Only one woman can bring him to his knees…

Seth is manager of Desire, the hottest nightspot in Atlanta. He’s also an ifrit—a djinn born from primal fire—and it’s his burning sexual energy that lures women to his club. At closing time, Seth takes his pick from throngs of gorgeous creatures incapable of resisting him. And one night he chooses Eden. Or does she choose him?

Neither wants anything more than a few hours of mind-blowing sex. But Eden is a witch, a high priestess charged with keeping the elements in balance. Her magic binds Seth to her, and eventually it will snuff out his flame altogether.

Seth’s only hope is submission—to Eden’s command, and to the emotions he tries so hard to master. But first, Eden must find the strength to wield her power in ways she never imagined….

Elemental Desire

Denise Tompkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Sarah F.—this book wouldn’t have come to life without your willingness to help me see Dominic and Eden the way they were meant to be seen. I owe you huge. Huge.

Dear Reader,

Please accept my thanks for picking up Elemental Desire, the third and final novella in my Desire trilogy. These books are very special to me, and I’m honored to share them with you.

Wow, was this novella fun to write! All the stars and planets must have been aligned just right because it seemed the words simply flew from my fingertips. Dominic is one of the absolute best heroes I’ve ever had the pleasure to fall in love with from this side of the screen. He’s a little dangerous and just dark enough to be wildly seductive. That meant his heroine had to be equally dangerous (even if she can’t control it) and just dark enough to be wildly seductive (even if she isn’t sure how to use it). Good thing Eden was up to every challenge.

I hope you have half as much fun reading how these two dynamic characters end up falling in love as I had writing their love story.

Denise

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

Tequila hit Seth’s tongue with a smooth bite and excellent afterburn. Nice. He wouldn’t normally condone drinking on the job, but he did, after all, run Desire. As the premier club in Atlanta, where people came to see and be seen, Desire had its perks. Drinking when he had the overwhelming desire to get hammered was one of them. Watching his two best friends—Desire’s owner, Griff, and the head of security, Dominic—on the dance floor with their women was confirmation of what he’d known the moment the women had shown up in their lives.

“Alert the troops for our leaders have fallen,” he murmured into his second shot glass before tossing the drink back. More burn equaled unparalleled pleasure. A dark chuckle rolled out of his chest at the same time the music ended.

Surprise registered on the faces of the nearest patrons.

His mouth kicked up at one corner. He knew people considered him standoffish and a bit…extreme in his personal tastes, but the combination sure as hell didn’t stop women from hitting on him. That suited him fine. At least having that reputation meant his bed partners were aware of what they were volunteering for.

Watching Dominic’s woman, Rhyan, hook an arm around his neck and grind against him as the next song queued up made Seth eye the bottle beside him. Alcohol wasn’t numbing the ache in his chest. Maybe taking a woman would better suit his mood. Whomever he ended up with tonight needed to be in to his brand of pleasure and the absolute opposite of his typical fare. Because for all he bitched about his boys falling in love, he was jealous. Jealous and terrified. If the same fate befell him, he was well and truly screwed.

Once upon a time, he’d thought love existed for him. Now?

A hard shiver raced through him as he returned the bottle of 1800 Coleccíon to its place in the ornate cage that held the priciest liqueurs. The smells of earth, air, water and smoke besieged his senses. Woven between the elements was an unfamiliar smell, something like ozone and summer storms unleashed on arid lands. Beneath his skin, his element—fire—ignited and burned through his veins. The urge to seek out whoever was manipulating the unpredictable flame inside him, to bend to the stranger’s will, made his knees lock. He didn’t let anyone manipulate the flame that fueled his soul. The first equaled servitude without end. The second equaled death. Seth would welcome the latter before the former.

He didn’t kneel before anyone. Ever.

Magic. In the damned club. All-consuming fury choked him and made it hard to draw a breath. Desire was a magic-free zone. Godsbedamned practitioners might not know why, but they knew bringing that shit into his house was a direct challenge. One he wouldn’t tolerate.

He clutched the edge of the bar hard enough to crack the granite. Forcing himself to focus proved to be as hard as hell. Hell. How apropos. A harsh chuff escaped him. Heat coiled through his nose and hung at the back of his throat. His eyes burned. Flames licked at his fingertips, begging for release.

“No.” The denial was as gritty and uncompromising as the barren desert sands his people called home. “I own you. Never the other way around.”

Heels of his hands pressing against his temples, he bent forward and tried to drown out the deafening roar only he could hear—his element’s protest.

Frigid fingers rubbed his neck. “You okay? Geez. You’re burning up.” Bailey, Griff’s partner and Seth’s good friend, must have seen his reaction and immediately headed his way.

“I’m great.” He slowly straightened, blinking rapidly. His vision had changed from seeing traditional, three-dimensional color to only making out infrared images. That hadn’t happened in too long to remember. He faced Bailey, reaching out to caress her aura before resting a hand on her shoulder. “Tell Griff we’ve got a fairy godmother under the roof.”

“A what?”

“A witch.”

“I heard.” Griff’s voice came from behind. “We need to get you out of here?”

He sagged against the bar. “No. Just let me get my vision straightened out.”

“It went?” Griff demanded.

“Yeah.”

“Dom!” Griff’s shout cut through the club’s atmosphere like an acetylene torch through dry ice.

Seth ran a hand down his face, surprised to find himself sweating. “Ah, hell, Griff. Don’t get the nephilim involved. He’ll want to break the responsible party into twenty pieces.”

“And you have a problem with that?”

“Yeah, actually,” Seth snapped. “I intend to deliver the hurt myself.”

Griff lifted the bar hatch and Dom stepped closer. “We’ve got a fairy godmother in house.”

Seth’s vision might have been reduced to thermal images, but he could still make out Dom’s massive form stiffening.

“Where.” The nephilim had transformed from playful to serious in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll handle it. Gods above, you two are worse than a couple of mother hens.” Seth pushed off the bar. His legs threatened to collapse. Strength of will alone kept him standing. No way was he going down in front of all these people, but particularly not in front of the one who’d thought to threaten his freedom. He was a lot of things—dominant, slightly sadistic, controlled, passionate—but he was never, ever anyone’s genie in a bottle. Whoever thought to control him or, worse, extinguish his element and thus him, had another thing coming.

He squinted, picking out different bodies in the crowd. One stood out from the others. From the nipped waist, swell and sway of hips and length of legs, the voluptuous form belonged to a woman. She moved toward him with purpose. He bristled. The closer she came, the brighter her aura burned. Not dark blue like a witch, but a blinding red that eventually blocked everything else, smothering her chakras and dimming the people around her. He’d seen such a vibrant aura a time or two before, and each time the result was a night of wild sex. She might be just what he needed tonight—to get out of the club and away from the practitioner, the chance to get lost in sexual play, to come back clearheaded and focused so he could eliminate the threat.

This woman’s aura spoke of a wild side, a willingness to try anything once and a need to live a little dangerously. Add the three things together and she was unquestionably his type. Lust flooded his groin and his shaft thickened.

Seth looked over at Griff. His unique aura burned blue around a gold center. “I’m going to ask you for a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Get lost.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve suddenly got plans that don’t involve you.” Seth tilted his head toward the woman who stood a few feet away. The heat of her aura stroked his skin like a lover’s caress, calling his flame to the surface. He burned for her, the feeling far from innocent. If he had his way, he’d be buried inside her within the hour.

And he always got his way.

* * *

Eden knew without asking that the guy behind the counter was the one she sought. His reputation as being hot-as-hell was trumped by the reality. It was his reputation for other things, however, that brought her to the club tonight. She needed to get lost in some harmless, no-strings-attached fun before she was forced to take up the mantle of responsibility Fate had bestowed upon her at conception. She’d even abided by the club’s unwritten rule and bound her magic. Pretty much. Okay, she’d sort of dropped the ball. But one minor slip in the spell couldn’t be considered breaking the rules. Probably. For the most part. Goddess, she hoped, because she wasn’t leaving here without experiencing that man.

She knew she wasn’t exactly tall or classically beautiful, but she was determined. She also had a sense of unstoppable adventure that got her into trouble more often than not, both outside the bedroom and in. If rumors were true, that latter would be enough. Talk around town said the bronze-skinned god who ran the club had specific tastes, and that suited Eden perfectly. She had specific curiosities.

Leaning across the bar, she sized up the man. He was well over six feet tall. Thick, straight black hair brushed broad shoulders. A nose just a touch long, sharp cheekbones and sensual, nearly cruel lips made his face both aristocratic and painfully beautiful. And if his facial features were considered sculpted, his body was unarguably chiseled. No doubt the parts she couldn’t see would be equally as impressive. Everything about him—from tapered fingers to narrow waist to the slightly square shape of his chin—made her want to roll around on him naked.

Her breath caught in her throat when he took an unsteady step toward her. His gaze seemed to look through her, his eyes slightly unfocused as they roamed her face.

“What color would you call your hair?” His rich voice slid around her, tantalizing and showing no sign of apology.

“Hmm.” She grabbed a few strands of her hair, considering his remark. “Not brown, not red, not blond, but all of the above.”

“Natural?”

“Everything about me is natural, except my preferences.”

“Good to know. Anything you need to confess before this goes any further? Any club rules you might have broken, laws you might have bent, behaviors that would get you evicted?”

Adrenaline shot through her like an electric charge. “Afraid not. My confession would shock a priest out of his cassock.”

“Good thing I’m not a priest.” He stepped closer, leaning across the bar and into her personal space. “You here to break any house rules?”

“Nope. I’m a model citizen.”

“Good. Now tell me, what color would you call your eyes?”

Dry heat that spoke of desert sands and faraway lands rolled around her, and she basked in the imaginary warmth. Whatever his cologne was, it was worth what he’d paid for it and then some. “My eyes? Stormy, I guess.”

“My new favorite color.”

She couldn’t help it. She snorted. “Please tell me you’ve got better lines than that, or I’m going to think your reputation is nothing but a steaming pile of horse apples.”

He grinned, straight teeth white against dark skin. A single dimple marked one cheek. “You’re clearly aware of who I am. That leaves me at a distinct disadvantage, though I’m about to rectify that.”

“Wow me.”

His smile widened revealing a second dimple. Something dark and dangerous peeked through the depths of pale green eyes. “Oh, I save the wowing for behind closed doors.”

Arousal flooded her core. Every erotic pulse point pounded in time with her heartbeat. Leaning into him so their lips brushed when she spoke, it disconcerted her to realize his eyes didn’t focus on her face before he closed them. “Like I said—wow me,” she whispered, the husky timbre of her voice a mix of seducer and seduced.

“You sure about this, Red? Because once you agree, you’re stuck with me until one of two things happens.”

“Name them.”

“You either safe-word out and leave, or the sun comes up in the morning and we say goodbye. Those are the terms.”

“The word’s fate. Now, where’s the nearest closed door?”

Chapter Two

Seth held out his hand. When she took it, he casually turned it over and brushed his lips along her knuckles. His teeth grazed a high point and she shivered, tightening her hold on him at the same time she sucked in a breath. The little minx might think she was a bedroom badass, but if a tiny public nip set her heart stuttering, actual play was likely going to make her stroke out. If he were a better man, he’d swat her ass and send her on her way. Too bad he wasn’t and he wouldn’t. She’d come out to play on his jungle gym, so play they would. It would teach her a valuable lesson about knowing a lover’s bents before tossing down the proverbial gauntlet.

Letting go of her hand, he curled a finger under her chin. “Nearest closed door is through there,” he murmured, jerking his chin toward the employee-only rooms at the back. “Meet me at the end of the bar.”

“I thought we’d go—”

“End of the bar, Red, or we end this now.” He drew in the scent of her arousal. “You need to learn a few lessons about how to serve as a proper submissive before we take this any further.”

“Submissive? I never said I was a submissive.”

“No? You clearly know who I am, and I’d be willing to bet you came out tonight looking for me. You readily offered a safe word when I asked for one. Doms don’t need safe words, sweetheart. We collect them.” Her silence said he’d landed square in the middle of the truth. If he were going to bet on which scenario was accurate? His money would be on a third possibility he hadn’t named—that she wanted to know if there were more to sex than the vanilla variety to which she’d been exclusively exposed. “How old are you?”

She withdrew her hand but didn’t move back. “Care to wager a guess?”

Slowly opening his eyes, he was glad to find his vision recovering. Even better, the woman in front of him—“Red” based on her aura—was stunning. “You’ll learn to answer me before the night’s out. That or you won’t be able to sit down come morning.”

Grey eyes stared up at him. Her mouth, a touch on the narrow side yet perfect in her pixie face, thinned until it was little more than a slash. “Stop trying to scare me.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to scare you, Red.” He let his gaze rove over her with lazy insolence. “I’m warning you what to expect when you meet me at the end of the bar as directed. Push me into making it an order?” Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her halfway over the bar and claimed her mouth in a breath-stealing kiss. She opened to him, her tongue thrusting against his with considerable skill. A deep growl rumbled from his chest. His fingers tightened at the thought of someone else experiencing her uninhibited passion. The thought, and his reaction to it, pissed him off. Breaking the kiss, he stared into eyes that were just the color she’d called them. Stormy. “Push me into making it an order, and every minute you make me wait will translate to ten in which I torment you and refuse you release. Understand?”

A single dip of the chin was her answer.

Letting her go, Seth stepped back and spun on his heel, intent on meeting her at the end of the bar. He plowed into Dominic first.

The giant fallen angel grinned down at him and arched a brow. “First time I’ve seen you take on a noob, Flash.”

Only a couple of inches separated them in height, but Dom had a solid fifty pounds of muscle making him the one guy in the club Seth wouldn’t screw with. Still, he couldn’t help but give the guy’s shoulder a hard shot. “Move before I rearrange your junk and turn it into the start of a Copacabana headdress. I’m sure Rhyan would be willing to finish off the look with the lemons, limes and cherries from the bar setup.”

Dominic’s hands covered his groin. “Never threaten a man’s kiwis or his banana, motherfucker. Never.” Looking back at the now-laughing Rhyan, he grinned. “Think that’s funny, woman?”

She tried to stifle her laughter but failed. “I was imagining you in a slutty white dress and platform stilettos with fruit in your hair. You’d make the ugliest drag queen ever.”

Dominic lunged for her and she whooped, sprinting away from him.

That left Griff and Bailey. With a single touch from her man, Bailey moved down the bar, casually taking orders and shooting the breeze with customers.

Griff watched her go, his eyes never leaving her when he addressed Seth. “You really think it’s wise to just up and disappear with a woman you don’t know after your element went weird? Because I think it’s pretty damned irresponsible to hightail it out of here with a stranger. What if she’s the witch?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Seth fought the urge to lash out. He counted in on five and out on seven before looking at Griff. “It’s not her.”

“You’re sure.”

“I asked. She denied.”

“And magic practitioners, the mercenary lot of them, are all about the honesty,” Griff drawled.

“The witch had a distinct smell that Red’s lacking, both that and the power behind the punch. No one can subdue that much power.”

The subjectively smaller man crossed his arms over his chest and looked Seth over through narrowed eyes. “Are you staying here or leaving?”

“Don’t know for sure.”

“Keep your cell handy.”

“Fuck off.” Seth took a couple of steps before pausing and, without looking back, added, “And Griff?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

With a sharp nod, Seth moved down the bar to meet Red where she waited—at the pass-thru, just as directed. He slid his hand under her long auburn hair and steered her toward the dark door marked Private without a word.

She went, her steps admirably steady, her gait fluid and self-assured.

Didn’t change the fact he knew she was a novice at this. She hadn’t been through a scene, though. As a Dom, it was his job to know. As a sub, it was her job to help set the boundaries of safe, sane and consensual play. He doubted she’d know enough to help set those parameters. It was one of the reasons—the many, many reasons—he never played with an untried sub. They had the highest expectations. They were typically the most emotional. They also tended to safe-word out more often than not, thus preventing him from achieving his own end. What had prompted him to take her on? He wasn’t sure. But it was done. He’d do his best to take her proverbial virginity gently.

Probably.

At the moment? All he could think of was how beautifully that ass would pink up when corrected.

And correct it he would.

* * *

Eden risked a glance at the lithe, predatory man directing her through the crowd. A dark smile played at the corners of his full mouth. Goddess preserve her. The things she wanted to do to him were painted through her mind in vibrant colors.

His assertion she was a submissive, would be his submissive, still had her rattled. Oh, she hadn’t let on. Not really. She’d expected something like this when she’d swallowed her fear and sought him out. But she hadn’t ever been a sub before. Hell, she didn’t even know how to serve as a sub. The whole alternative-lifestyle thing fascinated her, but short of reading a handful of erotic novels and a little internet research, she had no idea what to do with herself. More than anything, she wanted to know what it felt like to have someone drive her to new heights, make her experience the fascinating convergence of pleasure and pain.

They pushed through an unobtrusive door. Beyond that lay a long hallway. Industrial beige tiles made up the floor. Walls were the color of bland oatmeal. At the end of the hall stood an elevator. She’d barely taken in everything when he keyed in a code to a heavy wooden door and steered her inside.

The room was dark, lit only by the muted red glow of the exit sign. When the door shut with a muffled whump, Eden’s heart lodged at the top of her throat. Her tongue turned to dust. Air moved behind her seconds before firm hands traced down her arms. Mouth settling next to her ear, his breathing was steady. Hers? Hers was so not.

“Nervous?”

She opened her mouth, intent on denying the allegation thinly veiled as a question. The hand that wound through her hair and hauled her head back shocked her into absolute silence.

“I’ll tolerate a bit of stubbornness because you don’t know better, but you won’t lie to me, Red. Not without consequence.”

“That’s not my name,” she whispered, sliding her gaze his way.

A Cheshire-cat grin split the darkness. “Tonight it is.”

Air became a precious commodity she couldn’t buy enough of, no matter what mental card she swiped. Looking up into eyes as tempting as original sin, Eden heard herself whisper, “Yes, sir.”

Total silence ruled the moment. He molded his body to her curves and lowered his face. “Good place to start. I want to establish the parameters of play before we take it any further.”

“Parameters?” The question sounded slow, even to herself.

“Yes, Red. Parameters.” Pulling her even tighter, he kicked her feet apart. “Uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” she repeated.

He turned her toward him. Cupping her face, in one hand, he reached over her shoulder.

She flinched before blinking into blinding light.

“I don’t hit women, Red.” He stroked her chin. “If that’s why you sought me out, you picked the wrong guy.”

Wrapping one hand around his wrist, she fisted his shirt with the other. “I got who I came for, but not what. Not yet.”

He stilled, distrust coiling through him and prickling against her skin. “Care to explain?”

Squeezing the words out was nearly impossible. “I needed to find out what it was like.”

“What what’s like?”

Lips numb, she wanted to rub life and feeling into them, was afraid to accidentally touch him. “The experience.” Somehow she knew he heard what she didn’t say, that she was wildly curious about herself and what really flipped her switch.

“What makes you think I’m your answer?”

Her only excuse was hormonally fueled determination. Otherwise? She never would have pulled his shirt out of his pants and scraped his ribs with her fingernails. His sharp intake of breath was followed by a slow hiss. Things low in her belly rolled over, begging to be stroked. A short jerk of his hips made her lips part on an exhale, her hands scrabbling to unbutton his silk shirt. He gripped her wrists, stopping her desperate scramble to divest him of clothes and get down to business. Confused, she looked up.

“Not yet, Red. Parameters. Where do you draw the hard lines I don’t cross?”

“Lines?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “My first directive was that you meet me at the end of the bar. You complied. Second directive is that you stop repeating every question I ask. Be a good girl and I’ll see you’re rewarded.”

Eden nodded so hard her earrings clinked. “Yes, sir,” she repeated, knowing it had pleased him moments ago. Swallowing a little pride could pay off handsomely.

“Let’s discuss boundaries. Where I’m concerned, no touching unless invited. You haven’t earned intimacy yet.” And you won’t. “That’s about it. What about you?”

Heat blazed across her cheeks. “I’m…not sure?”

“Okay. Let’s try this. Tell me one of your fantasies.”

Oh, dear goddess. “Fantasies?” Realizing her mistake, she slapped a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Too late, sweetheart. Skirt up over your ass and grab the edge of the desk,” he said, even as he moved her into position.

“But I apologized.” The nearly shouted objection brought him to a standstill.

“Yes, but you still violated my directive. One swat for the minor infraction.” Smooth fingers traced up the back of her thighs as he lifted her short skirt. “A thong. I approve.”

Eden watched him pull a pair of scissors from the desk drawer. Before she could form an objection, he dragged the cold metal along her ass and snipped the lace, tugging the scrap of material free. The trace of soft material over her skin, the hard scrape of nails down her thighs and the brush of lace hitting her ankles when it fell made her sway. Lips followed the same path upward. Smooth kisses, a tactile tongue, little nips—they made her knees weak. The sharp crack of his palm on her ass elicited a surprised yelp. Masculine fingers traced the sting, and she moaned. At the sound, his fingers briefly dug into her ass and made her push into his hand. What. The. Hell. Never had someone turned her on so quickly, so effortlessly. She wanted what he offered. Didn’t understand the compulsion to satisfy him. “Why?” she asked, the single word forming an unsteady question that hung between them long enough that she was sure he’d ignore her. Then he answered.

“You have a gift, Red. You started the descent into subspace when I grabbed you by the neck in the club. Most submissives have to be taught to find that place inside themselves. You’re a natural.”

“You think I haven’t done this before?”

“No.”

She relaxed.

“I know you haven’t.” Stepping in behind her, his unfurling zipper made the most erotic noise she’d ever heard. The broad head of his cock brushed over the crevice of her ass.

Eden flinched. “Maybe not…that.”

“That?” The amusement in his tone was clear. “And what is ‘that,’ precisely?”

Burying her face in her forearms seemed prudent. “Anal.”

“Ah. Anal. One of my favorite things. Shame you aren’t interested.”

That was something she wasn’t willing to share. Not the physical act, but the fact she was interested.

Very, very interested.

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