by Sharon Kay
Gin’s horrified eyes stayed riveted to the toy. The fire paused for a second and retracted, but not soon enough. The pony’s ribbon mane smoldered, the satin strands melting into ugly clumps. Then the pink fur beneath started to sizzle.
“I’ll get some water!” Brooke dashed out of the room.
Terror squeezed Gin’s heart and tears streamed down her face. The fire looked huge and menacing. Not pretty anymore. It looked lethal. Its edges spread out wider. The pony’s cheap fake fur blackened under the flames, giving off a burned chemical smell.
Oh no, oh no. How had she done that? The last thing she wanted to do was hurt anyone. She only wanted to be like her sisters.
“Gin!” Nicole grabbed her arms and looked into her eyes. “The wind listens to me. Maybe that fire will listen to you. Tell it to get smaller. Or…or think at it. Try it! Try something!”
Gin blinked thorough her tears. This was her fault. Just go away, just go away, just stop, please, she begged silently at the fire.
And as quickly as it had flared up, it abruptly went out. Every flicker, every flame.
Nicole and Gin collapsed on the floor in a heap as Brooke darted back into the room clutching a Big Gulp plastic cup brimming with water. “Oh my gosh, it went out? Thank God!” She set it down and joined them in a sisterly group hug, squeezing tightly.
Gin sobbed and shook uncontrollably, sitting with her sisters for what seemed like hours. They rubbed her back and reassured her that she was okay. But the image of that huge flame burned before her eyes, blocking her sisters’ soft words.
And if her mind ever allowed her to relax, to push the fiery memory away, she still had the pink pony. Gin pushed up in bed so she was leaning against her headboard, her eyes darting to her closet. She’d kept that poor toy as physical evidence, laying hidden in an old shoebox. The thing looked like a bomb victim. With melted polyester globs along its neck, and hard blackened streaks on its back, it was a stark, tangible reminder.
She had done that. She had put her family in danger. Never again.
And she hadn’t tried it. Had never told anyone else. While her sisters occasionally used their unusual talents in secret, Gin never let fire enter her mind. But when high school hit, teen angst and hormones overrode her mental control.
She was walking home from school with Michelle. They’d been friends for a few years and always ended up falling for the same guys. Now their current crush had asked Michelle out, and Gin was jealous. She knew it was immature, but she wished Colby had asked her out instead.
They took a shortcut through an empty park, their sneakers swishing against the grass. Michelle lit a cigarette and prattled on and on about what she was going to wear on their date, and how cute Colby’s dark hair was. Gin muttered some supportive words, but she wanted Michelle to shut her gloating mouth.
“I heard he likes blondes.” Michelle tossed her long pale golden hair over one shoulder. She flicked her red plastic lighter on and off. On and off. It grated on Gin’s nerves. “So that’s probably why he asked me and not you.”
Gin stared at her friend in disbelief. Some guy would pass her by because of her hair color? And Michelle was happy about it? I thought we were friends. Shock and hurt fought for control of her thoughts. Just cut me with a knife, bitch.
Gin’s anger built and she gritted her teeth. Her gaze unconsciously dropped to the stupid lighter. Stupid guy. Stupid date. Bitch friend.
The flame flicked on and flared huge, billowing three feet into the air.
“Shit!” Michelle screamed, dropping the lighter to the ground in front of her.
Gin gaped in horror. Shocked into stillness, she could only stare at the lighter. A tendril of fire licked upward and swayed, seeming to sense…what? Fire isn’t sentient.
Flames spread faster than she could blink. They split and raced in two parallel lines away from the girls, dancing and crisscrossing in the grass.
Oh God, it’s spreading. No, no, no! Icy panic numbed Gin’s arms. Stop!
In the time it took to suck air into her too-tight lungs, the flames died down, leaving a scorched pattern in the green grass.
“What the hell? That could’ve like, killed me!” Michelle shrieked.
“Oh my God.” Gin stared, mesmerized, at the grass. The lines weren’t random. They formed a distinct shape.
Michelle tilted her head, peering at the ground. “What the fuck is that?” She took a step back.
A knife. Black lines seared the ground, outlining a blade. The lighter rested at the tip. The charred drawing pointed to Michelle.
Fighting through a fog of molasses in her head, Gin found her voice. “I don’t know.” What was she supposed to say? You pissed me off and I unconsciously created a fiery knife outline on the ground? “Uh, your lighter must be, like, defective. Are you okay?” She didn’t have to fake the sick feeling in her stomach or the dread weighing on her limbs.
I did this.
The image of the immense candle flame sprung back to her mind. Her sisters could do cool tricks, but she had been cursed. What kind of a freak was she?
“Um, yeah, I’m okay. I guess I threw it away in time,” Michelle said, wrapping her arms around herself. “You look like you’re gonna hurl. Let’s go home.”
Later that night, sitting on her bed with Nicole and Brooke, Gin told them what had happened. Cold apprehension still coursed through her veins as she relayed the events. She couldn’t shake the knowledge that she was cursed. “I don’t know what I did or how I did it, but I am never doing that again,” she vowed.
“Maybe you just need to learn how to control it,” Brooke said. “Maybe you and I are supposed to work together. You know, water can douse fire if it’s out of control.”
“I don’t want to try again,” Gin whispered. A tiny voice told her she needed to explore this new ability, but she slammed that door and triple-locked it. No way. There was no room for any reaction to today’s incident other than horror.
That night she stared at her ceiling for hours as sleep evaded her. When she finally drifted off, her subconscious mind hijacked her hopes for any peaceful rest. She awoke, gasping, from a dream of a crescent moon consumed by flames. A female voice intoned over and over, “You did this.”
But how? Dreaming or not, she didn’t know where the power came from or how to control it.
After that, she never looked at lighters or cigarettes. She never looked at candles, and if she happened to dine at a restaurant that placed candles on the tables, she blew hers out. She begged off friends’ fall bonfires and chose college apartments that had electric ranges, not gas.
Now, lying in her bed in her cozy apartment, Gin gave her duvet one last irritated kick and got up. She’d tossed and turned so long her stomach was growling. Padding to the kitchen, she grabbed a banana from the counter and ate it, accompanied only by the soft ticking of her wall clock.
Wandering into the living room, she paused in front of the two photos on her corner table. One frame was silver with squiggly edges and the other was cherry red wood. Both said “Sisters.”
One held a photo of the three of them when they were in grade school, all pigtails and missing teeth. The other was from last Christmas, when she had stayed at her sisters’ condo for the holiday. They put the camera on a timer and stood, beaming, in front of the tree, wearing red Santa hats. Big matching smiles, two brunettes and one blond.
Gin sighed. So much had changed in the last year. Brooke and Nicole were convinced they were part of some important supernatural plan. And deep down, to her surprise, Gin had no argument for that. She’d always felt like their weird abilities weren’t random.
Maybe it’s not random, but that doesn’t mean I want it. She picked up a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest, looking out the window at her quiet parking lot.
Wind and water didn’t destroy property and harm people as much as fire did. Tell that to victims of hurricanes, tornadoes, and floods, she chided herself. She sank into her red microfiber cou
ch and leaned back, staring at the popcorn ceiling. Thank goodness she had other skills that would enable her to help people. Because deep down, she knew she could cause tremendous pain.
No. Never, never, never. With her curse, there was no room for error. One slip could be disastrous.
She’d run to every corner of the earth before she’d let her inner monster out. And wherever she ran, she’d always have water. The fire in her soul would stay where it was. Unseen. Forever.
CHAPTER 7
MATHIAS NAVIGATED THE QUIET MORNING streets of the college town, the Tahoe’s tires rolling over a new dusting of snow. No one was out. Must all be sleeping off their hangovers. He parallel parked outside The Coffeehouse, hoping these kids knew how to brew a good cup of java. He loved coffee. One of the best things to come from Earth.
Stepping inside, he inhaled the enticing aroma of a dark roast. Perfect. And a second later, layers of cinnamon and orange wove through the coffee scent, combining them into a sweet sucker punch to his gut. Gin’s already here. An image flashed unbidden in his mind, of Gin naked and sated, wrapped in the sheets of his bed.
Coffee and Gin. Good Christ, how hot would it be to breathe this in every morning? The thought made the tip of his cock tingle.
Whoa. He blinked. Where the hell had that come from? He had a job to do.
A frizzy haired older man walked in behind him and Mathias stepped aside, pretending to study the menu. He bit back a grin. The man smelled like old library books, a combination of binding glue, paper, and dust that seemed completely appropriate in a college town.
Mathias glanced to the front door as another patron came in. The shop was big, with several rectangular wooden tables near the register and pastry display, and smaller tables near the back. He figured students probably held study groups here. At one side near the front sat two big speakers and a chair, with a sign resting on it proclaiming last night’s Open Mic program.
He scanned the room, noting the handful of patrons. Where is she? Two students in Santa hats chatted at one of the small tables, smart phones sitting face up. A couple of middle-aged professor types talked politics at one rectangular table. And walking away from the sugar-and-cream stand was some biker chick…
Wait. Holy shit. That’s Gin.
She turned abruptly and headed back to the display. Glancing up, she met his eyes and froze. Her hand hovered above the stack of white paper napkins, as surprise and recognition dawned on her face.
He opened his mouth but his words were stuck. Standing before him now was a dressed down, earthy, don’t-mess-with-me version of Gin. Gone was the sexy elegance of last night. And damn if she wasn’t even sexier this way.
She wore Doc Martens and her toned legs were wrapped tightly in faded, ripped denim. A black T-shirt with “Ramones” in bold white letters peeked from beneath a black leather motorcycle jacket with a million buckles, and her hair cascaded in loose touch-me waves.
The sunlight filtering through a nearby window illuminated her eyes, glittering like emeralds against her pale skin. She blinked. Then her lips turned up into a heart-stopping smile.
Good gods, she had a beautiful smile. It brightened her whole face. It hit him like another sucker punch and shit, he loved that she could surprise him.
“Hey.” She tilted her head. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Good morning.” His voice came out strained. He cleared his throat as he crossed the room to stand next to her. “Thought I’d checkout the local coffee.”
“You’re in luck.” She leaned toward him conspiratorially and winked. “This morning they’re brewing Brazilian rocket fuel.”
“Brazilian rocket fuel?” He grinned, charmed by her playful tone. “Is that a good thing?”
“Mm, it’s my favorite dark roast. Nicole’s too. She always asks me to bring some home with me.”
“Nicole?” He said the blond Solsti’s name slowly, recognizing this was his chance to interject that he knew her. He really should say something like Oh, she never mentioned that, or I’ve met Nicole, but Gin spoke again.
“Oh, duh!” She looked at the floor for a second and waved her hand in front of her face. “Sorry. Nicole is my oldest sister. I have two. There’s also Brooke, who’s in between Nicole and me.”
Tell her you already know this! A voice warned in his mind.
“Do you have siblings?” she asked, before his mind could finish arguing with itself.
“Yeah. Five.”
“Five? Wow! Where are you in the birth order?” Bright green eyes studied his face, and before he could speak, she started in again. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m standing here babbling and you just wanted coffee.”
He didn’t think she’d been a chatterbox. And it didn’t bother him one bit. He wouldn’t mind if she rattled off scientific equations all day. “No problem. May I join you?”
“Of course.” Her voice was low as she held his gaze, a mischievous mirth dancing in her eyes. Her body language broadcast that she was happy to see him. And that body…his eyes slid down her slender frame. “I have a table back there.” Her soft words pulled him from his trance.
He looked over her head, spying a backpack tossed on a tiny table sandwiched by two huge overstuffed armchairs. Right next to a window and a fake Christmas tree decorated with small paper coffee cups. “I’ll be right there.”
He strode to the counter and placed his order. What was he doing? Persuade her, Hunter. She’s a Solsti. She can’t opt out. Arawn’s words echoed in his head. Mathias had planned to be straightforward in this job, but—
“Room for cream in the Brazilian rocket fuel?” the barista asked.
“No, thanks.” He met the girl’s eyes, and she blushed scarlet as she topped off the cup and handed it to him.
He made his way around the rectangular tables to the back portion of the shop. Gin sat in one armchair checking her phone, sunlight bathing her in a golden glow. It brought out the subtle red streaks in her hair.
He slowed as he approached. She was, simply and honestly, beautiful. He’d spent plenty of time around beautiful females. But she was having some odd effect on him. Her scent, her green-eyed gaze, and the confident sensuality that came through with every quirk of her lips, combined into an invisible force that urged him nearer.
As if sensing him, she looked up and smiled. She really needed to stop that or he was going to have to kiss her.
“I took your recommendation.” He raised his cup and winked, then lowered himself into the other chair.
“Good. It’ll wake you up.” She set her phone face down on the table. “So, six kids in your family? Must have been crazy at your house.”
“Yep. It still is, when we’re all together. But we get along. I’m number three, by the way.” And Ria’s number four.
“My sisters and I are close too. Our house seemed busy enough with just three.”
“Somehow I’d bet that half the kids doesn’t work out to half the craziness.”
“I guess we were a handful.” She paused and flicked a glance out the window. “There used to be four of us. I had a younger sister. She died before she turned two. I had just turned three, so I don’t even remember her.”
Three sisters. So who’s the fourth Solsti? “I’m sorry,” he said. “That must’ve been devastating for your parents.”
She shook her head and smiled ruefully at him. “Actually, they had passed away by the time Alina died. Car accident. We were living with our adoptive parents. Who were awesome.”
He opened his mouth to speak but she held up a hand. “No, I may as well tell you the whole thing. My adoptive parents were older, and they passed away a few years ago.”
He waited, sensing she wasn’t done. And that maybe she’d given this spiel before.
“My life probably sounds like a sob story, but I grew up in a happy home. And now my sisters are my family. It’s okay. We’re okay.” She looked up at him, the flicker of sadness in her eyes belying her confidant tone.
&nbs
p; “Siblings are great.” It was true, and he didn’t know what else to say. Gin didn’t seem to want condolences.
“Yeah,” she said softly.
A switch flipped in his mind. She was being so open. Which was a fantastic start, and one he wanted to preserve. He’d had objectives like her before, who’d been opposed to a certain idea and stubborn as hell. And the less they knew about his motives, the better.
Abandoning the direct approach, he decided to get to know Gin as if he had met her by chance last night. He had a task to accomplish and he’d play it with the no-previous-knowledge angle. No going back now. “You said your sister asks you to bring this to her?” He smiled and took a sip of the dark roast. The bitter drink stung his taste buds. Hell yeah. He looked down at his cup. “This is great.”
She grinned and sipped her own cup. “Liquid gold during midterms, finals, and dissertations. And yes, Nic loves this. She and Brooke live in Chicago.”
“Are they married? Giving you nieces and nephews?”
She snickered. “No kids. They have—” Her eyes narrowed as she seemed to search for the right word. “Boyfriends. Serious ones. Nicole has a ring.”
He’d seen the chunk of ice on Nicole’s finger. “Do I detect a trace of disapproval?”
“No, no. It’s just that—it happened really fast. They’ve only known these guys a few months.”
“They say when you meet the right person, you know.”
“Yeah, they do say that.” Green eyes locked with his across the tiny table. The spacious room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with awareness as the weight of her stare sliced through him. Solsti. She looked like any cute college girl, but her mind held the power to burn a city. He needed to tread carefully.
“Are you married?” she asked, breaking the spell.
Mathias coughed on the gulp of coffee he’d just swallowed. “What?” He thumped his chest.
“Are you?”