance at the digital alarm clock on her bedside table she didn’t even know what day it was.

Tuesday. Very early, just after four a.m. Chris still slept next to her and her muscles were cramping. She tried to slide off the bed to rub some sensation back to her numbed limbs, only then becoming aware of the restraints still holding her. Chris curled in the space under her arm, his body half over hers in a protective gesture that warmed her but didn’t do anything to ease her current discomfort.

“Chris,” she tried quietly but he didn’t stir until she almost yelled in his ear. But then he opened his eyes and she forgot her pain in the heat there.

“Hi.” He reached up to kiss her but her arm, stretched above his head, stopped his forward motion. “Oh God, you slept like that?”

He sat up, his hair falling into his eyes, and reached into his pocket.

Suddenly her muscles didn’t hurt anymore. They filled with heat and she moved them enough to flex as the feeling came back. “Chris,” she murmured.

She caught his attention immediately. He paused, three fingers of one hand caught in his pocket. “Oh baby!” She saw compassion, tenderness and something else she hesitated to put a name to plain on his features.

“Have they gone?”

He didn’t mistake her but searched her mind. She felt him anxiously swamping her with sensation before the anxiety subsided. “Every one. How are you feeling?” He drew out four small silver keys but held them in his hand and gazed down at her. Warmth touched her, not all from her mind and not all of it concern. Sexual heat sizzled between them before he cut it off but she felt the effort it took him to do it.

“Much better than I should. And I still feel the same way about you.”

He gazed at her and she felt part of him withdrawing. She wanted to cry out, “Don’t go!” but she stayed silent, willing her mind to lie passive under his incredibly gentle touch. She wanted him to touch her skin like that. Yearned for it. With all the blocks removed, she still wanted Chris Keys.

She loved him. The realization held her briefly rigid. That was her feeling, something her father didn’t want and had done his best to disguise and block away but he’d never done it completely. Now she felt it in full force. What she didn’t know was how he felt about her.

“Ashley, I need to teach you how to build your own barriers. How to hide your emotions from other Talents. I destroyed everything so I could be sure I left nothing behind but we need to work on your barriers again.”

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

He bit his lip and nodded. “You can’t hide anything at the moment.”

“But you can.”

He nodded again, keeping his eyes shielded by his lids so she couldn’t see him properly. Tousled, golden hair fell in disarray around his face. “Before I leave here today, you’ll know how to do it. You already know a lot of it, just from watching what I did when I broke your father’s barriers. I know how he did it, the pattern of it and I’ll help you to erect some false ones.”

“So when I go back and take him the feather, I’ll have fake barriers?”

He loomed over her, hands on hips. “You’re not going back. Don’t think that for a minute.”

“It’s the only way I can help.”

“No it’s not. We’ll find another way. But you’re not going back there.”

Instead of arguing, she gave a little wiggle. “Stop me.”

He didn’t try to hide his grin. “I mean it, Ashley.”

“Yeah?”

This time he groaned, very softly deep in his throat. Ashley found that particular sound a great turn-on and while the night before she hadn’t felt at all sexual fastened to her bed, today, with the lightness of spirit she felt from finally freeing herself from her father, she found it extremely interesting. Her body heated, her pussy dampened. “You into torture, Chris?”

In her head, she felt his spirits lift. “Sometimes. Not the kind that hurts. Too much, anyway. You okay in those restraints?”

She jingled one of the cuffs securing her arm. “No. You’re a beast.” She pouted. “What do I have to do to get out of these?”

“Lie completely still.” His voice lowered in pitch, just a little to a husky intimacy that made her wet. A single trickle of liquid crept between her buttock cheeks, insinuating itself into her ass. She wriggled.

He leaned over and tweaked her breast, just on the point of pain. “I said lie still.”

Oh she hadn’t played this game for a long time and she’d forgotten how much fun it was. “May I breathe?”

“Yes.” He answered her shortly and stood, looming over her. “But that’s all. I don’t want you moving so much as a muscle, other than to breathe. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, master.” His grin, quickly suppressed, showed her he enjoyed this play. He withdrew his mind from hers and at her whimper, his eyes opened widely, flashing fire. “You moved.”

He slapped the side of her breast and she nearly whimpered again. On second thought… She deliberately made a sound.

She got a slap on the other breast for that. It felt good, sent tingles to her core. Another trickle of moisture dampened her ass.

“Listen. If you want to play this game, you keep silent until I tell you to speak. You call me ‘sir’, and you do whatever I tell you. You answer my questions but you won’t say anything else unless I give you permission to do so. If at any time you want to stop, you say ‘Sunday’. Is all of that clear?”

“Yes.”

A sharp tap made her cheek glow. “Say it again.”

“Yes, sir.” Why had they never played this before? Probably because she’d been too stoned, too eager for him and that policeman she’d been out with put her off the idea. His idea of bondage had been too kinky for her. His rubber mask had made her laugh and she never saw him after that. Unforgivable in his eyes. This was far more to her taste. Tingling warmth filled her. All she had to do was obey him and he’d give her anything she wanted. Sounded good to her.

“Better.” She got a kiss for that but his lips hardly touched hers before he left her and stood over her again.

Slowly he scanned her body, like someone inspecting his property. She shivered but tried hard to suppress it. His gaze moved to her face, alight with speculation. “Did you move?”

What was she supposed to say to that? She opted for the truth. “Yes, sir.”

Another delicious little slap to the side of one breast. If he gave her many more of those she’d come from that alone. Every time he did it, tingles shot through her body.

“I said don’t move.” He walked to the bottom of the bed and gave her that long, sweeping gaze again, his attention moving from her toes to her head and back again. Then back to her crotch. Her legs were splayed open, held by the cuffs at the foot of the bed. He could see her pussy and how wet it was getting. As he watched, more liquid seeped hotly from her, escaping where it could. The sheet under her dampened and she fought to stop herself wriggling.

“Can you feel that little slit getting itself ready for me?” His hands went to his fly, flicking open the button at the top. Slowly he ran his finger along the zipper, up and down. His erection ridged the stiff fabric, pushing it out past the fly. “Remember what this feels like inside you?” He stroked the ridge of fabric cradling his cock. She wanted to do it for him and uncover all that hard, warm flesh.

She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you want it there now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How much?” He slid the zipper down halfway. Not enough. And he had underwear on, she could see the white of his boxers gleaming through the gap. She groaned in disappointment and received another tap for her pains.

He walked around the bed to do it and she counted the three steps he took. When he slapped her breast, this time he took a moment to pinch and tweak her nipple. The small pain arced through her upper body and she moaned low in her throat.

She caught her breath. His eyes brightened, sparked pure fire and he bent to take her nipple between his teeth. Would he bite?

Oh yes. He nipped, then sucked before he straightened to admire his handiwork. “Wet from me,” he murmured.

“Chris?” Another tap.

“Punishment not enough to make you remember?” He bent to her other breast. This time he nipped harder, sent a pinch of pain through her. She cried out and he nipped again.

“Enough?” After a moment he added, “That was a question.”

“No, sir.”

“Good girl.” He almost purred when he stood and shucked his jeans and underwear, not giving her a chance to ogle until he stood and she saw his cock, stiffly erect, the head red and damp with pre-cum.

He moved closer, leaned over her and rested one knee on the bed. “Like it?”

She nodded and he pinched her nipple, making her yelp. “Yes, sir!”

Keeping his gaze on her face, he swung his leg across her, straddling her. “Suck it.”

“Y-y-”

“That wasn’t a question!”

And there was nothing she’d rather do right now. He didn’t make it easy for her, so she pulled up at the end of the restraints to give the head a tentative lick. His shudder satisfied her but she wanted more.

With an abrupt motion, he pushed forward and she gobbled him down. Ashley had never tried to deep throat but she wished so much that she could. For him, right now, she’d do anything and still want more.

Now she tried her best to take as much of him as possible. He began a shallow thrust and retreat and once she found the rhythm, she sucked and curled her tongue around the flanged head. He moaned and she licked, sucked and drew as much of that wonderful meat into her mouth as she could manage.

“Do you want to make me come?” He hissed through his teeth. “Oh yeah, do that. Keep doing that.”

She wanted to make him come, wanted to suck every part of him down, take him within her. Keep him.

He leaned over her, pushing his cock into her mouth, but instead of lying down, she came up to meet him and felt his balls graze her chin.

Before she could swallow more, he drew back, shock clearly written in his face. “Lie down!” he managed.

She didn’t want to but she obeyed him, releasing his cock reluctantly. Just a few minutes and she’d have taken all of him. But if she spoke without permission, this game ended and she wanted him so much she’d do anything for him.

He slid his cock down her body, leaving a wet trail from her breasts to her groin, then dipped it into her wet folds, rubbing it slowly across her swollen clit. “Like that?”

“Yes, yes! Sir!”

“Go-od,” he drawled the words and made that growl again. “Want it?”

“Please, sir!”

“Tell me where. Tell me what you’re going to do. Where do you want me? What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you want, sir.” She remembered from her games before that was the right answer. And it seemed to be here, because he smiled.

“And I will. How about I fuck that sweet ass of yours?”

“I-I don’t know, sir.”

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass?”

A gush of liquid soaked them both. “No, sir.”

He purred then lifted up to slide his cock back up her body. This time the wet trail was her juices. Back up to her mouth. “Taste it now.”

She opened her mouth, not sure she wanted to do it but when she smelled herself on him she went wild, surging up as far as she could to swallow him. And she succeeded. Tilting her head back, she took all of him, every inch. Every sweet, full, hot inch.

“Oh God, Ashley, baby!” He lost it and thrust wildly once, twice until he pulled back. “Sweet fucking hell, I didn’t know you could do that!”

Neither did she but no learned skill meant more to her than the ability to drive him wild. He could fuck her throat, her ass, her pussy, any part of her he wanted. Just let him stay.

A spurt of hot liquid anointed the back of her throat and she managed to swallow it and then sucked, waiting for more but none came.

She wasn’t sure how he did it but he stopped coming and jerked his penis out of her mouth. He slid down her body and thrust straight inside her, deep in her pussy.

“Baby, you are something else. Who taught you to do that?”

“Nobody, sir.”

Reminded of his role, he pulled back to stare down into her face. His eyes warm with passion, his mouth slightly open, she knew she wanted nothing more than this ever again. No other man would do for her now.

“I didn’t get to do half the things I wanted to. Baby, you drive me in-fucking-sane. You are so good at oral, you could make a career out of it.”

He showed her no mercy, pushing hard inside and driving her to the brink of coming, her senses awake, her body screaming for fulfillment. Then he reached down with one hand and pinched her clit. Hard.

Ashley exploded, crying his name, her orgasm so intense she felt it through every part of her. Including her mind, her fresh, newly freed mind.

Not surprising really that she passed out.

Chapter Fourteen

When Ashley woke up, she lay cradled in Chris’ arms, the cuffs gone. He smiled down at her. “You are one talented lady.”

“I’ve only just started. Chris, how big is your cock?”

He gave a startled burst of laughter. “What? Shit, I don’t know. Seven inches, eight? I never really measured it.”

“Wow, then I did really well. And no way are you seven inches, Chris Keys. Eight is more like it.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Was it okay? You worried me when you swallowed me down. I wanted a little gentle play, because you liked it. Nothing like what happened.”

“We could get really wild.”

“We could.” He lay down, tucking her by his side, and she lifted a leg to put it over his. His hair abraded the inner skin of her thigh. She loved it, wriggling a little to increase the sensation. “Maybe we should get some sleep now. It’s still early.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll contact Aidan, bring him up to speed and we’ll decide what to do.”

It sounded like a plan.

When she awoke again she didn’t think they’d moved. She loved the feeling of closeness, the warmth of his big body relaxed in sleep.

He’d cleared her mind. She remembered things she hadn’t known existed, and explored her new memories, still unsure what was right and what wasn’t. But this felt right, as if something had been missing for years and was only now restored to her. Their handcuff play cleansed her body, free of all the frantic searching for fulfillment and whatever was missing from her life. He’d cleared the blocks, given her the missing parts back and then filled her with himself.

Paige! Would this help her too?

“No, Ashley, it wouldn’t.”

She jerked her chin up, to see him, his eyes clouded with sleep, watching her closely. “I didn’t know you’d woken up.”

An intrusion in her mind. Chris. As natural as breathing, he was just there. “We can’t do this to Paige, not yet. I promise we will, as soon as we can.”

“Tie her down?”

“If we have to.”

She ventured a smile and flattened her hand on his chest. “But not what came after.”

“Maybe not.” He bent his head and kissed her, lingering and sweet. Their lips parted slowly, reluctantly. “Paige is too unstable to work on right now. She’s taking too many drugs for us to be sure what we’re clearing and she couldn’t withstand the pressure and pain that you did. We need to get her clean first.”

Ashley sniffed but nodded. What he said made sense. Paige was out of her head most of the time these days, hardly ate anything, drank too much. With health that precarious, she wouldn’t live through the ordeal.

“I want to get her out of there.”

“I know. I have to teach you to re-erect your barriers, then I’ve got to go.”

“John will expect me back today. I have to take him that feather.”

“No.”

“But—”

He cuddled her closer. “No, Ashley. You’re not ready.”

“Are you trying to protect me?”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deliciously through his chest to her breasts. “I might be. That was hard work, clearing your mind. John did a number on you and he’s probably done the same to Paige. I’ll find Aidan, we’ll decide what to do.”

“And I get no say?”

He smoothed his hands over her back. “You don’t have the experience, baby.”

Irritated by his over-protectiveness, she shot back, “And I never will if you don’t let me. I know my father better than anybody except Paige. Corinne doesn’t know what he is anymore. You said the worst booby-traps on my blocks came after she broke with him. That means he’s learned more. And he’s changed. You need me, Chris. Or you won’t get close.”

“We’ve dealt with people like him before. We know what to do.”

Oh now he was talking to her like she was some kind of idiot. She’d managed perfectly well without him for years. Yes, his experience with the psi-Talented would undoubtedly be useful in combating her father and getting Paige to some kind of safety but they needed her. Corinne had no idea about the person John Westfall had become and she didn’t know the security he used, the new staff surrounding him.

“Then let me come with you and tell you what you need to know.”

“No, Ashley. I want you to rest. You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal.”

She sat up. “Not bloody likely. This is my sister you’re talking about. And oh yes, what about the picture he has? What are you going to do about that? He promised it to me in return for the feather. You won’t get it any other way, you don’t even know where he keeps it.”

“Do you?” He glared at her now.

“Maybe.” No, of course she didn’t but she wouldn’t need to. Her father would keep his word, she was sure. But only if she kept hers. John Westfall knew his word had to be sacrosanct. In an industry where people thought nothing of reneging on any deal that wasn’t tied down on paper, John Westfall’s handshake actually meant something. He didn’t give his word lightly but when he did, he kept it. Which was why Ashley was so sure to get his promise on their deal.

“I want you out of all of this, Ashley. We can beat him, be sure of it.”

But she wasn’t. True, Pure Wildfire contained powerful beings but if they destroyed John, they destroyed Paige, and Ashley wasn’t prepared to risk that or let anyone else do it. “Not until Paige is safe. You can’t.” She drew her knees up to her chest, folding her arms around them just like she did when she was little and she wanted to huddle into a ball. Another memory Chris had restored to her.

“I’ll go to him. I’ll be safe.”

“Not if he sees his barriers are gone.”

“Then teach me.”

Although he’d said he would, now he wavered. “I can’t duplicate it precisely, not without time.”

“We don’t have time.”

He stroked her calf, his hand lingering on her skin. “We do, baby. All the time in the world.”

That sounded more loverlike than an assurance and her heart picked up a beat. “Do you mean that?”

“What?”

“Will you stay with me?”

For a long moment, they shared a look. He didn’t intrude far into her mind but she let him see what she meant. She wanted him for keeps, sure of it now. No other man would do for her. “I love you, Chris.”

“Wait.” He shot up in the bed, gathering the sheet around him as if it would protect him. From her? “Give it time, baby. We’re good in bed together. Don’t confuse that for something it’s not.” Before he withdrew his mind from hers, she felt his doubts.

“Still fuck buddies?” Her voice dripped bitterness. Surely he didn’t think their new closeness meant nothing.

“More than that. We started there but it’s much more now. You can rely on me, like best friends do. But let’s leave it there for now, okay?”

She stared at him, horror-struck. “That’s not what I want.”

“In the words of the old song, you can’t always get…”

“Fuck that!” She flung back the covers and climbed out of bed. “I’ll help you, Chris, but if you want more, you’ll have to tell me true. You offered to convert me, said it was what firebirds did when they wanted a mate. What was I supposed to think?”

Fury and shock reverberated through her. He didn’t love her? She was sure she loved him, surer than of anything in her life before. He didn’t have to love her but what else could she call it?

“I owed you.” He sounded so calm, she wanted to shake him hard until he felt like she did. “I couldn’t let you go to your father without giving you something in exchange. I want you to step back, Ashley, take stock.”

“So what about when you need a mate?”

He shrugged. “Baby, that feather is still for you. But if you don’t want it, I can take it back.”

“No, you can’t.” She tried not to look at her jewelry box, where she’d stowed the feather. The other one, the powerless one, lay in the box on her nightstand. She wanted both of them but she’d sacrifice one in the perfectly acceptable plan they’d drawn up before he’d removed the booby-trapped blocks from her mind. She felt perfectly fine now, apart from her heart breaking. “I want it.” The Ashley she used to be, the selfish petulant child, came to rescue her. “It’s mine, you gave it to me.”

“So it is. But you can give it back.”

She swept toward the bathroom door. “I’m going to shower. When I come out, I want you gone.”

He sat up and swung his feet out of bed. “I need to go anyway. I’ll be at Aidan’s.” He took a step closer to her and she took a step back, fumbling for the bathroom doorknob. “Hey, Ashley. I’m your friend for life. Listen to me. You need to take some time for yourself. You don’t need the pressure of an intense relationship right now. Don’t you think friends are sometimes better than lovers?”

“No.” She managed to get the door open and slipped inside, sliding the bolt into place.

She was lucky the bolt worked, since she hardly ever used it. Breathing out slowly, she leaned her back against the bathroom door, counting the minutes until he left. If she relaxed and trusted her intuition, she could detect him. She’d learned to use her empathetic senses years ago. This was just a step further.

He waited, sitting still for five minutes, so she leaned forward and switched on the shower but she didn’t get under the water. Steam filled the room as she waited. He got up and dressed. She felt the movement in the next room. She didn’t step under the hot water until she felt him leave. The door closed behind him and the gentle click sounded like a death knell.

Now she was alone, completely alone. Now she could weep. For what she’d lost, what she yearned for and would never have. He didn’t love her, could never return what she wanted to give him. He’d save her but out of some kind of misguided chivalry. Not because he needed to. Because he wanted her.

Her surge of anger didn’t last long. After all, he couldn’t help it. If he didn’t love her, then he didn’t. He couldn’t force it, any more than she could force herself to stop loving him.

When she emerged, a towel wrapped around her hair and another around her body, tucked under her arms, she found he’d spent that five minutes writing her a note. It lay on her nightstand.

Don’t go anywhere without telling me. I’ll talk to Aidan and the others and let you know what we decide. I’ll be back and I’ll help you with those other barriers we talked about.

Chris.

No “love”, not even “regards”.

Carefully she folded the note and tucked it into the box before she lifted out the feather, the beautiful one without any power in its delicate shape.

This wouldn’t fool her father for a minute. Not unless she could somehow force a sense of power into it. The other tickled all her senses, so it would attack her father’s too. He’d know.

The phone interrupted her thoughts. “Hello?”

“Ashley, are you alone?” Think of the devil and he appears.

Repressing the desire to ask him why he couldn’t tell, she answered in the affirmative.

“I think we’re done arguing. I have Paige here and her worthless husband. So now is the time. Make up your mind. If she leaves here, she leaves for good. Come over, bring what I asked you for. And alone. Nobody else. Clear?”

“Perfectly.”

She hung up without promising to go but of course she would. He’d left her without a choice. If she wanted her father’s help in saving Paige, she had to go. Since Chris left she didn’t mind so much and if she could do this without involving him, so much the better.

Chris felt sorry for her, offered her conversion because he felt he owed it to her, not for the reason she wanted, the only reason that mattered. He didn’t love her. Every time she thought about it, she knew she didn’t want to go on. Nothing seemed worth it any more. So she’d go and see her father and put her sister’s life back on track.

Ashley made her plans. She’d have to carry the other feather and give John the fake one, hoping his intuition wasn’t highly developed enough to spot the deception. That should work.

With new determination, she went to work. If she couldn’t have Chris, she’d at least do this for him. Afterward—if there was an afterward—she’d work out what to do with the rest of her empty life.

Chris walked to Aidan’s apartment to give him the chance to think everything through. What had happened between him and Ashley just now, what to do about her feelings for him. He still wanted her, but he wanted to give her space. Her declaration gave her no chance to be herself, to find the Ashley she should be and she needed to do that on her own. He knew she was pissed, but he was right. She needed to discover herself. She might find the new Ashley didn’t want him in that way, that she needed something else. The thought made him ache, but one of them had to keep some distance, otherwise—what? Besides, he still wasn’t sure. He searched his heart and found growing respect that she’d gone through the agony of life with her father and come out whole, sexual arousal for that incredibly gorgeous body, and warmth, but he wasn’t sure if he felt deep friendship or love. A breathing space would give them both a chance to think and work out their feelings.

The walk did nothing but give him a bit of much-needed exercise. To keep himself fit for the punishing concert schedule, he usually worked out every day but he’d let it slip recently. Perhaps getting back to his usual schedule would help this restless feeling he couldn’t quell.

Aidan and Corinne lived in a large first-floor apartment in a block overlooking the busy market area of Covent Garden. It had an entrance so discreet a visitor could easily miss it. Aidan had enhanced the entrance with a few fuzzing effects to encourage the passersby to move on and notice nothing. Pure Wildfire was a worldwide phenomenon now and inevitably a few fans discovered the band’s private addresses but a good doorman and a bit of fuzzing went a long way to retaining some semblance of normal life. More essential to Aidan and Corinne than to the rest of the band, now Sean was growing up and needed more than his parents’ loving care. They were making the decision whether to send him to a boarding school for Talents or keep him with them. Chris would put money on them keeping him. Both loved their son far too much to separate from him for longer than they had to.

Chris found the door to the apartment open but the lock clicked to behind him. Another example of Aidan’s enhanced psi powers. He found telekinesis that precise impressively awesome. Its lack of firepower and drama merely showed Aidan’s confidence in using it.

Two men shared one of the large leather sofas dominating the living area of the apartment. Aidan and Ryan. This close, nobody could miss their relationship to each other. Long, rangy bodies, that startlingly bright red hair, waist length on Aidan, close-cropped on Ryan, and the sharp features meant nobody would take them for anything other than brothers.

Aidan gave him a wave. “Hi. Coffee’s on. Corinne’s visiting Gina, they have some kind of design business going on.”

“More likely Gina wants to play with Sean,” Ryan commented. “The woman’s getting broody. I wanted more time to keep her for myself but I might have to think again.”

Whoa, Ryan, a father? That took some getting used to. The original wild child, survivor of the drug-ridden New York jazz scene of the fifties and sixties and now the equally drug-ridden world of the rock star, Chris had never seen Ryan as a parent.

Things changed. Did they ever.

He helped himself to coffee from the functional, pristine kitchen and brought the jug over to give Ryan and Aidan refills. Neither Aidan or Corinne were particularly interested in cookery and they mainly bought in. Only the nanny used the kitchen on anything like a regular basis.

“So have you converted her?” Ryan’s casual tone didn’t fool Chris for a moment.

“No.” He took a sip of the scalding liquid. “I cleared her mind of every block John Westfall had put there over the years. The recent ones were booby-trapped.”

Ryan and Aidan exchanged a glance. “Shit on a stick,” Aidan muttered. “How the fuck did he do that? I didn’t find anything like that when I cleared Corinne’s mind.”

“He’s learned more.” He took another deep gulp of coffee and reached for the jug, which sat half-empty on the tiled stand set on the low table by his side. “Aidan, when you thought you stripped his mind, you didn’t. Westfall is either a Sorcerer or someone taught him the methods. He must have had some sensitivity to start with but at some point he got hold of somebody very powerful who helped him.”

“Corinne’s mother,” Aidan said. He put his hand over his eyes and groaned. “I’ve suspected it for a while. Corinne was receptive, ready almost and her conversion went far easier than I’d thought it would. She inherited some power from her mother. John Westfall married her and then killed her. Even powerful Sorcerers have their vulnerabilities and a bullet is a bullet. And a car is a lethal weapon.”

Chris recalled a vague report in the press. Years ago, when Westfall was just another aspiring manager. “She died in a car accident.”

Aidan nodded. “That’s what they said. Her body destroyed, only positively identified by her dental records. I made enquiries and I’m sure it was her mother, not some sad substitute and the accident was real. Her Merc plowed into a tree late one night. They said she was drunk. She could have been. Westfall would drive anybody to drink. So he arranged it or pushed her to do it herself. Either way, he got rid of her once he didn’t need her anymore. I think he’d met the twins’ mother and fallen for her.”

The mention of Ashley, however distant, made something deep inside Chris wince. His determination to keep his distance, if only for a time, made him ache.

Aidan leaned back, coffee cup cradled between his long-fingered hands. Chris stared down at his own slabs of meat, huge hands made for powerful blows, although his precise percussion style came as a surprise to some critics. It should do, he worked hard enough at it. “I looked at the twins’ mother as well. Didn’t contact her, couldn’t see the point. At the time. But I called her yesterday. She lives in San Fran with her new husband and guess what?”

Chris and Ryan looked at Aidan expectantly. “Can’t imagine,” Chris growled.

“She’s a shape-shifter. A wyvern. She works with a hospital that has a wing for Talents and she knows all about us. She tried to keep in touch with the twins after her divorce from Westfall but he wouldn’t allow it and he told the twins she didn’t care.”

“Why didn’t she try harder to see them?” To Chris’ mind, nobody should abandon their children with such ease.

“She did. At first, anyway. But when they reached puberty, it became obvious they weren’t shape-shifters. They’d taken after John, not her. So she thought she should leave them with their father, with someone of their own kind. Nobody knew about Westfall then and the twins seemed to be happy with him, so she let it drop. If she’d thought Westfall was fucking with their minds, she would have been there. Or so she says. But she’s happy in her new life, so I’m guessing she didn’t try too hard after the first few years.”

“Bitch.” To abandon Ashley like that.

“Don’t think that. She tried but at the time she thought it best to leave her mortal children with their mortal father.” Aidan’s smooth voice rolled over Chris and he knew his friend was trying to soothe him. Distant cousins, because all firebirds were related in some way, he’d known Aidan for a very long time, met at a family get-together and clicked immediately. Unlike the rest of the band, Aidan really was in his thirties, where the rest of them were on their third or fourth “lives”. Chris tried to forget about his other existences and succeeded so well that the only other one he thought about at all regularly was his life as a settler in the last half of the nineteenth century. The last time he’d loved and that had been a complete disaster. For him and for his brother. Never again, he’d vowed at the time and until now he’d been happy to amble through life with his drum kit and his art.

Until now?

The sharp spike of awareness pierced the room so hard they all picked up on it. Aidan and Ryan exchanged another glance and Ryan leaned forward to take the coffee cup out of Chris’ hands before it fell from his numb fingers to the floor.

“It happens like that sometimes, man.”

“Shit. Fuck.”

He loved Ashley. He’d always imagined love to be a lightning bolt out of the blue, not this growing thing that enriched and deepened without him becoming fully aware of it. The thought of life without her didn’t enthrall him one bit. Up to now he’d loved his music, put his whole world to making himself better than anyone else but now he’d give it all up for her. “Why didn’t I know?”

He lifted his head to confront his cousins.

Ryan met his eyes with a totally frank expression. “You were scared, man. Scared of committing to one person. You didn’t want to know, you wanted time to think. As if that changes anything.”

“Yeah.” He could see that. He’d been playing the field for so long that when the real thing came his way his first instinct was to run. That story about space—he could read her and see what she needed for himself, but he hadn’t done that. He’d preferred to think she needed space when he was really backing off.

Ryan shrugged. “I fell in love with Gina gradually, over a few weeks. I have no idea when sex turned to love but at least I was smart enough to recognize it. You didn’t, did you?”

Chris shook his head. “Not until now, not for sure. I couldn’t imagine falling for anybody who’d behaved like Ashley. When I first met her, she was just a good lay. I didn’t care who she slept with apart from me. Talents can’t catch diseases so it didn’t matter how promiscuous she was. Then I appreciated a woman who wouldn’t ask more from me than I wanted to give. She didn’t cling, she didn’t follow me, just that we’d fuck when we got together. Easier than breaking in a new woman, I thought.” He slammed his clenched fist down on the seat behind him, retaining just enough sense not to smash through the glass coffee table on his other side. He couldn’t risk Sean encountering a shard of broken glass. “It wasn’t that though, was it? She’s just good at hiding things. I must have hurt her along with all the others but Ashley’s tough. She’d never show that to anybody. Not even me. Last night I got to know more of her than I imagined existed. Because I’m an idiot. A fucking idiot.” He got to his feet. “I’ve got to get back to her.”

To his chagrin, Ryan burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, I recognize that all right. Hey, don’t deck me, man, I’m sympathizing with you. It turned me inside out, realizing I actually loved Gina, that I wanted her for all time. You wait.”

Still laughing, he fended Chris off by shielding his head with his arms. “Face it, you’re a goner.”

“Yeah.” Chris didn’t feel like laughing. Not one bit and when he told them what he’d said and done that night, neither did they.

His account of stripping her mind, including the fact that he’d had to fasten her down to stop her doing an injury to herself, calmed them into grim-faced acceptance. They needed the detail so they could understand what they were facing here.

At last, after a long silence, Aidan spoke. “We have to stop the bastard. Here and now, before he gets worse.”

“He’s not going to stop until either we’re dead or he is.” Trust Ryan to say what they were all thinking.

“We have to kill him?” Killing a man in cold blood didn’t sit right with him, although Chris could certainly do it in a fight.

“Only if we have to.” Aidan got to his feet and took a few strides away from them, then came back but paced some more. “We have to neutralize him.”

“We tried that before. It didn’t work.”

Aidan turned on his brother. “I’d only just accepted my role as phoenix. I’m an elemental, Ryan, I can do it properly this time. Then, I felt so powerful, compared to what I’d been before, I was overconfident.” His lips compressed in a grimace. “I know better now but I know what I can do and what I can’t. I can do this.”

Chris believed him. He had to, because the life of the woman he loved lay at stake.

Ashley hurried out of her apartment. She’d dressed as she used to for her father—hair swept back into a ponytail, a neat blue business suit. With, God help her, tights, the one item of clothing she despised and detested. She’d had to search for the low-heeled navy court shoes, so not what she wore these days. But her father had filled her mind with compliance, blocks against her own taste, driving her to his, so she did what she had to in order to fool him that she hadn’t tampered with anything. Or even noticed.

She’d done her best to erect false blocks in her mind. If John scanned her mind—and he would—he’d find what he expected. Using what Chris had taught her, she thought the fake blocks would pass muster. As long as he didn’t try deep scanning. Then she was done for.

The shiny patent leather handbag held a minimum of items—one feather, stuck in a resealable plastic bag, a wallet with about fifty pounds in it, a makeup pouch and her apartment keys. Nothing else. The other feather, the one with the power, she’d tucked into her bra and secured it with a safety pin so it wouldn’t fall out. Wrapped in a layer of cling film, just in case. She had no idea how the conversion happened but she did know it had something to do with skin contact because of the way it warmed up in her hand after she’d taken it and she didn’t want to take any chances. Hopefully she could give it back to Chris, unscathed.

The concierge, tucked behind his security desk, gave her a double take and she smiled beatifically at him before she stepped outside to find a taxi. He hadn’t seen her like that for a long time. Best to leave her car in the garage for this trip, travel light. She had no idea when she’d be back. If ever.

Not that she cared about returning anymore. Chris was backing off, perhaps for good, but the thought of an empty life continuing as she always had filled her with dread. She’d packed a lot into her life and she was only in her mid-twenties but she’d done enough living for two lifetimes so far. Ending it wouldn’t be so bad. Or so she tried to tell herself.

She couldn’t leave her father to rampage through the world and cause even more damage than he had already. If she did what she could to stop him, she’d die happy, if it came to it. She couldn’t bring herself to worry very much about it. If it happened, then it happened.

She hailed a taxi and headed out for the Savoy. The driver received a generous tip. Might as well make somebody happy today.

A few people glanced her way when she passed but nobody stopped her.

Pure Wildfire had ended the Celtic Chicks when they refused to take them on tour. Ashley shrugged off the thought and waited for the elevator to open at her father’s floor.

The closer to him she got, the less certain she got that what she was doing was right. Too late now. Much too late.

An aide waited for her, one she hadn’t met before. He gave her a visual once-over but didn’t try to skim his hands over her body in a pretense at a body search. The only person who’d ever tried that with her hadn’t walked properly for a week afterward. Perhaps the word had spread but she doubted it. More likely her father had given orders for them to leave his daughters alone. They weren’t worth searching. He’d found another way to control them.

She felt him reach out to her before she got to the living area of the suite. A gentle insinuation, a spark of warmth she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been waiting for it. She remained passive, as if she hadn’t noticed, and let him scan. A brief sweep, as if he knew she couldn’t rid herself of the mess he’d made of her mind. Bastard.

Pushing the surge of anger as deep as she could, Ashley walked into the room and headed for Paige. When they hugged, she felt her sister’s bones, jutting into her through the bare covering of skin. Paige felt like a bird, all bones and little else, too delicate to last much longer. Her heart ached for her sister. Paige might have taken a wrong turn but she didn’t deserve this. Nobody did. She spared a grin for Fred. She’d never seen him without drugs or drink in his system, so she had no way of knowing what the real, unreconstructed Fred was like but she liked what she knew and guessed that, sober, he’d be better. He didn’t deserve it either. They might not have the same willpower as others or the same depth of character but she loved them both and she would do pretty much anything to see them get rehab and then stick with it afterward.

Anything, she told herself firmly. Even give up Chris. Not that there was much giving up to do.

This was right. If she failed, then she’d live or die with it but she needed to do this.

They took their seats, Paige, Fred and Ashley sharing the sofa opposite the chair John occupied. He sat bolt upright, his body held at a slight angle so he could see Will as well as the three of them on the sofa. “So how do you see the Celtic Chicks progressing?” he asked. “I have some ideas but I’d like to know what you think.”

Just like any other business meeting he’d held with them over the years. They’d tell him what they thought, then he’d do what he wanted anyway.

“I think it might have come to a natural end,” said Ashley quickly. “At least in this incarnation. Pure Wildfire refused to have the Chicks on any tour they do because of the drugs.” She glanced at Paige, who grimaced but said nothing. No need to tell her about Randy Norwood’s all-encompassing ban.

“You’re probably right,” John said smoothly, “but I’d come to that conclusion anyway. Your last single barely broke the top twenty and while other bands might be delighted with that, you’ve done much better in the past and I don’t think it’s good enough for you.” He held out his hand and Will put a piece of paper into it. “I have some ideas. I’ve done a survey. Something is changing in the music business, one of those shifts that alters everything. You could go classic or you could go avant-garde or pure pop.” He gave the paper back to Will. Just a prop, he hardly glanced at it. “Thoughts?”

Ashley wanted none of it but she knew better than to say so. This meeting wasn’t really about the Chicks. That was an excuse to get Paige and Fred here so John could deliver on their agreement. But she’d play along with him. For now anyway. “I want to give up singing for a while, because of what we discussed the other day.”

Paige smiled at Ashley, a glint in her eyes. “You didn’t tell me?” Never one to waste a good smolder, she turned the look onto Will, whose cheekbones reddened significantly.

Good, he deserved that. “Dad’s thinking of setting up an art foundation.”

“And you’ve always been crazy about paintings, haven’t you? Oh Ashley, that would be great for you!”

Forgetting her poses, Paige surged across the sofa and swept Ashley into her arms for a full-on hug. Ashley returned it, feeling tears prick her eyes. She wanted her sister back so badly.

“Thanks, Paige. So what do you have planned?”

“You know I’ve been writing songs with Fred?” Both Ashley and John nodded. “Well, we’ve had some responses and we think we’re on to something. A kind of modern-day Sonny and Cher, you know?”

Ashley didn’t but she pretended she did. John certainly did. He regarded Paige through half-closed eyes, his habit when he was working something out. “I can definitely see that. Yes, that would be good for you. But I want you to do something for me first.”

Here it came. Ashley felt the atmosphere thicken in that weird way she’d had since she was a baby. Until recently she’d taken it for granted but since Chris cleared her mind, she felt it sharper and more definite.

“What’s that, John?” Paige sat perfectly still. Perhaps she felt it too, despite the drugs and drink clouding her system.

“Rehab.”

Paige sank her head into her hands and groaned. Fred gave John the finger. “We’re having too much fun.”

“If you carry on having this much fun it’ll kill you inside twelve months.” John’s crisp tones broke through to Paige, because she raised her head, her eyes glittering with tears.

“Will you support us if we do it?”

“Certainly. But I need you reliably straight first.”

When Fred made a move to stand, Paige stopped him by placing her hand over his. He curved a protective arm around her instead. “We get to go in together?”

They would probably separate them inside, but nobody reminded them. John nodded.

“And we get to choose where we go?”

“I’ve already booked you places at the best one, The Rectory. Not in the certainty that you’d take it but reservations are in short supply. I can always sell the bookings to somebody else.”

Paige grimaced. “They don’t care who you are in that place. They take people off the street.”

“That’s one of the good points. It puts you back in touch.” Ashley only realized she’d admitted collusion with John when Ashley glared at her.

“You talked to him about this?”

“I talked to her.” John held his hand out to her. “And now that I’ve done it all, can I have my prize?” His fingertips shook very slightly, the only sign of nervousness visible.

Ashley took a deep breath and opened her bag. She handed him the bagged feather. It gleamed in the daylight streaming in through the windows, as if made from solid gold.

Paige made a grab for it and managed to snatch it before John could. “What’s this? Pretty! What d’you want this for, John? It’d make a great necklace. Or maybe in my hair?” She unzipped the bag and grabbed the feather. “How about this?”

The feather, stuck at a crazy angle in Paige’s blonde hair, made her look like some kind of half-demented fairy out of A Midsummer Night’s Dream

John, not in the least amused, stood and made a grab for the feather but Will got there first. It lay in his palm, balefully gleaming at him. “So this is it? This will convert you to a firebird? If you let it, of course.”

He dipped his hand into his pocket and came out with a pocket lighter. Before John could stop him, he’d flicked a light and applied it to the end.

The stink of burning fiber filled the room but before the feather went up in a puff of smoke John managed to snatch it from Will’s fingers and, heedless of his expensive clothes, held it against his leg to stifle the flame.

When he opened his hand, the feather, black-tipped now, gleamed at him, considerably more bedraggled than it had been a moment before. He lifted his head. “I feel nothing. If you’ve destroyed this, Thomas, you’ll suffer.”

Paige giggled and Will gave her a hard stare. “Burn the abomination. One less deviant in the world.”

“Deviant? Try stunningly powerful creature who lives five times longer than we do.” John’s lip curled in a sneer. “Doesn’t that tempt you?”

Will stuck his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

“You mean it’s real?” Fred said, his voice rising with incredulity. “These things exist? Good for a laugh, that’s all it is. Isn’t it?” As the others stared at him in silence, he jutted his chin forward. “You serious?”

“Oh yes,” John murmured. “Perfectly.”

“Who’s taking the drugs here?” Fred demanded. “Oh wow, this is too fucking weird. Come on, Paige, we’re going home. Where at least we know what’ll happen after we shoot up.”

Paige took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. John gave them a wave of dismissal. “You leave here, you don’t get the rehab.”

“We can do that ourselves.” Fred glanced at Ashley. “Come on, Ashley. We’ve talked about it and we decided to check ourselves in somewhere.”

They were right. Something inside her released in a gush of relief. Paige and Fred had decided to do it. She didn’t owe John anything anymore.

“I’ll come in a few minutes,” she said. “Wait for me.”

John glanced at Will. “They’re what you call deviants, you know.”

“What?” Ashley stared at her father. “Are you completely insane?”

John gave her an easy smile. “I might have been, once, when I let Corinne go. You and Paige are the results of my second experiment. Corinne’s mother wasn’t suitable so I tried again. Your mother was something else. A shape-shifter. Children of mixed marriages show what they are at puberty and neither of you inherited your mother’s ability so I couldn’t use you. A big disappointment. I put you to work but I wanted more.”

All Paige and Ashley could do was gape at each other. “Our mother?”

John shrugged. “She didn’t want you any more than I did when we found out you were mortals, like me. But at least I gave you a life.” His eyes remained fish-cold. “Time to say goodbye, girls. I’ve got what I want and neither of you are any use to me anymore. Washed-up mortals with nowhere to go.”

He crossed the room, cradling the ruined feather in his hand, heading for his bedroom. He turned, his hand on the doorknob. “And by the way…” He stared at Ashley and she felt all her barriers dissolve in a single blast of pain. Ashley clutched the sides of her head, trying to think, trying to get past the agony.

“The bastard,” Paige said. “Let’s get out of here.” Paige headed for the door, dragging a numb Fred behind her, but Will stepped in front of her.

“You heard the man, Paige. He’s got no use for you anymore. Neither have I.” He reached behind his back and Ashley tried to remember where she’d seen that movement before. “To think I fucked you. I shall have to disinfect my dick when I get out of here.”

“Ashley?”

The bewilderment in Paige’s face broke Ashley’s heart. Arrows of pain shot through her body and she fought the words out. “They’ve kept a lot from us, Paige, our parents. I’ll tell you everything.” She tried to smile but failed miserably. “Promise. Let’s just get out of here.”

“You think you’re leaving?” Will reached for Paige and dragged out a gun, its long muzzle indicating the silencer already fitted to it.

That was where she’d seen that gesture before. Countless cop shows, when someone reached for his weapon. Tucked into the waistband. Will thumbed off the safety catch. The bastard handled the gun like a pro.

“Paige!” Fred grabbed her and pushed her to the ground.

A sound just like the one she’d heard on those cop shows and Fred crumpled with a soft groan, red blossoming at the front of his white t-shirt.

Paige screamed and Ashley turned and sped for the door, crying out for help.

Chapter Fifteen

Chris took a cab and thrust a twenty-pound note at the driver. “If you can get me to the Savoy in ten minutes, there’s fifty at the end of it for you.”

“I can do that.” The driver took off, swinging the wheel around to exit the busy Covent Garden area. Chris had considered taking to the air but he wasn’t sure he could get into the room at the Savoy. But once he found Ashley’s apartment empty, he knew where she’d gone.

Son of a bitch, why hadn’t he told her before? And why the fuck had she gone on her own instead of contacting him?

Because he’d told her he didn’t love her? What a complete idiot he was but she was worse for going into the lion’s den without backup. He’d left her jewelry box and the one from her dressing table upended on her bed. No feather in either. She’d taken them both. He’d left her door swinging on its hinges, contacting his band mates telepathically as he sped down to the street to find a cab. Apart from flying, nobody could get across London faster than a cabbie.

He tried to contact her telepathically but she didn’t answer. All he found were blocks, which she’d probably erected to try to keep her father out. If he tried to break them, and they were flimsy structures, easy to break, John Westfall would be able to get in too.

Halfway there, the cab dodging in and out of the traffic in ways that might have made Chris wince had his mind not been on other things, in other places, he felt the barriers in her mind dissolve.

Ashley lay open to him and any other person who cared to read her.

The first impression he got was pain. Overwhelming, agonizing pain. Not the residual of the destruction of the barriers but something else. This pain radiated from a place at the back of her head, as far as he could tell.

Chris contacted the guys but he didn’t withdraw from Ashley completely. He monitored her, so when her life force weakened, he felt it immediately. His moan drew a comment from the cabbie.

“You all right, mate?”

“Yeah. Just keep driving.”

“You’re American, aren’t you? Don’t I know you?”

“Maybe.” Chris growled low in his throat. “Just keep your eyes on the road.”

“All right, keep your hair on.”

Usually he enjoyed the banter London cabbies often indulged in but today he just wanted a driving machine. A fast one.

God, a really fast driver. Please. Desperately, he held on to her. Close by her, mayhem was occurring but he couldn’t do anything about it.

On my way. Aidan’s voice, grim and commanding, the way only his bandmates and fellow Talents heard it.

Yeah, me too. Jake. Ryan confirmed a few seconds later.

Nearly there. As the cab drew up into the Savoy forecourt, Chris didn’t wait for it to stop. He thrust some banknotes through the small glass aperture the cabbie had left open and leaped out of the door, racing for the doors.

The uniformed doorman moved toward him but then smiled and stepped back. “Mr. Keys!”

Chris didn’t stop his headlong rush.

He didn’t bother with the elevators but went for the stairs. He took them three at a time. After shoving aside the people in his way, he partially shifted, taking advantage of his superior firebird strength. They’d probably put his behavior down to loutish rock star antics. Not that he cared.

Only one thing mattered now. He kept his mind firmly locked with hers and felt her life force stutter like a light bulb flickering its last few rays.

No! He wouldn’t let her go.

Couldn’t.

The stairs to the floors with the suites was supposed to be manned but Chris scanned and then sent a wave to render everyone in the suite unconscious. He had to get close to do that, with enough force for it to work. Idiot that he was, he should have asked Aidan.

Too late for that. He had to use all his strength to keep her going. He’d shielded her from his blast, cradled her in his mind like he wanted to cradle her in his arms. Not far now.

The hallway contained three people, two women and a man, all slumbering peacefully, two flat on the floor, one sitting on a chair.

Chris didn’t waste time admiring his handiwork but went straight for her, the only conscious presence on the floor. He’d probably laid out a few innocent citizens, since this wasn’t the only suite on this floor but it wouldn’t do them any harm.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw her. She lay in a pool of blood on the floor and it still seeped from a wound in her head. She’d fallen backward or been pushed and caught the back of her head on the corner of a low table. Her legs sprawled anyhow, her arms lay limp over her body.

And she was barely breathing.

He felt Jake arrive but he didn’t look around. The others could take care of whatever else was here. His whole attention was on Ashley.

“Baby…” He bent but didn’t move her. It might start the bleeding again. He yearned to take her in his arms, kiss her and make it better but she wasn’t Sleeping Beauty. More like Snow White, injured close to death.

Without conscious thought, he merged with her. Her barriers were gone, no impediments left, so he dropped his own and blended his consciousness with what was left of hers.

Chris?

Baby, it’s okay now, I’ve got you.

I don’t mind. As long as John doesn’t get away.

He felt her hurt as his own and gladly shared the burden. He would have taken it completely but she needed some pain, to remind her that she was still alive. He had to leave her with a little.

Feel it, Ashley. Feel me. Do you want to leave me? No? Hold on then.

You don’t want me, Chris.

That’s a lie. I want you for sure. Keep going. For me. For us.

“Chris.” A gentle hand on his shoulder told him Aidan had arrived.

“We need an ambulance. Is one on the way?”

“No. She’s past needing an ambulance.” Aidan’s voice quavered the slightest bit. “Stay with her.”

“I will. If she goes, I’ll go.” He said it without regret. He owed it to her. More than that. He needed her. Without her, he didn’t want to go on.

“No.”

“Yes. I’ve merged with her. I can’t live if she dies. I let her down, Aidan.” He kept his voice low and steady, not sure if she could hear anything or not. But he meant it. He couldn’t imagine going on without her. Not just that he loved her but he’d let her down in the worst way. She’d opened her heart to him and he’d turned his back. Left her alone.

“Do you know why she came like this, on her own? Can you read her?”

“Some.” He bit his lip and refused to look away from her. If he took his attention away, she might slip away from him, for all his good intentions to stay. He felt her trying to pull away, to use the last of her strength to push him back, stop him holding her but he wouldn’t let her go.

Grief, hard and unshadowed, struck him like lightning from a dark sky. It crippled his thoughts, hurt his concentration.

At once he felt a strengthening surge and knew his brother had arrived. Hold on, my man.

It helped him to know he could rely on Jake’s strength. But not for much longer. Her life was slipping away. If it weren’t for his holding her back, she would have already gone.

“Chris, there’s only one way you can save her now.”

He knew but he had no way of doing it. “I already gave her the feather she needed. It’s not at her apartment, where she left it.”

Ryan’s voice came from his left. “John Westfall is clutching a charred feather. But it’s not the one.”

“She brought it.” She must have done. Otherwise John would have spotted the deception immediately. So it should be emitting some kind of power now.

Holding Ashley carefully in his mind, ready to give her his immediate attention, he drew back just a little and sensed.

There. Over her heart, something heated up when he called to it. Clever girl!

Relief flooded him when he ripped her blouse down the front and felt the heat. She’d tucked it in her bra, wrapped in cling film. No time for niceties. This was her only hope.

He tore off the plastic and the feather seared him. “She might not thank me for doing this.”

Ryan’s voice again. “I had the same decision to make, Chris. All you’re doing is giving her the choice. If she decides she still wants to die, she can do so but you’re giving her the chance to live as well. A choice she wouldn’t otherwise have.”

His decision though. Nobody else’s.

As far as he was concerned, the decision was made as soon as he realized she’d brought the feather with her.

He pressed it against the abundant swell of her breast, then changed his mind and slid it to one side. She might want to wear low-cut dresses and although the mark would only show when they were together and hot for each other, he couldn’t guarantee that happening only in private situations. He wanted her all the time. Fuck, he wanted her now, in the worst way. At the thought, the remembrance of her hot, soft little body, his cock twitched.

Chris cursed himself for the worst kind of pervert but it wasn’t the sight of her twisted, bloody body that turned him on, it was the thought of her well and happy.

He would see her like that again. Or die in the attempt.

The feather heated under his hand and he felt Jake touch his shoulder. “Chris, both your hands have to cover it. Yours and hers.”

He didn’t want to move her. A jolt and she’d start to bleed again but he took his hand away and carefully lifted hers, the one that lay nearest to her bared breast.

Shape-shifters were used to nakedness but he wanted to cover her up, keep her private. Stupid, when she’d shown herself to so many but she was his now. If she wanted to be.

His heart twisted when he felt fresh blood ooze from the deep wound in her head. I’ll help. I won’t go until you don’t need me anymore, Jake assured him.

And he’d need him now. Aidan surrounded them both with awesome strength. Ryan moved around the suite, exploring and discovering everything he could, ready to return if Chris needed him.

“We need to get out of here as soon as we can,” he commented. “I fuzzed when I arrived so nobody else in the hotel will know we’re here but Chris didn’t. They know he’s here.”

The other two concurred but Chris hadn’t bothered hiding his presence, too concerned with getting to Ashley.

The feather heated for real. His hand covered her smaller one, on the side of her breast where, if she converted before she died, the mark would appear.

The tricky conversion procedure could kill her on its own but paradoxically, it was her only chance of life. The pressures the body went through when it converted to a bird would add stress to her already overstressed system.

He concentrated on keeping her safe, sending her all his love, all his strength, all his hope.

The heat became almost unbearable but he would withstand that and more for Ashley. He thought it might combust under the pressure of their hands, his holding hers, and he sent her reassurance and care.

He’d thought her beyond communication but she surprised him yet again. Don’t you think I’m hurt enough? Is that it? She sounded so petulant he wanted to laugh but he knew now Ashley used the complaining as a coping mechanism.

Not long now, baby.

Either way, not long now.

Chapter Sixteen

“Chris?” God, her head hurt. Ashley rolled over in bed, vaguely surprised to find herself naked. And this wasn’t her bed. It took her a moment to recognize the ivory sheets and the purple bedcover.

Hangover?

No. She sat bolt upright, the covers falling from her breasts. Her father—Will Thomas—Paige. Oh God, Paige!

The door opened and Chris raced inside. She’d never seen him so concerned, his usually easygoing expression overlaid by concern, a furrow grooving its way between his brows. He sat on the bed, pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth. “Baby, oh Ashley!”

That wasn’t the Chris Keys she thought she knew. He didn’t care if she stayed or went. Or so she’d thought. Not this man holding her as if he’d never let go.

“Chris, it wasn’t your fault.”

“What made you go on your own? Why did you go see him without telling me?”

She remembered that well enough. “He said he had Paige in the suite and he would dump her if I didn’t come and bring the feather with me. If he did that, she’d die. So I took them both.”

“I know.” His deep voice came as balm to her wounded soul. “We left the other one with him, for all the good it’ll do him. Who burned it?”

“Will Thomas tried to.”

He drew away, gazing down into her face. “He was there?”

She nodded. “He had a gun, Chris, he—” She swallowed. She had to know. “Paige?”

Keeping her gaze, he shook his head.

Ashley collapsed against him. How could she bear it?

He held her while she wept for her sister. Now she was truly alone, without the companion she’d laughed and suffered with all the years of her life. They’d put up with all those lessons, coach after singing coach telling them they were useless, trying all the musical instruments her father brought them and coping with them but with no real success. She went through all the stages of their lives, from pampered children without any love in their lives except for each other to Paige as the drug-ridden shell of the woman she remembered.

Ashley sobbed and Chris kept her safe while she mourned for Paige, the sister who’d left her a couple of years ago, but not until this moment did Ashley recall the moments they’d held each other, buoyed each other with remarks, snide or brave, anything to keep going in the bad times. And shared the good times. Who would she do that with now?

How had Corinne borne all those pressures on her own? Ashley felt so bad that she and Paige had taunted Corinne, not allowed her in to their private world. She was their sister, they should have looked out for her like they looked out for each other.

Too late now. Everything was too late now.

Torrents of questions, all of them unanswered, poured through her mind, followed by memories of their young adulthood.

And finally, hatred of her father.

“No,” Chris crooned, warming her ear with his hot breath. “Not that, baby. Don’t hate. Life’s too short, even our lives.”

A sharp sense of something different, something wrong spiked through her and chased away the last of her tears. She lifted her head to confront him and those wonderful sparkling brown eyes gazed gravely down into hers. He gave a short nod. “It was the only way to save you. You’d fallen or someone had pushed you and hit your head on a piece of furniture. By the time I got to you, you’d almost completely gone. I didn’t want to do it, I know what you felt but it was the only way. That or die.”

“So why didn’t you let me die?” she cried. That would have been best. Blessed oblivion, so she didn’t hurt anymore.

“Because I couldn’t bear it.” He kept her gaze and she saw and felt his absolute sincerity when he said, “Because I love you.”

She hadn’t the strength to push him away. She felt as weak as a kitten. Why should she believe him?

Looking into his eyes, she knew why. She wanted this so much she was afraid to believe it. “You love me?” The world came to a stop and they stared at each other as if nothing else existed.

A respite from her grief, a still point of rest existed for her.

He tracked a tear from her eye to her chin and bent to kiss it away, very gently, before moving to her mouth and caressing her with no heat, only lingering warmth. Nobody had ever kissed her like that before, as if she might break. “I love you. I denied myself as much as I denied you and I behaved unspeakably. I’ll never forgive myself, I just hope you can forgive me, one day. Help me to live with myself, Ashley. Accept what help I can give you now.”

She leaned against him, thanking him without words. He made it impossible for her to doubt him, filling her with unconditional love, heating her from the inside out. He spoke quietly while she rested, murmuring reassurances. “Sweetheart, I won’t leave you, ever, unless you send me away. Let me help you now, teach you what you are and what you can be.”

“I told you before that I loved you.” Her voice sounded distressingly weak. Cried out, worn out, she could only rest against his big body, thankful for his support. “I still do. But I can’t think what to do now. I’m so tired, Chris.”

“Then sleep. But you might like a bath or a shower.”

Only then did she realize how grubby she felt. “How long have I been asleep?”

He drew a deep breath. “Three days.”

“What?” The thought galvanized her into action and she used what little strength she had left to sit upright and stare at him, her jaw dropping in astonishment. “Three days?”

“I told you that you nearly died. You would have been in a coma but I wouldn’t allow it. I stayed with you and kept you from it but I kept you asleep. You needed the rest, baby. Needed it to recover from the conversion and your injury.”

“You said I nearly died…” When he tugged her closer again she didn’t resist but went to him.

“You did. The only way to save you was to convert you. Then I shape-shifted you with Aidan’s help and made you small. You’ve seen that, haven’t you?” She nodded against his chest, snuggled in and listened to him. “I needed to do that to get you out of that place and to make sure you were safe.”

“What happened at the Savoy?”

He grunted. “I panicked. I made everybody on that floor except for you unconscious. You didn’t need my help. The others arrived but they fuzzed and nobody saw them. They saw me but we’ve thought of a way around that. I brought you home as fast as I could. The police are still investigating it but they won’t find anything they shouldn’t. Aidan made sure of that. What they did find is your sister and Fred.”

“How did they die?” She was almost sure but she wanted to be certain her confused memories reflected what really happened.

“Will Thomas killed them. He shot Fred when he stood in front of Paige and then shot Paige.”

“What have you done with him?”

He paused and she lifted her face to look at him. “Chris?”

“We let him go.” He held her tight when she would have fought her way out of his arms. “Wait, Ashley, wait. We didn’t have a choice. He ran as Ryan came in but we were all too intent on getting to you and Paige. We thought we’d catch up with him but he’d disappeared. We’ll get him, baby, I swear we will.”

“If you don’t, I will.”

He hugged her close. “You won’t have to do it alone. Your father was in the bedroom, presumably trying to convert, but my push knocked him out. We left him the feather.”

“And the painting?”

Horror etched his face. “Shit! It was nowhere in sight. If we’d seen it we’d have taken it. Shit, how could we forget that?”

He reached in his jeans pocket for his phone and thumbed a quick dial number. “Aidan, we’ve got another problem. The painting.” He paused and allowed Aidan to curse. “Yeah. Just thought I’d let you know.” He cut the connection and tossed the phone aside, drawing her close again.

“Why didn’t you use telepathy?”

“Takes effort.”

For the first time she saw the lines of stress on his face. She reached up and traced them. He turned his head to kiss her palm and hold her hand against his face. “You’ve worked hard.”

“I have.”

She was glad he didn’t deny it. “Perhaps we should both shower.”

“Good idea.”

He was weary but he lifted her out of the bed and carried her into his spacious bathroom. He stripped her out of his oversize t-shirt and wasted no time shedding his own clothes but he had to put her down for that. It gave her a good view of his ripped body. Despite her despair and her exhaustion, the sight of his bare torso and his equally bare butt when he turned to put his clothes down stirred her libido. Something she was beginning to doubt she had anymore. When he turned back, he was half erect. She smiled.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I don’t know if I can do you justice today.” But he proved that he could when he swept her into the shower and she felt him harden against her thigh. He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Now I’m really embarrassed.”

“Why? Because you want me?”

“Yeah. I thought I was too tired and I doubt you’re in the mood.”

She smiled against his chest. His hands sifted through her hair, held it out under the spray of hot water. “No. Life goes on, Chris. I can’t stop mine because my sister’s—dead.” Saying that word in relation to Paige hurt so much but she knew it would fade in time to bearable. But she kept her sister in mind, as she used to be, laughing and strong. Not as she was in the last couple of years, spaced out, crazy and plain weird. “I said goodbye to Paige a few months ago. Just in case. I practiced losing her in my mind, because I knew that if it happened for real, the media would come running. I didn’t want to lose it in front of the cameras. So I can hold it together.”

He smoothed shampoo into her hair, listening to her and holding her close. His hands might be large but they had a musician’s sensitivity. Ashley had never had such a great head massage before. “You do what you have to do, Ashley. I’ll take care of everything else. You’re part of the Pure Wildfire team now, not the crappy security and media control your father set you up with. You don’t want to talk, you won’t even see a member of the press until you’re ready. Hear me?”

He tilted her chin up, pushing her hair back so the suds from her shampoo didn’t fall into her eyes. She forced a smile. “But I do want to show them that somebody is mourning for Paige.”

“But not the circus your father is putting into place.”

Her heart sank. “Tell me.”

He cupped the back of her head as if he couldn’t stop touching her. She slipped her arms around his waist, feeling the same way about him. “Nothing too undignified. The tributes on the TV, the black suits, which look good on your father anyway, and I’m guessing he’ll plan for something special on one of his TV shows.”

“I’ll do an interview, maybe two. That’s all.”

“Okay. I’ll fix it for you. You’re sure?”

She nodded, smiling through her tears. She owed Paige so much. But she’d do something else for her sister, something more lasting. She didn’t know what yet but it would come to her.

“Baby, don’t cry anymore.” He cupped a handful of fresh water and swished it over her face when she closed her eyes. “Try not to cry. You’re breaking my heart.”

“I feel so strange. I’m alive, Paige is dead, my father doesn’t care if I live or die—”

His hand stilled. “What do you mean?”

Briefly, she told him about her and Paige’s mother, about Corinne’s mother. Strangely, where her father was concerned she felt nothing at all. No emotion, no feeling. All gone. “He didn’t want us. He married a Talent, had Corinne, then he found another to marry after Corinne’s mother died. He wanted us to inherit and then give him our Talents. But we couldn’t because we didn’t inherit.”

“And you still can’t give him your Talent.”

“No.”

“You’re a firebird now, baby. One of us.”

She knew but at the moment she didn’t care. She didn’t feel any different, except for the deep grief that reached to the furthest part of her soul and the equally deep love she felt for the man currently washing her.

He reached for the soap but he didn’t bother with a washrag. He used his hands, smoothing them over her body, leaving warmth in their wake. “I wonder why he didn’t do it a third time. Perhaps the word had gone around and he couldn’t find one. I would think that was the case because your mother is still alive.” He paused, cupping a breast with his soapy hand. Ashley closed her eyes. That felt so good. “And he threatened her, didn’t he?”

“He said he did. But I don’t think our mother was very interested in us anyway, as soon as we reached puberty and didn’t become Talents. We called her sometimes and she always had to leave, to be with somebody else, do something else.” Paige had cared but she hadn’t, not so much. Perhaps her ability to distance herself when needed had saved her from the addictions, from the pain John and her mother had caused to Paige.

“It’s not unusual. Showbiz kids with parents too busy to bother with them. Our difference is that John wanted more from us.”

“He won’t get it. I converted you, so you can’t pass the Talent on to anyone else. Only shape-shifters born can do that.”

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“My bird? My other form?” Ashley found articulating the words hard but once she had said them, she remembered the awesome, terrifying, deep crimson hawk-like creature Chris had turned into. She was one of those things now.

“It’s not an ‘it’, it’s a she. You. And you are so beautiful you make my heart stop. Almost all gold, only a little darker on your back than on your breast. Ashley, to me you’re beautiful whatever form you take but as the bird, you’re spectacular.”

“What color is Corinne?”

“Deeper. Red and golden orange. Aidan adores her.”

She smiled. “I kind of get that. He loved her from the first, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know. But very soon anyway. She panicked when she saw the bird, just like you did. And she went to your father at the Savoy.”

“Just like I did.”

“Yes. She wanted to know more about firebirds and she knew he knew. You went back because you didn’t think you had any choice. Ashley, why didn’t you call me?”

She looked down, not wanting to tell him but knowing she had to. “Because you had said you didn’t love me. Next to that, nothing mattered. I didn’t care if I lived or died and I wanted to get the painting back for you. But I wouldn’t have gone if John hadn’t called me and said he had Paige and he’d abandon her if I didn’t come. He killed her anyway.”

She made to turn but he grasped her shoulders and wouldn’t allow it. “No. Will Thomas did that. He killed them. I don’t think your father planned for that. He would have sacrificed you for the feather but he had that. Why did you take the other one with you, the real one?”

“Because he’s sensitive enough to tell the difference. I thought if I had the other one, he’d sense that and think it came from the one I gave him.”

He laughed, a single, barked-out sound of joy before it abruptly stopped. “Clever!” He leaned over her and turned off the water. “Come back to bed, Ashley. I know you’re still tired.”

“Only if you come with me.”

He began to shake his head but she caught his chin. “No, I don’t want to sleep alone. Fuck it, Chris, I don’t want to be alone, not for a while.”

“If I take you to bed, I’ll want to make love to you. Ashley, I’m not in mourning. I feel sorry, so sorry for Paige but I love you and I want you. But I want to look after you more, care for you.”

“If you do that, you will be looking after me. My life doesn’t end with Paige’s. I have a whole new life to think about, to plan and I want it to start today. As a celebration for her.”

“Baby!” His choked voice ended as he sealed his lips to hers and gave her the passionate kiss she yearned for.

Ashley returned it as if her life depended on it, as if it was about to end in the next few minutes. For all she knew it could, her life snuffed out as easily as Paige’s had been, and if that happened, she couldn’t think of anything better than going out making love with Chris Keys.

He lifted her out of the shower and reached for a towel. Chris owned huge bath towels and the one he used on her swamped her when he wrapped it around her shoulders. He didn’t spend much time drying himself, only sweeping the towel briefly around his body before dropping it to the floor and lifting her again. His eyes stared into hers and a smile played on his lips. “I want to make you feel so good, baby, that you’ll forget everything except me.” His smile turned harder. “At least while we’re making love.”

He laid her on the bed and got rid of her towel with as little ceremony as he’d rid himself of his own. Then he took a moment to gaze at her, drinking her in. “You are so beautiful, Ashley. Soft skin, full breasts, nipples the color of fresh raspberries. The way you keep your pussy trimmed and neat is such a gorgeous sight, better than shaved, better than anything.”

He put one knee on the bed, rocking the mattress so she rolled toward him. He leaned over her and deliberately mounted her, pushing one leg between hers to separate her thighs. He knelt between her legs and stared at her, admiring her pussy. When he separated her labia with his fingers and stared some more, she juiced just from the look on his face. Then he moved his fingers, slid them up until his forefinger just breached her.

Her soft moan attracted his attention and he glanced at her face. “Good?”

“Better.” Her whisper brought him to push a little farther inside her but then he withdrew, ignoring her complaints, and brought his fingers, glistening with her dew, to his mouth. Taking his time, he licked his first two fingers, ending by sucking them deeply and closing his eyes briefly, before opening them to find her watching. “You taste like nobody else and believe me, baby, I’ve tasted a few.” Who but Chris would say that? And who but she would take it as the compliment he meant it to be? She’d have to be blind not to know how many women he’d had in his career as rock star and probably, with what she knew now about his longevity, before that too. Better not to ignore that. She’d had her share too, there was no way she could count the number of men she’d had. She’d tried women but that wasn’t to her taste.

It seemed they were his. Every time anyone had seen Chris Keys offstage, he’d had several women in his vicinity, sometimes with his arm around one or two. And there was no doubt he had bedded them both, probably at the same time.

Would he want that now? Would she?

He caught her thought. “I don’t know. I tell you true, Ashley, this is new for both of us. I love you. I’ve never loved anyone before. I thought I did but never like this. And I don’t know why either. I don’t care. I love you, that’s enough.” Kneeling between her legs, his cock erect and proud, just for her, he made her a promise she would always remember, one that meant so much to her because she knew he meant it.

“Ashley, if I want another woman in our bed, I’ll tell you so. First. And if you say no, no it is. If you say yes, we’ll try but you are the most important person in my life now and I will stop the minute you want to. You can do whatever you like and I’ll still love you, still want you.”

Honesty. That was what he promised her. All her life people had lied to her and deceived her. She was only just beginning to realize how much.

She worked at fighting back her tears. This was so not the time. She’d cried enough for today. “I promise you the same.” But she couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else.

“You,” he purred, “can do exactly what you want.”

“I want to make you that promise.”

His gaze returned to her pussy and it grew hot. “I have a feeling we’re not going to put that to the test. If I have anything to do with it, ever. Truth, Ashley. We fit. We always have. The times weren’t right for us before, that’s all. Now they are. You’re mine, baby, and I intend to keep you.” He leaned forward, resting on his elbows so she had a view of his magnificent back and butt. “God, you’re so beautiful!”

He blew on her labia, making her shiver with anticipation. “Wet, tasty and all mine,” he murmured and finally licked her.

She’d been waiting for him to do more than tantalize her and when he did, anticipation added its spice and she jerked, her senses spiked to maximum.

He tasted her, almost delicately tasting her inner lips, the long slide down to her opening and her clit, circling it with his tongue but not giving her the firm lick or suck she needed. Already she felt close but she couldn’t be. If a man went down on her it took her a good ten minutes to come, always. But Chris had her now and he did things his own way. Which included taking her as a three-course meal, not skipping to the entrées. He slid his hands to either side of her thighs, up to savor the curve of her waist and up farther to take her nipples between his fingers. He tweaked and pinched and stroked and licked and finally, he sucked.

Ashley let her scream free, opening her mouth for a full-blooded yell worthy of a Visigoth warrior.

Oh yeah, oh baby, that is such a turn-on. Scream for me!

Chris, oh I love you! Shocked by how easy she found it now to communicate with him, Ashley didn’t let the thought overwhelm her but concentrated on Chris, licking and soothing now, as her orgasm ebbed away.

Not giving her a chance to relax completely, he lifted his big body over hers and thrust. No protection now. Even if they had needed it, Ashley wouldn’t have cared. She wanted him and only him, skin to skin, so their fluids mingled and merged.

At first she held her body rigid for him, so his deep plunges inside her went as deep as she could get them. She loved the sound of him driving into her wet body, her gasps, his moans. She lifted her legs, wrapping them around him, opening herself as deeply to him as she could. Her heels rested on his buttocks so she felt them clench with the force of his drives. He held nothing back.

Neither did she. Her heat rose, concentrated on a distant point she knew was another orgasm, then it was on her, just as if she’d driven a car from zero to sixty. Wham, she was there again, crying his name as her pussy convulsed around him and her body exploded in fire.

“Scream for me, Ashley, I love it when you scream.”

But she lost her voice when he lifted her and in one smooth movement came to his knees, then sat, all with him seated firmly inside her. She managed to curl her legs around him, to rest on the covers behind them, then as she got over her surprise, she tightened her calves around his hips.

“Firebirds are stronger than mortals. Much stronger.” He chuckled. “Just wait until you find your own strength. We’ll be making love on the ceiling then.”

She stared down at his face, smiling for him. No one else had those brown eyes with the little gold flecks that intrigued her so much, no one else heated her just with one glance, no one else held her so tenderly, demanding everything from her.

She gave it all. He could take anything he wanted, any time.

Chris gripped her waist and slammed her down on to his cock and she threw her head back, moaning with shock and delight. He seemed deeper, harder than ever before. “Are you sure that’s only eight inches?” she managed when he lifted her preparing for another long, hard drive into her willing body.

“Does it matter?” He ground her on to his cock. “What does it feel like to you?”

“Heaven on earth.”

He laughed and lifted her, only to drive her hard on to him. “Kiss me now. I need your kiss.”

She realized she needed his kiss too. The intimacy that only lovers shared when they kissed, the ability to share their souls, their very beings.

Tasting him, she knew she’d know that flavor anywhere. Nothing on earth was the same and it was Chris. Nobody else, nothing else. She could compare it to chocolate, strawberries, champagne but nothing came close to filling her with fizzing, anticipatory perfection.

And when they kissed, mind, hearts and bodies combined to fill her with a surging orgasm that confirmed her existence and her reason for it. He cried out into her mouth but didn’t break away from their kiss, sucking her tongue into his mouth to caress it with his own.

She felt his seed spurt hotly into the very depths of her, her body tightening around him, driving her to another peak, sucking his essence into her.

He broke the kiss and stared up into her eyes, into her very soul. “We’re together, Ashley, for always. Whatever happens to us from now on, it’s us, not me and you.”

“I love you, Chris.”

He smiled and slowly lowered her so she lay down again, curling her into his arms. By some miracle they stayed locked together, their limbs entwined. When she tried to draw back, he drew her close. “No, please stay. Go to sleep, sweetheart, let me stay inside you. Perhaps I’ll make love to you in your sleep.”

“I’ve slept a lot.”

“Most of it induced. You need some natural sleep now.”

She felt her eyes closing of their own volition but she forced them open again. “Aren’t there things we should be doing? Places we should be?” Already drowsiness was taking over, easing her into sleep.

“No, baby, there aren’t. The others are taking care of things.”

One problem nagged at her. “They won’t hurt my father while I’m asleep?”

“No they won’t. Though if you want it, I’ll kill him tomorrow.”

“No!” Her eyes opened wide and she stared into his, warm with love for her. She could trust this man as she’d never trusted anyone else, not in her whole life.

“No. Promise, my love. You know I keep my promises.”

Yes, she did know that. For sure.

Chapter Seventeen

“The Savoy says you visited your father on the day of the murder. How did you escape?”

The question Ashley dreaded but she and Chris had discussed how to answer it. Now, dressed in black relieved only by a pearl necklace, her hand holding Chris’ in a death grip, she answered as calmly as she could.

“I left at about three, when Chris came by to pick me up. They must have been killed shortly afterward.” Altering the time-line a little solved the problems. Chris turned up and took her home, then the attack had happened. Paige and Fred were killed in a robbery gone wrong, the thieves had found John asleep, so they didn’t kill him and they’d taken valuables that John probably had stowed away in a safe deposit box. He’d claim for them on his insurance, knowing her father. Getting rid of the blood under Ashley had been a problem but bleach and scrubbing had done the trick and since the forensic boys weren’t concentrating on looking for blood, so far they’d got away with it. They had the security services on their side too, once they became aware of the involvement of Talents.

John, sitting on Ashley’s other side, nodded gravely. “Just after Ashley left, I took the sleeping pills that probably saved my life. Traveling across the Atlantic several times a month hasn’t done my sleep patterns any good and I needed the rest. Paige and her husband Fred were staying in the suite before leaving for rehab.” He glanced away and blinked in a clever simulation of manfully holding back his tears.

John agreed to their story for his own reasons and while they stayed here, keeping him doing his publicity shtick, Aidan planned to break into the suite at the Savoy and hunt for the painting. Once they had that, they were done with John Westfall. They’d alerted the shape-shifter community so nobody would have anything to do with him ever again. The feather he had from Chris was useless.

Chris and Aidan didn’t want to kill John because they were partnered with his daughters but the daughters were less forgiving. And less sentimental.

Even becoming a new being, a firebird, hadn’t fazed her. Not with Corinne and Chris to help her. They made her shape-shift every day, practice her flying and her new psi skills, though she was far from proficient yet.

She hadn’t returned to her apartment since her sister’s death. Every night Chris took her to bed and held her all night long. Chris arranged her move to his place, easy he said, because she refused to allow any personal belongings into her life. The knowledge that her father had her apartment in his house in Surrey bugged had traumatized her more than she’d ever admitted.

No fear of that now. At last Ashley could begin to relax and be herself, someone she hardly knew. Years of doing what others wanted, years of those hellish mental blocks her father erected every time she defied him or didn’t do as he wished left her almost a stranger to herself.

And through it all Chris was there for her, endlessly patient, endlessly loving. Now he sat by her side, holding her hand where everyone who cared to see it could, even her father, who must know how badly his plans had gone wrong.

He glowered. With her heightened psi senses she felt it but she showed no signs outwardly. This press conference was the first she’d given since Paige’s murder. She couldn’t bear it but she had to. For Paige, for Fred, for everyone who’d suffered through John Westfall’s ambitious plans.

Ashley wasn’t used to these correspondents and interviewers, the kind who chased ambulances and crimes, the hounds after the slightest weakness. The entertainment media was bad, trying to get them relaxed enough to let out their secrets, but these guys were sharper and harder. And sleazier, if that was at all possible.

She feared it was.

“We heard rumors that you and your sister Paige had an argument shortly before her death. How do you answer that?”

“There was no rift. I loved my sister. I still love her. I will miss her until the day I die.” Which would be a bit further off than she’d previously assumed.

“But you left the suite shortly before the attack that killed her and her husband.”

She tried to meet the man’s eyes but he was too experienced for that. He wouldn’t let her get that close to him. “I did.”

John spoke. “She left after we agreed to some details on our new contract. Paige and Fred were staying in the suite. If you heard of any argument, that probably came when Ashley and I were trying to persuade Paige and Fred to enter rehab for their drug program.” His grave expression was right out of Central Casting, worthy of Hollywood’s Golden Age. “I had reserved two places for them at the Rectory and finally they agreed to go. I will always regret that they never had the chance to put their lives right. However, before they went in to the Rectory, they wanted to discuss other matters with me. So Ashley left at that point, when Chris arrived to collect her.”

Ashley chipped in. “John wanted to make sure Paige and Fred didn’t have any drugs before they entered the Rectory, so they agreed to stay in the suite that night.”

“You call your father John?”

This correspondent wasn’t as experienced as the first. He looked away a second after she met his gaze and stared him down. She took some satisfaction from that. She didn’t answer his question.

“So what are you doing with the Celtic Chicks now?”

“Nothing.” They could make what they wanted of that after asking such an insensitive question. She didn’t care because she’d made up her mind. Exactly as she said—nothing.

“Have you made any plans for the future, Ashley?”

“Some.” She gripped Chris’ hand a little harder and hoped she wasn’t hurting him.

Never, baby. You’ll never hurt me.

“How about Pure Wildfire? Corinne Hawthorne is your sister and it appears obvious that you and Chris Keys are closer than most of us thought. Will this affect the band’s plans?”

Chris gazed at the cool blonde who asked the question with calm authority. “It won’t affect the plans we have for public appearances and interviews.”

“So you’ll still do the concerts at Madison Square Garden?”

Ashley hadn’t realized they were so close to the concerts that would kick off the American leg of the world tour Randy had been working on for some time. Pure Wildfire, four albums, one in the can ready for release, on their longest, biggest tour yet. Unlike other successful rock bands, Pure Wildfire hadn’t done a full tour for a few years now, although it had started its career on the road but this year would change that.

Time had crept up on them and her recent troubles had driven everything else out. Until now. Chris glanced at Ashley. “It seems likely we’ll do the concerts and the tour.” On the road for a year. With Chris. To Ashley it seemed like a fresh start. And she’d manage to plan what to do with her life in that year. Her spirits lifted.

We can go see the Taj Mahal by moonlight, go to a performance at the Sydney opera house and maybe the Hollywood Bowl. You can see all the art you want.

And have you.

You’ll always have me.

Two days later Ashley stood in the suite her father had rented at the Ritz. The end of an era—he’d done with the Savoy. For good, he claimed. Although the police investigation was still running at a high level, both he and Ashley had permission to leave the country. He’d decided to miss a couple of appearances on his US TV show but more because of policy than sentiment, Ashley thought.

He seemed completely together, his sharp Saville Row suit and tailored shirt the epitome of the successful businessman. His P.A. had just left with a briefcase full of instructions. Ashley passed her on her way in.

He looked up from his laptop, where it rested on the low table in front of the crimson-upholstered sofa he occupied. “I thought you’d washed your hands of me.”

“You were supposed to think that.” Now the moment had finally come, Ashley felt more nervous than she’d expected to. “How else was I going to find their secrets?”

Her father’s lips curled in the all-too familiar sneer. “And you want me to believe that? You’ll have to do better than that, my dear.”

Ashley showed him she could sneer. “I don’t think so. You want to know how to use that feather you have and you want to know what to do with the painting.”

He said nothing, which was an improvement on the sneer.

Ashley quelled her pounding heart. This was just like going onstage, she told herself, taking another personality and using it. She always felt like this before a performance. “You made me give you that feather. I want it back. You know shape-shifters can only convert once and I want to be with Chris. I want that feather back so I can be like him. But I can find out how to use the painting. We could both get what we want.”

That would make him think. John Westfall was a pragmatic man and he believed there was no such thing as a free lunch, something he’d instilled in all his children. The kind of exchange she proposed would make sense to him. And as far as he knew, he had the feather that held the power to convert him.

Although they hadn’t found the painting when they’d sneaked into his suite a couple of days before, Aidan and Ryan had found the feather and instead of taking it, they’d infused it with power to fool John into treasuring it. Not that it would help John to convert but the beginning of this plan had begun that day.

Chris waited outside, fuming. She felt him, a still presence in her mind, boiling with rage. But she was the only person who could do this. The only person left alive, at any rate, and she’d finally managed to convince him but only if he could stay nearby and if she promised to leave, any way she could, at the first whisper of danger.

He would have to accept that sometimes she wasn’t going to be completely safe. She’d be damned if she let him swaddle her in cotton wool.

John stared at her, his eyes expressionless. Deliberately, she knew. That in itself told her he had some interest in what she had to say. “Convince me.”

“I want that feather back. I only brought it to you because I didn’t know what it did and I thought it fair exchange for Paige’s rehab. Now I’m offering you something. You don’t know how to use the painting, do you? Okay, then I’ll find out for you.”

“And you think you can?”

“Pulease, John. You saw how Chris was the other day. He’s not going to refuse to tell me. And I want the Foundation.”

He raised a brow and gave her a superior smile. “That’s more like it. I can’t see you being happy with a one-to-one exchange. I knew you’d want more.”

Shit, this was easy. But she knew better than anyone else how to play on John’s acquisitive nature. “We could charge entrance to the Foundation, have special exhibits. Make it pay.”

“I’d rather it wasn’t.” He gave a careless wave, dismissing the potential of profits. Once he’d made enough money to become a player, John went after what he’d really wanted all along—power. The ability to control others’ lives came as his greatest rush. He’d never looked beyond it for anything else. And now he wanted to prolong his life, control others even more. He could use the Foundation to gain a foothold in another institution. Art was big business these days.

His interest in her proposal showed he was giving it serious consideration. Too wise to push him any further, Ashley waited and allowed him space to think. Also too wise to use her newly acquired Talent, she kept her barriers up and made him believe the blocks he’d put there were still in place.

“There’s something else.”

“Yes?” By his superior expression he knew what she was about to ask him.

“I want these removed.” She touched her forehead, not needing to say any more.

“I bet you do. You already know I put booby traps in place. I never had a chance to do that with your sister.” He leaned back, smiling up at her. She folded her arms under her breasts in a gesture of self-protection. He smiled more. “You put up with them or you put up with the pain of getting rid of them. And not every barrier has the same booby trap.” His smile grew broader and she felt his presence in her mind, searching, looking. She held still until he left and continued to do so, because he’d learned too many tricks over the years for her to be totally sure about anything. He could still linger in her mind, camouflaging his presence.

“So will you help me get rid of them?”

“That depends.” Oh now she’d given him the upper hand. That would work.

She put up her chin. “On what?”

“If you keep to our deal.”

“I will.” She glanced at her watch when the pressure in her mind increased. Chris was getting impatient. “I have to go. Chris thinks I’m shopping.” Idly she wondered if this suite was bugged and guessed that it was. “We’re chartering a plane to take Pure Wildfire across for the Madison Square Garden concerts. Join us. We can discuss it then.”

“Do you take me for a complete idiot?” That was when she was sure he’d taken the bait. She knew he wouldn’t go for the plane ride but he’d sure as hell send somebody else. Or find a way of getting on board at the last minute, so they couldn’t put any plans to work. He bit his lip then nodded once, a short jerk of his chin. “Okay, it’s a deal. On my terms. You show me how to use the painting first. We use it, then I give you the feather. And get rid of some of those blocks, although you don’t really need them removed. They’re just covering things I didn’t want you to know at the time. And a few other little matters.” Like the compulsion to use people and walk away.

That suited her fine. She didn’t want the feather anyway. Only the painting. And if she was right, the rest of the plan would follow naturally. “And the Foundation?”

“That, Ashley, is something different. We’ll do that properly. I’ll have the contract drawn up and you can get your man of business to look it over. Whoever. It’ll be fair. You get your art, I get the tax breaks and the publicity. It’s a sweet deal.” Because he knew she wanted it. Damn him, she still wanted it, or rather, wanted to ensure that the works of art he’d bought over the years were properly looked after. “I’m flying over to New York in a few days. You’ll be there, won’t you?”

Ashley sighed. “Yes. I’ll send word. I’ll be at the Continental, in my usual suite.”

Ashley didn’t breathe freely again until she stood outside the Ritz and a car with one-way windows drew up in front of her. She didn’t have to check, she felt his presence inside, so she climbed in without hesitation.

Chris folded her into his arms and kissed her as if she’d been away for weeks, not an hour. She returned the kisses with similar fervor.

He drew back as they rounded the Park on their way home. His home. All her belongings now had their place in his flat. They were a couple in every sense of the word, living together, sharing their thoughts and hearts. She’d never been happier.

Once they’d rid themselves of the last problem, she could relax completely but Aidan had made a decision and today’s meeting set off a series of events that wouldn’t end until they were all dead.

Chapter Eighteen

“So what do you want to do once Pure Wildfire has gone?”

Chris leaned over her in bed, dotting kisses over her breasts. She loved having her breasts touched and kissed and he loved doing it. A match made in heaven. But his question made her tense. “Are you all sure about this?”

He briefly sucked her nipple into his mouth and released it before studying the effect he’d had on it. Ashley shuddered and tried to concentrate. “We can’t shake the PHR. They keep coming after us, so we need to start again. I’m going to be a cousin of mine, what the FBI calls a legend, an entirely fake character set up for this kind of eventuality. I’ll still be Chris Keys. Jake won’t be Jake anymore and Aidan and Ryan are splitting up but in a few years we’ll meet again.”

“But you won’t be the band anymore.”

“Different lives, baby. What’s important is that you’ll be safe and we’ll be together. Don’t look back. You’ll learn that as time goes on. I’m going to court you all over again but you’ll be a student at Berkeley then. That will be fun.” Gently he took her nipple back into his mouth and sucked. She moaned.

This is what’s important, sweetheart. Me and you.

She knew that. But she knew the band loved being Pure Wildfire. What they planned would destroy the band and make headlines. “I don’t want you to do this, Chris.”

“What?” He released her nipple with a wet pop. “Kiss your breasts?” He stroked his finger across it and laughed when she shivered.

“You know. Give up the band. Let’s fight for it, dammit!” She flung back the covers and strode toward the bathroom. It wasn’t the first time they’d fought over this. She didn’t understand why Pure Wildfire should give up the band they all loved and worked so hard for but she hadn’t persuaded any of them. This plan would leave the band missing, presumed dead. They’d scatter and start new lives, only meeting again years in the future or occasionally clandestinely.

There must be another way. But after years of fighting the PHR and protecting their families, Aidan, Ryan, Jake and Chris were ready to give up and try again. Clean, they said. Ashley didn’t think so.

She never got to the bathroom. Chris grabbed her and spun her around, backing her against the closed door. His eyes blazed, the little sparks in them shooting fury at her. “I’ve told you what’s going to happen. Aidan has approved, other Guardians know and the plan is already under way. Shit, Ashley, why won’t you listen?”

“Because I don’t want you to give up what you’ve worked so hard for.”

“We’ll have it again.” He gave her a little shake. “This is what’s important, baby. Not the fame, the attention, the concerts!”

He lifted her off the ground and shoved her thighs apart with one movement of his strongly muscled thigh. Ashley could do nothing but try to suppress her whimper when he touched her clitoris, always sensitive and ready when Chris was around. He pushed again and her head fell back.

Chris settled her legs across his thighs and with no further preliminaries he thrust up into the hot, wet depths of her body.

She loved it, the mindless ecstasy that spiraled through her every time he took her, and the more he did it, the more she wanted it. Wanted more. From tender lovemaking to the playful bondage they still indulged in to hard, brutal fucking, she loved them all. If she ever became an addict, it would be to this.

He paused, embedded in her, and his cock extended, growing inside her just as the mark on the outside of her breast heated and flamed into life. She felt his mark heat against her inner thigh. A moment, a perfect moment out of time.

It ended when he withdrew and thrust in again. He leaned back to stare down at where they met before lifting his eyes to gaze into hers. “Look at us. Look at how beautiful we look, how right.”

She looked down and licked her lips. The thick stalk of his cock disappeared into the curls covering her cleft. It glistened with her juice. Her pubic hair tickled and caressed it.

Without warning he thrust in again, sliding through her dew to bury himself inside her welcoming pussy. She pushed against the door to create some resistance to his hard thrusts, hooked her legs around his waist and hung on for the ride. “Chris!” she managed, before he thrust again, each drive deep and hard and deliberate.

“Could you live without this? We’re not invulnerable, Ashley, they can kill us. Do you want to go on without me? For four, maybe five hundred years? Do you?”

“N-noooo!” She couldn’t do it.

“Then accept what we’re going to do now. We’ll be safe, we’ll be happy and we can do—this—every day!” He groaned when she tightened her muscles around him, dying for him to do more, take her higher.

He angled himself closer, lowered her a little and now, when he thrust, his cock touched her clit with every stroke. Then he worked her, powered into her. When he pushed again, he pushed into her mind. The tingle below grew until it filled her with sensation, until his hard, driving strokes drove her mindless with joy.

She felt his excitement, higher with each deep thrust, growing to match hers until her senses became his and his hers. His mouth slammed down on hers, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. She gasped, accepting everything he gave her, giving back, tightening and releasing her vagina muscles in sync with his strokes.

Together they impelled each other into oblivion until she screamed and lost control of her body. He held her steady, continued to thrust and finally erupted into her body. Wetness oozed between them, his and hers.

Then he broke the kiss and rested his sweat-beaded forehead against hers, panting with exertion. With her legs still hooked high around his waist, he wrapped his arms around her waist and carried her back to the bed, lying her down in the rumpled ivory sheets and following her to lie by her side, propped up on one elbow. She gazed up at the face of the man she loved, her senses slowly returning.

“That’s why we’re starting again,” he murmured as she stared dazedly up at him. “You’re more important to me than anything else and I want to keep you safe. Ashley, I love you. You’re what matters. Nothing else. We’re making a break, becoming Mr. and Mrs. Average.”

“Mr. and Mrs.?”

“You caught me out.” He kissed her lips very softly, almost reverently. “Ashley, will you marry me?”

She didn’t know where he’d got it from but when he drew back, he held a ring. A beautiful ring, a large golden topaz surrounded by diamonds, with three diamonds set in the shoulders. “Chris?”

“It reminded me of you. My sun, the center of my world. I let myself believe what I wanted to, that you were somehow frozen in time, forever the pop princess with a shallow personality. I never let myself see the woman underneath. Well, I see her now. I never want to see anyone else here. With me. We’ll have to wait, because I’ll come to Berkeley and court you, but I can’t wait to ask you.”

Gazing into his beautiful eyes, seeing all the love there, she didn’t want to be anywhere else either. “Yes. Yes please, Chris.”

Their lips met.

Chapter Nineteen

Ashley hid the ring until they boarded the plane. She didn’t want anyone to see it and identify it with her. If they really were going through with this plan, then she wanted to keep the ring. So Pure Wildfire gave its last interview to the waiting media, to all eyes business as usual, and they stepped on the private plane Randy Norwood had chartered for them. He’d gone ahead to prepare events in New York, they’d made sure of that. They weren’t planning to take anyone innocent down with them.

She almost turned tail and fled when she sensed the antagonism on the plane. Almost palpable in its intensity, the small vehicle reeked of hatred and violent emotions. They’d allowed the press to travel with them, the ostensible idea being that they would do interviews on the plane. John had done his worst and alerted the PHR. Just as they wanted.

Everyone scanned and they didn’t find one bona fide journalist on the plane. At least, not one that wasn’t connected with the PHR. John and the still missing Will Thomas had packed the plane with PHR members. With any luck they’d catch more than one cell today. And then Ashley sensed the one presence she’d hoped wouldn’t be here but he couldn’t resist. John Westfall was too arrogant to think he could fall into any trap of her making. He was here all right, barriers up against intrusions, but he couldn’t block Ashley from detecting him.

Gina sat next to Ryan, her hand in his, staring in front of her blankly. Ryan didn’t look happy. Gina had a lot to lose, with a partnership in her father’s PR business and family who would miss her. Jake’s wife Teri had family too and Ashley felt waves of sadness emanating from where she sat, eyes closed, next to her husband. With Sean safely aboard a different flight with his nanny, flying under a false passport, although they’d carried a dummy “child” aboard, they were ready.

This is it.

John’s on board.

I know.

Ashley squeezed Chris’ hand. She had so much more than before but still, she’d never died before and she wasn’t looking forward to the change.

The people with the most to lose were Aidan, Corinne, Ryan, Jake and Chris. They were losing the band that had brought them so much joy and given so much to other people. After today, Pure Wildfire would be a memory, a shock death that rivaled anything in rock history.

But they’d be free of the constant attempts on their lives and they’d destroy the people who wanted to defeat them.

This plane was of the small, luxurious variety, fitted with leather seats that were more like sofas, some with low tables bolted to the floor in front of them and all with plenty of leg room. The pilot came provided by the same organization that the mysterious Mr. Smith from New York, one of Ryan’s contacts, represented, as did the copilot and flight attendants. When the inevitable happened, they’d get away the same way as the band.

But not the journos and media representatives thronging the plane, crammed into the seats at the rear of the aircraft. They chatted in low voices, the hum drowned when the engines revved and the plane took off, with that breathtaking second when it left the ground. Ashley knew that now in another way. Chris made her shift and fly, shape-shift and fly until she could almost do it in her sleep. She now knew what kind of firebird she was and Chris was right. A golden one. She hadn’t got the hang of fuzzing but she’d stay close to Chris and she’d be fine.

To add the icing on the cake, her father had delivered the painting to her the day before, as a token of his agreement, he’d said in the note that came with it. It was in the hold, carefully packed in bubble wrap and foam, for all the good that would do it.

Once in the air, Aidan flung back his seat belt and got to his feet, taking a few steps down the aisle and glancing out the window. They had to wait until they cleared land, until they were well over the Atlantic and since their landfall was the States, it was probably better if they waited a few hours.

Ryan drew Gina into his arms and lay back with her, operating the recliner on their seats. Her dark hair lay against his white shirt, gleaming like a crow’s wing.

Ashley pushed her seat back to try to get some sleep. Actual slumber proved elusive but she used the time to go back over her life, to remember Paige and what they’d done together. What she did now was for her sister.

“Ashley.”

When she opened her eyes, he stood above her, staring down at her.

She felt Chris in her mind, instantly alert and the tension sharpened when the others saw. “John?”

“Can’t you call me Dad, just this once?”

“No. I can’t remember the last time you were a dad to me. I don’t think you ever were.”

He raised a brow. “Thank you for that. In case you were wondering, I smuggled myself aboard as a member of the Fourth Estate.” He sneered, his lip pulling up in that expression she’d hated all her life. “In the end, I didn’t need you to tell me how to use the painting. I worked it out for myself.” He pulled something out of his pocket, something charred and battered. “And you can take this back. I don’t need it after all.”

Fuck!

Aidan’s expletive only expressed what the others felt. Then his voice came lower, deeper in their minds, in the private channel they kept for the band alone. If he is a Talent, then he dies. He used Compulsion. As a mortal, under mortal jurisdiction, I couldn’t have used this power but if he’s come over he belongs to us.

When Aidan used that tone, nobody gainsaid him. As a Guardian he made those kinds of decisions, the ones he’d avoided for the first thirty years of his life.

After a fraught moment suspended in time, Aidan spoke again. It’s true. He’s a dragon. He dies.

Hearing the sentence, she knew John’s life was coming to an end. Shockingly, she felt nothing. This man was her father, her flesh and blood, and she wouldn’t miss him one bit.

She heard the low murmur of Jake’s voice, giving an interview that would never hit the streets, she felt Chris’ hand in hers, smelled the coffee the attendants were bringing out from the galley. That combination of sensations would remain with her always. That moment, when she realized she was free.

Whatever happened from now on, she was her own person, with her own life to live. Nobody, not even the man she loved with all her heart, would dictate to her or control her ever again. She knew what she had to do.

She let the feather fall to the floor. “So why come aboard?”

“You have to ask?” He smiled in that superior way that set her teeth on edge. “I want to stop this stupid plan of yours, Ashley. I haven’t finished with you yet. If you ‘die’, so do I and I’ll come after you with everything I’ve got.”

Barely an hour out and six hours to go. All that flying, keeping below flight paths, well fuzzed to disguise their presence. Shit. We can do it, Chris’ voice came softly. Believe it, Ashley.

I do.

“How did you find out how to use the painting?”

John barked a laugh. “By accident. I tried a few experiments. Then I thought, dragons are hot, they thrive on heat, so I went the opposite way and froze the bastard. The dried blood fell right off. After that, it was easy. The stuff dissolves in water.”

Ashley felt a reluctant admiration for what he’d done. Conversion wasn’t easy. It had left her weak for a full three days. For the first day after she woke Chris had to bully her to eat and in the end had held her and fed her himself. Yet her father went through it all on his own and here he was, a couple of days after she’d last seen him, bright and alert.

Drugs. He had to have used drugs. It didn’t really matter, unless it affected his ability to shape-shift.

No such luck. Aidan walked over to where he stood, taking his time as if he had all day. “So it’s come to this.”

“I can beat you punks with one arm behind my back.” John growled like a caged tiger. “I’m stronger than you, more powerful than you. I’m a dragon, bigger, stronger, harder.”

A stir from behind them. Some of the journalists had realized what John just said. One came up to stand behind him, his eyes hard, his arms by his sides in readiness for action of some kind.

Aidan didn’t spare him a glance. “We are older, more experienced and there is something you never discovered about me.” At John’s raised brow, he explained. “I’m not just a firebird, you prick. I’m the phoenix.”

“So I’ll kill you first.” The sneer didn’t waver.

The journalist reached out but without looking John flung one arm back and knocked him aside. The man hit one seat, bounced off another and fell senseless to the floor.

Confusion erupted in the cabin of the plane and Ashley “heard” Aidan send the signal to the pilot. Go. Do it now!

To cries of “Bastards!” “Deviants!” and more, Aidan calmly backed to the small door separating them from the pilot’s cabin and folded his arms over his chest. His long red hair flowing around his body, he never appeared so regal before, never so in control. He waited. The longer he could stall the attack and keep the pilots safe, the better for their plan. They were now flying over open sea but still six hours or so from New York. And that was by plane, not by firebird.

“You think you know so much,” he said when the sound quieted just enough to allow his voice to be heard. Then they had to stay quiet if they wanted to hear him. “We know you’re all PHR and you know what we are. We know how hard you had to work to get onto this flight because we made it hard for you. If we’d made it easy you might have guessed our plan.” He gestured down his body. His long, leather-clad legs, his broad chest sporting a white t-shirt and one of his signature waistcoats. To Ashley, he appeared mighty fine. “Look at us. Is an accident of birth so bad? Are we so different there isn’t room in the world for all of us? You and your kind are the reason my people can’t emerge in full light of day. We do not intend to harm you but you harmed us. You killed people we loved and you’ll continue to do so if we don’t stop you.”

Chris grabbed Ashley’s seat belt and strapped her in. She knew what was coming. Aidan braced himself by grabbing the handholds set into the wall and Ryan did the same.

Just in time. The plane went into a steep dive and everyone not braced went down like pins in a bowling alley. Screams and cries rang around the small space and as soon as the plane flattened out once more, Ashley was out of her seat, ready for the next part. After the dive, the pressure in the cabin was about the same as that outside or should be.

She held her breath and shape-shifted, keeping her body small as Chris had taught her.

The dark red bird by her side guided her up and free of the seats, so when the emergency exits opened, she was ready. She allowed the draft to suck her out of the plane.

She hadn’t time to think or be afraid but as she heard the explosion, she felt fear. Other peoples’ fear. The destruction of so many people still appalled her but she’d read their black hearts for herself and knew they were the leaders of terrorist cells who wouldn’t have stopped until either they died or the Talents they pursued did.

The plane plunged into the sea, making that screaming sound she’d heard in movies but never thought she’d hear in real life.

Chris remained by her side, larger now, and she followed suit, enlarging to her full firebird form. She couldn’t remain stationary in the air like Chris but she swooped and soared farther away, turning to watch the ball of fire fall into the sea.

That was the finish then.

Almost.

John’s voice entered her mind. For the first time, she felt the telepathic link with her father. She hated it. They’re my enemies now. I let them board for my own purposes. But nobody knows I was on that plane except you and them. I’m coming for you. Then I’m going back, getting another plane as John Westfall. You’ve given it all up for nothing.

Ashley saw him. A huge black dragon soared down on them out of the sky. He stretched his legs and extended his claws, talons that could rend a body apart, in a pose reminiscent of an eagle diving onto its prey. His eyes, red against the matte black of his scaly body, burned into hers and his mouth opened.

Move and shrink! Chris’ order blasted into her mind and galvanized her into action.

Startled, Ashley flew aside in a flurry of feathers and grew smaller, as small as she could get to the size of a fly. Her father wouldn’t see her so easily now that she’d become such a tiny target.

He tried though, flaming them like a blowtorch, and her feathers seared as she felt the heat of the lash.

Back to full size, to take advantage of her greater strength, she flew farther away, watching the dragon.

Then, out of the sky dropped a ball of flame. Or that was what it looked like but in the middle of the flames she saw a breathtakingly beautiful bird. Around him circled three others and she recognized them, more from their auras than their appearance, as Ryan, Chris and Jake.

Aidan dropped onto the back of the dragon, who whipped his neck around, trying to flame him. But he shrank so all she could see was a small dot on his back.

She felt the presences of Corinne, Gina and Teri, close to her until they streaked past, leaving fiery trails behind them.

While the men held the dragon at bay, darting around him, maddening him with their speed and acrobatics, the women went in for the kill.

Ashley followed but Chris held her back. No, Ashley, no. You can’t kill your own father, however evil he is. Stay there.

She didn’t want to see this but she couldn’t look away. John might be huge against the relative sizes of the firebirds but they were far more experienced than he. Arial combat wasn’t something this dragon was used to, and as usual, he’d allowed his arrogance to push his ambition but this time, far beyond his capabilities.

Slowly the birds drove him down, farther and farther to the gray-green sea below.

Then what looked like sparks flung away from him. The firebirds left. All but Aidan who delivered the killing blow.

A long spear-like sword of flame lanced through his body and down and when he twisted in pain, his body writhing in the air, the phoenix flew across his vulnerable throat, dragging fire with him.

Blood gushed from a deep wound, then pumped. With a great cry, John’s wings flung out to their full extent and then he plunged into the sea.

A streak of fire showed where Aidan flew out of trouble. It was just as well, because the plunge created a backlash, spray flying so high into the air Ashley thought she felt a touch of water on one wing. Purple-red blood surged to the surface, then subsided.

The sudden peace amazed her. The plane had plunged into a fiery ball into the sea and shortly afterward, the dragon followed. Gone. Now the sea washed over the scars, eternally holding them at rest. The sky was overcast, something she thought entirely appropriate. Not even birds called this far out at sea.

For the first time she realized she’d stepped into the arena of a war, fought behind closed doors, where nobody was safe. They would never be safe anywhere. And with another shock she knew that running away wasn’t the answer.

Pure Wildfire had sacrificed itself for the greater good or so the members thought. Once their plane disappeared from the sky, the authorities would instigate searches but there’d be no way to discover who’d burned and who hadn’t.

The males of the Talented community would always try to protect their females and their offspring but not like this. Ashley refused to let anyone protect her. Not anymore. They had to face their enemies, show them they couldn’t get away with the murderous behavior they’d shown to the band and the Talented community. This was no time to run.

Ashley began to form a plan of her own. The long flight across the ocean should help her to perfect it.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Ashley gritted her teeth. Chris checked on her frequently. Once, she’d woken up in the middle of the night to find him leaning over her, gazing at her, anxiety shadowing his eyes.

The plans the band had to stay at luxury hotels, to rehearse before their concerts and make a couple of TV appearances to promote the start of the tour all lay in ashes and as a result, Chris didn’t know what to do with himself.

He wasn’t alone. In a room nearby, Ryan sat with Gina, humming tunes that would never be heard by Pure Wildfire’s adoring public. In another, Jake and Teri sat, trying to make some sense of their lives. Aidan and Corinne, reunited with Sean, spent all day with him and found him difficult and cranky because they daren’t take him out of doors. Someone might see them and remember the newspaper reports of the missing plane.

Soon the officials from Mr. Smith’s mysterious agency would arrive with their new papers and new lives but for the moment the members of Pure Wildfire were bearing their hiatus in ill-humor.

But not for long. They’d only been here in New York two days, after spending nearly a day getting across the ocean. One of them flew, carrying the others shrunk small on his back, then another took over in a kind of relay race because they’d been forced to put their plan into action too soon. The pilots and the cabin staff were all safe too, all shape-shifting birds, so the plan was a success. They had dealt the PHR a severe blow.

Still, the flight had exhausted them and they’d arrived at this budget hotel close to Times Square to find the holiday apartments booked for them, fuzzing so the reception staff didn’t recognize them. They kept to their rooms and used room service. Ashley was getting heartily sick of soggy prawn sandwiches. Normally she loved them but these were distinctly below par. Ham next time.

“I’m fine, Chris,” she said now. “How about you?”

“Okay.” He picked up the remote and flicked on the TV as he had almost every hour for the past twenty-four. Only one report about the small passenger plane going down in the Atlantic, the people on board not confirmed yet but thought to possibly contain members of Pure Wildfire. The news had broken before they reached New York, the immediate flurry of reports mercifully ameliorated by a political scandal involving a congressman and money laundering. “I think Ryan’s mysterious friends are holding back the news that we were aboard the plane. They want to let us get away before they break it.”

“Highly likely.” They watched the rest of the news but nothing else pertaining to them turned up. War, murders, sports news rolled past them. It occurred to Ashley that they might not have lived to see them, that seeing your own obit was a really strange feeling and in a few days the tributes would begin.

“Don’t you think Pure Wildfire should hold up an example to other Talents? That they could do what they wanted, they don’t need to live in hiding?”

Chris shrugged. “Maybe. It’s too late now.”

That’s what he thought. She knew better.

Getting hold of that cell phone had taken all her ingenuity. She’d claimed her period was due and Chris allowed her to leave, monitoring her mind closely as she’d found the nearest department store across the street from the hotel. A store where she didn’t need the tampons she bought but the prepaid cell phone was entirely necessary.

She made her call, a ten-minute one, and dumped the phone. Just in case anyone still monitored them, though she thought it unlikely. Mr. Smith’s agency was keeping them under observation but the agents made their presence fairly obvious to them. One followed her into the store but he hadn’t stopped her making her purchase and he hadn’t followed her into the bathroom, where she’d made her call, then she dumped the SIM card, ditching the rest of the phone in a trashcan on the way back to the hotel.

She’d shown how unremarkable she could look when she’d gone out front at that concert, the first night she’d really connected with Chris for the first time. That was the only reason he let her out now. That and she’d pleaded with him for some fresh air. Privately she counted her real life as starting from the night of the Wembley concert. The only part that mattered anyway.

Now she lay on the couch, unable even to have sex because of her pretended period, pissed off and wondering if her contact was going to come good before the Agency did. After that, the official machinery would click into action, the band would separate to take up new identities and they’d be declared dead in the plane crash.

Then it would be too late. It might be too late already if they decided to go ahead with the plan. Everyone would have to agree or they were fucked. At the thought, Ashley moaned. She wanted Chris, and holed up in this little studio apartment with him she was finding temptation almost impossible to bear.

When the knock came on the door, Chris sprang to his feet and used the peephole, as well as the discreet camera the unassuming rooms had linked to the TVs. The Agency must use this hotel frequently because the security to the apartments on this floor was state-of-the-art and well concealed. Ashley, used to searching for bugs, had insisted on having a bug detector and she’d used it. She was done with that lifestyle and nobody would do that to her ever again, so she’d found them all.

“Jesus!” Chris’ startled exclamation made her smile and when he wrenched open the door, the man who came in the room gave her a quick grin. Chris didn’t miss it and spun to face her, his mouth hard with anger. “What the fuck have you done, Ashley?”

“Call the others and I’ll tell you.”

Unabashed, Ashley got to her feet and hugged Randy Norwood, finding it impossible to get her arms right around his big body. “I’m so glad you came. Is it all okay?”

Randy hugged her back. “You did right, girl. I owe you.”

The others crowded into the room. This being New York, the hotel wasn’t generous with its floor space, although it could have been worse. They had “holiday apartments” but even that didn’t leave Chris much room to pace or the others many places to stand or sit. Ryan propped up the wall next to the door, Gina next to him. Aidan stood in the middle of the room next to Randy. Jake and Teri made room on the other bed for Corinne, who held Sean on her lap. Ashley perched on her bed, watching Chris take a seat next to her and glower. He glowered very well. Not much riled him but he had no compunction letting it show when it did.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Aidan demanded furiously. Corinne, holding the hand of a sleepy-looking Sean, hushed him, forcing Aidan to mutter, “Sorry.”

Randy Norwood exchanged a glance with Ashley and suddenly all eyes were on her. She blushed, embarrassed as never before in all her years onstage. “I just thought we shouldn’t run away. It’s wrong. I know it is. If we do that, they’ve won.”

“What did you tell him?” Aidan looked every inch the phoenix, the man of authority, arms folded over his chest, hair tied back, his finely chiseled face in sharp relief against the cool light streaming in through the gauze-draped window

“Nothing I hadn’t worked out for myself,” Randy put in hastily. “She said nothing. I told her. I always knew there was something different about you. All of you. What sort of manager would I be if I hadn’t worked out you were more than a bunch of musicians?”

“What clued you in?” Aidan snapped.

Randy gestured to Ryan with one meaty paw. “He did. My father took me to see Tony Nighthawk just before he disappeared from New York. Dad idolized Nighthawk, had all the film ever taken of the guy—which wasn’t much—all the albums. I know Ryan is supposed to be his nephew but I’ve heard him play the sax. He’s no nephew.” Ryan ran a hand through his close-cropped red hair and sighed. Randy grinned at him. “I want to hear more. Then I started to think, poke around a little. A lot of plane crashes in your families’ histories. Now you want us to take another one. You’re pushing it a bit too much for me to believe that. When I heard about the plane, it was so familiar, I knew you’d used the same ploy before or your people had.” Aidan raised a brow.

Randy shot a glance at Ashley once more and she gave him a tentative smile. “I still don’t know it all but I saw something one time that clued me in about you. Not all those photographs of you as half birds, half men that were sent to Gina were destroyed. I got a set. After I looked real close, I knew they weren’t faked. And as your manager, I knew you hadn’t dressed up for a photoshoot like that. Although I thought it was a fucking good idea. When I talked to Aidan about it, he got angry and defensive. My antennae nearly broke off. And yes, the pictures are gone now. Shredded. And that incident in the desert when you supposedly broke down? Please. Too much of that didn’t make sense.” He made a gesture of exasperation, clapping his hand to his forehead. “Do you know how much you could make with that kind of image? I want it, guys.”

“Pure Wildfire is dead,” Aidan said.

Randy barked a short laugh. “You look alive to me. Though if Ashley hadn’t called me, it would have taken me much longer to track you down. She’s right, guys. She told me why she called, that you had some business to take care of. It’s wrong. You want to show people you’re afraid, then run away.” He made a gesture with his closed fist, thrusting it to the sky. “Otherwise, live your lives and fuck the people who come after you.” This time one finger emerged from his closed fist, demonstrating the attitude Randy had toward their enemies. “You’ve shown you can cope with it. Otherwise you and everyone like you—and I’m guessing people like you know who you are—aren’t setting any kind of example.”

After the short silence that followed, Ryan sighed heavily. “He’s right. I talked it over with Gina and we agreed. We shouldn’t have run for all the reasons Randy and Ashley say and because, well, we just enjoy the shit out of the band. One day we’d have had to die and move on, as nature takes its course or should, but not until then. There’s no reason we can’t be as sexy and as alive and kicking as the Rolling Stones one day.”

“I always wondered about those guys,” Randy murmured but nobody rose to his bait.

Jake sighed. “But it’s too late, isn’t it? We’re gone.”

“Nope.” Randy brightened. “You’ve got friends in high places ready to arrange things for you. Okay, say that you missed the flight. You got wasted or had an emergency and took a later flight, a regular airline or you got another charter flight. The one you missed went down, taking the journos and John Westfall with it. How about that?”

Chris took Ashley’s hand and addressed Aidan. “Can you fix it?”

Ryan answered him. “I can make a few phone calls.”

“And,” said Chris, an expression of profound relief crossing his face, “we can get out of this fucking hotel.”

Chapter Twenty

After a few days of confusion, Pure Wildfire was back. In force, in the media, expressing its collective sorrow at the death of John Westfall and the other journalists in the plane crash but determined to get on with life. They said they’d gotten another plane after two of the band were too hung over to travel. Randy was triumphant.

Ashley found herself the bemused recipient of gratitude, though the members of Pure Wildfire weren’t at all adept at expressing it. Except for Corinne, who expressed herself with great freedom when they were finally ensconced in a suite at the Timothy, one of the best hotels in New York.

“I thought I’d go mad in that other place.” She watched Sean playing with his toys, tired but happy after an afternoon with his nanny in Central Park. They’d forgotten the tattered stuffed rabbit Sean always took to bed with him, afraid to take any crossovers with their old lives but now he had Bunny back and he was sleeping again.

“It wasn’t just Sean, it was Aidan. Like a caged tiger, he couldn’t keep still. Unlike the others he’d never gone through that before.” She kept her references deliberately vague in deference to the nanny, who was sitting at the other end of the room watching the TV on low volume but Ashley knew “that” meant a new life.

“Chris didn’t find it easy. He loves the band, loves being a part of it. I’m not sure how he would have taken the new stuff.”

Chris had a professorship in American frontier history waiting for him as part of his new life, in a prestigious East Coast university. Easy for him, because he’d been a part of it. During their hiatus he’d told her his early life and Ashley was deeply impressed by the fact that her husband-to-be was once a settler in a frontier town in Texas. Jake had been sheriff of Springwater for a short period. Wow. John Wayne nothing, she was sleeping with a real Wild West hero.

With the resumption of his old life, Chris’ libido came roaring back. He’d kept her in the large, comfortable bed at the Timothy for a full twelve hours, including a scant six hours of sleep in between bouts of rampant lovemaking. He had it all. Now they were waiting for transport to take them to Madison Square Garden and Chris was holed up with Jake, going through some complex bass rhythms they wanted to introduce into “Lost in Space.”

“So do you have any plans now?” Corinne glanced at Ashley and smiled when she blushed. “Not those kinds of plans.”

Ashley laughed. “I wouldn’t tell you anyway.” Because they preferred to keep their sex life to themselves now. The two people who’d loved ménages and sharing now loved behind closed doors, finding the world in each other instead of looking for it everywhere else. “No honeymoon like you lucky sods but we’re getting married as soon as we can arrange it. I’m coming on tour with you.”

“You know that now John is dead we probably inherit all his belongings?”

She hadn’t thought about it before. “I suppose we do.”

“I got a call from his solicitor in London today. He wanted to speak to you but you were busy.” She exchanged a sparkling smile with Ashley. Ah yes, about the time Chris had her bent over the side of the bed then. That was when she’d made the most noise. Probably. “He said the will named both of us as benefactors. He’d rewritten it the day after Paige died.”

“Bastard.”

“Yep.” But neither woman said it with feeling. Their hatred had died with John. “Anyway, it was probably a taunt because he thought he was going to live forever.” Once he became a dragon. “Anyway, I was thinking.”

The rising tension in her voice made Ashley pay extra attention to her sister. “What?” A dawning realization crept into her mind.

“The art is ours, Ashley. You can have your Foundation. I’ll gladly donate my share to you.”

“Oh wow.” She was right. “Oh wow.” Maybe she’d be able to say more in a while. But not now. Chris had already encouraged her to set up something of her own. “But I don’t want to call it the Westfall Foundation.”

Corinne made a face. “Fuck no. Anything but that.”

“The Pure Wildfire Foundation?”

Corinne laughed. “I don’t think so. The Keys Institute.”

“That sounds good.” It did. Very good. “But you’re not a Keys, you’re a Hawthorne.”

“I’ll work on other ways of getting immortality. Go for it, Ashley. We’ll get the legalities sorted out and set it up as a charity. Maybe charge a small admission fee and give the proceeds to a good cause.”

“I’d rather keep it free, if we can. John had a hell of a lot of money stashed around and it’ll keep coming in. There are the studios, booked for years ahead, and his shares in that stupid TV program.”

“They’re doing a Tribute to John Westfall program, did you know?”

“Tacky.”

The sisters exchanged an understanding grimace. “Yeah,” said Corinne. “I don’t mind recording a straight speech to them but they asked the band to appear. We said no.”

“Good. John had nothing to do with Pure Wildfire’s success.”

They sat in companionable silence, Corinne watched her son contentedly playing, giving the nanny a break before she took over when they left for the concert. Ashley ran plans for the new Foundation through her mind. She’d have an inventory sent to her, a complete inventory of all John’s art. It could take years before it was ready. And she’d need a building. Maybe part of the estate in Surrey. The studios were there but they occupied one wing. The rest of the house might be a useful place. Or they could buy somewhere new. She’d get rid of the inferior stuff John had bought because it was fashionable, keep the items of merit, use the money to go toward the Institute.

So when Chris joined her, she almost didn’t notice his presence. Almost. But nothing could stop her awareness of the big man who’d taken over her life and become a necessary part of it. His mind rested in hers all the time now and hers in his but when they met, their shared libido flared into life, heat flashing through her when she saw him.

As if they’d been apart for days instead of a bare hour, she flung herself into his arms and felt them tighten around her in response. “Hey, Ashley. What’s up?”

She didn’t answer until she’d had her kiss, his mouth warmly welcoming her. “The Foundation. Corinne wants to donate her share of the art.”

He laughed. “Wow. And I daresay I’ve got a few bits and pieces stashed away in places that you could have.”

The art Chris owned might be fewer in number than John’s collection but it more than made up for that in quality. “Not all of it. The Pollock stays with us.”

“Too right.” He set her back a little and assessed her warmly. “The car’s here. Ready?”

“Yes.”

But he frowned and dragged her away to the room they shared. When the door was closed he pulled her t-shirt off, ignoring her laughing protests. “You can’t wear a Pure Wildfire t-shirt. Definitely not.”

“Why not? I’m not a member of the band!”

He crossed the room to the closet and glanced at her. His growl wasn’t a result of anger but warmed her mind and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “Baby, we’d better get you dressed. That bra is just too tempting.” A red push-up bra, planned as a surprise for him later. The little red lace cups only just covered her full breasts.

Hardly looking, he grabbed a white shirt and came back to her. He touched the upper slopes of her breasts before his fingers slid down and he scooped one out of the barely there cups. “Sweetheart!” he managed before his mouth covered her nipple.

Ashley cried out, clutching his head, her fingers tunneling into the silky hair of her lover. Chris backed off to admire her and she took the opportunity to slide the bra cup back up, ignoring his groan of frustration. “You said the car was here.”

The shirt was one of his, so she found a plain t-shirt to wear underneath and rolled the sleeves up so she could at least see her hands. She wore her favorite chain belt, now restored to her with the rest of her luggage, several rings and a black spiderweb choker, a remnant of her Celtic Chicks days. But above all, the topaz ring blazed on the third finger of her left hand. She’d never take it off, except to put on her wedding ring.

“You look good enough to eat,” Chris growled. “I could do it right now. I’d love to go onstage with the taste of you in my mouth.”

She felt her juices seep between her pussy lips when he said that. But one of them had to be strong, otherwise they’d be the butt of several good-natured jokes on the way to the arena. As it was, they were the last to get in the limo.

Ashley watched the huge arena as they drove around it, heading for the stage door. Queues snaked around the great circular walls, mostly people who couldn’t get in or media waiting for them. The show had already started, the second support act on stage. Chris remembered those days, when they’d played to audiences restless and only half interested. An apprenticeship but every night they’d risen to the challenge of engaging an audience that hadn’t come to see them and didn’t even know who they were.

Something must have worked because here they were, driving into the parking lot at Madison Square Garden. One of the biggest, most prestigious venues in the world and Pure Wildfire were headliners. Mind-boggling, even for a shape-shifter.

And if not for Ashley Westfall, soon to become Keys, none of this would have happened. When Randy had booked them in here, announced casually in one of the meetings he called to discuss the tour earlier in the year, Chris had been totally speechless for five minutes. For so many reasons, this meant so much to him. On this tour they’d hit all the world high spots. They’d already done Wembley Arena in London, now Madison Square Garden in his native country.

He squeezed Ashley’s hand and felt her return the pressure. Despite this feeling of wild exhilaration, he’d still give it all up for her and he wouldn’t look back. He’d made that decision already but she’d un-made it for him. He owed her big time for that. Giving her his art would keep her happy, he knew. He’d have to talk to Randy and get her an assistant so she could plan the Foundation and get it off the ground. That would take awhile but he’d bet she’d enjoy every minute. They both would. Now they could attend auctions and buy for their museum. What a kick!

Now the kick was getting out the limo, Ashley’s hand firmly tucked in his, to the barrage of flashes from cameras and shouted questions from the media. He grinned affably but the band never gave interviews before a concert, only afterward. They did, however, stop to sign autographs and he had to release Ashley’s hand for that. He missed it immediately but when he glanced around, she waved at him, slipping inside the building with Gina and Teri, leaving Pure Wildfire to face its public.

God, he loved this! All of it, the pleasure he gave to people, that swept off them in a wave anyone with an ounce of empathic ability could feel, rising during concerts to a great surge of joy. Most of all he loved the times when the band had found its groove and occupied it firmly, working as one unit, all knowing the music so well they didn’t have to think about it, only go with the flow of emotions and fire, working with the mood of the night to create something unique. Their own work of art.

Chris let his mind go into the half-trance state he used before a performance. By the time they found their dressing-rooms the last support band were on and well into their set. Another hour then. Pure Wildfire always took the stage late but in recent years hadn’t kept the audience waiting much more than half an hour. Build the anticipation, Randy said. It worked but any longer and he became so impatient he couldn’t stand still. These days Randy hustled them onto the stage faster because first Aidan and Corinne, then Ryan and more recently Jake would find something else to occupy them. Sex was great for working up an appetite for performance. Now Chris had his own distraction but he’d bet he’d have to wait for it. His woman kept him continually surprised and never let him take her for granted.

Ashley followed him in but didn’t stay long, only assuring herself that the shower worked and the drinks and snacks he’d asked for were there. One of Randy’s people always took care of that but it touched Chris that she wanted to make sure for him. But she wasn’t fool enough to stay for too long, otherwise he’d have her in that shower cubicle stripped and ready. Ashley created a never-ending hunger in Chris but tonight she wouldn’t let him slake it on her. “Give it to the audience,” she said, laughing, when he made a wild grab for her.

“I used to give it to three or four girls after a performance, Ashley. Now it’s all yours. So be careful what you wish for.” Still laughing, she left.

He loved her laugh. It filled him with a euphoria he hadn’t known before he met her. Making her happy seemed to be his greatest pastime these days. So much so that Jake had given him some good-natured ribbing when they’d met to go through a few new bass lines. He didn’t care but just for old times’ sake he wrestled Jake to the ground and gave him a gentle pummeling. Nothing he couldn’t cure with a quick shape-shift.

Chris lost track of time before a concert. Even in the early days, playing to half-filled concert halls, pubs and clubs, he did this. A kind of trance when he visualized his kit, became all rhythm, all backbeat, so the knock on the door came, as always, as a shock.

He wrenched open the door and joined them. Tonight he wore one of his favorite t-shirts, the one with a black skull against a dark maroon background, one that fans would strain to see the whole concert. His black bandanna didn’t just keep the sweat out of his eyes, necessary after about the first fifteen minutes, but gave him a swashbuckling look and gave him something to throw into the audience. He had a stack of bandannas that he changed whenever he could, as they became soaked very quickly. He rarely left the stage with more than one.

Ryan, resplendent in a vivid blue poet’s shirt, winked at him. “Anybody know the way to the stage?”

It wasn’t a Pure Wildfire concert unless somebody asked the venerable question. They didn’t have to know, they followed the security guy.

The lights went out and the crowd erupted in whistles and yells. Under cover of the darkness, Chris made his way to his kit, half shifting to his bird eyes to make his vision sharper, careful to shift back as he sat and picked up the sticks.

Then the introduction, also traditional. “You’ve heard ‘em, now see ‘em. The hottest rock band on the planet, Pure Wildfire!”

And he was gone. He started the intro, the kick-in so distinctive the audience roared their appreciation after the first three beats and it began. Light flared, blinding in its intensity, but Chris didn’t need light to play. He could, and did, play in the dark. Jake joined in, easily adding the counterpoints and emphases and then over the top, Aidan and Corinne blended their guitars, Corinne’s Gibson and Aidan’s Strat. Finally Ryan, his vocals only just audible at first, building to the scream that the audience loved.

Tonight they rocked. Because of the lights and his position, his trap toward the rear of the stage, he couldn’t see the audience clearly. Not that it mattered. Seeing them wasn’t important. Hearing and feeling the waves of energy pouring toward them, that mattered. Not for the first time, Chris wondered if the feeling could be bottled and kept. Only in his mind. Transitory, gut-wrenchingly exciting, they moved from song to song, Ryan taking the audience into the palm of his hand. If he crooked his little finger they’d come. For tonight, twenty thousand people belonged to them, heart and soul.

All they could do was give back. Ryan wrenched out their souls, made them share and think, moved them from explosive anger to heart-wringing agony and back again to sublime peace.

During the acoustic part, with Ryan seated between Corinne and Aidan, Chris left the stage to grab a kiss and a drink. He thought twice about it when he realized just how sweaty he was but Ashley didn’t. She returned his kiss, open-mouthed and eager, dragging him close to leave the imprint of his body on hers. He loved it when they peeled apart and he left her to take his place again, carrying her love and thrilled encouragement with him. They didn’t speak—they didn’t need to.

Ashley watched, higher and more excited than during any performance she’d ever made in her life. And she was just a hanger-on here, only present because of someone else. She didn’t move from the side of the stage for the whole performance, watching Chris whip up a storm with his massive, thundering drum kit. She loved the way sweat sprayed from him when he shook his head, bounced off the taut skins when he hammered them. His arm muscles flexed and bulged with effort and she waited, fraught with tension, like everybody else in the audience, for the moment during the second part of the performance when the band stripped off their tops. Even Corinne, though for the sake of decency she left her lacy black bra in place, a miraculous garment that never quite showed too much, despite the way Corinne moved freely about the stage, not hampered by the trailing cables of yesteryear now that guitars were radio-controlled.

When Ryan stripped off his shirt, the audience roared its approval. He writhed, his body flexed and he worked his voice, endlessly screaming, crooning and working them into a frenzy. He was damned sexy onstage, voted two years running Frontman Of The Year, but Ashley knew Ryan didn’t give a fuck about anything except what he was doing now, right now. Just like the others in the band.

Nobody looked as sexy as Chris, his command evident in every flex of his muscles, every clean, crisp strike, his double-drumming technique something very few percussionists could emulate.

He looked like a god out there. They all did but Chris was her god.

The performance ended with a sudden plunge into black oblivion and dead silence from the stage but she knew the performance was far from over. Three more and they’d be out of there. Along with everyone else she wanted more and she found herself yelling for it, although she had no memory of starting to call out. But unlike most people watching, she knew she’d be there the next night and the night after that. She’d watch them every night, never tiring of the performance since it was never the same two nights running. The American leg of their tour, then the Far East, then Eastern Europe and Australia. She couldn’t remember the order they came in but it didn’t matter because she’d be there, all the way.

Ashley rejoiced. She had a life of her own and a man she knew would never betray her in any way. What a ride she had to look forward to!

No more time to think when the most thrilling moment of the evening arrived. Chris left his drum kit and crossed the stage. To her. Directly to her, not glancing to the side, not taking any notice of any of the roadies who thrust drinks at him.

He grabbed her, lifted her and kissed her, taking her mouth in a savage demand. Oh yes, she wanted this. He could fuck her here, within sight of at least twenty people, some of them cameramen, the ones who filmed the videos projected on the massive screens above the stage.

Chris seemed to have more sense than she did, her wits scattered by his heated demand, because he started to walk. Ashley caressed his face, his hair, his shoulders, loving the slick, heated skin under her fingers.

By the time they reached his dressing room, he’d half undressed her. The t-shirt was bunched under her armband, his mouth was on her breast, over her bra, sucking voraciously. Anyone encountering them would be in no doubt of what they’d be doing as soon as that door closed behind them.

He kicked open the door, spun and slammed her against it. She moaned, lifting her arms for him to tear the shirt off her, then the t-shirt over her head. Then he paused and she opened her eyes to see what was wrong.

He watched her, his eyes glittering, his mouth partly open in a breathless pant. “Mine,” he growled, a bear rather than a bird at this moment. “You, Ashley Westfall, are mine. Every gorgeous little bit of you. I say fuck me, you say ‘Which way around do you want me?’”

“Oh God, oh Chris, yes!” Anything he said, anything he wanted her to do, she’d do it. Right now she’d do anything.

His hands went to the buttons on his drenched jeans and her mouth watered at the size of the bulge under the soft denim. He watched her like a wild animal stalking its prey and she felt transfixed, completely under his spell. “Strip,” he growled and trembling, she did as he commanded and stood before him completely naked. He grabbed her waist. “Lift your legs.”

“With absolute fucking pleasure,” she said, not only lifting her legs but hooking them around his waist. Completely open to him now, unable to do anything but take anything he wanted to give her, she waited for the fraction of a second it took him to get inside her.

No preliminaries, not even a touch to see if she was ready. He must know she was, her mind a yawning chasm of want, which he filled by his presence and his cock.

He had to force the head inside her but he gave her no quarter, pushing her shoulders against the door and not relenting until he rested completely inside her. He wedged her open, forcing his passage but she wanted every single inch of what he was giving her. When he began to thrust, she flung her head back and screamed her release.

The concert had been one long turn-on, foreplay she hadn’t even imagined.

“I want you open, Ashley. Every part of you. All mine.”

She opened her mind and body. His mouth slammed down on hers, his tongue taking her and his hands curved around to her ass. Oh yes, that too. Everything.

One finger thrust into her as what remained of her senses scattered, breaking apart at the triple entry. He took her, every part of her, working her hard, thrusting into her mouth, her ass and her pussy until she screamed into his mouth. She might just die but what a way to go!

He invaded her mind, every part of it, sharing every part of himself and she gave until they became one. She felt his thrust and her own wet reception, heard the wonderful sounds of him in her, wet, visceral sounds of their love made physical. If she could stay here forever she wouldn’t ask for anything else.

His mood, as instant and frantic as hers, eased a little as his care for her returned but by then she was coming back down to earth. But then she saw what he planned to do to her that night. All night. Don’t count on any sleep.

Another yell, a spike of ecstasy, followed by a hard ripple spreading from her pussy to the rest of her body, put paid to any thoughts she might have. All that existed was now, this moment.

His mind and hers merged and she knew, just knew, they would never part again.

With a final deep thrust that seemed to go right to her center, Chris paused, then ripped his mouth away from hers and roared as the hot seed jetted from his cock deep, deep inside her. Her body gulped what he gave her, accepting the sustenance from his body.

They leaned against the door and she smelled the hot sweat trickling over them both, heard the little grunts deep in his throat as his breathing kicked in, then felt the flood of his consciousness returning. Then a shock, a little thrill. She knew it came from him.

“Baby, I think we bonded just then. We must have given our consent, wanted it so much it just happened.”

“Hmm?” Words would return in a minute. Well, they might.

“Joined our life forces. We’re one now. It means that we can’t be apart for long without hurting. We’ll live together, die together.”

“I can’t think of anything I want more. I love you, Chris.”

“I adore you, Ashley.”