Igniting the Flame (The Ignited Girl Series Book 2)

by EJ Everette

  Igniting the Flame

  The Ignited Girl Series

  EJ Everette

  Contents

  Introduction

  The Ignited Girl Series

  Prologue

  1. Gray

  2. Gray

  3. Gray

  4. Gray

  5. Gray

  6. Gray

  7. Reid

  8. Gray

  9. Gray

  10. Gray

  11. Gray

  12. Gray

  13. Gray

  14. Mitch

  15. Gray

  16. Gray

  17. Chance

  18. Rip

  19. Gray

  20. Gray

  21. Dean

  22. Gray

  23. Gray

  24. Reid

  25. Gray

  26. Chance

  27. Gray

  28. Gray

  29. Gray

  30. Gray

  31. Mitch

  32. Gray

  33. Gray

  34. Reid

  35. Gray

  36. Gray

  37. Dean

  But Wait…

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  WARNING

  This book contains graphic violence, adult language, mild sexual suggestions, and deals in sensitive issues such as abuse, death, and PTSD. Anyone with severe triggers in these categories should proceed with caution. Reader discretion is advised.

  Igniting the Flame is a full-length novel and is book two in The Ignited Girl Series that will be at least five books in length.

  This book is part of a reverse harem series. This means that the female main character will eventually end up with at least five guys. Lucky gal. The series is New Adult due to relationship development, sexual scenes with multiple partners, and dark situations.

  All rights reserved. Any portion of this book may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

  Dedication

  To the tiny human beings I brought into this world (and my bonus one) who refuse to stay small, continuing to grow into the most amazing people I know- May you never forget how mighty you are, seize every opportunity to shine, and feel more love than the world can offer.

  The Ignited Girl Series

  EJ Everette

  IGNITING THE FLAME

  Prologue

  Gray

  Charlie? Charlie!

  I look everywhere, pushing aside the pieces of burnt, destroyed home all around me. Some of them fall heavy, thumping to the ground, shaking the room with deafening sounds from their weight. Others merely dissolve into ash, already depleted from the flames surrounding us. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Where is Charlie?!

  In the back corner, under what used to be the staircase leading up to mine and Charlie’s bedrooms, I can hear a faint cough. That must be him. Charlie! The fire engulfs me from every angle, the heat so incredible I can literally feel my insides boiling from the temperature. Still, I have to save him. I have to get to Charlie. I move my way towards the sound, dragging my body through protests of agony until I can just make out the shape of my brother, curled amongst the burning rubble. Oh no! Not Charlie! Leaning over his huddled frame, I reach out for him, gentle but swift, preparing to use whatever strength I may have left to pull him from the heap and get him the hell out of here.

  Just as I wrap my soot covered hand around his frail upper arm, he moves. In the blink of an eye, Charlie turns to face me. Only… Only this isn’t the face of my brother.

  The face before me is gnarled, terrifying, and foreign.

  In my frightened confusion it takes me a moment to realize, gut wrenching screams already propelling from my chest and out my gaping mouth, that this isn’t right.

  This face, the one in the place of where my brother’s should be, is smiling at me in glee.

  1

  Gray

  It took just over a week for me to be able to stay conscious for more than a few hours. Each time, I would wake up with Charlie by my side and some variation of my friends, but no Grams. She was gone. I couldn’t save her. I had somehow saved Charlie, an act I still can’t wrap my head around, but I couldn’t save Grams. The nurse who was just in my room told me that the guys had finally convinced Charlie to get some rest in a real bed, promising to stay nearby until he was ready to come back, but still, the best they could do was get him to sleep in the room adjacent to mine for about an hour or two before he drug himself back to my side.

  The guys.

  I can feel them. Even right this moment, my eyes closed, I know they are all here. Well, everyone except for Mitch. Not sure why he isn’t here right now, but I can sense he isn’t as close as the others at the moment. What the hell does this mean? I mean, I know I have been wondering about the feelings I would get pulsing through my body when they would touch me before, but ever since the fire… ever since Charlie… I can feel them. They have each taken turns running for food, drinks, toiletries, whatever guys need, but only ever one at a time and I can always tell which one. So many questions flood my mind but right now I can’t dwell on them. Today they want me to go home. The nurse told me that, physically, I am able to leave now, my burns treated with very minimal long-term damage.

  “You’re very lucky,” the doctor had told me when she examined me the day before. I have only allowed the staff to know when I am awake at any given time, unable to face Charlie or talk to the guys yet. “Your burns should have and could have been extensively worse. You should feel thankful. Someone was watching over you.”

  The problem is, I don’t feel grateful. I feel hollow. Charlie and I may not have been with Grams for long, but she was our family. The only family we had. Well, the only family who cared enough to love us. She was the first real safe place we knew in so long. She was the smile on my way out the door and the hand gripped tight around mine on the nights we sat outside of Charlie’s room, both helpless as he screamed and cried out in painful sorrow. After years of nothing but ugliness, Grams and her little garden-covered home, were beautiful. What now? Why must there always be so much loss? So much pain. And why could I save Charlie but not her?

  Charlie. Charlie is alive right now. Charlie, who mystified every single physician and nurse who examined him, displaying burnt, crisp clothing but not so much as a red rash to his skin. Charlie, who should be… was… I can’t even think the word. Charlie is alive, and somehow that is because of me. That much I know. The guys know something, too, but I don’t know if I am ready to hear it from them yet. I don’t know if I can accept whatever it is. Because, I know, regardless of what they say happened, I didn’t save the woman who loved us. Just like the countless times I had failed to save my Mom in my dreams over the years. I had failed Grams. I know I should be beyond happy that I have Charlie, no matter what the reason, and I am. Still, the emptiness is all consuming. I steady my breathing, just in case anyone catches on that I am not fully asleep any longer, and hear Mitch come in the room.

  “Well? Anything new?” he says, moving across the room to stand next to Dean who hasn’t moved in days. Out of all of the guys, he is the only one who hasn’t left. I can’t explain how I know this, of course, but I do. Day and night, he has stayed in my room, rarely speaking but always there.

  “What do you think? Do you think we would all be standing here twiddling our damn fingers if there was any news? If suddenly she was awake and better and fucking rainbows were exploding around the room, don’t you think we would be doing something about it?” Oh, Chan
ce. His pain is tight, though confusing to me on so many levels. He came to me, stopped me from going in after Grams, where I most definitely would have died, and then who would have saved Charlie? Chance held me, spoke to me with such reverence as I crumbled in despair. And yet, he hasn’t touched me once since they arrived at the hospital, minutes after I was put in a room by the EMTs. Even Dean has held my hand, rubbed my arm, or touched my face at some point, but not Chance. He walks around angry, snapping at everyone, volunteering to make coffee runs but then never actually leaving the floor. Even with my various states of unconsciousness, I know this. I can feel them all, and any distance between us becomes, well, uncomfortable.

  “Shut the hell up, Chance,” Reid snaps back. Reid has cried a great deal. There is something sweet and soothing about a man crying. Or, at least, I had thought that before. Now, hearing Reid on the verge of tears yet again, the sound of his sadness so sharp and intense, there is nothing soothing about his weeping. “Just shut up! I am so tired of your shit, man!” I can hear them tussling around, tempting me to wake up and see what is happening, when a strong firm voice speaks up.

  “Enough! Both of you. Leave if you cannot control yourself but I won’t have any more of this behavior. Especially not around Charlie. You are both acting beyond insensitive and it's disgusting.” Rip holds so much command and authority in his voice. I imagine he just straightened whatever shirt he is currently wearing in an act of frustration, attempting to restrain himself from responding further to his brothers. He has overseen everyone, coordinating schedules with Leanne, Tanner, and even Finn. I have heard him speaking with the medical staff a few times, communicating in terms I am not familiar with but sound important.

  “Rip, it’s fine,” Mitch speaks up now. He observes so much and I have felt him the most the last few days since I started spending more time like this, alert but not obviously awake, almost as if he and I were connected somehow. “We are all on edge, guys. You have all been screaming at me so much since it happened. We are definitely stronger now, more intune with our gifts, or at least I am. The fuck good that does me right now, I have no idea. Now, I brought some danishes. Charlie, I snagged the last cherry turnover for you. You gotta eat, little dude.”

  Mitch and Charlie have spent a good deal of time talking while I sleep. At first, Charlie didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not surprising with his past. Shit it took him years to warm up to Grams. But somehow, a little bit at a time, Mitch has gotten him to open up. He started off just talking to him. Not expecting Char to answer, just perfectly content to hold a one-way conversation with my traumatized little brother. After a few “chats” about his motorcycles and surfing, Charlie, who likes neither of those things, began to slowly direct the conversation down other avenues. Mitch let him, almost as if he planned for it to happen that way, and soon they were discussing a series of irrelevant low-stakes topics, an action that seemed to be calming Charlie as he sat next to his sister’s bed only days after losing his home and grandmother in a horrific fire.

  I know I am going to have to wake up and see them, speak with them, today. Afterall, I'm going home this evening. Home. What does that even mean right now? Oh my god, what about Charlie? Where will he go? I can’t lose him again, not right now. Not ever. He doesn’t deserve that life again.

  “She is awake again,” Dean whispers out so low I almost missed what he said. Almost. Wait, how can he tell?

  “How awake is awake this time?” Chance whispers back, anger still lacing his voice.

  “Same as she has been the last few times. I don’t get it. Why won’t she just talk to us?” Dean mumbles back. Fuck. They know. They have known this whole time. I can’t even comprehend how, but it doesn’t matter. The charade is over and honestly I just need to get this over with. I take a deeper breath and slowly open my eyes, focusing them on Charlie sitting at my side and avoiding the guys like the pathetic puss I am.

  “Yes, I am awake,” I crumble. Charlie shoots his head up to me, squeezing my hand as a gentle smile paints his face. His very alive face. Tears fill my eyes as I take him in. If I thought Charlie was looking too old before, he is practically ancient now. How in the world does a twelve year old kid have wrinkles around his eyes and mouth? He looks exhausted, deep dark circles have formed pits under his slate gray eyes. He is just a kid and yet here he sits before me with so many demons, so much trauma, my heart tears a little just taking him in. Realizing just how long I must have been staring at my brother, I clear my throat and slowly push myself up to a sitting position. Instantly more sets of hands than I can count are on me, sharing their strength since mine is absent.

  “Hey, Char,” my voice cracks a bit reminding the entire room that I have barely spoken in nine days. I squeeze my brother’s hand back, reassuring him the moment I see panic on his face triggered by my apparent pain. Too young. I shake my head a bit, trying my best to convey to him that it’s not as bad as he thinks, and his shoulders relax ever so slightly. I need to see life in this kid again. I straighten up and make a very obvious gesture to look him up and down. “You look like shit, little brother,” I croak.

  Charlie smiles tenderly for a brief moment before firing back, “You should see yourself, big sister. If I compared your face to an actual pile of crap, I’m not sure, even as your brother, that I would be able to tell the difference. And, you smell.” This gets a giggle out of him as he turns his nose up in disdain. I am 100% positive I hear some of the guys trying to stifle their own laughter as well. Ugh. I probably do look pretty rough.

  Laughing at myself, or at all really, feels good. The ache of missing Grams is real, but sharing even a moment as small as this with Char means everything to me. “I get to go home today,” I tell him. “This means I get to shower so hopefully you won’t have to claim the walking disaster that is this mess for much longer.” I pause, finally looking around the room. The guys all stand back away from the bed I am laying in, giving me some time with Charlie. It’s sweet. As I look over each of them, something warm settles deep inside me. So many questions race across my mind. Say something, Gray. It’s like day one all over again, though, and my mouth is frozen, unable to form even the simplest of words toward them. Omg, how hard is it to just say, “hey guys”?!

  Thankfully, I am interrupted when a knock at my door is followed quickly by an older lady entering the room. I do not recognize her from any of my previously awake moments and she is dressed in a simple pair of white flowy slacks and a floral blouse. She looks to be maybe in her fifties, her red hair streaked with white is pulled into a bun low on her neck.

  “Ah, yes, you are awake. Good,” she addresses me directly as if only the two of us are in the room. “My name is Petra. I am a lawyer hired by Gianna. May we speak in private?” Gianna? Who the hell? Oh, right… Gianna is Grams’ first name. Was.

  “Um, sure,” I look around at the guys and they seem hesitant to leave but one sharp sound from the Petra lady has them grumbling and heading out. Finally, only Dean remains with Charlie and I. “Dean,” I look up at him, finally allowing myself to acknowledge any of them directly. “It’s okay. We aren’t going anywhere. I’m okay. You can wait out there with the rest. Then you can take me home, wherever the hell that might be now, anyway.” I try to smile at him as he stares at me for another moment before giving me a quick nod and walking out without a word. Exhaling I turn to look at the stranger in the doorway.

  “Actually, Ms.Marshall, that is precisely what I am here to discuss with you.” She says, sincerely. “I am here to take you home.”

  2

  Gray

  As it turns out, Grams had taken care of a great many details before… Petra explained to Charlie and I that she had been friends with Gianna for many years. It is so weird to hear her say Grams’ real name but it kind of helps the disconnect so I don’t correct her. Home, as she had called it, is currently Leanne’s house. I don’t mind, especially because Petra tells me Charlie is guaranteed to stay with me for the time being. She even has a
contingency plan in place we are meant to discuss in private to prevent Charlie from being taken from me ever. I like this. She seems like a kind woman, though I find it strange I have never seen or heard of her before. Grams often had ladies at the house for games, gossip, and tea (which we all knew was rum). Petra has never been at any of those get-togethers to my knowledge. Still, she has shown up with nothing but good news so I am happy to have her around for now.

  After she gets me through all of the paperwork for release, she helps me pack up the things I have with me. This literally consists of some flowers and stuffed animals from Finn, Tanner, and Leanne, and a few minor hygiene-related items. Everything else I have ever owned is gone. Leanne, bless her, had left a few articles of clothing behind for me whenever I could get moving, and it took me nearly ten minutes to fit into her tiny stretchy pants which came out more like ankle capris on my longer legs, barely making it over my hips. Charlie took one look at me and laughed so hard he almost cried. I probably would have laughed as well, if I could do more than breathe short gasps of breath without busting out of my fairy-sized bestie’s clothes. Petra just shook her head and handed me a bag, shooing me back into the bathroom in my hospital room. Moments later, free of the bindings of Leanne’s wardrobe, I emerged in loose fitting sweats and a fitted blue tank. Far from luxurious but indeed more comfortable, especially for my still-healing wounds.