Burned

by Kensie King

  “Link?” Dylan asked at the same time my mouth came open to argue.

  Grace shrugged. “Nickname.”

  “But I—”

  “I like it.” Dylan glanced at me with a grin.

  Except he didn’t know that was what Gage called me.

  “Hold on,” I tried again.

  “Suits you,” Grace said with a grin.

  “Okay, stop.” I held up a hand. “You think Chinese food and a glass of wine is just…what? Suddenly going to enable me to do magic?”

  “I think,” she said, pouring me a glass, “that being a witch is what’s going to enable you to do magic. The rest is just to help you relax.”

  “Ha.” I shook my head and appealed to Dylan. “My kind of magic involves fire. What we’re going to need is a fire extinguisher.”

  Dylan set his hand on the lip of the counter, close enough I could feel the warmth of it by my hand. “She’s right. Being relaxed will help. And it’s not only the fire you need to learn how to control. You need to learn spells. You need to learn the basics, so you understand how to do those spells. It should help.”

  “But what about my mom? Can’t she do these things?”

  When she got back, I’d let her handle all the magic. Made more sense than me trying to control something that had only controlled me thus far.

  Silence filled the room. Dylan sat at the table and lifted a carton of rice while Grace sipped her wine.

  “What?” I asked. When Dylan didn’t answer, I reached out to touch his arm. “Tell me.”

  He sighed. “It’s nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing. I called her this morning—and again a little later but I didn’t reach her.” I started to respond but he shook his head, his eyes softening. “I wouldn’t worry. She told me she probably wasn’t going to be back until sometime this week, and I know she needed the break. Some space. She probably just turned off her phone.”

  I digested this with a frown. He was right, it didn’t make sense to worry. If she was anything like me—which I had no clue—but if she was, she did like her space. Sometimes I didn’t get back to people for days. I liked to be on my own. It sounded like she enjoyed the same thing.

  Grace nudged my wine closer with her hand. “Your mom is fine. She’s a strong woman and she knows how to take care of herself.”

  That was what worried me. I was confident I knew how to take care of myself, too, until a vampire came into the picture. But I had to remind myself that my mom knew about vampires long before I did. She had a chance to prepare.

  “So…” I stared at my plate for a long moment, thinking this through. But then I realized it made more sense just to jump into it all. If my mom wasn’t here right now, it was up to me. “Does my mom work with fire too? Just like me?”

  Grace gestured to the food, indicating I should start eating while she talked. “Every witch works best with one element. Your mom is one with the earth. You can project fire—which makes you rare. A Master of the Flame.” Her gaze flicked to Dylan. “And that’s why Gage needed you. Only a Master of the Flame can do a spell as powerful as what he wants. A Master of the Flame is the one who did the spell in the first place—and he or she can also control the rest of the elements. You are the quintessential witch.”

  That didn’t sit well with me. I hadn’t asked to be a witch in the first place, let alone one of the most powerful. It should have made me feel stronger, but in a way it made me feel more vulnerable.

  Get it together, Link. This is your life now.

  “So my mom left town because her being here with the rest of you started the first step of the spell being broken,” I said. Dylan nodded. “But only a Master of the Flame can…”

  “Officially stop it for good,” he said. “That’s right.”

  He stood and got a beer while I sat in silence for a long moment. Well, fuck. That put a lot on my shoulders. But backing away from a challenge was taking the easy way out.

  “Eat something,” Grace suggested.

  And with nothing else to do, I did what she said.

  Under the table, I felt something on my hand. Dylan’s fingers. He gave them a squeeze before eating as well.

  All right. So I had people on my side. Better than knowing no one or nothing about who I was.

  “Tell me more,” I said to Grace.

  “Right. So earth is the easiest element to start working with. You’re already connected.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  She smiled. “I work in a library. What else am I supposed to do with my day? I research, I learn. I prepare—which I’m glad I did. We hoped this day would never come, but it was a possibility.”

  I glanced at Dylan, but his face remained passive. I wondered if he’d prepared for this day. If he didn’t know how to control his powers, was it because they were as sporadic and confusing as mine or he just didn’t want to go there?

  “I’ve learned from your mom,” Grace continued. “She gave me journals from some of your ancestors.”

  “All right. What do I do?” I pointed to the center of the table. “Make a plant grow here or something?”

  Dylan grinned and shoved a glass of water to the middle of the table. “Here. Do water first. Freeze it. Or make it boil or something.”

  I snapped my fingers. “Just like that? Are you crazy? You make it boil.”

  He laughed. “Not up to me.”

  I frowned at him. His eyes locked on mine for a long moment. At least we could take these moments of levity. Or else the entire situation would seem totally fucked.

  “Listen,” Grace said. “You have the ability within you. You just have to learn how to channel it. How do you make the fire appear?”

  “Getting attacked by a vampire seemed to do the trick,” I mumbled.

  Dylan glared at me, making it clear he didn’t find that funny.

  “Pretend Gage is here, then,” Grace said.

  This time Dylan stood from his seat and leaned against the counter, his arms folded. Well, look at that. He really didn’t like Gage. Or he really didn’t like the idea of me being around Gage, which might have been closer to the mark.

  But then thinking about Gage didn’t make me comfortable either. In fact, heat worked its way into my cheeks, and not the kind of heat I was looking for. Not the kind that meant flames were going to shoot from my fingertips. No, this was embarrassment and also from the memory of what he’d done to me. His mouth on my body. The rush of pure desire when he’d kissed me.

  “Do you want us to do this somewhere else, Dylan?” Grace asked.

  He frowned at her. “No.”

  “Good.” Grace slid the water closer to me. “Try to do something.”

  This was absurd. Do something. Like what? What the hell was I supposed to do with a glass of water? But I indulged her because I had to start somewhere. I concentrated on the glass, focusing on the contents inside. It was about half full of water, so first I tried to make it move. Then I figured maybe boiling was easier because I was good with heat. It didn’t work. I forgot the water and tried to make the glass tip over instead.

  “You’re concentrating, right?” Grace asked.

  “Of course.”

  “What are you concentrating on?”

  “Doing something to the water, like you said.”

  “Nothing’s happening.”

  I broke my concentration and looked at her. “Thank you for pointing that out.”

  She gave me a gentle smile. “Sorry. It’s probably hard to focus when I’m talking to you.”

  “You think?”

  She smirked, which just irritated me more. This wasn’t as simple as it seemed. “So, concentrate—”

  “I am. Was. I am concentrating.”

  “Okay, and focus on the water—”

  “I am!”

  Just as I said it, a sharp pop sounded at the sink. Water exploded from the faucet and shot from the sprayer, arcing into the air.

  Grace shrieked and stood with a laugh, and Dylan
reached for the knobs. When moving them didn’t turn off the water, he ducked to the cabinet underneath and leaned in. After a moment, the water stopped.

  Grace’s eyes met mine in wonder. “Not the water in the glass, but definitely water.” She wiped a drop from her cheek. “Not bad.”

  “You provoked me.”

  “Exactly.”

  Dylan looked up from where he was crouched on the ground. He had droplets of water in his hair and on his cheeks. Part of me wanted to reach out and wipe them away. To share this small victory with him.

  “That emotion,” he said. “That’s the emotion you need each time you’re trying to do magic. Channel it, remember it, and every time you want to do magic, you’ll understand what it takes.”

  “Did I break your sink?”

  He stood and shook his head. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  “You sure?”

  He fiddled with the knob but nodded. “Yes. I do this for a living, in case you forgot.”

  I smiled at him. “No, I didn’t.”

  Grace grabbed my wine and passed it to me. “Drink more and then we’ll try again.”

  I shared another look with Dylan but did as Grace suggested and downed my wine before we decided on another magical task.

  #

  That night, I dreamed about Gage chasing me. And not just Gage, but a whole pack of vampires running after me in the dark of the night. I could feel the burn in my lungs, the weariness in my legs. Panic was making me pant, making it hard to get away. Then Gage snagged me around the waist, whipping me around.

  And then I could only see one thing.

  Fangs.

  “Link.”

  I jerk out of my dream, my hands flying out to ward off the ones holding my shoulders.

  “Lincoln, stop. It’s me. It’s me,” a soothing voice said.

  “Dylan?” I slumped against him, still fighting the dregs of the dream and my sudden drop into reality. My throat was raw, almost like I’d been screaming in my sleep. Mortification rushed through me. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

  Dylan didn’t answer that, only rubbed his thumbs on my arms. “You’re okay. It was just a dream.”

  I swallowed hard. A dream that was frighteningly real. So real I could still feel the raw terror rushing through me. My need to escape.

  “What was it?” Dylan asked softly.

  “Gage,” I choked out. Then I shook my head, realizing what I’d just done. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  “God, Lincoln…” Dylan peered into my face. “You don’t have to pretend everything is okay. Not with me.”

  Normally, I would have brushed off his concern. But that was part of the old Link, the one who could just walk away from a situation if it got too rough. Or who’d laugh in the face of fear because hardly any of those things I used to write about were real.

  But now they were.

  “I know,” I said, voice hoarse. “I was dreaming about Gage. He was chasing me and—there were others.”

  “Others?”

  “Other vampires.”

  Dylan exhaled softly, and I finally took a good look at him. He smelled like soap from his shower earlier, and some sort of aftershave that reminded me of the woods. Not the dark, scary ones Gage chased me through, but ones that held light. Promise.

  He was only wearing pajama bottoms, chest and feet bare.

  Realizing how close he was, that he was sitting on the bed with me, I straightened. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “You didn’t. I was already awake.” His hands dropped from my arms. “I could feel something was…off.”

  “Our connection.”

  He nodded and looked down, making the glint from his eyes vanish. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine now. Just a dream.”

  His hand moved across the comforter and then his fingertips brushed mine. “Gage can’t get in here and it’s my job to protect you. I won’t let anything happen.”

  Dylan’s touch was warm and strong, so different from Gage’s. He was comfort and assurance while Gage was speed and lightning. Right now, I needed that quiet strength.

  “I know you won’t,” I said, drawing even more comfort from that. It was in Dylan’s blood to protect me, and he was serious about his job.

  His breath eased out, touching my lips. I hadn’t realized he’d leaned in. Or that I was straining in that direction as well.

  “Dylan,” I said quietly, looking at his face. Noting the strength in his jaw, appreciating his straightforward look. His eyes didn’t turn black like Gage’s. They stayed a steady shade of green, and right now I was drowning in them.

  His hand moved up my arm at the same time his mouth met mine. His lips were surprisingly soft. They moved in a rhythm against mine, making a groan break free from my throat. I shifted on the bed to ease closer. Dylan helped by swiveling to sit against the headboard and practically hauling me in his lap.

  Fuck, that was hot.

  So was the idea of getting lost in kisses and touching and forgetting all about the dream.

  My heart rate picked up, spiking at the feel of his callused hands on my arms, sliding under the soft cotton of my T-shirt.

  I shoved aside the covers and then straddled him, placing my palms against his chest so I could feel the solidness there. The strength.

  Dylan squeezed one hand on my hip and the moved the other to the nape of my neck, holding me closer. My mind whirled with emotions and my body molded to his, curving against him. He slid his fingers under the waist of the pajama bottoms I wore, warm flesh against warm flesh.

  Desire raced through me, followed by the quick flash of flames. Shit. No. Not now. I wasn’t in danger. I wanted this.

  But they wouldn’t go away. They simmered inside, making me freeze.

  Dylan stopped with his mouth on my cheek. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I just need…a minute.”

  His eyes locked on mine. “Sorry. It’s fast, I know—”

  I laughed, though it sounded pained. “Trust me, that’s not it. I want this but…” God, how was I supposed to explain it? “I can feel the fire inside. The flames. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”

  “Oh. Oh,” he said again, understanding tinging his voice. He also sounded relieved. “I get it.”

  “It’s an emotionally charged moment, and I guess my body is conditioned to respond this way.” Since it had responded this way in the past when I’d had adrenaline and anything from fear to passion circuiting through me.

  His fingers squeezed on my hips briefly before he nodded. His cock twitched and I felt it through the material of our pajamas, making me groan inside. Why now?

  Before I could lean in again, he said, “It’s probably better this way, right? You know, to take our time.”

  No. But he was right. Dylan and I had been brought together through extreme circumstances. It was hard to tell whether real feelings were involved here or we both just needed that outlet, the comfort of human touch.

  “Right,” I said, getting off his lap, though it killed me to do so. He looked so sexy sitting there in the darkness, chest bare, hair rumpled, concern and tenderness written all over his face. “Take our time.”

  He gripped my hand, linking his fingers with mine. “Don’t get me wrong—it’s not that I don’t want this. Please don’t think that.”

  “I won’t.”

  He made a sound of frustration low in his throat and shoved a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

  “What—”

  But my words were cut off with his kiss. He moved so he could lean over me, pin me to the bed with his body. Suddenly, his mouth was like a fever against mine, growing hotter the longer we connected. His free hand slid under my shirt, running up my chest and then moving back down to my abdomen. My cock jerked to attention.

  Dylan’s body rocked against mine, pressing his hips against me and turning me on even more. I reached down to palm his erection through his
thin pants. And, God, he was huge. So hard he could spear me in one giant thrust.

  I arched against him…

  And then flames.

  I froze, holding still as Dylan’s mouth made a slow descent over my jaw and to my neck.

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

  A laugh lodged in my throat. “I’m trying.”

  “Fuck,” he said once more. But he removed his hand from under my shirt and set it gently on my arm. “Okay. Slow, right?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Amusement sounded in his voice. “Don’t be. I like anticipation.”

  “Liar.”

  He laughed. “It’s fine. You’re learning how to control it. This will give you incentive.”

  True.

  “I don’t want this to happen every time I’m near you.” I met his eyes. “I want to kiss you without hurting you. I want to touch you—”

  He cleared his throat before I could continue. I could tell he was still aroused, and if the connection between us was as strong as he’d said, I’m sure he could feel my arousal, too. “We’ll just have to practice, right?” he asked, humor in his voice. “If that means making out with you every night until you build up a tolerance, I guess it’s just a sacrifice I’m going to have to make.”

  Laughter filled the room. “Brave man.”

  He laid down next to me and rested his hand on my hip when I turned to face him. “It’s not that. It’s… So I told you about the connection.”

  “Yes.”

  “It draws me to you. But not just because of that—it’s like I knew you before you got here,” he said.

  “How’s that?”

  He watched my hand as I ran my fingers over his arm, content with touching him like this for now. “Your mom told me a little about you—she kept track of you as you went through life.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “And…”

  “What?”

  He looked up. “I sort of had a dream before you got here. About you.”

  “What?” I asked again, surprised.

  Dylan shrugged. “I think it’s because of the whole protection thing—how I’m supposed to be protecting you. So I dreamed about you and…” He cleared his throat. “That was part of the reason I treated you so shitty when you got here. I didn’t want this—any of this—to be true. But…between that and the connection after you projected yourself to me, I feel even closer.”