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DARKFLAME
VIVIENNE HART
This prequel story serves as an introduction to Adria and Fiero, the (human and phoenix) main characters of Darkflame. Stay tuned for the full book, featuring mobsters, murder, amnesia, and more. In the meantime, please enjoy these two characters as they discover their similarities.
Content warnings include wax play, consensual sex between a human and a monster, and mild: domination, praise kink, and bondage.
Adria
There’snothing I love more than Book Trip week. Twice a year, I get to head into Horizon City, stay in a luxury hotel, and do nothing but think about books. I talk to publishers about new releases and up-and-coming authors. I tour bookstores, looking at the inventory and the displays and recommendations. I read book blogs and check out social media, looking for all the new trends. And then, after a week, I go home creatively sated and excited, and plan my next big order for The Novel Nook, the bookstore I own in Haven’s Hollow.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my little town. It’s cozy and quaint, safe, and full of good people I’m happy to call my friends. I can’t imagine living somewhere else. But I have to admit, there’s something about Horizon City that calls to me—a crackle in the air that says excitement is just around the corner. The air smells like smoke and mystery, there are a million intriguing little boutiques, and the people are fascinating. I always, always have fun when I’m in the city.
All the same, it can wear a person out.
I’m on day six of my big trip, and though it’s only 7:00, I’m feeling exhausted after a day of roaming through bookstores big and small. I think I’m gonna call it an early night, and while part of me loves the idea of room service, I decide to head to the hotel bar instead. I can get food and a glass of wine and take a few more notes on my phone before I call it a day. I don’t know why, but I’m not quite ready to be alone.
Probably it’s because I spend too much time by myself. Am I an independent woman with my own business and apartment? Yes. Do I also sometimes get lonely and wish I could find the perfect partner to share my life with? Sure. But I’d never admit that to anyone. I’ve worked too hard to cultivate my image.
All the same, there’s an itch between my shoulder blades that calls for the company of people, even if I’m alone in a room full of strangers. I’ve felt the need for connection lately. My roommate Oaklyn recently moved out, and while I enjoy having my apartment all to myself, sometimes I get teensy bit lonely.
That’s never happened to me before, and I don’t know what to make of it. I’ve always been super independent and liked it that way. As long as I could get lost in books, I didn’t need people to keep me company. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve felt more of an urge for companionship. Both the friend kind, and…more.
Maybe it’s a biological clock thing?
Regardless, the bar is the perfect level of busy. Most tables are occupied, but it’s not crazy crowded, and there’s a low hum of conversation and quiet piano music. The savory aroma of cooked food wafts over me, making my stomach growl. Luckily, I’ve already placed my order for a large Greek salad and a hummus platter, and I have a full glass of wine in front of me.
I’m happily settled and waiting at my high-top table when a man walks in and leans against the bar. He’s much taller than average, with a strong, lean build and that sandy hair color that’s somehow neither blond nor brown. His eyes are a startling shade of honeyed-brown that’s so light, it’s basically amber. He has a straight, strong nose, a nice mouth, and about a day’s worth of stubble. And all of this is encased in a three-piece business suit that I can tell is expensive.
Yowza. All my lady parts sit up and take notice.
The bartender hands him a lowball glass with a liquid the same color as his eyes—bourbon, I bet. As he drinks it, I take notice of his left hand. No ring. Excellent.
I watch him as he leans against the bar. He has his eye on the door, as if he’s expecting somebody. Which I might expect in a regular bar, but not one in a hotel. Unless he’s meeting a secret lover for a romantic tryst? My mouth turns up in a half smile; that’s the hazard of dealing in books for a living. I imagine every stranger in the plot of a novel, and I think I tend to make people’s lives seem more interesting than they are. This guy is probably on a business trip, and like me, opted to grab a drink and do a little people-watching before heading to his room.
All the same, I keep my eyes on him as I eat, spinning a little tale in my head about how, when he was younger, he lost the love of his life to another man. She realized her mistake, came to regret it, and now she and this mystery man meet in this hotel once a year to consummate their forbidden love. They get one weekend together, and they have to make the most of it. They only leave the room to meet in the bar, role-playing as strangers, until the lust overtakes them and they run to the elevator and back to their room, flinging off their clothes the minute they get behind closed doors.
It’s a fun fantasy, but there’s no way it could be true. Because if a guy who looks like that loved you? You’d never leave him for someone else. You’d be a fool. And you’d never settle for only two days out of the year with him. At least, I wouldn’t.
