Rise From the Embers (Lightness Saga #4)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Framed pictures covered the dresser. A painting Ryker got for me at the street market hung across from me. My bed. My pillows. My room.

  The loneliness of having spent years in foster care, tossed from home to home, still reared its ugly head, making me forget I had a permanent home and people who loved me. A family.

  My eyes dropped to the empty place next to me. “Ryker?” I called softly. I knew he had come to bed with me last night. The memory of him thrusting deep inside me wiped the last bits of the dream away, my naked body flaring at the memory. I shoved off the sheets, my toes touching the wooden floor. I pulled on one of his T-shirts I loved to sleep in.

  Peru was heading into its winter months, but summer wasn’t ready to fully let go, drenching the earth with rain and humidity.

  I padded from the room on bare feet, the house quiet, everyone asleep. I headed downstairs, listening for any sound of Ryker. Sometimes when he couldn’t sleep, he would jump somewhere or work on the car he bought me. This didn’t happen as frequently as it used to though. Our time and energy had been taken up completely by something else.

  The low murmur of the TV drew me toward the family room. I turned the corner and stopped, my heart lurching in my chest.

  Sprawled out on the sofa on his back, one arm by his head, the other curled over the bundles on his chest.

  It shocked me how much love I could feel without exploding.

  Curled up on his stomach contently, our son’s tiny form looked so small beneath Ryker’s large paw. Sprig was sound asleep, almost in the same position, facing the other way. Matty, our border collie, rolled up on the floor in front to the sofa.

  My boys.

  Hell. My heart couldn’t be any fuller. I was so lucky. I never believed this would be my future. That fate would lead me to a fae who would be the love of my life. Every day I fell more in love with him.

  My gaze slowly traced Ryker’s face. His gorgeous blond hair was now shaved on either side of his head, but he still kept the middle long, letting it flop to either side. His beard was starting to grow out from his summer trim, only highlighting his strong jaw. His broad shoulders and long ripped torso barely fitting on the couch, he twisted his head, a deep sigh heaving from him, his hand rubbing our son’s sleeping back unconsciously.

  Our son, Wyatt, or Buachaillín, as Sprig called him, which meant boy, had been born a few months ago. Our little warrior. Not that he had much of a choice coming from two fighters. He made a strong entrance. The little guy decided he was ready after only seven months, which didn’t surprise Ryker. Fae usually arrived earlier than human babies.

  Sleep was not something we got much of anymore, though I was lucky to have so much help between my sister, Lexie, Annabeth, and even Croygen, a pirate and Ryker’s longtime cohort. Annabeth was busy trying to run both Honey Houses with Lexie, who had suspended college for another semester to help me out. Honestly, I think her pausing school had more to do with being near Croygen than anything, which disturbed me on so many levels. Nothing had happened, that I was sure. But I could see how smitten she was around him. It reminded me of my crush on Daniel.

  A figure moved near me, leaning against the opposite doorframe. When Croygen did go out, it was usually all night. He was still a pirate, and I knew he needed to let off steam with girls and booze. I never wanted him to feel trapped living here. I was surprised he was home before the sun rose.

  I turned toward Croygen. With dark hair and eyes that glinted in the light of the TV, he was so striking he was almost pretty. He came from Spanish and Asian descent—tall, lean, but corded with muscle. His almond-shaped eyes, tan skin, and smoldering stare could bring anyone to their knees. I was not above admitting it had almost been me a couple of times. But my heart always belonged to Ryker, even before I realized it. Croygen was my best friend, another person crucial to have in my world. Yet, a few times I got the feeling he thought he didn’t belong here. But there was nowhere else he belonged. He was as much as my family as the rest. Every person here made this place a home.

  My gaze ran over him, a teasing grin on my mouth. “I’d take a shower before Lexie wakes up. You smell like flowery perfume.” Croygen’s eyes skated to mine without moving his head.

  “Zoe…” he growled.

  “What?” I shrugged. “I’m simply saying.”

  “You know it’s not like that.”

  Yet. I bunched my mouth together, fighting back my quip, staring at my sleeping boys. Both of us were silent for a moment.

  “He used to be the guy who’d drink me under the table and still be going after I woke and drink me under again.” He shook his head at Ryker. “And I’m the fuckin’ pirate.”

  “Well, take a shower for me. From the way you smell, I’m thinking you drank enough for the both of you.” I rubbed my foot over the other.

  “I have to pull his weight too.” Croygen sighed dramatically. “I am always making up for his shortcomings.”

  “If you keep doing it, he’ll never learn,” I tsked.

  “And that is my failing… I have such a soft heart for those lesser than I.”

  “And a soft dick,” a deep voice mumbled from the sofa as Ryker shifted.

  I clapped a hand to my mouth, fighting a laugh. Not wanting to wake the baby, I had woke another instead. I might have preferred the baby.

  “Huh? What?” Sprig’s head lifted. “Honey? Did you say honey? It’s breakfast, right? I mean, it must be close. I feel as if I’ve been asleep forever. I am starving. I mean really, really starving. Do we have pancakes? Oh, let’s go get some churros. I can have those mango thingys to tide me over. Oh, what about—”

  “Fuuuuucckkk.” Ryker groaned softly, his lids blasting open, glaring at Croygen. “You woke him, you deal with him.”

  “Do I look like a fucking zookeeper?” Croygen shot back.

  “No. More like a monkey’s uncle.” I winked at the pirate. His beautiful eyes squinted at me.

  “Thought you were on my side.”

  “When it comes to feeding him…” I held up my arms, motioning my head at Sprig. “Each man for himself.”

  “Fine. Next time I’m throwing your ass under the bus,” Croygen sneered. He and Sprig resembled two five-year-old brothers, constantly picking on each other and fighting. But when no one was looking, I would see Croygen sharing his food with him or Sprig climbing up on his shoulder. “I’ll take this little guy to bed too.” Croygen picked up the baby off Ryker’s chest, handling him with more care than I ever thought possible. One time he caught me gaping at him and responded, “What? Just because I don’t have any doesn’t mean I haven’t taken care of a lot of brats.”

  Ryker was the one to tell me Croygen had been raised in a brothel. His mother, one of many ladies of the night, found herself pregnant multiple times. The older he got, the more he was in charge of watching the children born there, while the women “worked.”

  He lifted Wyatt to his chest, cuddling him. “You guys get some sleep. I’m still wide awake.” He rubbed my arm, looking over his shoulder. “Come on, furball, let’s go look in the yellow pages for animal adoption agencies.”

  “Do they have food there?”

  “Tons.” Croygen smirked. “Especially honey.”

  “Croygen,” I huffed.

  He grinned at me. “Maybe there’s a circus passing through town.”

  “Circuses have bananas.” Sprig stood on Ryker’s chest. “You’re trying to kill me. Murder by bananas. It’s cruel animal abuse. Someone needs to stop the torture.”

  I glared at Croygen. He only chuckled, moving for the stairs.

  “Wait, that’s not the way to the kitchen.” Sprig jumped down on Matty, who instantly popped up, ready to play with his buddy. “Go, Matty! We must storm the pantry.” He wiggled the dog’s collar. Matty took off, but instead of the kitchen, he trailed after Croygen, bounding up the stairs.

  “Wrrronnnggg wwayyy, ruff-ruff. You are going the wrong way.” Sprig’s voice disappeared up the stairs. I sh
ook my head and walked over to Ryker. He sat up, gesturing for me to curl into his side, tucking an arm around me.

  “We really do live in a madhouse.” He kissed my head.

  “Yeah. We do.” I melted into him. Everything about this man made me weak in the knees. “You love it.”

  He snorted. “Wyatt started crying. I didn’t want him to wake you.”

  “He didn’t.” I tucked my head deeper into his shoulder. “I had a nightmare.”

  “The same one?”

  “No. This one was different. Stronger.” I nipped my bottom lip, the fear of the dream rolling back in like fog. Something was coming. I had dreams about the stone all the time, but this one was different. My palm twitched, as though it knew I was talking about it.

  “It’s calling me.”

  “You know Lars would have it locked up. Tight. It can’t get you. You just have to keep fighting it.”

  “I know.” My fingers gripped his T-shirt, feeling the heat of his skin under the fabric. “But I don’t feel safe. It’s gotten a lot more powerful. It felt as if it could reach out and grab me through the dream.” My knuckles rolled, clutching more of his shirt. “I don’t know if I have the strength to continuously fight it. What if it never lets up?”

  “Then we go to Lars. Ask him to destroy it.”

  I let out a derisive laugh.

  “Right. I can see that happening. The Unseelie King will simply destroy one of the most powerful objects in the world because it’s giving me nightmares.”

  “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

  Brief images slid through my mind like vipers, slithering through my head, leaving little drops of poison. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to tell Ryker about the monsters I saw. The ones who carried my DNA, who resembled me.

  Ryker drew me closer, his arms my safety net. He stayed quiet holding me.

  A brief cry came from upstairs before it quieted down again.

  “You know we just let a drunk pirate and a narcoleptic monkey take care of our kid,” Ryker rumbled against my ear.

  A laugh erupted from my chest. “Parents of the year.”

  “Eh…” He shrugged. “Until we hear a real tantrum—”

  “Which will probably be Sprig,” I chuckled.

  “My money’s on Croygen.” Ryker’s large hand rubbed up and down my bare thigh. “Left alone with Sprig? Croygen will break first.” He wrapped me tighter. Merely touching normally led to sex with us, but the fear in my chest wouldn’t subside.

  “I’m scared,” I whispered.

  “Whatever comes our way, we will face it as we always do. We’re survivors. We fight.”

  I knew he was right. We had gotten through some unbelievable situations and made it back to each other. I knew what we were capable of, and what we’d do for each other. The lengths we would go to survive for those we loved. We had even more reasons now.

  So why did I feel that whatever was coming was bigger than us?

  “Bhean! Bhean! Honey, honey, honey, honey!” A blur of brown fur zipped around the kitchen, a black “cape” trailing behind, catching on everything it could, knocking objects to the floor.

  “Sprig!” Ryker tried to grab him with one hand as he zoomed by, but the sprite slipped through. Sprig leaped onto the counter next to me as I packed baby stuff in my bag. My palm still pulsed, like something lived beneath the skin. It did this occasionally, and I had gotten good at ignoring it. This felt different. As though the pulse was a call. Pulling me to it.

  “Sweet glorious nectar. Ahhhhh!” Sprig ran in a circle, pulling my attention away from my thoughts. He woke swearing that death was knocking on the door, and his stomach was starting to eat itself. Lexie shoved a full honey bear at him, which shut him up for a total of three minutes. “Bhean! Honey goddesses!” He blinked. His mouth parting.

  “Here it comes in one, two, three—” I counted. “And out.” Sprig crumpled on the counter, falling fast asleep, his honey high turning into a honey coma.

  “You have that down to a science.” Lexie laughed, kissing my temple. “I’m gonna go get dressed then head to Casa de la Miel.”

  Casa de la Miel, the name for our Peru House, was another place for orphaned kids. We wanted to get them a better education and medical coverage while providing a place where they felt loved and wanted. And I loved Lexie was staying and helping us for now.

  “Have a good day.” I watched the tall caramel-skinned nineteen-year-old bound up the stairs on her prosthetic legs, her long wavy black hair reaching the middle of her back. Half black and half Puerto Rican, she had turned from a beautiful girl to a stunning woman. She was smart as a whip, but I could feel her restless energy. She was ready to spread her wings and fly. And I needed to be okay with letting her go. Lexie and I had been through so much together. She was my little sister and because of almost losing her twice, it was hard for me to let go again. She wasn’t like Annabeth, who loved being home or being in the Honey House with me. Lexie wanted to explore the world. Challenge it.

  Be a pirate.

  Ryker shifted Wyatt to his other arm, tipping the milk bottle higher.

  “You heading to Honey House?” He set the empty bottle in the sink, lifting the baby to his shoulder to burp him. If I ever had a doubt Ryker would be an amazing father, it was squashed the second Wyatt arrived. I didn’t know if his natural way with fatherhood arose from a desire to be the opposite of his father or the loss of his first unborn child, but I couldn’t have asked for a better partner. I was the one stumbling through the dark sometimes.

  I also felt a bit guilty for longing to get back into the fight scene or wanting to go on “jobs” with Ryker. I had started a kickboxing class, but it didn’t give me the high I got from my street-fighting days. In the future, I could go back to helping Ryker, but for right now it was too dangerous for both of us to do it. Wyatt needed one of us to be home with him.

  With our abilities to jump, Ryker and I were the so-called “Robin Hoods” of the fae world, and Croygen was an excellent thief. We stole from drug cartels or other shady businesses and gave back to the poor. We provided medications, food, and financial support to those who couldn’t afford it. It was one form of stealing I had no qualms about. When it came to my kids at the Honey Houses, or those Kate was trying to find cures for, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do.

  My full-time job was running the homes for children in Peru and in Seattle. Seattle’s house was our newest baby. We had trained and hired enough help at the Peru house that it ran without me. Seattle still needed my attention. It had only been operating a few months.

  “Yeah, Annabeth and I are heading there now.” I strapped the baby carrier to my front. “You and Croygen getting ready for tonight’s job?”

  “Yeah.” Ryker rubbed Wyatt’s back until he burped, then handed him to me. Changed and fed, he curled up against my chest in the carrier and drifted to sleep. Ryker’s white eyes glazed over me, heat flaming in them. “I say tonight, after I get back, we go for a drive.”

  I knew exactly what that entailed. The Chevy we owned had been used more for our “escapades” than driving. We had been in a Chevy the night we admitted how we felt, and we had no problem reenacting the all-night kinky sex that had followed.

  “It sounds perfect.” I stepped closer to him, Wyatt bumping into his chest. Ryker leaned down, his hand sliding roughly through my hair, his mouth hot and frantic, coveting mine. Neither time nor a baby had ebbed our lust. At. All.

  A growl vibrated in his throat, his tongue delving deeper into my mouth, shooting sparks up my nerves. My nipples tightened with need.

  “Oh…uh…sorry.” Annabeth walked into the room. Ryker pulled back but kept his hands in my hair.

  “We’ll finish this later.” He lifted an eyebrow, kissing me again. Leaning over, he brushed his lips on Wyatt’s head before strolling out of the room, giving Annabeth’s arm a squeeze.

  With long wavy blonde hair, porcelain skin, and blue eyes, Annabeth was so beauti
ful I’d swear she was part fae. If Lexie held a devilish twinkle in her eyes, Annabeth was sweetness. But looks could be deceiving. Annabeth’s past had robbed her of true innocence. She had been captured and forced to be an “escort” when Seattle fell to shit. Then later, like Lexie, she was a victim of Dr. Rapava’s experiments. She woke up many nights with nightmares of drowning or being forced to do things which ripped away her innocence at fourteen. Something she and I had in common. There is a high rate of foster homes that are wonderful and loving. Unfortunately, that had not been my experience. I still dreamed about killing one of the “fathers” who had hurt me. It was why I strived to make my foster homes full of love. I never wanted a child to go through what I had.

  “You ready?” I turned around to Annabeth.

  “I am.” Annabeth picked up an apple and bit into it, moving over to Sprig’s sleeping form. She grabbed a few honey packets and wrapped him up in her arms, adoration blistering across her face.

  “I know. He’s so adorable when he’s asleep.”

  She laughed, nodding, then stepped closer to me. I stretched out and touched her arm.

  Jump.

  Wind crashed into us, blowing our hair around. When it stopped, I eased my lids open. The warmth of the Seattle Honey House surrounded us. The sounds of children playing in the other side of the connected buildings echoed through the walls. We had two live-in caregivers who constantly watched over the kids.

  A fire already crackled in the fireplace, the sky overcast and dreary. I never got over the thrill of jumping. One moment being in the tiny, tropical town of Barranco, Peru, the next in Seattle, Washington.

  The scars engraved in my hand came alive with a burst of fire, pulsing along with my heartbeat. As soon as I felt my feet settle on the wood floor, I knew we weren’t alone. My skin prickled with warning. Danger. I instantly tried going for the knife I always kept in my boot.