hard and heavy in his pants, and he knew that if Isis were to just glance down she’d see how much he needed her.
He wouldn’t hide his body’s reaction to her though. She needed to become accustomed to his desire, for he knew it would never wane, only grow stronger with each passing heartbeat.
Something itched at the back of his mind and he was suddenly alert to his surroundings, not just the fascinating woman at his side. This was a familiar feeling—
and it didn’t bode well.
Isis rummaged to find her house key. Flare pushed her aside and forced her door open with nothing but the palm of his hand against the wood. He left black, singed fingerprints behind in the wood. “Get in,” he told her, pushing her inside with a strength that frightened her. The air around her was suddenly boiling hot.
“What’s going on—”
“Get inside. Now .” He pulled the door shut on her without waiting for her acquiescence.
Isis stamped her foot in frustration. “Fine,” she called out, knowing he would hear her. “I’ll just stay here then. Damn it.”
* * * * *
Flare felt the dangerous threat that hung in the air like a palpable thing and knew with certainty that a Daemon was near. But where? Daemons were tricky bastards, having mastered the art of Traveling in recent years. They could disappear and reappear at will, just as he could. Though their numbers were dwindling, those that survived the Shikars’ justice were growing stronger with each passing day and Flare knew the one he was about to face was a nasty bugger. He could feel it.
Looking around carefully, he stepped out into the open, welcoming an attack. Flare was a multiple Caste Shikar. He could Travel, Incinerate, use his Foils and Hunt almost 3as well as those of the Hunter Caste. Mostly he was an Incinerator, for he much preferred to fight with flame and his fire-making abilities were legendary among his people, second only to the warrior named Cinder. He let a flame lick up his arm, not feeling its burn in the least, illuminating the impenetrable darkness around him. “Come forward and meet me, vile sub-creature,” he called out, hoping to goad his adversary out of its hiding place.
Shocked when three Daemons stepped out from the border of trees, Flare steeled himself for the battle ahead. It had been so long since he’d seen a pod of Daemons—not since the great battle at the Gates—and he knew then that Isis must be powerful indeed for the creatures to make such a valiant effort to claim her.
He let the flame lick up his arm and form a halo about his head. He marched with long strides toward his enemies, carefully studying them to see how they were going to react in this battle. Soon his whole body was ablaze with golden light as he let the Daemons see the strength of his power. Fiery red Foils shot out from his knuckles like swords, giving him over two feet of razor-sharp, smoldering claws with which to combat his prey.
All three of the Daemons turned and fled back into the trees. Flare Traveled, disappearing from his station in the yard and reappearing in the path of the fleeing beasts. The Daemons snarled and halted, then without warning they all struck at once, coming at him from all directions.
Flare let the flames of his power consume him. He used all of his brute strength to stand against their attack. He jumped several feet into the air and came down with his Foils at the ready, cutting one creature completely in half with one blow and, with a powerful strike of his hands, severely wounding the other two. Still the creatures would not stop in their struggle, and Flare knew they would fight until the very last moment when he had their hearts aflame in his hand.
Isis watched this from a window, seeing Flare light up the night like a Roman candle as he—there was no other word for it— stalked up to three dark figures just beyond the line of trees around her house. The flames around him illuminated the dark night, and bright,
He wouldn’t hide his body’s reaction to her though. She needed to become accustomed to his desire, for he knew it would never wane, only grow stronger with each passing heartbeat.
Something itched at the back of his mind and he was suddenly alert to his surroundings, not just the fascinating woman at his side. This was a familiar feeling—
and it didn’t bode well.
Isis rummaged to find her house key. Flare pushed her aside and forced her door open with nothing but the palm of his hand against the wood. He left black, singed fingerprints behind in the wood. “Get in,” he told her, pushing her inside with a strength that frightened her. The air around her was suddenly boiling hot.
“What’s going on—”
“Get inside. Now .” He pulled the door shut on her without waiting for her acquiescence.
Isis stamped her foot in frustration. “Fine,” she called out, knowing he would hear her. “I’ll just stay here then. Damn it.”
* * * * *
Flare felt the dangerous threat that hung in the air like a palpable thing and knew with certainty that a Daemon was near. But where? Daemons were tricky bastards, having mastered the art of Traveling in recent years. They could disappear and reappear at will, just as he could. Though their numbers were dwindling, those that survived the Shikars’ justice were growing stronger with each passing day and Flare knew the one he was about to face was a nasty bugger. He could feel it.
Looking around carefully, he stepped out into the open, welcoming an attack. Flare was a multiple Caste Shikar. He could Travel, Incinerate, use his Foils and Hunt almost 3as well as those of the Hunter Caste. Mostly he was an Incinerator, for he much preferred to fight with flame and his fire-making abilities were legendary among his people, second only to the warrior named Cinder. He let a flame lick up his arm, not feeling its burn in the least, illuminating the impenetrable darkness around him. “Come forward and meet me, vile sub-creature,” he called out, hoping to goad his adversary out of its hiding place.
Shocked when three Daemons stepped out from the border of trees, Flare steeled himself for the battle ahead. It had been so long since he’d seen a pod of Daemons—not since the great battle at the Gates—and he knew then that Isis must be powerful indeed for the creatures to make such a valiant effort to claim her.
He let the flame lick up his arm and form a halo about his head. He marched with long strides toward his enemies, carefully studying them to see how they were going to react in this battle. Soon his whole body was ablaze with golden light as he let the Daemons see the strength of his power. Fiery red Foils shot out from his knuckles like swords, giving him over two feet of razor-sharp, smoldering claws with which to combat his prey.
All three of the Daemons turned and fled back into the trees. Flare Traveled, disappearing from his station in the yard and reappearing in the path of the fleeing beasts. The Daemons snarled and halted, then without warning they all struck at once, coming at him from all directions.
Flare let the flames of his power consume him. He used all of his brute strength to stand against their attack. He jumped several feet into the air and came down with his Foils at the ready, cutting one creature completely in half with one blow and, with a powerful strike of his hands, severely wounding the other two. Still the creatures would not stop in their struggle, and Flare knew they would fight until the very last moment when he had their hearts aflame in his hand.
Isis watched this from a window, seeing Flare light up the night like a Roman candle as he—there was no other word for it— stalked up to three dark figures just beyond the line of trees around her house. The flames around him illuminated the dark night, and bright,
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