“It’s beautiful here.”
“Yeah, if you say so.”
Layne bent over and grabbed a water bottle off the ground, but she didn’t miss the cynicism in his voice. He untwisted the cap, placing the bottle to his lips as he chugged it. When he finished, he gave her a sideways glance.
She shifted her weight against the stump. If he thought icy glares and short responses would get rid of her, he was wrong. This conversation was just getting started. He’d be wise to cooperate.
“What do you mean if you say so?”
She deepened her voice to mimic his and exaggerated the words. It sounded as ridiculous as she’d hoped, but at least it eased the tension. If she weren’t mistaken, he was fighting hard not to smile.
“Trust me, Layne. I’d rather be in Brightsville, but while we’re here, why not enjoy it. Take a look around you. The leaves are sprouting on the trees. The forsythia bushes have bloomed. Even flowers are sprouting. This place is full of energy. It makes me feel alive.”
His shoulders rose and fell. “I’m not disagreeing with you, except the last part.” He finished off the water before screwing the cap back on. The plastic crackled when he crushed the sides together. “We’ve been here a week and I’m already bored. I’m so bored I came out here to meditate.”
“You meditate?”
“I have been,” he confessed. His jaw flinched when she raised her brows. “Don’t look so shocked. I told you that Spencer showed me some techniques. He said meditating would help me clear my mind and focus.”
“How long do you meditate?”
“Depends on how stressed I feel.” He inspected the bottle in his hand, then he squeezed until it resembled a disfigured ball. “I did it for fifteen minutes today. Now it’s time to see what I can do.”
Layne tossed the bottle in the air and then caught it. His brows rose in a taunting gesture before he walked twenty yards in front of him to an old milk crate. He placed the crushed bottle atop it, made sure the breeze didn’t blow it away, and then returned to his original spot.
Anxious to see him use his abilities, she gripped the edge of the stump, stilling her body so she wouldn’t distract him. She had the perfect view of his face, unlike when she first came outside. His eyes twitched tighter, narrowing on the bottle. Then he closed them and drew in a deep breath.
Exhaling a moment later, he drew in a deeper breath and raised his hand to his waist. His fingers curled into a fist that he kept near his hip. The rise and fall of his chest grew steadier. It gave him a calm appearance, but the fire building inside him did so in haste. The intensity it gained heated the air around them.
She bit her lip. The hairs standing on the back of her neck said something would happen, soon.
And right on cue, the bottle burst into flames.
As golden flares consumed it, she stared at the crate, amazed that wasn’t burning too. Even as the bottle liquefied and dripped through the holes, no damage occurred.
Layne remained in his position as a breeze tousled his hair. When the heat of his energy weaved with hers, a rich, plum-colored flame engulfed his hand. Not only was it beautiful, it was unlike any she’d seen him produce. If using Spencer’s techniques helped, she could only imagine how powerful he’d be when he mastered the fire within him.
“I knew you could do it.”
Pride overwhelmed her. He was hers. Her Keeper. Her protector. Her angel of death. He would kill for her. Had killed for her. And before this war was over, he’d leave a graveyard of bodies in his wake.
“This is the first flame I’ve formed since the attack. I haven’t been able to produce one since I woke. Not even the night I set the torch on fire.”
“You went through something horrific, Layne. There were moments when I didn’t know if you’d survive. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” She stood from the stump and crept in his direction. “I believe in you, Layne. I have no doubt you will do amazing things.”
As the space between them decreased, the flame burned higher. In a few steps, she’d be standing in front of him, but the thought had her stopping short. He’d never hurt her, not on purpose. Still, her presence was causing the flame to gain strength. She didn’t want to chance it growing out of control.
“Don’t be afraid.”
He spoke the words in a soothing voice, but she sensed his desperation. It consumed her, much like the heat radiating from the flame. She parted her lips when he brought it closer. Her curiosity spiraled, and before she realized how reckless her decision was, she touched her hand to his.
Fire flared around her fingers.
A swarm of butterflies fluttered in her stomach, their blazing wings heating her to the core. The sensation caused the flame to shoot higher and burn in the deepest shade of pink. It captivated her, yet frightened her at the same time. As far as she knew, he’d never produced a flame for this long, not even the one he created on the cottage deck. But the fire didn’t consume them. It waned to a small flicker. Then it was gone.
“That. Was. Amazing,” she exaggerated the words while observing their joined hands. Neither showed any signs of burns or blisters.
“It’s because of you.” His voice dropped to a husky tone. “When you’re around, I’m in control.”
His shallow breaths steadied. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and stared at the crate. Accomplishment swelled within him, as it should, because what he did was nothing short of spectacular.
“Is it safe to say that this was a bigger accomplishment than the torch?”
“Yeah. I didn’t burn the trees this time.”
Her cheeks tightened at the thought. The poor maple trees in her parents’ backyard would never be the same. At least only five caught fire and two were salvageable.
Layne placed his hands on one of the lower branches and did a few pull-ups. His biceps flexed with each movement, showing off his physical strength. He made it look so easy.
“My dad told me to take it slow, but I’m impatient. I’ve worked all week for that few minutes of glory.”
“I noticed you talking to your dad the night before we left. Are you two close?”
His feet hit the ground once he released the limb and shrugged. “I’ve always been able to talk to him, but there were times I needed him to be strict—to be my dad. He always caved.”
She reached for him, cautiously placing her hand on his shoulder. “I think that happens to a lot of parents. It doesn’t mean he loves you any less.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Things are better between us now. He watches out for me.”
He grew quiet again and scanned the hill behind them, but she doubted he was paying attention to the landscape. Something else was on his mind.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh… I was just… The night you saw us talking, my dad told me something bizarre. Did, uh…did your mom mention something called an affinity?”
A surge of fire shot through her body like a hot poker had branded her. She unwrapped her sweater as cool air rushed over her skin. Layne shifted his stance beside her, waiting for her answer. She could feel his curiosity, but she couldn’t find the courage to look at him.
“Um… Yeah. She did mention it. She said it’s the strongest bond that exists between a Seeker and Keeper. It’s also the most rare.”
“Is that it?”
“No.” She studied the blades of grass beneath them, hoping he wouldn’t be angry with her for not sharing the information sooner. “My mother explained how aura readings confirm affinities. If one exists between a Seeker and her Keeper, their auras merge when they’re near each other and burn in shades of pink.”
She glanced up in time to see his throat wobble. “Like the flame?” His eyes narrowed on her face when she nodded. “So we share an affinity?”
“Yes, Layne. My mother noticed it when we came back from Jamaica.”
The grass recaptured her attention. It wavered in the breeze, providing enough of a distraction. He wanted her to
look at him. Each tug of his energy grew harder to ignore.
“What’s the purpose of the affinity?”
“I don’t know its purpose, but both your mom and my mom said I can reach you on a level no one else can. Our affinity also allowed me to heal you after the attack.”
Silence reclaimed the space between them. When she finally returned his gaze, he backed away and shook his head. “You knew this and didn’t tell me?”
She scoffed at the question, moving in the same direction he had. “I found out the night we returned from Cleveland, before I came to talk to you. I wanted to tell you about it then, but you were so upset. I didn’t want to cause you more stress.”
He continued backing away, so fixated on her that he didn’t see the old rock well behind him. The sudden halt knocked him off balance, but he steadied himself and leaned his bottom against the edge.
“You didn’t think to tell me after I woke up?”
“I wanted to tell you. I tried telling you the day we talked in the bedroom. You kept your distance from me. You still are.”
He didn’t deny her accusations. It wouldn’t matter if he did because she knew she was right. Deep down, he knew it too. The guilt pulsing inside him confirmed as much.
When it grew awkward, she turned toward the cabin, ready to walk away, but his fingers curled around her wrist. “Hey.” He tugged her arm until she turned back. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant this week. I don’t mean to be, but I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“It’s okay, Layne. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” She glanced lower to hide her frustration, but it wavered in her voice.
“Maybe I don’t have to explain, but I wanted you to know.”
Conflicting emotions vibrated within him. Rejection and need. Fear and hope. Passion and pain… Each one built a rhythm, and those rhythms spun around her until she couldn’t resist him.
She took another step, losing herself in his sweet scent. Notes of orange and amber intoxicated every breath, warming her lungs when she inhaled.
He encouraged her next step as he tugged on her wrist. The space between them decreased when he placed her hand to his chest. His thumb swept over her wedding band, twisting it back and forth.
The ache within him grew once he touched the ring. He knew what it represented—the oath that bound her to another. And while she sensed his respect for that oath, she knew he couldn’t ignore the one he’d made to her.
“Since we arrived here, I’ve done nothing but reflect on the last few months of my life. It’s given me time to think about our friendship.”
Her stomach clenched at his words. The last few times they discussed the topic hadn’t ended well. After the distance he’d placed between them this week, she worried he’d keep it that way.
“Did you come to a conclusion?”
She didn’t miss the way his eyes smoldered. He touched her face, caressing it, cupping it, pulling it closer to his. “Yeah, I did, and I think you’re right, Heaven. I think we need to deepen our friendship. That is, if you still want to be my friend.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugged. His face wrinkled from the frown that formed. “I’ve given you nothing but shit since we left Jamaica. I’ve thought about walking away, twice. The last time almost cost me your life…and mine.”
“None of this has been easy on you. I’m sorry it hasn’t.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, but I owe you a ton.” He placed his finger against her lips when she tried to object. Once she gave up, he slid it down her chin, tucking it underneath. “Right before our attack, I had this surge of fear fill me. It was like an alarm going off, warning me that you were in danger. When I heard something zipping toward us, I didn’t think I’d get to you in time. It was in that moment I realized what a jerk I’d been.”
She sensed that he wanted to say more, but he choked on his words. The reality of how close she’d come to dying weighed on him.
“Hey.” She pressed her hands to his face. He wouldn’t look at her, but she pushed his head back until he did. “Don’t you dare condemn yourself over what unfolded. You saved my life, Layne. I almost lost you because of it.”
“You almost lost me?” His fingers curled around her wrists as he eased her hands from his face. “Heaven, my death would be minuscule compared to yours. If I had died, it would have been just, because I was the reason you were in danger.”
“Don’t say that!” Her words came barreling out as she cupped her hand over his mouth. She refused to hear this nonsense. Nothing about his death would be just. It would be devastating—to his parents, to his friends, to her.
It wasn’t long before he peeled her hand away. Then he cupped both cheeks and drew her face back to his. “I know I’m not your soulmate, but you are everything to me. The thought of losing you…”
The sun’s bright rays filtered through the branches and caught the moisture in his eyes. It took a lot of guts for him to say what he was saying, and the fact that he was saying it meant they were finally making progress.
“You mean a lot to me, Layne. More than I ever realized. We may not be soulmates, but it doesn’t make our connection less important. We share an affinity.”
She tugged his arm and waited for him to place his palm next to hers. A sense of satisfaction overcame her when another flame formed between them. Her connection with Dylan had always been a gentle hum that spoke to her. The one she shared with Layne did the same, but it was tangible. She could see it, touch it, lose herself in its intensity.
“Remember the day we arrived in Brightsville, when you and I were on the back deck? You opened up to me that day. I think it’s why the flame formed between our hands, like it is now. Soulmates or not, you and I need to be close, Layne. We need each other.”
Once he lowered his hand from hers, the flame died out. He inspected his palm, and then hers, as if he couldn’t believe they’d created another one.
“We were also arguing. Things were intense.”
His attention shifted to her lips and lingered. She didn’t doubt he was thinking about the same thing she was. How they’d argued about their friendship. How that argument led to him kissing her again…
“Before I killed those men in Cleveland, we had another fight. The same thing happened in your bedroom before I set the torch on fire. But that day was different. I lost control. Do you know why?”
“No. Do you?”
He held his hand in front of him, flattening his palm as she did the same. “Yeah. I do.” When their hands neared, the flame returned. “It’s because you weren’t by my side.”
As she watched the fire consume their hands, the realization of what he said sank in. Powerful emotions might help him summon the fire, but it was the ones he felt in her presence that gave him the strength to control it.
“If what you’re saying is true, it’s even more of a reason for us to work on our friendship, Layne.”
Though he nodded in agreement, she sensed a wall reforming between them. “We will,” he said, dropping his hand away from hers. “I promise we will, but I’m…”
His focus switched to the oak trees nearby. Whatever was on his mind, it was tearing him up inside.
“Layne?” She craned her neck to block his view.
He blinked a few times then met her gaze. “I had a dream about you.”
“When?”
“After the attack.”
“Is this the same dream you mentioned in my room before you left with my dad?” Each second he avoided the question increased her concern. Then he finally nodded. “And was I right? Did it involve me and—”
“Yes, Heaven,” his eyes darted back to hers, “it involved you and the bed.”
She leaned her hip against the well. The weight of his words made her legs grow heavy, but she tried to play it off. Layne noticed anyway.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She fought against an array of images in her mind—im
ages of her body straddling his. The wicked thoughts didn’t stop there. They continued further, reminding her how he’d bit her neck, how she’d rocked her hips into his, how his thumb brought her exquisite bliss.
His head dipped lower, bringing their faces closer, but it was too late to give him an answer. She sensed his suspicion. “You’re feeding me full of shit, Heaven. Your cheeks are pink and you’re breathing heavy. Are you sure you’re okay?” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, erasing the images from her thoughts. After adjusting his hand a couple more times, he pulled it away. “You’re not fevered.”
She clenched her teeth when she noticed him tilting his head to the side. His brows furrowed, deepening the crease that formed above them. Then they released in one of those ah ha moments.
He moved around her like he would walk away, but instead, the heat of his chest warmed her back. It left her trembling as well, especially when he leaned close to her ear and said, “I never asked you how you knew about the dream. Would you mind enlightening me?”
“Um…” She searched for the right words—any words— but there were none.
“Did your dad read my thoughts?”
“No.”
She peeked over her shoulder, surprised to see his face just a few inches from hers. The heat in his eyes left her knees shaky, and the weakness affected every part of her body. Including her mouth.
“I knew about the dream because I had the same one.”
The air between them shifted. It grew thicker—hotter—making her cheeks burn more than they were. She couldn’t believe they’d shared such an intimate dream, and judging by the expression on his face, neither could he.
“No way…” He spoke the words in a hushed voice before she nodded. “I—I don’t believe you. Prove it to me. Tell me something I did—no wait… Tell me something I said to you.”
“Well…when you first saw me, you said, hey, you’re here.”
He snorted at her answer, making no attempt to hide his dissatisfaction. “Anyone could guess that.” His breath beat against her neck as he leaned over her shoulder. “Tell me something else I said. Something that isn’t generic. Something I’ll recognize as my own words the second you say them.”
What the Heart Desires Page 4