Phoenix Burning. Patti O'Shea

she’d already given herself since returning to her apartment.

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

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

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

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

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

      And she couldn’t have him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Chapter Two

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

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

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

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

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