The Key (Heartfire)

HEARTFIRE

Book One

The Key

By

Celeste Davis

I can't stop myself from wanting her, and I don't even know her name. Or if she even exists...

Kaylia Thomas has a secret. She can do something no one else can. She can travel in her dreams. Sometimes she even meets other people...

Dylan Westen has it all. He's the richest boy in town and a star athlete with a bright future. But he has a secret. He was only sixteen when the dreams started. He would wake to find a beautiful girl standing above him. Like him, she seemed lost in the desolate worlds they would visit together in their sleep.
 

Now it's two years later and he's the prize catch of an Ivy League football team. He's just starting his freshman year when he sees her- the girl from his dreams. She's a fellow student at the prestigious university. And she's real.

Kaylia resists facing the truth about their connection, but Dylan won't give up. He's not the only one drawn to the quiet beauty though. When he rescues her from a group of rowdy sports fans after a game, it triggers something in him that has been long repressed. A family curse that once awakened, can only lead to blood.
 

Is Kaylia his true love? Or is she the key that unlocks the curse that will be his undoing?

*The Key is the first story in the Heartfire Books, a paranormal romance series from first time author Celeste Davis. It has been completely rewritten and expanded in anticipation of the third book in the series- coming soon from Celeste Davis and Pincushion Press*

Copyright © 2016 Celeste Davis

All rights reserved.

For Maggie and JoAnn

Chapters

Chapter One
♋

Chapter Two
♘

Chapter Three
☼

Chapter Four
☽

Chapter Five
☿

Chapter Six
✧

Chapter Seven
♐

Chapter Eight
✪

Chapter Nine
⚔

Chapter Ten
♒

Chapter Eleven
♈

Chapter Twelve
☈

Chapter Thirteen
♅

Chapter Fourteen
♆

Note from the author

Excerpt from
The Hidden
- book two in the Heartfire Trilogy

Excerpt from
Second Sight
- also from Pincushion Press

Chapter One
 

Kaylia

♋

Each night it began the same way. She'd rise from her bed and stand, still wearing her soft nightgown. It was soft and threadbare from being washed more times than she could count. Like her, it was perfectly ordinary and familiar. Her bedroom looked the same, her house, her street.

But everything was different.

She'd take a step, and then another, her feet never quite touching the ground. She climbed out of the window, barely feeling the curtains as they brushed her shoulders. She would stand on the pitched roof, feeling the cool night air on her face.

And then she'd step off into nothingness.

And fly.

She did not fly like a bird. It was more like she had springs in her legs and a loose tether to this world. Gravity had little sway over her. In the night, she did not bow to it's rules. Each step would take her ten to twelve feet. Sometimes she would rise twenty feet or higher.

And sometimes she'd blink and be in another place.

Of course, you couldn't
really
blink in dreams.
 

She knew that. She was a rational human being. Even in the dreams she knew that.

The world followed certain rules and you had to obey them. Red meant stop. Green meant go. Girls didn't fly or leap or travel hundreds of miles to visit a beautiful boy that made her heart flutter and her breath catch.

You didn't actually breathe in dreams. Your pulse didn't really race. You didn't fall in love.

Only that wasn't entirely true. She knew because she had felt all those things. And more.

On certain nights, she'd find herself going to the same familiar house in the same sleepy town. She didn't know where it was, or what the town was called. She knew it was near the sea, with a sandy coast and the tang of salt in the air. She'd never been there in her waking life, but she often found herself staring up at his window in her dreams.

The boy she visited. She'd never met him before. He wasn't an actor or someone she'd seen on TV. She knew because she'd tried to find him.
 

She'd been searching for him for years. It wasn't easy with so little to go on. But every now and then, she'd try all the same.

Just to figure out if she was crazy.

Some nights she would blink and find herself on his roof. It was a big house with large white columns, set in the middle of vast manicured lawns. Then she'd be in his bedroom, staring down at him. He was a restless sleeper, often tangled up in the sheets, his hair falling over his eyes.

Her hand would press his chest and like her, he would rise. She didn't know his name or how old he was. She didn't know if he was real. All she knew was that the stormy dark blue of his eyes reminded her of the sea.

The sea... she'd never seen in it person. But she knew it well from the dreams. The cool sand beneath her bare feet. The salty smell. The vastness of the ocean.

They'd often go there together and watch the night sky. She would take his hand and they would be there, listening to the waves crash on a deserted beach. He was always startled by the sudden leaps to a new location. She was used to it and could control it sometimes, though it was never an entirely conscious decision. She knew on some level that she was dreaming so she never panicked when she found herself someplace new.

She was sure of herself in the dreams in a way she never was when she was awake. Or at least she was until he kissed her. She could still feel his hands where they had pressed her cheeks, guiding her towards him. His lips had felt so real, so hot that they almost scalded her.

That had been last night. The dream had stuck with her even longer than usual, the vivid memory of the kiss keeping her distracted and tense while she packed her meager belongings.

Most people forgot their dreams. But Kaylia never did.

Especially not this one.

After all, it was her very first kiss.

Dylan

♋

Dylan stood in the doorway to his new room. It was spacious, with a full-sized bed, dark wood desk, and dresser. A window overlooked the woods that bordered the school. As a member of the University football team, he was given special housing on a separate part of the campus.
 

Really nice housing.

Of course, he was used to really nice housing. His family home was a two-hundred year old mansion, even if his parents refused to call it that. The three of them rattled around the estate, hardly ever bumping into each other except for meal times.

This would be different. For the first time in his life, he'd be living in close proximity with other people his own age. The only people under thirty in his parent's house were servants.

But here, he had roommates.

Right next door, knock on the wall if you need something, probably going to be annoying as hell roommates.
 

Still, he couldn't lie. Dylan was more than a little excited to be here. For once in his life, he wouldn't be the heir to the richest family in the state. No one knew who he was.

Here he was just another student. An athlete, but still. He was practically normal.

Each player was in a suite with three other teammates. They had private rooms with a central living room and a large kitchen on one side of the room. They even had their own en suite bathrooms, along with a powder room.

Dylan was vaguely aware that the rest of the student population did not live like this. Especially not the Freshman. After Sophomore year you could move off campus, but only the richest students could afford anything like the townhouses the athletes got.
 

Well, not
all
the athletes.

The best housing was reserved for the football team.
 

It was a football school and the players were treated like kings. And Dylan knew he was their prize catch for the year. He'd been told he was going to get field time in almost every game, to prep him to take over as lead quarterback next year as a Sophmore.
 

His future was mapped out for him. He was at an top tier school. He had a bright career in either sports or business ahead of him. Maybe both.

Everything was being handed to him on silver platter.

He should be ecstatic.

But as usual, something was missing. And not something he could tell anyone else about. Nobody would understand. Even worse, they would think he was crazy.

He'd never told anyone about it. Any of it. He'd never even considered mentioning the gaping hole he felt inside him. The hole that only one, impossible thing could fill.

Her.

The girl from his dreams. The beautiful girl with the big brown eyes that seemed to stare right through him. The touch of her hand when she woke him at least once a week for the past several years. And her lips... he'd been dreaming about her for years but only last week had he dared to kiss her.

What a kiss it had been.
 

Dylan had girlfriends in real life of course. He was rich, good looking and by far the best athlete his hometown had seen in a decade. Girls fell into his lap with an almost annoying frequency. But he'd never been too invested in anything romantic.

Not while he was awake anyway.

On some level, he knew it wasn't fair to compare them to her delicate, ethereal beauty. But he couldn't help but notice these real, flesh and blood girls seemed silly and superficial next to the sad eyed beauty from his sleeping life. And to him, it really
was
a whole other life.
 

Dylan knew that other people didn't dream like he did. Nowhere near as extensively and nowhere near as vividly. His dreams were almost brighter than real life somehow. More substantial. It wasn't every night though. Only when she was there.

"Dyl? Want to help me with this buddy?"

His dad called to him from the street where he was unloading the van they'd rented to get Dylan's stuff up. Not a grubby old moving van, either. No, this one was bright white and practically brand new.

His mother had gone all out as usual. A new laptop, an easy chair with an ottoman, a desk chair, and thousand thread count sheets with matching quilts and blankets. There were throw pillows and a rug to 'tie it all together.' She'd even packed some artwork, tastefully framed posters of places they'd travelled and a few of the old rock bands that Dylan loved.

It was going to look like an interior design magazine's version of a college dorm room.

He grimaced. He did not want to be labeled as a spoiled rich boy on day one. His parents had over done it as usual. They meant well though. And he could always tone it down later. He ran down the stairs to help.
 

Dylan was nothing if not a dutiful son.

Chapter Two

Kaylia

♘

It was drizzling as Kaylia peered eagerly out the dirty window. The bus pulled to a stop in front of a dingy bus depot. She leaned forward, her forehead nearly pressed against the glass. It was a gray, chilly day for September, but nothing could dampen her spirits.

Or
soothe the small knot of nerves in the pit of her belly.

This was it. She was here at long last. Her first day at college. It didn't matter that she was stiff and in sore need of a shower after 18 hours on a smelly old bus. She was no longer the odd girl from the edge of a tiny, backwater Louisiana town. She was not the girl whose mother had run off. She was not the one in everybody else's hand-me-downs.

As of today, Kaylia could be anyone she damn well wanted to be.

It was pretty much the best day of her life.

She stood on the sidewalk with her bags at her feet, looking around. There was a grubby old coffee shop and a few low rent looking storefronts. But to her, it was all exciting.
 

You would think the bus would stop directly in front of the college, considering the school was the top draw for the town, but no. The University was at the edge of town, far from the gritty downtown area where the bus let out.

Well, it was a large town or a small city. She wasn't really sure which. But for the next four years, it was home.

Either way it was already way more glamorous than where she'd come from. If she had her way, she would never be going back except to see her Gran. Never for any longer than a quick visit. This was the start of her new life.

The new Kaylia.

She heaved her second-hand backpack over her shoulders. Inside it were her prized possessions: her favorite pillow and a sketchpad. Her two escape vehicles. One for drawing and one for dreaming.

The ancient duffle bag contained two pairs of jeans, a handful of t-shirts, two button downs, a cardigan and a jean jacket that was a little on the tight side. Actually
everything
was a little tight across the chest these days, what with her bosoms coming in late. That had facilitated a last minute trip to the local thrift shop. All the unstained shirts happened to be in the men's section, so that's what she had. Her Gran had taken up the sleeves for her so she wasn't swimming in them. Other than her underthings and a couple of nightgowns, that was all she had brought.