Elemental Desire

By Denise Tompkins

Only one woman can bring him to his knees. . .

Seth is manager of Desire, the hottest night spot 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…

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: May 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781488720246

Denise Tompkins

Kelli Ireland spent a decade as a name on a door in corporate America. Unexpectedly liberated by Fate's sense of humor, she chose to carpe the diem and pursue her passion for writing. A fan of happily-ever-afters, she found she loved being the Puppet Master for the most unlikely couples. Seeing them through the best and worst of each other while helping them survive the joys and disasters of falling in love? Best. Thing. Ever. Visit Kelli's website at www.kelliireland.com.

Book preview

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