Burned (Keeper of the Flame) (16 page)

Flames, flames, flames.

I gasp, breaking free of his kiss. Holding
myself still for an entire ten seconds while his mouth makes a slow
descent down my neck.

“Please don’t set me on fire,” he murmurs
against my skin.

I choke on a laugh. “You’re probably going to
have to stop touching me like that then.”

He lingers for one more moment before pulling
his hands from under my shirt. “That’s some kick ass birth control
you have going on there.”

I start to laugh, and it turns into a
miserable sob. I bury my face in my hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He touches my shoulders, seems to
think better of it, and sits still. “You can’t control it.”

“But I need to. I
need
to. I don’t
want this to happen every time I want to be intimate with someone
or every time I’m angry.” I look up, frowning. “I want to kiss you
without hurting you.”

He takes my hand, brushing his thumb over my
knuckles. “It’ll take practice is all.” His voice fills with humor.
“And if it means I have to make out with you every night until you
build up a tolerance, I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

I laugh. “Really? You barely know me.”

“I know more than you think.”

“How?”

He adjusts on the bed so he’s next to me,
leaning against the headboard. He tucks me against his chest and I
let my fingers wander over his muscles while he talks.

“Your mom told me a little about you. I know
you think she didn’t know you, but she did. She kept track of
you.”

That information makes me tense. I don’t know
if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it makes me feel even more
abandoned than before.

He clears his throat and continues. “Also, I
dreamed about you before you came here.”

“What?”

“I did. I had a dream‒more than one,
actually. And it felt like I knew you—probably because of the whole
protection thing. That’s why it was a pretty lame move to treat you
the way I did when you got here. I…yeah, I didn’t know how to
handle it. And then there’s the connection.”

“Because I projected myself to you?”

“Right.”

I don’t know how I’ll feel about that further
down the road, but right now it makes me feel safe.

“I’m glad you’re not trying to get me to
leave now,” I whisper. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you
want.”

My eyes search the room in the darkness. “You
don’t want me to stay here. I took over your room.”

“Actually, right now it looks like we’re
sharing it.”

I smile vaguely. “You know what I mean. I’m
here indefinitely. I need somewhere to stay.”

“Come with me to work tomorrow,” Ryan says.
“I have something I want to show you.”

I shrug. “Sure.” I don’t have anywhere else
to be.

“Good,” he says. “Now close your eyes, try to
get some sleep.”

I close my eyes and relax against his chest.
Before long, I’m asleep. And the only dreams that haunt me this
time are ghostly ones about my ancestor, Selena, and a book hidden
in the darkness.

I’m excited when I meet Ryan downstairs the
next morning.

“I have a Book of Shadows,” I tell him,
stopping in the doorway of the kitchen.

He turns, a mug of coffee in one hand.
“What?”

“I had a dream about Selena‒she’s one of my
ancestors who helped make the spell. She was a Keeper of the Flame,
too, and in my dream, I saw a book‒”

“Okay, hold on.” He sets his mug down and
gestures to the table. I join him. “You’re saying you had a dream
about a Book of Shadows. And you think it’s real?”

“I saw Selena before, near the cemetery at
the Shadow Hill Hotel. She gave me this.” I hold up the necklace
for him to see. “I think it was to help me fight off Logan.”

“A ghost gave you a necklace?”

“I told you this before. Now you’re talking
to me like you don’t believe me. And yet Logan is a vampire.
Cheyenne is a werewolf. You’re a shapeshifter‒though that one, I
won’t believe until I see.”

A muscle moves in his jaw. “Don’t hold your
breath.”

“Ryan, are you worried? Is that it? That
you’re going to be forced to use your powers somehow, or‒”

He stands abruptly, the legs of his chair
scraping against the floor. “I believe you about the book. If you
think Selena was trying to tell you something in your dream, you’re
probably right.”

I get up as well, stepping next to him at the
counter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Ryan…” His eyes flash warning, so I choose
my words carefully. “I don’t like the fact that I’m forced into
using my powers now, too. I hate not having control over them. I
mean, I almost burned the library down. You think I’d willingly
burn all those books?”

His lips twitch. “You care about the books
but not me? You aimed the fire at me more than once, you know.”

I step in front of him. “I know. You deserved
it.”

His hands settle on my hips, fingers curling
into my belt loops. “I did.”

“You can make it up to me.”

His voice goes low and husky. “How?”

“By pouring me a mug of coffee.”

I start to back up, but he yanks me against
him. My breath whooshes out and I grasp his shirt at his chest to
steady myself.

“I’m worried about controlling my power,
you’re right,” he says. His eyes are stormy and fathomless.
“Shifting doesn’t sound dangerous but it can be.”

His hands loosen, and he lifts one to brush
down my cheek. I shiver. “Are you going to tell me what you mean by
dangerous?”

His gaze holds mine. “No.”

“Ryan‒”

He stops my question with a swift kiss,
catching me off guard. My arms automatically go around his neck. He
hikes my legs up and I wrap them around his waist, making a noise
of pleasure in my throat.

Ryan spins around and sets me on the counter.
His kisses are hungry, tongue brushing against mine. His hand
tangles in my hair.

“Tell me when it’s coming,” he murmurs.

“Excuse me?”

His lips curve. “The fire.”

“Oh, uh…” His hands and mouth feel so good, I
can barely speak but I try to nod. I reach for his pants,
unsnapping the button. I slip my hand inside the material. He’s
stiff and aroused, breath yanking in when I close my fingers around
him.

“Willow.” His voice is low, strained with
pleasure.

It’s his voice that undoes me. The fire
springs to life, so close I have to jerk my hands away.

“Okay,” I whisper, eyes opening. “Hold
on.”

“No,” he groans. But he stops moving, breath
coming fast.

“I just…” I shake my head. “I think I need to
go slower. That might help.”

“I can do slow.” His hands slide up the
insides of my thighs. “We need to practice.”

“I can get on board with that.” The flames
die out, and I breathe a long sigh. “Sorry.”

He puts his hands on either side of me,
boxing me in. “You shouldn’t apologize. It’ll work out
eventually.”

I can still feel his hands on me and see bare
skin where his pants are unbuttoned. “God, I hope so.”

He laughs. “Trust me, it’s just as hard on my
end.”

My eyes flick to his pants and back up. I
grin. “I see that.”

He lifts me off the counter and once I’m on
my feet, I slump against him for a minute. Maybe slower really is
better. Not because of the flames. Because I barely know Ryan‒and
last time I barely knew someone, he turned out to be a vampire.

What am I thinking? I don’t normally fall for
any guy. But Logan was hard to resist with that killer confidence
and Ryan has these electric eyes that see more than he lets on.
He’s strong
and
vulnerable. For whatever reason, I trust him
completely.

He abandons his coffee and says, “Ready to
go?”

I nod, but bring an insulated mug with me to
the door. I need my morning coffee.

“So where do you think I can find a secret
Book of Shadows?”

Ryan pauses at the front door, gathering his
keys off a nearby table. “Uh…ask Cheyenne?”

I smile.

“Maybe you could do a spell. Some kind of
location spell. I’m pretty sure you could handle that.”

I’m glad he has so much confidence in me
because I don’t. Although I did project myself all the way across
town to appear in his house, so I’m not off to a terrible
start.

“Stay close,” Ryan says as he opens the front
door.

“I don’t think Logan is out here.”

He ignores the comment. “Stay close and hurry
to the car. When we get to the site, I have to straighten a few
things out before we leave again. Stick close there, too. It’s
going to be tricky because technically no one lives in the house
yet so I’m pretty sure Logan can walk around wherever he
pleases.”

“Where are we going after that?” I ask.

He smiles, but it’s distracted. “You’ll
see.”

He grabs my hand and we leave the house. I
keep up with him as we race to the truck. When I hop in, I look
around the property. The trees are green, looking like summer, and
the sky is the shade of tropical waters.

As we drive, I realize I’m not worried about
Logan. Not yet. I need to figure something out soon, but I believe
he’ll give me some space in the meantime. Despite his psycho
kidnapping tendencies, he’s been pretty honest with me.

When we get to the site, I follow Ryan around
while he gives directions to his team. I’m curious how he got into
flipping houses, and how he’s so successful at it at such a young
age. He has a good-sized team, with men working to transport
two-by-fours inside while others hammer and build.

They’re working on a closet in the master
bedroom right now.

“We hope to have this one done by
mid-summer,” Ryan tells me. “Get it on the market.”

I get a few glances as we finish walking
through, but for the most part everyone sticks to their jobs. When
he’s done doling out new instructions, Ryan ushers me out to the
truck again, keeping vigilant.

“It’s just a few blocks over,” he says once
the keys are in the ignition.

I keep silent until we reach another house.
This one is smaller, at the end of the street, and looks unlived
in. It’s in a quiet neighborhood filled with trees.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Let’s get inside,” he says, glancing
around.

There’s a For Sale sign on the front lawn.
Ryan lets us in, closing the door behind him. I scan the empty
space, noting it looks clean and new, despite the old brick and
siding on the outside.

“Is this one of the houses you flipped?”

He nods. “I just put it up on the market last
month. So far no takers.”

I wonder if this is the same house Logan said
he wanted to buy from Ryan. Or maybe he was just making that up to
get me to talk to him.

“So why are we here?” I ask.

He props his shoulder against the wall in the
living room. “Your mom told me once she thinks everything happens
for a reason. I believe it. I haven’t sold this place yet and along
you come, needing somewhere to live.”

I turn to him. “Wait‒what? You’re going to
loan me this house to stay in?”

“Yeah.”

I shake my head. “I can’t do that. You’re
trying to sell it. I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.”

“It’s my house, I can do whatever I want with
it.”

I frown. “Ryan, you know what I mean.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Look, I
know you’re not completely comfortable at my place. I get it,
you’re independent. You need somewhere to stay, I have somewhere
for you to stay. It’s simple.”

“But…” I can think of all sorts of arguments.
Like how he barely knows me, like how I can’t afford too much
rent‒or at least, I don’t want to pay too much. I don’t need
something this big.

“You’re considering it,” he says with a lazy
smile. “Come on, it makes sense. Stay here for a while. If it
doesn’t work out, no harm done.”

I walk from the living room into the kitchen.
The sun is shining through the back window, and there’s a small
nook in the corner. There’s plenty of counter and cupboard space.
The backyard is nice, roomy, with a small deck for entertaining.
Ryan follows me as I walk the hallway to one of the bedrooms. It’s
modest but nice, also with wide windows. There’s one bathroom with
a deep tub and double sinks.

“It’s nice,” I say. “You did a good job.”

He nods. “Thanks.”

“It’s perfect, actually. I…” I don’t finish
the sentence before walking back to the living room.

“What is it?” Ryan asks, following me.

“I guess I was always so busy traveling and
moving around and keeping up with school, I never really cared that
much where I lived or what it looked like. Now I’m stuck here and
it makes me feel so…trapped. But this‒your house‒it’s nice. It
feels like a home.” I smile. “Which is exactly what I need right
now.”

“Good.” He pulls a piece of paper from his
back pocket. “Now sign this lease.”

My mouth drops open. I try to compose myself.
“Of course. Right. We need to talk about rent and everything‒”

He laughs. “I’m not charging you rent. Once
you sign this, you technically live here, so Logan can’t come in.
It’ll be a safe place for you.”

“Oh.” I laugh, too. “Right.”

He passes me a pen, and I use the wall as a
surface to sign my name without even reading it. No rent and a cute
landlord. I’ve definitely been in worse predicaments.

I hold out the lease, but he catches my hand
instead, pulling me closer. “It makes me feel like I’m doing
something right giving you somewhere to stay. Maybe if I had been
more open with things when you got here‒or more vigilant, even‒you
might not be stuck.”

“I already told you it’s not your fault.”

He touches my bottom lip with his thumb,
rubbing it back and forth. “Still. It makes me feel better.”