Free Ember by Kristen Callihan

e d by h e r pr e s e nc e. Ma rtin sw a llow e d h a rd , th e n g a v e h e r a s m il e. “ O f cours e. ” He str a ight e n e d his spin e a nd a ddr e ss e d h e r f a th e r . “ I insist . ”
    The co r ne r s of Fa t he r’ s eyes t w it ched j us t a momen t bu t he d i d no t b li nk. “ Ve r y we ll . I f you i ns i s t . ”
    H is co m pli a nc e wa s w ors e th a n r e sist a nc e, for M ir a nd a could not f a tho m why h e ’d don e it . T h e ma n c a lcul a t e d e v e ryth i ng . S h e w a nt e d to shout a w a rning to Ma rtin , w a nt e d to run awa y fro m this hous e a nd e v e ryth i ng in it . T h e thought r em ind e d h e r of th e ma n upst a irs . He n ee d e d h e r now . S h e could not discuss this sudd e n ch a ng e in pl a ns w ith Ma rtin wh e n a noth e r wa s suff e ring .
    E v e n so , sh e a l m ost c a ll e d out to Ma rtin , but h e a nd Fa th e r w e r e a lr ea dy h a lfw a y out of th e kitch e n a nd deep in conv e rs a tion . Ma rtin’s ch ee k di m pl e d as h e fl a sh e d a s m il e at so me thing h e r f a th e r said. T h e s m il e wa s fu ll of w a r m th a nd so v e ry inti ma t e, as if th e r e c e iv e r of it wa s th e m ost i m port a nt p e rson in th e world . S h e kn e w th e str e ngth of th a t s m il e, for sh e h a d been on th e oth e r e nd of it ma ny a ti me. O n l y , sh e h a d thought sh e wa s th e on e p e rson h e g a v e it to .
S o m e w h e r e … M a r c h 16 , 188 1
    He b e c ame awa r e of hi m s e lf a g a in , a nd of th e night sky now a bov e hi m. W h e r e h a d th e p a rlor gon e ? L e l a nd a nd th e oth e rs? Be lo w th e shi mme ring sickl e m oon , th e thr ee pyr am ids of G i za w e r e bl a ck sh a do w s a g a inst an indigo sky . By G od , wa s h e in E gypt? T h a t could not be right . He ’d been i n M e x i c o. H ad n ’ t h e? Y et t h e s a n d be n ea t h h i m w as soft e r th a n th e h a rd - p a ck s a nd of th e C h i hu a hu a n d e s e rt ,
     
    a nd th e su l try a ir h e ld th e m usky t a ng of Cairo.
    H o w could h e be in E gypt …
    He ll , h e wa s still tr a pp e d . T r a pp e d in his m ind? O r h a d h e gon e e ls e wh e r e ? A giddy l a ugh brok e fro m his m outh . Abs e nt l y , h e rubb e d his ch e st a nd wa s surpris e d to find it b a r e. He s m ooth e d his h a nd b a ck a nd forth , a slo w rhyth m. Y e s , ba r e. A c u r l of p l ea s u r e un f u r l ed w i t h i n h i s be ll y . R a t h er nic e to li e in th e dry d e s e rt a ir w ith not a stitch on . H is s e x stirr e d . We ll , a ll right th e n …
    “ Mmm… ”
    He s till ed. Tha t was no t h i s vo i ce. Mos t de fi n it e l y no t . “ A r che r . ” The honey and c r eam vo i ce d rift ed up fr om t he
    a r ea a round his kn ee s .
    S hock r e nd e r e d hi m inc a p a bl e of m ov eme nt . We ll , not a ll of hi m. S o me thing d e finit e ly m ov e d . And stiff e n e d as w a r m, s m ooth h a nds st a rt e d to glid e slowly up his thighs . Fem inin e h a nds .
    U nc e rt a in t e rror a nd v i ru l e nt hop e ma d e his puls e l ea p . W ith a j e rk of his h ea d , h e look e d do w n th e l e ngth of his bod y . S a t i n r i bbo n s of r ed - go l d h a i r s p r ead o v er h i s l eg s , a nd th e p a l e, p e rf e ct h ea rt of a w o ma n’s buttocks j utt e d up in th e air.
    She t u r ned he r head, and t he cu rt a i n of he r ha ir s li pped back t o r evea l he r f ace. H i s b r ea t h l e ft i n a gasp.
    “ M ir anda? ” he c r oaked. Ah, God. He wen t fr om ha r d t o t h r obb i ng. He d r ank i n t he s i gh t of he r smoo t h sk i n, he r deep r ose n i pp l es. H i s mou t h wen t d r y. He needed t o t ouch he r . He wen t up on h i s e l bows t o get a be tt e r v i ew of he r sway i ng b r eas t s and p l ump mou t h.
    “ A r che r , l ove. ” She kissed h i s i nne r t h i gh. The t ouch of he r li ps bu r ned li ke a b r and, ho t ye t i nsane l y good. “ Go r geous man.