Page 26 of Angel's Smoke

“What’s that?”

Iron dropped her glasses into her hand and gestured for her to put them on. “I need to convince you that you’re not crazy.”

With that, he worked quickly, pushing every piece of furniture, rug, and living room adornment as far against the walls as they would go. Once he was satisfied that the center of the room was as bare as it was going to get, he offered his hand to Anna again, this time palm up.

“Take my hand.”

“Why? What will happen if I do?”

“You mentioned I hadn’t slept underground last night. That was very observant of you, very smart. So, no, my angel fire isn’t strong right now and not up for doing the tricks I need it to do to convince you of all this on its own.”

“This is real. This is all really happening. You’re not kidding me, are you?”

“No. I’m not. And if you place your hand in mine, the contact will start the soul bond connection between us, pulling forth my full angel fire. But it’ll be brief and burn out almost as fast as it’ll take to flare to life. You won’t be burned or harmed in any way. If we are truly soul bound, as I believe we are, only you could initiate my full fire after it’s been dormant for so long. My flames couldn’t harm you even if they wanted to.”

“And if I’m not part of this . . . soul-bonded thing?” she hedged.

Iron lifted the corner of his lips. “Then nothing will happen except I’ll finally get that handshake of thanks I’ve been clamoring after.”

She blinked. It was a small crack spidering out from within her veneer of doubt. Then a slight chuckle bobbed her shoulders, and a tentative smile forced her open mouth into a grin. “More integrity jokes?”

“It’s never a joke,” he vowed. “Not when it comes to you.”

They stood there for a moment, her huddled behind her meager pillow protection and him offering her a hand that was growing colder the longer she denied him the warmth of her trust.

But he knew it had to be her choice just as much as he knew he had to be the one to be tested in such a way.

Anna lifted her hand and held it above his, her fingers curling downward in a mimicked position of his uplifted ones. Then she speared him with a gaze sharper and more vulnerable than any razor-thin edge he’d ever honed on a blade. “I’m telling you right now, if you burn my house down with me inside it, I will haunt the living shit out of you for the rest of your life.”

A mellow heat warmed the chilly thread of anticipation that had worked its way behind his breastbone, and he smiled, rewarding her for the fight she threw at him despite her fear. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Oh, yes you fucking will.” She smiled, too, a nervous grin that she’d plastered reluctantly so it might escort her over the threshold of whatever she’d told herself she could no longer ignore.

Then she placed her hand solidly in his.

Iron screamed, and the room erupted into blue flames.

Chapter13

No sooner did Anna touch Iron than electric fire burst across his skin. Before her senses could parse out what was happening, she screamed. Then he flung her away from him, arched his back, and bellowed a great deafening roar. Though more than satisfied, if mildly stunned, to be huddled in the corner of her living room away from the small inferno, her brain hadn’t gotten the message that fleeing was most definitely the course of action to take. She crouched there, mouth agape at the spectacle lighting up her tiny cabin.

Iron twisted his flaming body about, his deep chest rising and falling with far more than simple breaths. Snapping out of her stupor, Anna stood and finally started to creep toward the hallway, farther away from the inexplicable blaze before her. With her one shoulder blade already curved around the corner into the hallway, it would have been the work of a moment to run in the other direction, lock herself in her room, and call whatever emergency services specialized in dousing men who lit themselves on fire to impress women.

But her feet weren’t moving. Despite the hammering of her heart and her brain’s logic center screaming at her to get help, there was another warning, one that cast a veil over her worries and spoke softly to her mind that all was safe and right, which forced her to bear witness to what was happening before her.

The screaming had stopped, and she had to swallow several deep breaths to absorb the wonders that had taken center stage in her small living room. Iron stood on her hardwood floor like a warrior phoenix emboldened by its rebirth. True to his word, not a hair or patch of skin on either him or her had received a lick of heat, yet he still stood there, eyes closed, with blue flames swirling around his strength like the waves Poseidon would call to his side in service. His brows were drawn down his forehead in stern concentration, but his lower lip hung open in an expression of peace and rapture. There was no pain there, no tension in his muscles or any sort of bracing for the worst to come.

There was only tranquility. That and, if she read him right, a bit of bliss painting a face that she’d known to host a muted harshness, with only brief glimpses into soft-hearted humor.

Holy shit, he was right. This is all real.

The fire danced around his muscled arms, swaying in time to his subtle movements. Then, as fast as it appeared, it receded into his body, as if his heart had been the Bunsen burner responsible for igniting such a spectacle and it had just flicked off the gas. When the flames were all gone, not a hint of smoke fragranced the air. There was nothing to show any evidence that her cabin had just hosted a sort of mini nuclear reactor.

All that remained was Iron, who stood there with that same resigned expression, though now it was far more wistful than worried, and he had his eyes open.

Eyes that no longer held their bicolored charm but instead flashed a startling topaz.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Anna.” His voice was the same, if a bit raspier, as though he’d just completed a ten-mile hike.

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