Drowning in Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

young age. She’d seen what she wanted, battled for it, and won.
    “No,” he replied. “It wasn’t. But now my people have the chance to start over, to create dreams outside of Ofarian magic or structure, outside of the Secondary world. Opportunities I never had. I want that for every one of my people. I want that for all Secondaries.”
    Her full mouth twisted and he knew he hadn’t sold her. That was okay. For now. Baby steps. Spying and manipulating was so much easier when it was done out in the open.
    Kekona pulled her feet onto the bed and curled her legs to one side, getting more comfortable with him. He liked that. She was hard and muscular, a clear warrior, but there was a feminine gracefulness to her movements, and it made him hyper aware of her presence, still so close.
    His hand was halfway across the space between them before he realized it. Too late. No turning back. But instead of going for her face again, which he sensed would make her back off, he fingered a piece of her glossy hair. She flinched but didn’t move away.
    “It doesn’t catch fire?” he asked in wonder.
    “Wouldn’t make much sense to be Chimeran if it did, would it?”
    True. “It feels . . .” amazing .
    “What?”
    He shook his head, let her hair slide out of his palm, and rolled off the opposite side of the bed. He went to his bag, ripped it open with more force than was necessary, and pulled out a pair of gray flannel pants. When he looked up, her eyes were skating over him in obvious—and wonderful—approval.
    A slow smile spread across her face as she pushed from the bed and sauntered toward him with powerful elegance. The woman knew how to command a room. She didn’t have to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him, soft and swift, and it was then he first tasted the zing of sweet smoke on her breath. It curled down his throat and made its home inside him, and he knew he was done for.
    “Kekona,” he whispered, before he could stop himself.
    Her head snapped back mockingly. “Yes? Griffin ?”
    No one had managed to unnerve him, to embarrass him, in years. He found that he liked it, this reminder that he was real and not untouchable. That he was someone other than a leader, a scapegoat, a man to be feared, admired, or hated.
    He cleared his throat. “Anyone call you anything besides Kekona?”
    “Yes.”
    Suddenly, he felt very brave. “What can I call you then?”
    With a lift of an eyebrow—arched and dramatic compared to his flat, thick ones—she nodded to the door that opened into the hallway. “On the other side of that, call me ‘general.’ But in here, ‘Keko.’”
    Feeling victorious and electrified, he pushed his hands into the black silk of her hair and tilted her head back. To his delight, she let him. “So this is happening again?”
    “Yes.” She nipped at his bottom lip. “I believe it will.”
     • • • 
    The next night, Keko let him throw her onto the bed.
    It had been another grueling night session with the Senatus around the bonfire in which he’d been asked to relay stories of successful Ofarian integration into Primary businesses and schools. The inquiries had planted hope, which, if he’d been smarter, he would have recognized as him having reached the apex before the crashing fall over the back side of the mountain. Because as soon as he concluded talking about an Ofarian man who used to do accounting for the old Board and had recently secured a job at a large Primary firm for equal pay and excellent retirement, the premier and the chief—Aya remaining oddly silent—dragged out example after example of times when the commingling had done more damage than good.
    Instances that he knew far too well. Instances that had resulted in death. Twelve deaths to be exact.
    So when Keko accompanied him back to his hotel room, his mood a murky, roiling cloud of frustration, he’d slammed her against the wall, his mouth claiming hers before she could speak. Spinning her around, he slid one