Burned (Keeper of the Flame) Read online

“Be patient.”

  “I need my phone.”

  In response, he stuffs my purse between him and the door.

  The houses taper away and the trees grow thicker. Aspens and pines line the side of the road, which has gone down to one lane both ways. The sun shines warm through the window, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

  “Logan.” I watch his profile, calm and unperturbed. “Logan, please stop. I don’t feel well.”

  He barely glances at me. “That’s what you said earlier, too. But it looks like you got over it.”

  “I’m serious. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  He frowns, looks over with narrowed eyes, and then finally slows the car. My mind races for a plan. Try to run? Try to grab my purse and use the phone? I don’t have a weapon and I don’t know where I am. Where’s my metal flashlight when I need it?

  The tires crunch on gravel when he stops on the side of the road. I reach automatically for the handle, but the door’s locked. I fumble for the lock, frantic to get out now. Logan opens his side of the car and walks around to mine.

  I lock the door again and reach for my purse. I hear the click of the lock from the button on Logan’s keys and yelp. He rips open the door.

  “No!” I try to scramble away from him, but Logan hauls me out.

  He presses me up against the car. I try to tuck the phone behind me, but he grabs my wrist and takes it from me. “Willow.”

  My eyes automatically fly to his and freeze there. The irises are nearly as dark as the pupils, an ebony stare I can’t break free from.

  “You need to calm down,” he says, voice smooth as honey. “You’re going to be just fine. We’re only going for a ride.”

  My heart’s racing but my body won’t move. “A ride,” I echo.

  He smiles. “That’s right. A ride.” He slides one hand up my bare arm and then traces it back down my side, all the way to my hip, where he finds a bare piece of skin between my shirt and jeans. “See? It’s okay.”

  But…hadn’t I just been doing something? I need to be somewhere. Somewhere that’s not here. I remember my purse and my phone, and then getting into the car with him and passing the police station. What is he doing to me? It’s like he’s trying to erase my memories.

  I hike my knee up between his legs as hard as possible, feeling a flash of triumph when he grunts and doubles over. Then I run. My feet crash down on weeds and twigs, and then I reach the trees and the shade of the forest.

  “Willow!” Logan calls. There’s pain in his voice, but he doesn’t sound too far behind me.

  My hair catches on a branch and I gasp, pulling away. The ground grows moist where the sun hasn’t dried it yet. My foot sinks into mud and I nearly lose my shoe. More branches tear at my arms and my shirt, scrape my cheeks.

  When I hear footsteps behind me, I freeze. Then I glance over my shoulder. Nothing is there. A bird chirps overhead. When I face forward again, Logan is right in front of me.

  My breath catches.

  His face is calm but steely, lips pressed into a flat line. “Willow, why are you trying to make this difficult?”

  “Make what difficult?” I pant.

  “Helping me out with my plan.”

  I step back and a branch cracks under my foot. A flock of birds flies from a nearby tree.

  “I don’t…” I grit my teeth, hating the tremor in my voice. “I don’t want to be part of your plan.”

  “Sorry, Willow,” he says, almost as if he regrets it, “but you already are. That’s why you’re here.”

  “What?”

  He steps forward, so close the tips of our shoes are touching. “That note that told you to come here for answers? I sent that.”

  “But‒”

  “I had to get you here somehow.”

  “I thought…” My chest heaves with a sharp breath. “I did come here for answers.”

  Logan scoops an arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest. “And I promise I will give them to you.” He brushes his mouth across mine gently. Once. Twice. Then his lips find my ear. “I just need you to come with me.”

  I press my hands against this chest, trying to get him away from me, but he’s too strong. I can feel the tremor of his muscles as he squeezes, see the veins in his forearms as he holds tight.

  “Logan, please. Don’t hurt me. I’ll help you, I promise‒”

  “Of course you will. And no, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re a part of this. Once you get your answers, you’ll come around.” His fingers slide under my shirt in the back, tracing my spine. “I’ll help you. I’ll show you how to use your powers.”

  Back at the road, I hear a car coming and I squirm in Logan’s grasp. If I can just get free‒if I can get to the road, maybe I can wave someone down.

  “You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Logan murmurs.

  A smile traces his lips when he reaches in his pocket. He pulls out an ivory cloth and lifts it to my face.

  “No. Logan, don’t‒”

  He presses it against my mouth. I struggle against the pressure, but he doesn’t ease up. My hands claw at his shirt, but they get weaker and weaker. A haze creeps into the corners of my vision. When I start to slump, I hear Logan blow out a breath.

  “See now,” he says quietly, brushing a hand along my temple, “that wasn’t so bad.”

  Then I fall into darkness.

  Chapter 9

  My cheek is pressed against a fluffy pillow. It feels so nice, I roll to my side to caress the soft material.

  And then reality kicks in.

  I open my eyes, my heart already pounding when I remember where I am. Or rather, where I’m not. I’m not in my motel room. I’m not in my car which can’t go anywhere because someone‒Logan‒let the air out of the tires.

  I am not somewhere I recognize.

  I’m on a plush bed with maroon linens. There’s a soft throw pulled over the top of me, and I shove it aside as I sit up. The room spins around me for a long moment before it finally settles into place again.

  “You should really take it easy,” a voice says.

  I yank in a breath. Logan is sitting on a chair across the room, one ankle crossed over the other knee. He looks like he’s been sitting there a while. His hands rest on the arms, long fingers lightly tapping on the surface.

  “Where are we?”

  He smiles. “Home.”

  I stand slowly, gripping the bedpost for support, and look around. “This is your house?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t understand.” He gets up from the chair and I retreat, the backs of my thighs hitting the bed. “Stop.”

  “Stop?”

  “Don’t come any closer,” I tell him. I wish again for my flashlight or some kind of weapon. Anything that makes me feel safer.

  He stops and spreads his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I hate that he actually looks sincere. But what do I know? I’m clearly not the best judge of character.

  “So…what?” I ask, gripping the bed post hard enough my knuckles turn white. “You just wanted me to come over for dinner?”

  He laughs. “Are you hungry?”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  Logan drops the smile. “No, it’s not.”

  He starts walking again, feet so quiet on the hardwood floor, I wouldn’t be able to tell he’s there if I didn’t see him with my own eyes. I never realized before how stealthy he is, how smooth his movements are, how predatory his gaze is.

  “How do you do it?” I ask, trying to distract him.

  Another step. “Do what?”

  “Go out in the sunlight? That’s got to hurt, right? Or are there different rules for you?”

  A smile curves his lips. “You have been doing your research.”

  “Why are we here?”

  When he steps closer, I try to ease around to the other side of the bed, but he’s too fast. So quick, he’s almost a blur. All the sudden, he’s in front of me, one hand on my back
to hold me to him.

  Our bodies touch the entire way down, and he traces my jaw with his free hand.

  “Because I need you,” he whispers.

  His breath tickles my cheek, and his eyes are fathomless, making me feel dizzy again.

  “What for?” I ask, a hitch in my voice.

  “To become who I’m meant to be.”

  Vampire. That’s what he’s talking about. But my head is so hazy, all I can do is stare into his eyes.

  “I need your help,” Logan continues. His lips brush my cheek, my jaw, trace down to my collarbone. “And once you see what kind of power is at your fingertips, I think you’ll want to do this.”

  “Do what?” I whisper.

  His lips claim mine, gentle enough it’s almost like an invitation, but with enough heat to shoot sparks to my toes. His tongue traces my upper lip before he changes the angle of the kiss, tipping me back as though I’m nothing but air. His hand slides under my shirt, making my belly quiver, and I cling to his shirt, holding on as though I’m on a precipice.

  I’m falling and I can’t seem to help myself. He leans me back on the bed, hands like fire as he traces them up my sides and grazes the top of my bra. His fingers dip underneath the material, sending a jolt of desire to my center.

  “Logan.”

  “Yes,” he murmurs, finding my lips again.

  I blink. Once. Twice. What does he keep doing to me? It snaps into place. I’m a captive in his home. He’s a vampire. I need to get out.

  I wedge my hands between us, pushing at his chest. “Get off.”

  He catches my wrists with a lazy smile. “You don’t want that.”

  Don’t look at his eyes! It’s like he has some sort of spell over me every time we make eye contact.

  “Yes, I do. Get off!” I push him as hard as I can.

  He steps back from the force of my shove but isn’t caught off balance. “Willow,” he says with a sigh. “This will be so much easier if you just realize why you’re here. We all have our parts to play and this is yours.”

  I scramble to my feet. “What is mine exactly? To let you trick me into kissing you, to let you take advantage of me? Sounds like my part’s a load of shit‒”

  “Willow.” He props his hands on his hips, muscles bulging against his dark T-shirt. “I didn’t trick you into kissing me. Not the first time.” He smiles. “Or the second.”

  He’s right. Even when my head is clear, it’s hard not to notice the attraction between us.

  “You’re doing something to me. Your eyes‒they‒” I shake my head. How do I explain this?

  “It’s part of who I am,” Logan says, his voice soothing. “Now you just have to come to terms with who you are.”

  “Who am I?”

  “A witch,” he says simply. He captures one of my hands in his, fingers tracing across my knuckles.

  “Logan,” I warn, my voice low. His hand tightens on mine instead of letting go. “Tell me why you brought me here.”

  “I need you‒”

  “You already said that.”

  “I need you,” he says again, eyes dark, cast down at our hands, “to be here for the full moon. And then I need you to do a spell for me.”

  My mouth pops open. “A spell?”

  “You’re a witch, remember? Your kind does a spell and my kind gets to be who we’re meant to be. It’s as simple as that.”

  “It doesn’t sound simple at all‒”

  He puts his hand over my mouth. “Let’s not talk about this now. Let me show you around.”

  “Seriously? I’m not staying here. Logan, you need to let me go.”

  He ignores me, pulling on my hand. “You’ll like the house.”

  “You’re not going to get away with this. My stuff is still at the motel. People will be looking for me‒”

  He laughs. “I doubt it. I’ll head over there and pick up your stuff soon. I’ve got to take care of your car, too. They’re expecting you to check out tomorrow anyway, right?”

  My gaze snaps to his. “How did you know?”

  “You seemed a little tense earlier. And then you blew me off‒”

  “I did not blow you off.”

  He stops at the door, his free hand on the knob. “You were hiding something from me. And I figured out what. You were going to leave before the full moon. Now I’m just going to make it look like you left a little earlier. Should make the others happy.”

  “What others?”

  “The ones that actually want you gone.”

  He opens the door, keeping me firmly in tow.

  “Logan, just tell me‒”

  “No,” he snaps, voice close to a growl. “That’s enough. You’re staying here, end of discussion.”

  I blow out a shaky breath, trying to ease my hand from his tight grip. He loosens his hold, flipping my hand over and bringing it to his cheek. He closes his eyes briefly before saying, “You aren’t going to believe how much power you’ll have access to once we get through the full moon. And if you give it chance, I think you might like it.”

  I choke on disbelief, but I keep my mouth shut. He’s delusional if he thinks kidnapping me is going to make me want to help him. But the more I go along with his plan, the more time I have to figure out how to get out of here.

  “Okay,” I say quietly. “Show me your house.”

  “Good.”

  His shoulders relax and he keeps my hand in his while we walk down the hallway. He points out other bedrooms but doesn’t spend much time upstairs. When we reach the main level, I’m surprised at how comfortable the house is. It looks lived in but old, with antiques expertly placed, the wood of the flooring and the doors rich and solid.

  “This is your house?” I ask, unbelieving.

  “My family’s house, yes. But it’s just me here now. It’s‒”

  He breaks off and walks me across the entryway to a room with a closed door. We pass the front door and I pretend I don’t even notice, though I’m well aware this might be one way to escape his house. I have no idea where my bag is, or my cell phone. But maybe if I can get him to believe I plan on staying, I’ll have time to find it before tomorrow night.

  “It’s what?” I ask, turning to him.

  He props his shoulder on the wood paneling outside the closed door. “It’s nothing.”

  I urge myself to step closer, to force compassion into my eyes. “Family stuff?”

  He nods. “Family stuff.” He reaches to cup my chin. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

  He doesn’t wait for an answer before sliding his lips across mine. I can’t help the spark of need, that desire for physical contact I haven’t had in a while. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to open myself up to someone else.

  For some reason, the flames don’t seem to get too out of control with Logan. At least not yet. How can I still be so attracted to him knowing what he is? And after what he’s done?

  Logan eases back. “You’ll come around. There are a lot of great things we can do if we work together.”

  Somehow I get the impression his idea of great things and mine are very different.

  “What’s inside?” I ask, pointing to the door.

  “Ahh…” He opens it and lets me go in before him. “The library.”

  I stop a few feet in and gape. There are books everywhere, lined shelf after shelf higher than my head. There’s even a second story with a winding staircase that leads to a balcony.

  Logan smiles. “I thought an avid researcher like yourself would appreciate this.” He points to one shelf. “Classics, of course. And some of my favorites. But a lot of the rest of these are history and geography. Family journals, notebooks, and all about our bloodline.”

  A vampire bloodline?

  “Are your parents…or the rest of your family like you?” I ask.

  “You mean devastatingly handsome and charming?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He walks to the window and puts his hands
in his pockets. “We are the oldest family in Shadow Hill. Our bloodline stretches back for over a century.” When he turns, his lips are pressed together tightly, fire flashing in his eyes. “It stretches back almost as long as the curse.”

  “What curse?”

  He strolls toward me. “The one you’re here to break.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t break a curse‒”

  “You can and you will.” Suddenly he’s in front of me, fingers gripping my jaw. “I brought your mother’s Book of Shadows and I’ll bring you whatever else you need. But, Willow, you’re not leaving until you break that curse.”

  Chapter 10

  I drop my head into my heads. Logan left me with my mother’s book, another journal he said I might need, and closed the library door.

  He doesn’t even care that I know nothing about magic or spells or curses. I barely know about my family history. Before the last few months, I didn’t know how I could make fire appear, but I didn’t for one second believe it was because I had magical powers.

  I stand from the table near the window and peer outside. The grounds are immaculate and welcoming. If I wasn’t being held captive here, I might actually enjoy touring the place.

  It’s already early evening, with the sun sinking closer to the horizon. I have to figure out how to get out of here soon.

  My eyes stray to the library door. I didn’t hear a lock or anything, which means he trusts me for now. Maybe if I’m quiet enough, I can get out. Maybe I can find an exit‒or a phone.

  On the table behind me, the Book of Shadows starts fluttering again. I walk over as it stills, falling open on a page that says, Commune Without Being Present.

  It goes on to explain how to contact or try to communicate with someone who isn’t in the same room‒or even the same state‒as you. It’s followed by a section on astral projection. My eyes race across the necessary tools and find they’re relatively simple. To communicate with someone who isn’t present, all you need is an item of theirs.

  And being a witch doesn’t hurt.

  I fumble in my pocket. My hand collides first with the necklace and then with the business card Ryan gave me.