by Ivy Simone
“Eat,” Cheyenne encourages.
When I don’t move, she scoops a spoonful of rice onto my plate. Then she follows up with some lo mein and keeps going until my plate is overflowing.
Ryan reaches under the table and curls his fingers around mine. “You escaped a vampire’s house and somehow transported your ghostly self to me all over the town. You can do this.”
He gives my fingers a squeeze. I nod. He’s right. I can do this. I have to.
I find a set of chopsticks and lift a piece of saturated broccoli to my mouth.
“Earth,” Cheyenne says. “That’s usually the easiest element to start working with.”
“How do you know?”
“I do my research, too. I have journals from my ancestors, though there’re not a lot of specifics about witchcraft, but I’ve learned some from your mom. Earth is easiest.”
I glance around. “So, what am I supposed to do? Make a plant grow in the kitchen?”
Ryan smirks. He stands, fills a glass with water at the sink, and then returns to the table. “Here. Start with water instead. Freeze it or something.”
I choke on a laugh. “Freeze it or something? You freeze it and tell me how easy it is.”
He gives me a level look but doesn’t say anything. I frown at Cheyenne. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Try. How do you make the fire appear?”
I sigh. “Get attacked by a vampire‒that usually works.”
Ryan’s jaw clenches and he makes a noise low in his throat. It makes him uncomfortable that I was with Logan so long, long enough for something to have happened, but he doesn’t know what.
“I’m sorry.” I rub my hands together. “Okay, yeah, it usually takes an emotional moment, but I’ll still try.”
“Pretend Logan is here,” Cheyenne suggests.
My cheeks burn red and Ryan grips his chopstick tight enough his knuckles turn white.
“I mean it’ll make you angry, right?” She leans back in her seat and folds her arms. “Do we need to do this somewhere else, Ryan?”
“No,” he says, focusing on his food.
“Good.” Cheyenne scoots the water to me. “Try something. Anything.”
I sigh and focus on the water. The glass is about half full and I concentrate on trying to make it move. Then make it freeze. Then to make the whole glass tip over.
“Are you concentrating?” Cheyenne asks.
“Yes.”
“On what?”
“Doing something to the water.”
“What specifically?”
I frown. “I don’t know‒anything, okay? Anything would be good, right?”
“But it probably won’t work if you’re not focusing on just one thing.”
I squeeze my hands together in my lap, trying not to snap at her.
“Just try something specific, Willow‒”
“I am!”
And as I say it, we all hear a sharp pop near the sink. Water explodes from the faucet and shoots from the sprayer, aiming right at us.
Cheyenne shrieks, although I think it’s in excitement, and Ryan rushes over to the sink. I stand while he tries the knobs. When they don’t work, he ducks to the cabinet underneath and reaches in. After a moment, the water subsides.
I blow out a breath and look at Cheyenne. Both of us have water dripping from our hair, staining our clothes.
“Nice.” She wipes water off her cheek. “A little bigger than doing something with the water in the glass, but not bad.”
“You provoked me.”
She smiles. “It worked. Now you just need to figure out how to channel that same emotion each time you need to do magic. Once you get used to the feeling, it will come more naturally.”
“Did I break your sink?” I ask Ryan.
Water beads on his hair. His shirt is speckled with drops and he shakes his head. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“Do I need to pay for something?” I walk to the sink, eyeing the faucet as though it might start spraying at me again.
Ryan laughs. “No.”
“Come on,” Cheyenne says, waving her hand dismissively, “he fixes houses for a living. He can take care of this. Let’s clean up the water and then we’ll talk some more.”
We grab towels from the closet upstairs and start wiping the kitchen. I get the chairs while Cheyenne works on the floor. “I don’t see how manipulating water or even fire is going to help us with the spell.”
“I know it seems like a small step,” Cheyenne says. “But everything you do will matter. It all helps. It will all help in your ultimate goal.”
I sit back on my heels, watching as Ryan fiddles with the knob at the sink. “I don’t know if my ultimate goal is to become some all-powerful witch. I don’t…” I sigh. “I don’t know if that’s what I want.”
Ryan looks over his shoulder, eyes connecting with mine. I can read his expression easily, see that he understands. If he hasn’t used his power for a long time, he knows how I feel. He gives me a small smile before returning to his project.
“Don’t worry,” Cheyenne says. “It’ll feel more natural when you get used to it. Drink more wine.”
So I pick up my glass and do as she suggests.
~ ~ ~
That night in my dreams, Logan is chasing me. But it’s not just him, it’s a pack of vampires, all racing after me through the night. My lungs burn, and my legs are growing numb. It all feels so real. When Logan snags me around the waist and I see his fangs, a scream tears from my throat.
“Willow.”
I jerk from my dream, fighting the hands at my shoulders.
“Willow, stop‒Willow. It’s me.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Ryan,” I breathe, and slump against him. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“It was just a dream,” he soothes, rubbing my back. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
“It was Logan,” I choke out. Emotion clogs my throat, and I shake my head, trying to compose myself. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
He smells like soap from his shower after Cheyenne had left. Soap and some kind of aftershave that’s woodsy and warm. He’s only wearing pajama bottoms, chest and feet bare.
I ease back some. “Sorry I woke you up. I didn’t mean to scream.”
“You didn’t,” he says. He shifts on the bed, dropping his hands from my shoulders. “I could tell something was wrong. I could…feel it.”
“The connection.”
He nods, head just a shadow in the dim lighting of the room. “Sorry. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I know. It’s okay.” I breathe slowly for a moment, trying to still my racing heart. “In my dream, Logan was chasing me. And he caught me. I saw fangs.”
“You’re safe in here, okay?” He reaches out, fingers brushing the top of my hand. “He can’t get in here. And I won’t let anything happen.”
His touch sends tingles of warmth up my arm. Ryan is so different from Logan. Gentler somehow, despite everything he did to get me to leave. More quiet in his strength.
“I know you won’t,” I say. “I’m not worried. It just…it scared me.”
I lean into him when he wraps his arms around me. His lips brush my hair. “You want me to stay here for a few minutes?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I’m not scared anymore, my pulse is racing from him being so close. From my cheek pressing against his bare chest.
“Ryan,” I whisper. I lift my chin, looking up to his face, the strength in his jaw.
He tilts his head down. For a long moment neither of us says anything, then he swoops in, capturing my mouth with his. His hands are firm and strong when they grip my arms and haul me closer so I’m almost in his lap.
The covers fall away, and I’m left in a tank top and a pair of shorts Cheyenne loaned me.
I slide my arms over his shoulders, muscles tight under my hands. He brushes my hair off my cheek and then slides his fi
ngers to the nape of my neck, holding me closer. His other hand skims my ribs and rests just above my shorts on a small patch of bare skin.
The calluses on his fingers skim my hip and desire circuits through me. And then I feel the flames. Shit. How had they snuck up on me so fast?
“Ryan,” I whisper, leaning back. “Hold on.”
His breath is quick and warm on my cheek. He squeezes the nape of my neck and shakes his head. “Sorry. Shit‒I didn’t mean to. It’s too fast‒”
“No, Ryan,” I say, touching his cheek. “It’s not‒I mean…” God, how do I say this? It’s not you, it’s me? “It’s the fire. The flames. I can feel them inside. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He makes a noise that sounds like surprise. “Oh.”
I laugh, ducking my chin so my hair falls over my cheek. “I’m trying to control it. But, you know, emotionally charged moment. I guess, uh…passion counts.”
Although it was a lot stronger than that. I wanted Ryan. I wanted his hands all over me. Something about the cool confidence in his eyes and the vulnerability I saw earlier…it’s a sexy combination.
“It’s probably better this way anyway,” he says, releasing my hips. “To take our time.”
I lean back against the pillows, trying to keep my cool. “Sure. Yeah. You’re right.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says, voice low. I see the glint of his eyes in the darkness. “Don’t think that.”
“Okay.”
He shoves a hand through his hair. “Shit.”
“It’s fine.” I pull the covers up to my chest. I don’t want him to think he’s obligated to be here for me, physically as well, just because he’s supposed to be some sort of protector. “I’m sorry for waking you up‒”
“Hell,” he says, dragging me to him again.
His mouth is on fire against mine, taking, taking and offering everything. His hands run under my shirt and then up to my breasts, cupping them, calluses brushing against my nipples. I touch his chest, his abdomen, feel his muscles clench tight when my fingers brush the waist of his pajama bottoms.
Flames, flames, flames.
I gasp, breaking free of his kiss. Holding myself still for an entire ten seconds while his mouth makes a slow descent down my neck.
“Please don’t set me on fire,” he murmurs against my skin.
I choke on a laugh. “You’re probably going to have to stop touching me like that then.”
He lingers for one more moment before pulling his hands from under my shirt. “That’s some kick ass birth control you have going on there.”
I start to laugh, and it turns into a miserable sob. I bury my face in my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He touches my shoulders, seems to think better of it, and sits still. “You can’t control it.”
“But I need to. I need to. I don’t want this to happen every time I want to be intimate with someone or every time I’m angry.” I look up, frowning. “I want to kiss you without hurting you.”
He takes my hand, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “It’ll take practice is all.” His voice fills with humor. “And if it means I have to make out with you every night until you build up a tolerance, I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”
I laugh. “Really? You barely know me.”
“I know more than you think.”
“How?”
He adjusts on the bed so he’s next to me, leaning against the headboard. He tucks me against his chest and I let my fingers wander over his muscles while he talks.
“Your mom told me a little about you. I know you think she didn’t know you, but she did. She kept track of you.”
That information makes me tense. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it makes me feel even more abandoned than before.
He clears his throat and continues. “Also, I dreamed about you before you came here.”
“What?”
“I did. I had a dream‒more than one, actually. And it felt like I knew you—probably because of the whole protection thing. That’s why it was a pretty lame move to treat you the way I did when you got here. I…yeah, I didn’t know how to handle it. And then there’s the connection.”
“Because I projected myself to you?”
“Right.”
I don’t know how I’ll feel about that further down the road, but right now it makes me feel safe.
“I’m glad you’re not trying to get me to leave now,” I whisper. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”
My eyes search the room in the darkness. “You don’t want me to stay here. I took over your room.”
“Actually, right now it looks like we’re sharing it.”
I smile vaguely. “You know what I mean. I’m here indefinitely. I need somewhere to stay.”
“Come with me to work tomorrow,” Ryan says. “I have something I want to show you.”
I shrug. “Sure.” I don’t have anywhere else to be.
“Good,” he says. “Now close your eyes, try to get some sleep.”
I close my eyes and relax against his chest. Before long, I’m asleep. And the only dreams that haunt me this time are ghostly ones about my ancestor, Selena, and a book hidden in the darkness.
Chapter 17
I’m excited when I meet Ryan downstairs the next morning.
“I have a Book of Shadows,” I tell him, stopping in the doorway of the kitchen.
He turns, a mug of coffee in one hand. “What?”
“I had a dream about Selena‒she’s one of my ancestors who helped make the spell. She was a Keeper of the Flame, too, and in my dream, I saw a book‒”
“Okay, hold on.” He sets his mug down and gestures to the table. I join him. “You’re saying you had a dream about a Book of Shadows. And you think it’s real?”
“I saw Selena before, near the cemetery at the Shadow Hill Hotel. She gave me this.” I hold up the necklace for him to see. “I think it was to help me fight off Logan.”
“A ghost gave you a necklace?”
“I told you this before. Now you’re talking to me like you don’t believe me. And yet Logan is a vampire. Cheyenne is a werewolf. You’re a shapeshifter‒though that one, I won’t believe until I see.”
A muscle moves in his jaw. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“Ryan, are you worried? Is that it? That you’re going to be forced to use your powers somehow, or‒”
He stands abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. “I believe you about the book. If you think Selena was trying to tell you something in your dream, you’re probably right.”
I get up as well, stepping next to him at the counter. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Ryan…” His eyes flash warning, so I choose my words carefully. “I don’t like the fact that I’m forced into using my powers now, too. I hate not having control over them. I mean, I almost burned the library down. You think I’d willingly burn all those books?”
His lips twitch. “You care about the books but not me? You aimed the fire at me more than once, you know.”
I step in front of him. “I know. You deserved it.”
His hands settle on my hips, fingers curling into my belt loops. “I did.”
“You can make it up to me.”
His voice goes low and husky. “How?”
“By pouring me a mug of coffee.”
I start to back up, but he yanks me against him. My breath whooshes out and I grasp his shirt at his chest to steady myself.
“I’m worried about controlling my power, you’re right,” he says. His eyes are stormy and fathomless. “Shifting doesn’t sound dangerous but it can be.”
His hands loosen, and he lifts one to brush down my cheek. I shiver. “Are you going to tell me what you mean by dangerous?”
His gaze holds mine. “No.”
“Ryan‒”
He stops my question with a swift kiss, catching me off guard. My arms automatically go around his neck. He hikes my legs up and I wrap them around his waist, making a noise of pleasure in my throat.
Ryan spins around and sets me on the counter. His kisses are hungry, tongue brushing against mine. His hand tangles in my hair.
“Tell me when it’s coming,” he murmurs.
“Excuse me?”
His lips curve. “The fire.”
“Oh, uh…” His hands and mouth feel so good, I can barely speak but I try to nod. I reach for his pants, unsnapping the button. I slip my hand inside the material. He’s stiff and aroused, breath yanking in when I close my fingers around him.
“Willow.” His voice is low, strained with pleasure.
It’s his voice that undoes me. The fire springs to life, so close I have to jerk my hands away.
“Okay,” I whisper, eyes opening. “Hold on.”
“No,” he groans. But he stops moving, breath coming fast.
“I just…” I shake my head. “I think I need to go slower. That might help.”
“I can do slow.” His hands slide up the insides of my thighs. “We need to practice.”
“I can get on board with that.” The flames die out, and I breathe a long sigh. “Sorry.”
He puts his hands on either side of me, boxing me in. “You shouldn’t apologize. It’ll work out eventually.”
I can still feel his hands on me and see bare skin where his pants are unbuttoned. “God, I hope so.”
He laughs. “Trust me, it’s just as hard on my end.”
My eyes flick to his pants and back up. I grin. “I see that.”
He lifts me off the counter and once I’m on my feet, I slump against him for a minute. Maybe slower really is better. Not because of the flames. Because I barely know Ryan‒and last time I barely knew someone, he turned out to be a vampire.
What am I thinking? I don’t normally fall for any guy. But Logan was hard to resist with that killer confidence and Ryan has these electric eyes that see more than he lets on. He’s strong and vulnerable. For whatever reason, I trust him completely.