Burned (Keeper of the Flame) (15 page)

“Get used to it,” he says. “We’re connected
now.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you did…whatever that was when you were
at Logan’s‒projecting yourself so I could see you? So you could
talk to me?”

“Yeah?”

“It left sort of a…residual effect, if that’s
what you want to call it.”

I back up to the bed, clutching one hand
around my necklace. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can still feel you. It might not
be permanent, but it’s like part of you is still with me. That’s
how I knew something was going on here and why I came home.” He
shrugs, pocketing his hands. “I could feel your distress.”

My heart picks up speed. What does that mean?
That was great for saving me from Logan, but…what about when I was
with
Logan? When I was feeling the opposite of distress? I’d
connected with Ryan twice by then so that connection had already
started.

“Can you feel other things, too?” I ask.
“Besides distress?”

He nods, another smile curving his lips
before he walks out the door. “Yep.”

That evening, Cheyenne brings Chinese
take-out and an armload of books.

“Please tell me you have wine,” she says to
Ryan when I take some of her bags.

“Something red and something I can’t
pronounce.”

She smiles. “Good. Where?”

“Pantry.”

Cheyenne disappears into a door around the
corner of the refrigerator and makes a noise of approval. Ryan
lifts his eyebrows at me, amused. She returns with a grin.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” She
nods at me. “Get some glasses, you’re gonna need this.”

“Why?”

Ryan starts unloading the cartons of food
from the bag. “Cheyenne always has a plan. Let’s hear it.”

Cheyenne searches the drawers until she finds
a wine opener. “Willow needs to practice her magic.”

I give her a doubtful look. “I think a fire
extinguisher is more what we’re going to need.”

“Wine will help you relax. Tell her, Ryan,
she needs to be relaxed.”

Ryan glances at me. “Being relaxed will help.
And it’s not just the fire you need to learn how to control. You
need to learn spells and‒” He breaks off with a shrug. “I don’t
know what all, but it’ll probably be important.”

“What about my mom? She’ll know all
this.”

I don’t miss the way Ryan’s hands still on
the carton. Cheyenne makes herself busy opening the bottle of wine,
grunting when she has trouble twisting the screw into the cork.

“What?” I ask. Ryan’s shoulders are tense. I
walk over, grabbing his arm. “What? Tell me.”

He turns, apology on his face. “I tried
calling her this morning. Again. And still couldn’t get hold of
her.” Before I can say anything, he continues. “It’s not something
to worry about yet. She said she wasn’t coming back until sometime
this week and I know she wanted space. Time away. She probably just
has her phone off.”

“What if…” My stomach churns. “What if Logan
did something? What if‒”

“Your mom’s fine,” Cheyenne says, still
fighting with the wine bottle. “She knows how to take care of
herself.”

I thought I knew how to take care of myself,
too, but that was before I had to battle against a vampire. But my
mom’s known about vampires and more for a lot longer.

“She can use fire like me, right? Or is
that…” I shake my head. “Not how it works?”

Ryan strolls over and grabs the bottle from
Cheyenne, effectively opening it in ten seconds. He passes it back
and sets a hand on my shoulder. “Every witch works best with one
element. Your mother’s is Earth. But the ones who can project fire,
like you‒the Keepers of the Flame‒those are the ones who can wield
all the elements. And the ones who did the spell in the first
place. That’s why Logan needs you to break it. Your mom left town
because her being here with the rest of us starts the first cycle
of the spell being broken, but it takes a Keeper of the Flame to
officially end it.”

It all falls on me. I sink into a chair at
the table. Cheyenne puts a glass of wine in my hand soon after, and
Ryan sets a plate in front of me. He settles cartons of Chinese
food in the middle and grabs himself a beer before joining us.

“Eat,” Cheyenne encourages.

When I don’t move, she scoops a spoonful of
rice onto my plate. Then she follows up with some lo mein and keeps
going until my plate is overflowing.

Ryan reaches under the table and curls his
fingers around mine. “You escaped a vampire’s house and somehow
transported your ghostly self to me all over the town. You can do
this.”

He gives my fingers a squeeze. I nod. He’s
right. I can do this. I have to.

I find a set of chopsticks and lift a piece
of saturated broccoli to my mouth.

“Earth,” Cheyenne says. “That’s usually the
easiest element to start working with.”

“How do you know?”

“I do my research, too. I have journals from
my ancestors, though there’re not a lot of specifics about
witchcraft, but I’ve learned some from your mom. Earth is
easiest.”

I glance around. “So, what am I supposed to
do? Make a plant grow in the kitchen?”

Ryan smirks. He stands, fills a glass with
water at the sink, and then returns to the table. “Here. Start with
water instead. Freeze it or something.”

I choke on a laugh. “Freeze it or something?
You
freeze it and tell me how easy it is.”

He gives me a level look but doesn’t say
anything. I frown at Cheyenne. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Try. How do you make the fire appear?”

I sigh. “Get attacked by a vampire‒that
usually works.”

Ryan’s jaw clenches and he makes a noise low
in his throat. It makes him uncomfortable that I was with Logan so
long, long enough for something to have happened, but he doesn’t
know what.

“I’m sorry.” I rub my hands together. “Okay,
yeah, it usually takes an emotional moment, but I’ll still
try.”

“Pretend Logan is here,” Cheyenne
suggests.

My cheeks burn red and Ryan grips his
chopstick tight enough his knuckles turn white.

“I mean it’ll make you angry, right?” She
leans back in her seat and folds her arms. “Do we need to do this
somewhere else, Ryan?”

“No,” he says, focusing on his food.

“Good.” Cheyenne scoots the water to me. “Try
something. Anything.”

I sigh and focus on the water. The glass is
about half full and I concentrate on trying to make it move. Then
make it freeze. Then to make the whole glass tip over.

“Are you concentrating?” Cheyenne asks.

“Yes.”

“On what?”

“Doing something to the water.”

“What specifically?”

I frown. “I don’t know‒anything, okay?
Anything would be good, right?”

“But it probably won’t work if you’re not
focusing on just one thing.”

I squeeze my hands together in my lap, trying
not to snap at her.

“Just try something specific, Willow‒”

“I am!”

And as I say it, we all hear a sharp pop near
the sink. Water explodes from the faucet and shoots from the
sprayer, aiming right at us.

Cheyenne shrieks, although I think it’s in
excitement, and Ryan rushes over to the sink. I stand while he
tries the knobs. When they don’t work, he ducks to the cabinet
underneath and reaches in. After a moment, the water subsides.

I blow out a breath and look at Cheyenne.
Both of us have water dripping from our hair, staining our
clothes.

“Nice.” She wipes water off her cheek. “A
little bigger than doing something with the water in the glass, but
not bad.”

“You provoked me.”

She smiles. “It worked. Now you just need to
figure out how to channel that same emotion each time you need to
do magic. Once you get used to the feeling, it will come more
naturally.”

“Did I break your sink?” I ask Ryan.

Water beads on his hair. His shirt is
speckled with drops and he shakes his head. “Nothing that can’t be
fixed.”

“Do I need to pay for something?” I walk to
the sink, eyeing the faucet as though it might start spraying at me
again.

Ryan laughs. “No.”

“Come on,” Cheyenne says, waving her hand
dismissively, “he fixes houses for a living. He can take care of
this. Let’s clean up the water and then we’ll talk some more.”

We grab towels from the closet upstairs and
start wiping the kitchen. I get the chairs while Cheyenne works on
the floor. “I don’t see how manipulating water or even fire is
going to help us with the spell.”

“I know it seems like a small step,” Cheyenne
says. “But everything you do will matter. It all helps. It will all
help in your ultimate goal.”

I sit back on my heels, watching as Ryan
fiddles with the knob at the sink. “I don’t know if my ultimate
goal is to become some all-powerful witch. I don’t…” I sigh. “I
don’t know if that’s what I want.”

Ryan looks over his shoulder, eyes connecting
with mine. I can read his expression easily, see that he
understands. If he hasn’t used his power for a long time, he knows
how I feel. He gives me a small smile before returning to his
project.

“Don’t worry,” Cheyenne says. “It’ll feel
more natural when you get used to it. Drink more wine.”

So I pick up my glass and do as she
suggests.

~ ~ ~

That night in my dreams, Logan is chasing me.
But it’s not just him, it’s a pack of vampires, all racing after me
through the night. My lungs burn, and my legs are growing numb. It
all feels so real. When Logan snags me around the waist and I see
his fangs, a scream tears from my throat.

“Willow.”

I jerk from my dream, fighting the hands at
my shoulders.

“Willow, stop‒Willow. It’s me.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Ryan,” I
breathe, and slump against him. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“It was just a dream,” he soothes, rubbing my
back. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“It was Logan,” I choke out. Emotion clogs my
throat, and I shake my head, trying to compose myself. “I’m
sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

He smells like soap from his shower after
Cheyenne had left. Soap and some kind of aftershave that’s woodsy
and warm. He’s only wearing pajama bottoms, chest and feet
bare.

I ease back some. “Sorry I woke you up. I
didn’t mean to scream.”

“You didn’t,” he says. He shifts on the bed,
dropping his hands from my shoulders. “I could tell something was
wrong. I could…feel it.”

“The connection.”

He nods, head just a shadow in the dim
lighting of the room. “Sorry. I wanted to make sure you were
okay.”

“I know. It’s okay.” I breathe slowly for a
moment, trying to still my racing heart. “In my dream, Logan was
chasing me. And he caught me. I saw fangs.”

“You’re safe in here, okay?” He reaches out,
fingers brushing the top of my hand. “He can’t get in here. And I
won’t let anything happen.”

His touch sends tingles of warmth up my arm.
Ryan is so different from Logan. Gentler somehow, despite
everything he did to get me to leave. More quiet in his
strength.

“I know you won’t,” I say. “I’m not worried.
It just…it scared me.”

I lean into him when he wraps his arms around
me. His lips brush my hair. “You want me to stay here for a few
minutes?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I’m not
scared anymore, my pulse is racing from him being so close. From my
cheek pressing against his bare chest.

“Ryan,” I whisper. I lift my chin, looking up
to his face, the strength in his jaw.

He tilts his head down. For a long moment
neither of us says anything, then he swoops in, capturing my mouth
with his. His hands are firm and strong when they grip my arms and
haul me closer so I’m almost in his lap.

The covers fall away, and I’m left in a tank
top and a pair of shorts Cheyenne loaned me.

I slide my arms over his shoulders, muscles
tight under my hands. He brushes my hair off my cheek and then
slides his fingers to the nape of my neck, holding me closer. His
other hand skims my ribs and rests just above my shorts on a small
patch of bare skin.

The calluses on his fingers skim my hip and
desire circuits through me. And then I feel the flames. Shit. How
had they snuck up on me so fast?

“Ryan,” I whisper, leaning back. “Hold
on.”

His breath is quick and warm on my cheek. He
squeezes the nape of my neck and shakes his head. “Sorry. Shit‒I
didn’t mean to. It’s too fast‒”

“No, Ryan,” I say, touching his cheek. “It’s
not‒I mean…” God, how do I say this? It’s not you, it’s me? “It’s
the fire. The flames. I can feel them inside. I don’t want to hurt
you.”

He makes a noise that sounds like surprise.
“Oh.”

I laugh, ducking my chin so my hair falls
over my cheek. “I’m trying to control it. But, you know,
emotionally charged moment. I guess, uh…passion counts.”

Although it was a lot stronger than that. I
wanted
Ryan. I wanted his hands all over me. Something about
the cool confidence in his eyes and the vulnerability I saw
earlier…it’s a sexy combination.

“It’s probably better this way anyway,” he
says, releasing my hips. “To take our time.”

I lean back against the pillows, trying to
keep my cool. “Sure. Yeah. You’re right.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says,
voice low. I see the glint of his eyes in the darkness. “Don’t
think that.”

“Okay.”

He shoves a hand through his hair.
“Shit.”

“It’s fine.” I pull the covers up to my
chest. I don’t want him to think he’s obligated to be here for me,
physically as well, just because he’s supposed to be some sort of
protector. “I’m sorry for waking you up‒”

“Hell,” he says, dragging me to him
again.

His mouth is on fire against mine, taking,
taking and offering everything. His hands run under my shirt and
then up to my breasts, cupping them, calluses brushing against my
nipples. I touch his chest, his abdomen, feel his muscles clench
tight when my fingers brush the waist of his pajama bottoms.