Bound (Keeper of the Flame Book 2)

by Lila Kane

  “It’s not me, Logan. It’s not. She keeps talking to me‒she keeps telling me to do things and‒and showing me images of you hurt‒”

  “Okay, Willow, it’s okay.” He settles his hands on my upper arms. His grip is warm and he rubs his hands up and down to infuse some of that warmth into me. “You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

  “Logan, you‒”

  “Really.” He pulls me in for a hug. He hisses when the necklace touches him, but won’t let go. “It’ll be okay.”

  I cling to him, hanging onto his reassurance for one long, sweet moment before Selena starts whispering to me again. He’s using you, he doesn’t care about you. All the men from this family want is your power.

  “She’s doing it again,” I say, my voice muffled against his shirt.

  “Try to shut her out.” Logan leans back and meets my eyes. “I’ll help you.”

  He captures my lips with his, and the assault to my senses is potent and strong. My hands run up to his shoulders, over the strong ridge of muscles and then to his neck to hold on.

  Yes, make him think you want him.

  I make a noise low in my throat. Logan holds me tighter, mouth breaking away long enough to say, “Ignore her,” before sliding his lips across my cheek. His tongue finds my lips, parting them. It presses inside my mouth and mingles with my tongue, making me sigh.

  Set him on fire.

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to block out everything but Logan. Trying to lose myself in the kiss and the moment. Trying to break free.

  My hands fist in Logan’s shirt and he swivels us so my back is pressed against the house. His fingers dig into my hair, holding me close.

  “Is she gone yet?” he asks, breathless.

  “No.”

  His mouth drops to my shoulder, tracing the curve of my neck with his lips. His hands slide down to my waist and then one hand up to my breast, cupping it through my dress. I arch to him and he makes a sound of pleasure in his throat.

  “Willow, I want you.”

  I’m afraid to repeat his words. Afraid Selena will take that away from me‒and take this moment, too.

  “Please,” I whisper. “Just make her go away.”

  You’ll never get me to leave.

  The crackle of flames is so strong inside me, I gasp. “Logan, stop.”

  I shove him back as fire shoots from my fingertips. It barely misses him, hitting a plank of wood on the porch and singeing it. I freeze, staring at my hands. I hadn’t even had a chance to make the fire go away. It came too fast.

  My cheeks drain of color and I lift my eyes to his. “See? I told you. She won’t stop. She‒”

  “No, Willow. Listen.”

  He reaches for my hands, but I jump out of his way. “No, don’t touch me.”

  “But‒”

  “Stop. Please, stop. Look what I did to the porch. That could have been you!”

  There’s a burn mark on the wood about the size of a basketball. Large enough it could have hurt him.

  He shakes his head. “You can’t hurt me like that.”

  “Yes, I can. And she wants me to do more.”

  “You won’t.”

  “You don’t know that.” I shoot him a warning look. “Leave me alone, Logan. Keep your distance until I figure this out.”

  He doesn’t come after me this time but doesn’t look agreeable. “I can’t guarantee that, Willow. I want to be here for you.”

  “You won’t if you want to keep from getting burned.”

  Before he can answer, I push open the door and rush inside. Myra’s still sleeping on the couch and I can hear Cheyenne in the bathroom down the hall. I blow out a breath and slump against the door. My fingers still tingle from the fire but when I look at my hand, my mouth drops open.

  My wound is completely healed.

  Chapter 12

  The next day, I visit my mom.

  It takes me a full minute to get out of the car and another thirty seconds to knock on the door because I don’t want to be here. I keep reminding myself this is business. That I need to help Myra. If I can keep my emotions buried, this will be easy.

  But the moment she opens the door, all those thoughts are shuttled from my mind. I can’t get over how much she looks like me. She looks tired but happy to see me and for a moment, all I want to do is step forward for a hug.

  She’d probably do it, too.

  Instead, she smiles. “Hi, Willow.”

  “Hi. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

  “No, not at all. You’re welcome to stop by anytime you want. Or call me.”

  I press my lips together with a slow nod.

  “Right…” She sighs, lowering her gaze. “I guess that’s not exactly the impression I’ve given these last several years, that you could call me whenever you needed me. But I hope that will change.”

  Well, she’s certainly up front. I scuff my foot on the porch. “That’s not exactly why I’m here.”

  I don’t miss the flicker of disappointment on her face, but she only nods. “Of course. Come in.”

  I follow her inside the now familiar home. But instead of stopping in the living room, she guides me down the short hallway, and to the small kitchen. There’s a nice spread on the table. Lemonade and iced tea, croissants and scones and muffins.

  I clear my throat. “I’m sorry‒were you expecting company?”

  She smiles. “Yes. You.”

  “You knew I was coming?”

  “I had a dream you were. Guess this one turned out right. Come on, let’s bring this to the back patio and I’ll tell you more.”

  I grab a tray loaded with food and shadow her outside. The sun is warm and high in the sky, just a few lazy clouds floating above. I think about my hike with Logan and how I’d like to do it again, as long as we don’t end up at Selena’s house.

  But then I’d have to be around Logan and I’m not sure if I can handle it. He doesn’t seem to think he’s in danger, but Selena is persuasive. She’s powerful, even from beyond the grave. I don’t know what I’d do if I truly hurt him. Or worse.

  I shiver and shake off the thought, letting the sun soak into my skin. A blackbird perches on the rail of the patio. I frown, glaring at it. It’s got to be a different than the one I keep seeing. I’m sure they’re everywhere. But still, it’s starting to give me the creeps.

  “Have a seat,” Faye says. The bird flies away and I sit at the table. She sets out plates and pours lemonade into clear glasses. “I love this spot in the mornings. You can hear the creek back in the trees. It’s peaceful.”

  It is. But I find myself looking in the direction of Ryan’s house, wondering if he’s home. Wondering how he’s doing. We had that spark of attraction almost right away when I came here, but that connection didn’t hold well when it came to his shifting. He’s still not open with me about it. Then there’s Logan‒and that’s been a sore spot as well.

  “Do you do that a lot?” I ask. “Have dreams about the future?”

  She returns to her seat and offers me a napkin. “A lot, yes, but it’s usually random. Most of the time I know when it’s something that’s really going to happen, but not always. I didn’t know you were coming to Shadow Hill.”

  “Would that have made a difference?” I ask, unable to keep the hint of anger from my voice. “Or would you still have left?”

  She lowers her gaze. “I left because it was necessary. But I also left because I heard about your father and I needed to do some research.”

  I straighten in my seat. “What do you mean?”

  “I think his death had something to do with”‒she looks around, waving a hand‒“all this. The spell, maybe, I don’t know. But definitely something supernatural.”

  I’d figured the same thing‒something supernatural, because of the marks found near his body. Evidence of the occult. Dark magic. But I hadn’t thought they were related to anything happening here in Shadow Hill.

  “Someone was trying to get you to come
here,” she says.

  I nod, picking off pieces of my scone but not eating them. “I know. Logan sent me a letter.”

  “It’s more than that. I mean, I think something might have happened to your father because someone wanted to get you interested in the history here. In your witch roots.”

  My heart slams hard against my ribs. “You think someone murdered him because of me?”

  “No, not because of you. Just‒just because they wanted to get you here‒or to learn more about your history.”

  My stomach churns. I set down the scone. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you at least call? I might have known he was in danger‒maybe there’s something I could have done‒”

  “Willow, there’s nothing you could have done. Keeping you away from all this was a decision we made together‒your father and I‒and it kept you safe your whole life.”

  I swallow and stand. “Right. All the way up until someone murdered him and I got stuck here.”

  “I didn’t expect someone from the outside would get involved.” She glances away. “Or someone from the inside.”

  I stare at her, uncomprehending. “What? What do you mean someone from the inside?”

  She folds her hands on the table, looking hesitant. “Did Logan tell you he sent you the note?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he admit to anything else? Anything about your father?”

  I gape at her. “You think Logan killed Dad? Or had someone do it?”

  Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t answer right away. “I’m trying to figure it out.”

  “I don’t…” I start pacing, shoving my hand into my hair to push it back from my face. “I don’t think he would do that. He was just trying to help Myra.”

  But now that she brought it up, I’m not sure. There was a chain of events that lead me here, starting with the boy in the dorm room and the fire. Once my powers started, I was already curious about them‒and it seemed like I kept being put into situations where I was forced to use them. And then Dad died and I started researching. Even if I hadn’t gotten the note, I probably would have ended up here at some point.

  Had someone been a part of making all that happen? Had Logan been a part of that?

  I drop back into the chair, shaking my head. “This is…I can’t deal with this right now. I’m supposed to be helping Myra.”

  She nods. “Of course. That was selfish of me. I guess…I felt like I owed you an explanation for why I wasn’t there all those years and I wanted to give you that reason, but maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about all that. Or your father.”

  “You’re right, now isn’t the best time.”

  “So.” She leans in. “Please try to eat and we can talk about Myra.”

  I reach for a muffin this time and set it on my plate. “How do we help her?”

  Her expression isn’t hopeful. “I’ve done some research. There are herbs that will help her feel better.”

  “Feel better? But can’t we heal her or something? I mean, I keep setting people on fire. That’s a lot of power. Shouldn’t we be able to do more?”

  She chews thoughtfully on her food. The sun goes behind a cloud and the wind teases her hair. “You can do more. Not me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She smiles gently. “You’re a Keeper of the Flame, Willow. They’re the most powerful of witches. The rest of the coven can increase their power and the other way around. But without you, most of us are only able to do the most basic of spells.”

  “But…you’ve been a witch your whole life. You know about these things, right? You’re having dreams about the future‒that has to mean something.”

  “Of course it does. We’re all endowed with special powers, and the gift of prophecy is one of mine, though I regret I haven’t taken much time to focus it. But that’s not an active power. I can’t change things, I can’t heal people and I certainly can’t set them on fire.”

  I drop my head into my hands. “So what am I supposed to do? I can’t tell her I can’t help‒but how am I supposed to? I can’t control my powers.”

  “You can learn. I’ll help you. It’s a matter of exercising them‒like a muscle. In time, they’ll get strong enough if you keep practicing.”

  “In time,” I murmur. I look up, meeting her familiar eyes. “But will it be enough time?”

  There’s compassion in her expression and for the second time that day, I want to lean into her for a hug. For comfort. “I can’t say, Willow. I’m sorry.” She folds her napkin nervously in her hands. “But…”

  “What?”

  The napkin rips and she sets it aside. “There is another way to increase your power. But it’s dangerous. And given what you’ve already told me‒”

  “What is it?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know if‒”

  “What is it?”

  “Use the power from our ancestors. Another Keeper of the Flame.”

  I swallow hard, my heart rate picking up again. “You mean Selena.”

  “Yes.” When she sees the look on my face, she immediately shakes her head. “But it’s out of the question. You’re already linked to her, aren’t you?”

  I dip my chin, almost embarrassed to admit to it.

  “Willow,” Faye says, “it’s not your fault. I’m amazed, actually. That your connection is so strong‒and that you knew to contact her like you did.”

  She doesn’t know much, though, only the brief bits of information I’ve given her here and there. She doesn’t know how strong the link is. I almost keep it to myself, almost play it off like it’s nothing. But I can’t. I need her help.

  “Our connection is stronger than I thought,” I say.

  “How so?”

  “I still see her around sometimes. And she’s speaking to me.”

  Faye sets her hands calmly on the table. “What is she saying?”

  I bite my lip. “Stuff I don’t want to hear.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  Closing my eyes, I rub my hands over my face. “It’s just…so horrible. She wants me to kill Logan.”

  When she doesn’t say anything, I pull my hands away. Her face is troubled, but I don’t know what’s going on in her head.

  Finally, she says, “That’s pretty serious.”

  “I know,” I say miserably.

  “Especially because he cares for you.”

  My mouth pops open. “What?”

  She smiles. “Willow, come on. You know this.”

  “He just‒we‒we’re both determined. And he understands me. Which doesn’t mean‒”

  She starts laughing. The more she laughs, the more I frown. “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

  “I’m so sorry, Willow. I don’t mean to laugh. This is all just so…” She sighs, sobering some. “Ridiculous. I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep you away from witches and vampires and everything that might hurt you. And now you’re right in the middle of it. With a vampire who’s half in love with you.”

  I stand abruptly, jostling the table. “You did not just say love. Are you crazy?”

  Instead of being offended, she starts laughing again. “Sometimes I wonder.”

  Glaring at her, I cross my arms. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  Especially because she’s hit so close to home. Because I do have feelings for Logan, I just can’t sort them out. And they don’t‒or shouldn’t‒really matter right now anyway if I’m going to be influenced by Selena to hurt him every time he’s nearby.

  My mom stands, walking over to me. So close, I’m afraid she’s going to touch me‒or that I might break down and let her.

  “Willow, Selena is still strong and if she’s telling you these things, she’s trying to use you. We need to find a way to distance you from her‒or the other way around. I’d like to help you figure this out.”

  I bite my lip, staring out over her emerald lawn and listening to the creek running through the trees far
in the background. “I have to do what I can to help Myra.”

  “I know. And we’ll work on that, too, especially if it doesn’t involve getting Selena’s help.”

  “What if it does?”

  She follows my gaze. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  I swallow and hesitate before asking the next question. “What do I do about Logan?”

  There’s surprise in her eyes when she looks back at me, like she’s amazed I’m asking her something personal.

  “You care about him, don’t you?”

  “I think so.”

  “Listen to your gut. If it says he’s trustworthy, then he is. As far as Selena…I don’t think you’ll let her convince you to do anything you don’t want to do. But just in case, we’ll try to find a spell to protect you from her.”

  I swallow down a wave of emotion and nod. “Thank you.”

  She returns the nod and gives me a tender smile that sends me close to my breaking point. “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 13

  I found a thrift store on the corner of Main Street, just a few blocks from the library. And since focusing my energy seemed like a lot better choice than flipping out, I went shopping. I bump into someone while helping the owner carry my new vintage desk out the front door.

  “Whoa.”

  A hand finds the small of my back. For a moment, I’m afraid it’s Logan. But when I turn and see Ryan, I’m so relieved I give him a wide smile. “Hi.”

  “Hey.” He eyes the piece of furniture. “What’s going on?”

  “I bought a desk.”

  “I see that.”

  I shrug. “I need to write‒to work on my article. It helps me focus if I have a workspace. So…” I gesture to the desk. “Here it is.”

  “Do you need help getting this to your car?” the owner asks. “Or to your house?”

  I shake my head. “No. Thanks for getting me this far.”

  He nods and heads back inside as I turn to Ryan again. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Saw your car. Your small car. You weren’t planning on trying to fit this in there, were you?”

  I sigh. Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I was so worried after the talk with my mom, I wasn’t sure whether to head straight to Logan’s and demand he tell me if he had anything to do with my father’s death or hide in my house and try to find a spell to make this all go away.