Burned (Keeper of the Flame) (20 page)

I start to say something, but he shakes his
head. He grabs my hand again, giving it a tug. “Come on, Willow.
You haven’t had the easiest afternoon. Let’s start with the book
and we can go exploring later.”

I sigh, but when Cheyenne says, “Maybe that’s
a good idea,” I give in and follow him to the lobby of the hotel
again.

We step into the night air. The sun has gone
behind the horizon and the sky is dim. I start down the front
stairs. Cheyenne grabs my arm. “Wait.”

She lifts her chin, almost like she’s
sniffing the air, then her eyes narrow in the direction of the
parking lot. It’s too dim for me to see anything but her jaw
clenches.

“Logan’s here.”

Ryan’s eyes search the darkness as well, but
he shakes his head. Cheyenne’s eyesight must be heightened now,
too.

“Where?” he asks.

Cheyenne frowns. “Standing by your
truck.”

“What the hell is he doing here?” Ryan runs
his hand through his hair. “Now what?”

“We have to get home,” I say. “Let’s just
go.”

Ryan steps into my path, shooting Cheyenne a
look. “She’s crazy. I’m telling you. Willow, seriously? You’re
going to walk right up to him and what? Ask him to move?”

“If he’s blocking our way.”

Ryan curses again and takes my arms.

“Too late,” Cheyenne says, “he’s coming over
here.”

“Inside,” Ryan says, turning me around. “Go
back inside.”

“No, Ryan‒”

In an instant, Logan is there, voice low and
dangerous. “Get your hands off her.”

Ryan whips to face him, and they both stand
there, bodies vibrating with tension. “You’re not coming near her
again.”

“It’s up to her, not you,” Logan says. Then
he flashes a grin and steps back. “Hi, Willow.”

I stay partially behind Ryan, but ask, “What
are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here?”

His eyes are glued to mine like we’re the
only two people on the earth.

“You said you’d give me two days,” I say.

He nods. “And I wasn’t lying. I’m just here
to see what you’re up to.”

“It’s none of your business,” Cheyenne
snaps.

Logan spares her a glance. “Quite the
entourage you have here. Descendents from the original families.
This could get dangerous.”

I grip Ryan’s arm, trying to keep him still.
He’s a wall of muscle and doesn’t even budge. “Nothing is going to
get dangerous,” I say firmly. “We’re leaving now.”

“What do you have there?” Logan asks.

I clutch the Book of Shadows to my chest,
hard enough my knuckles turn white. “It’s mine.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m not trying
to take it from you. I just want to make sure we’re on the right
track. Looks like we might be.”

“That’s enough,” Ryan says. “We’re going.
Now.”

Cheyenne starts down the stairs. Ryan takes
my hand, keeping himself between me and Logan as he follows
her.

“Willow,” Logan calls behind us.

Ryan tenses, his grip tightening on my
hand.

I glance back and catch the white of Logan’s
smile.

“See you soon,” he says.

Ryan wraps his arm around my shoulders to
keep me moving. “In the truck,” he says as we approach the vehicle.
I look over. “Please.”

I nod, hopping in the passenger seat after
Cheyenne gets in the back. He looks so tense, so worried, all I can
do is keep silent as Ryan drives us back to my new house.

~ ~ ~

Standing at the counter in front of the sink,
I fill a glass with water and drink it while I stare through the
window into the darkness. I jump when I see Ryan’s reflection
behind me, but he wraps his arms around me before I can turn.

“Are you okay?” he asks, lips close to my
ear.

I shiver. “Yes.”

“Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m not. I just…wish he’d leave me alone.
Let me figure this out. I’m glad you were there, though.”

“Me too,” he murmurs.

Cheyenne is already gone and the house feels
so lonely.

“I’m glad you’re here now,” I tell him.

He brushes my hair to the side and trails
kisses down my neck and along my shoulder. “If you want me to go, I
will.”

I shake my head, breathing out as he
continues kissing my shoulder. His lips are softer than I remember,
warm on my skin. “I don’t want you to go.”

One of his hands slides under my shirt,
pressing against my stomach.

“If you’re tired…” His voice lowers. “I can
crash on the couch.”

I try to turn around, but he holds me tight
against him. His hand slides to my breast, cupping it. My throat
dries. The flames stay low inside as he keeps it slow and simple.
“I am tired,” I whisper, smiling when I feel him exhale behind me.
“But all I want to do right now is lose myself in you. And try not
to set you on fire.”

His arm contracts, holding me close. “I’m so
glad you said that.”

He spins me around. His lips meet mine, warm
and firm. Angling his head, he deepens the kiss, making my legs
feel wobbly. His other arm supports me around my waist, hand
dipping to grab my butt.

I pull his shirt over his head. Then I press
kisses to his chest, feeling his muscles jump in response.

“Willow,” he says, voice hoarse.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. I feel strong, like
the flames aren’t in control of me. “I can do this.”

This seems to encourage him. He rips my shirt
over my head, letting it fall to the floor, and traps me against
the counter. His lips race across my cheek and down my jaw. His
hands fist in my hair as he presses against me.

I can feel him, stiff and warm, through his
jeans, and I start to throb with heat and need. And the flames rise
a little higher.

“Not yet,” I hiss.

He lifts his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” I whisper, reaching for the button
on his pants to undo it.

“God, I want you, Willow.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “I want you,
too.”

His fingers are at my back, undoing my bra.
It slips down my arms and drops next to my shirt. His eyes skim my
breasts and he smiles. “You’re beautiful.”

Both his hands are on me now, thumbs brushing
my nipples before he dips to trace his tongue over one. I arch my
back, letting out a low moan. I force the flames to stay deep
inside, but I can feel them flickering, trying to lash out.

“Please,” I whisper. “More.”

He hikes my legs up and I wrap them around
his waist. He turns us to the living room as I hold on, my bare
breasts pressing against his chest. I fist my hands in the back of
his hair. He groans and stops, pressing me against the wall in the
hallway.

He’s fully aroused, straining against his
pants. I slide my legs to the floor and yank his jeans off. But he
catches my wrists before I can go any further and secures them in
one hand before holding them against the wall. My chest heaves with
heavy breaths, desire racing through me. Trapped. Aching for
him.

He finds the button on my jeans with his free
hand. He dips his hand inside my underwear, cupping me. His finger
shoots deep inside and I cry out with pleasure, my vision going
gray.

“Ryan,” I gasp.

He works his finger in and out, making me
close my eyes and twist my head to the side against the wall.

“Tell me what you want,” he says.
“Anything.”

“Bring me to the bedroom. I want you naked. I
want you inside me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs a condom from
the back pocket of his jeans before scooping me up against him
while my body still aches with heat and want. I kiss his neck,
trail my fingers over his shoulders. When he gets me to the bed, he
sets me down and tugs off my pants. Then he inches down my
underwear, fingers brushing the insides of my thighs the entire
way.

I can barely see him in the low light of the
room. I remember the candles Cheyenne put on the small dresser in
the corner. I will the flames in their direction, and the candles
burst to life. Ryan straightens, jerking a look over his
shoulder.

“Willow,” he breathes.

When he turns back, I’m up on my knees,
pressing against him. “I want to see you. I want to see you when I
touch you.”

I can feel his hardness pressing against me.
I pull his boxers down, my hand closing over him. He’s thick and
firm, and I can feel the pulsing of his heartbeat. The flames
tickle the inside of my skin, and I swallow.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “Just…just a minute.”

He uses the moment to rip open the package
and put on the condom. When I can breathe easy again, I shove him
down on the pillows and straddle him.

“My turn,” I say with a smile.

“Willow‒”

“No arguments. I have to. Just this once. I
want to make sure nothing happens.” This way I can go as fast or as
slow as I want.

He seems to understand and relaxes back on
the bed. I lean over, my hair tickling his chest. I can feel the
heat rising from him, see the candle flames flickering off his
toned skin. I brush my lips against his, then trace his bottom one
with my tongue.

He wraps his arms around me, trying to sit
up, but I push him back down. “Not yet,” I whisper.

I hover over him, his hardness pressing
against my opening. He lets out a jagged breath.

“Willow.”

“Almost,” I say. The flames subside
again.

I take Ryan into me, relaxing on top of him.
He squeezes his eyes shut tight before gripping my hips.

“God, you’re killing me,” he says.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” He exhales, fingers squeezing my
waist. “You’re doing fine.”

I brace my hands against his chest, rocking
back and forth, feeling the friction. And he meets me, beat for
beat, holding on like he’s right at the edge.

“I’m okay,” I tell him when his eyes meet
mine.

“Good.”

He grabs my shoulders and flips me over. I
let out a startled gasp, and then a pleasured moan when he enters
me again, hard and quick. He pulls my legs up and I wrap them
around his back and he pumps into me. My fingers grip the sheets as
I go over the edge, crying out his name.

Ryan follows soon after, climaxing as I come
again. The flames from the candles shoot high into the air and then
lower when he collapses on me, breathing heavy.

I lay still, happy and tired and sated.

And relieved.

I hadn’t even been able to control myself
with Logan, but I had with Ryan.

He rolls to the side, taking the warmth with
him. He tugs on the covers, pulling them over me. He props his head
on his hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

He smiles. “That’s all? Just yes?”

“I didn’t know if I could do it.”

He brushes his thumb on my cheekbone. “You
did. And it was pretty amazing.”

“I didn’t hurt you,” I whisper.

“No. It’ll hurt me if we don’t do that again,
though. Soon. Especially with the connection. It was…”

I laugh when he doesn’t finish. “Trust me, I
was planning on making that a daily occurrence.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

His hand finds my stomach under the covers.
His fingers are rough, callused, the hands of a worker. They’re
also warm and gentle. I shiver when he brushes his thumb back and
forth.

“Thanks,” I say, looking over.

“For what?” he asks, eyes dipping to my
lips.

“Being patient with me.”

A smile quirks one corner of his mouth. “It
was worth it.”

His hand travels higher, fingers curling
around my breast. I lift an eyebrow, but he only grins.

“Will you stay here tonight?” I ask, my voice
serious.

His smile fades. “Of course I will.”

“Thanks.”

I turn on my side and he curls an arm around
me, tucking me close to his body. His hands are still warm on me,
and I close my eyes, feeling safe for the first time since I
arrived in Shadow Hill.

The feeling of safety isn’t as easy to hold
onto the next day when I find Ryan doubled over in the kitchen.

I crouch next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Willow‒just go. You need to go,” he says,
holding his arm out to ward me off.

“Ryan. What’s happening?”

“I’m shifting,” he gasps.

My mouth drops open. I glance around, looking
for my phone. “I’ll call Cheyenne. I don’t know what to do‒”

“No, stop. Just get out. I don’t want to hurt
y‒” He hitches a sharp breath and hangs his head.

I touch his back, then jerk away when I feel
his ribs move. “Oh, God. Ryan‒”

He gets to his feet, using the counter to
steady himself. His face is twisted in pain. I reach out, but he
turns away from me, angling for the back door. He yanks it open and
yells, “Don’t follow me.”

Ryan disappears from the door, racing across
the yard and behind the old shed. My feet are rooted to the floor.
I’m too scared to follow after him, too afraid I’ll see something
he doesn’t want me to see. That he won’t trust me after this.

I break from my trance and hurry to the
living room. I find my phone and call Cheyenne.

She answers the phone with a sultry voice.
“Good morning, you sexy witch‒”

“Cheyenne, something’s wrong with Ryan.”

Her tone turns even. “What happened?”

“I found him in the kitchen, on the ground.
He said he was shifting‒he looked like he was in pain‒”

“Take a breath,” she says calmly. “We knew
this was going to happen eventually.”

“We did?”

“Yes, we did.” I hear the flipping of pages
in the background and wonder if she’s reading a book.

“I don’t know what to do. He doesn’t want me
near him.”

I pace to the kitchen again, peering out the
window. When I don’t see anything, I walk to the back door.

“He’s been avoiding this his whole life. His
dad was a shifter and it always caused problems between him and
Ryan’s mom. Ryan’s father wanted the curse to end, wanted to be
able to shift when he felt like it.”