From Burning Ashes (Collector Series #4)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “I’m all right.” I took a tentative step toward him as if approaching a cornered animal. “And if you haven’t noticed, I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can.” He curled his hands into fists.

  I reached out, taking a hand in mine, straightening his fingers.

  “But you’re still mad?”

  “I’m not mad at you.”

  “No, you’re mad at yourself. Because once again you felt you weren’t there for someone you care about and they got hurt.”

  In one night, the ghosts of both our pasts came back to haunt us. I could only imagine him standing there, watching the room go up in flames with me limp and bleeding in his arms.

  Ryker stiffened under my touch, his eyes sliding to the side.

  “Do you think my rape was my fault?”

  He jerked violently back to look at me with softness in his eyes. “What? No!”

  “Then why do you think what happened to you is your fault?”

  “Those are two completely different things,” he rumbled.

  “The acts are, but we were both victims of circumstance. We only have control over ourselves, not others. You couldn’t have prevented it any more than I could. We can spend the rest of our lives with what-ifs and being afraid of it happening again, or we can let ourselves off the hook.

  “Last night I forgave myself,” I continued. “I always felt if I were stronger, if I fought back, if I weren’t such a bad girl it wouldn’t have happened. But you showed me that punishing myself only gave him more strength. I was playing the victim. Now it’s your turn to forgive yourself.”

  His body was rigid, but his shoulders slowly sank, letting the anger leak out. His hand trembled slightly in mine.

  “Let the ghosts go.” I took another step to him, pressing the back of his hand to my lips. “Let me in.”

  A groan erupted from him, his fingers ran under my jaw, tilting my head back before his lips crashed down on mine. The kiss was first filled with pain and anger, but soon it slowed down, deep and exploring.

  It detonated something inside me. Love. Complete and unconditional. I knew I had fallen in love with him, but now it embedded itself so deep in my soul, I couldn’t breathe. This was something new to me. It should have felt foreign or scary, but it didn’t. Not with Ryker.

  He grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it gently over my head, leaving me only in my underwear.

  “I need to get this blood off me first,” I mumbled against his mouth, my hands running through the braids on either side of his head, releasing them from their binds. His hair fell down, brushing his shoulders.

  “How about during?” His mouth never left mine as we made our way to the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it.

  He leaned past me and turned on the shower. I undressed him, peeling away his jacket, sticky shirt, and jeans, which fell to the floor after he kicked off his boots. He broke the kiss to trail his lips down my chest, paying extra care and attention to all my healing wounds. His fingers crept between my skin and my underwear and slipped them slowly down my legs. Every nerve ending exploded at his touch. I stepped out of them, moving back into the shower, where warm water made a blissful cascade down my bruised frame.

  He climbed into the tub, sliding the curtain closed. My heart thumped, watching trails of water descend down his body. His hands slid up my thighs, curving over my sides. He turned me around, pressing his chest into my back as he grabbed the motel shampoo and poured it into his hands. His fingers skated through my hair, massaging my scalp. Dark red water pooled at our feet until it ran clear of blood as he worked through my knots. His hands soothed me as he washed and conditioned my tresses.

  Once my hair was clean, his knuckles glided down my spine, his breath hot on my neck. His teeth skated and nipped up the curve of my neck.

  My breath became rapid. He pulled me closer, his hands slithering over my stomach, moving lower, parting my legs. My palm struck the tile wall, keeping me from falling over.

  “I want you,” I whispered, my free hand running over his hip, pulling his amazing ass closer to me. He was so hard he felt like marble against my lower back.

  “You sure about that? I’ve heard I’m a lot to handle.” He nipped my ear, positioning himself. His tip hinting at entering.

  I grinned and inhaled. “I think I can manage it.”

  “I have no doubt of that, but do you want to? Your life is a lot longer now.” His husky voice rippled through me.

  I looked over my shoulder at him. The love I felt for him seemed almost crippling. “Always, Viking.”

  Magic flickered up his tattoo, and he inhaled sharply. He whipped me around to face him. He cupped my face, kissing me so deeply and powerfully I could no longer feel the boundary that separated him from me. He breathed me in, consuming me.

  He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist then lowered me gradually down on him; every cell in me burned. He moved deliberately at first, driving me insane, in a very good way. Neither of us could get close enough, kiss enough, touch enough.

  He shattered me, my body trembling, brought me back, and did it over again. And then again.

  We’d had sex several times now, but this was different. I never used or liked the phrase “make love.” It sounded so cheesy and overly sweet and romantic. I wasn’t those things. I was the girl who rolled in the dark. Lived off aggression. Enjoyed it actually. And I liked it in sex too. So did he. With Ryker and me, violence would always be there, nipping at our heels, under the surface of our skin, part of who we were. But this time the passion was healing. Instead of wanting to break or combust, we let the fire take us, consume us, and burn hotter.

  A fire that would never burn out.

  TWENTY

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I opened my eyes, a noise stirring me from my nap. The darkening sky shaded the room in heavy shadows. I sat up, my feet tangling in the sheets. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand and 5:20 flashed back at me. “Hell.”

  “What?” Ryker’s sleepy voice asked. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand.

  “We should start getting ready for tonight. Get something to eat.”

  Ryker flopped back on his stomach, mumbling something into the pillow.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I looked around the room. Where was that sound comin—?

  “Shit!” I didn’t even finish the thought before I stood. I grabbed Ryker’s new shirt, which had been tossed on the floor along with the comforter, and shoved it on, jogging to the bathroom door.

  I swung the door open, and beneath guilt-laden eyebrows, I gazed at six inches of pissed-off monkey. He sat there with his arms folded.

  “I am so sorry, Sprig.”

  “You locked me in the bathroom. Again,” he huffed at me. Technically he wasn’t “locked in.” The bolt hung on the inside, and he could have easily unlatched it, but that wasn’t what he meant.

  I put my face in my hand. “I feel awful.”

  When we moved from the shower to the bedroom, Ryker quickly rolled Sprig up in a towel, placing him and Pam in the bathroom.

  “We left you a granola bar.” I shrugged, shamefaced.

  “You think that makes it okay to confine me in a bathroom with no windows? I couldn’t even escape outside.”

  “No.” I dropped my head.

  “I’m just kidding. Being locked up with a granola bar is like my ideal night.” He chirped and ran past me to the bedroom. “Hey, seal clubber, it’s time to put the weapon away or PETA will start protesting.” Sprig jumped on the opposite bed, then leaped to the table by the window. Three new packets of honey sat on the surface.

  “Oh no.” I ran for him, but he tore into them before I reached him, sucking on all of them at once. Ryker had already let him have four beforehand. “Sprig, let me have them.” I held out my hand.

  He shook his head.

  “Sprig.” Shit. It turned out I did have a “mom” voice. I reached for them, and he sp
rinted off the table, slipping out of my fingers.

  “Dammit. You know what happens when you eat too much in one day.” I wasn’t really upset; it was more of a game. Sprig twittered as he jumped, leaped, and fluttered all over the room like a trapped bird.

  Then the sugar really kicked in. “Ahhhh!” he screamed, chasing his tail, and knocked the clock off the nightstand. “More. More. More!”

  Ryker smirked when I crossed my arms and cocked my hip to one side. He leaned over the bed, snatched the sprite, and held him in the air.

  Sprig’s legs and arms continued to shimmy as if he was running. “Look in the sky. It’s a pixie. It’s a hummingbird. No it’s Supersprite! Dah-dah-dah! The deity’s warrior of sweet nectar.”

  “It’s more like your kryptonite,” I teased.

  “I need a cape! Ahhhh. Honey, I will save you!”

  Ryker’s white eyes glinted, and he sat up, placing Sprig next to him. He leaned over and grabbed the brand-new package of underwear he had stolen for me. “You want a cape?”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes!” Sprig spun in a circle. “Honey Hero needs a cape!”

  “What are you doing?” My hand went to my laughing lips.

  Ryker tore open the package and grabbed one of the black cotton bikini-style undies. Looping the leg holes together, he slipped it over Sprig’s head. “There. A cape.”

  Sprig went still, his eyes widening, then his body began to tremble. “Oh. My. Gods. This. Is… Awesome!” He zoomed around the bed like a windup toy.

  Laughter heaved out of my tender stomach, and Ryker struggled to keep a straight face.

  “Suuupperrspprriittee,” Sprig sang. “I’m so badass. Like a honey-crunch, double-dipped-doughnut, rolled-in-sugar, fried-in-honey badass. Bees will be my pollen posse.”

  A pair of underwear flew behind him as he zipped around the bed. He was about to leap on Ryker, when his head fell forward, face-planting onto Ryker’s arm. Deep snores vibrated from his little chest, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

  “His superpower is being a pain.” Ryker placed him on the pillow.

  I went to the bathroom and snatched Pam. “Supersprite and his sidekick, Pam the Goat.” I placed her next to him. “Has a catchy ring to it.”

  “Pretty much defines our screwed-up world.”

  I tapped my forehead, chuckling. “Just wait till he adds his honey backpack to the ensemble.”

  “Weirdo.” Ryker winked. “Definitely takes after your side.”

  I sat on the bed, crossing my legs in front of me. Ryker lay on his back, one arm behind his head, the other on my knee, rubbing my leg.

  “What would I do without him?” I watched Sprig sleep. I felt like the Grinch whose heart grew three sizes in one day. My family was so important to me. They were my air, my world. But my family was in pieces, separated. Tonight I hoped that would change.

  “We’ll get her.” Ryker’s fingers moved over my bare skin. He knew without a word what I was thinking. I nodded, pushing back my shoulders.

  “Yes. We will.” There was no room for doubt.

  “Please stay close to me tonight.” Ryker sat up, leaning his head against mine. His damp hair fell loose and tickled my cheek. “I know she is important to you, so she’s important to me.” He inhaled. “But if it’s your life or hers, please don’t hate me later for picking yours. You will always be first, above everyone else.”

  I let my head fall onto his shoulder. How could I hate someone for that? I nodded against him, and I felt him kiss my temple.

  “Okay, let’s find Amara and go over our plans.”

  I sat back as he climbed out of bed, strolling over to the pile of clothes he nicked earlier. I watched the fluidity of his naked figure in awe. This man picked me. Loved me. Sometimes life came out of nowhere and clobbered you, tearing down your preconceived ideas and prejudices, till all you could see was the truth behind the labels.

  I had started out despising fae, treating them like beasts whose lives weren’t equal to humans. Now as I thought of anything happening to the fae standing before me or the one sleeping on the pillow next to me, I could barely stand it.

  “What?” Ryker had stopped, watching me.

  I walked over to him, wrapped my arms around him, and burrowed my head into his chest. He submerged me in his embrace, leaning his chin on my head. We stood there for a long time just holding each other.

  “I’m gonna need that shirt back,” he finally muttered into my ear, his fingers running along the hem, brushing the back of my thighs.

  “Come and get it,” I whispered against his neck.

  He took claim of his shirt and me. Fiercely. Like the end of the world was coming. He made sure everyone in the vicinity heard our passion. While vehement cries tore from my throat, I silently thanked fate for putting this man in my path. For showing me it was okay to love someone so much you almost couldn’t breathe. And more, to let myself be loved in kind.

  ####

  Amara returned thirty minutes later with a greasy pizza. Sprig still snored from the bed as we went over every detail of our raid …at least what Ryker and I could talk about. There was no mention of Lars as the bind blocked our mouths from even hinting. It surprised me a little that Amara didn’t even question our plan. I had no doubt her willingness stemmed mostly from wanting to please Ryker, but I sensed it was also about Vadik. From Ryker’s brief accounts of their capture and what Vadik did to her, I had no doubt he remained the driving force for the both of them.

  “You know our odds are not good with only three of us.” Amara frowned, leaning over the makeshift map of the inside I had drawn from my memory. Ryker did a hasty sketch of the outside, giving Amara the rundown of the guards’ routine. “That person you met? They’re not helping out with this attack, are they?” Her eyebrow curved up questioningly.

  Amara wasn’t stupid. She connected the dots when we came back from some secret meeting, saying we were going to raid Vadik’s warehouse. She knew there was more to the story.

  “The person we went to meet?” Ryker kept his eyes level on hers. “No. We will not be receiving aid from him in this.”

  I wanted to snort. Well played. It technically was true. We went to meet Dunn. He would not be helping us with Vadik. The Unseelie King is, I wanted to scream. At the same time I couldn’t fight a twinge of doubt from forcing its way up. Would he actually follow through? He might have made a deal with us, but he was a demon, a ruthless, extremely powerful one. Demons were not known for being trustworthy or fair. He could be setting us up. For all I knew, he and Vadik were allies.

  It didn’t make sense. Why didn’t he just take the stone from me the night he kidnapped us? Maybe he didn’t feel it? That seemed unlikely, but I really didn’t know. I knew I had to go forward. Enough sitting and talking; it was time to act.

  “It’s not three. It’s four.” Sprig popped up from the pillow as if he had been awake the whole time, the underwear trailing behind him.

  “You’re not coming with us. You’ll just get in the way.” Amara leaned back in the chair, sipping her soda.

  “Excuse me, huckleberry witch. Who are you to tell me I can’t go? I’m an important part of this team.”

  “What the hell are you wearing? Is that underwear?”

  “Cape.”

  “It’s gross.”

  “They’re new.” I shrugged.

  She glared at me, shaking her head.

  Sprig sat on the edge of the bed, holding up his hands. “You all need me. I’ve got magical fingers. Pam tells me so. One of my superpowers.”

  “Wow.” I slapped my hand on my face. “So many dark, bad images.”

  “Thought you said that was my magical power?” Ryker mumbled into my ear, his eyes sparking with mischief.

  “Ugh. Please.” Amara’s nose crinkled. “Stop before I vomit all over. I can barely sit in this room. It’s saturated with sex.”

  I wasn’t one bit sorry about that. My mind drifted briefly to what we did in this room af
ter the shower. I smirked. If she only knew how we used that chair, she would not be sitting in it. Nor would she touch the dresser, the table, or either bed.

  “I’m more needed than you are.” Sprig leaped on the table near me. “We should leave you behind. How about in the dumpster with the other dead body? It is put-out-the-trash day, right, Bhean?”

  “Shut up, freak,” Amara spat back. “Why don’t you go get some of the honey packets they got you and see if any of them are poisoned?”

  Sprig made a huge gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Hmm…would I do something like that?” She tapped her lips and tilted her head, a cruel smile on her mouth.

  Sprig’s fingers clasped over his mouth in shock, then he tore across the table for her.

  “Whoa!” Ryker snatched him off the counter the moment he scampered past.

  “Let me down!” Sprig twisted and clawed, still reaching for Amara. “That witch needs to be taught a lesson.”

  Amara burst out laughing. “You’re going to teach me a lesson? You’re wearing underwear around your neck and carry around a stuffed animal.”

  A high-pitched cry came from Sprig. “Let me down!”

  “No.” Ryker cupped his hands around him, cocooning him. Sprig immediately quieted down, but his chest heaved with panting.

  “But how can she even tease about that?” he whimpered. “You don’t mess with honey. It’s just wrong.”

  “I know,” Ryker spoke quietly, his voice rumbling and soothing.

  “You hear that, purple she-devil? Respect the honey.”

  “Sprig?” Ryker said. “Calm down. She didn’t touch the honey.”

  “It’s okay?” His voice sounded full of hope.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh good.” Sprig barely got that last word out before his head fell back, his mouth opened, and snores stormed out. The mere thought of ruined honey caused too much stress. And with the overdose of sugar today, he was sleeping more than he was awake. I lifted an eyebrow at Ryker as if to say, See, what did I tell you? You never listen.