Waiting outside Tristan’s door provided me with a moment alone to think. If I was really this … phoenix … and it was passed down to me from someone in my family, who could it be? Was it from my dad, or from my mom’s side of the family? And how old was the last carrier when they died? Abuelita—my dad’s mom—lived until she was ninety-three, but she died two years ago. Could it have been her? I had a mountain of questions that I knew wouldn’t get answered any time soon. It wasn’t as if I could go to my parents and ask. Besides the fact they hadn’t seen me in six months and most likely thought I was dead, they probably had no idea about the phoenix thing.
If the phoenix was tied to the reason I was targeted, then I did the right thing by running away. At the time it was an incredibly difficult choice, and I’d spent many hours agonizing about the rashness of my decision and how it affected my family. At the time I was desperate and scared, and running was the first thing that crossed my mind, but now I realized maybe it was for the best. It might have saved my family’s life. It might have saved mine.
I sat there for hours on Tristan’s doorstep and started to doze off. My head rolled to the side to rest on the doorframe as sleep overcame me. Just as I tumbled into a dream, I got a swift kick to the shin.
“Ow!” I yelped. My eyes snapped open and I reached for my leg. I looked up to find Tristan hovering over me.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded with the same disdain as if I’d walked off on my own.
“Always so warm and welcoming,” I snipped sarcastically as I stood up and dusted myself off. “I don’t know if Echo told you, but I was kidnapped!” I pointed to the talon rips in my shirt for emphasis. “Where were you?”
“Looking for you!” he exclaimed as if it had been such a chore. “What the hell is that?” He nodded toward the flower in my hand.
I looked down at my hand that was still clutching the dahlia and tried to laugh it off, though my voice was awkward and strained. “It’s nothing. Something I plucked on my way here.”
Tristan gave me an odd look before moving to the door and unlocking it with his keys, allowing me to go in first. I stumbled inside, making a beeline for the sofa when he latched onto the back of my shirt and pulled me back.
“Start talking.”
All I knew was that he was keeping me from finding blissful comfort in the pillowy soft, plush cushions of his sectional. I was beyond exhausted.
I groaned. “I was walking on the beach with Echo when a damn hawk came out of nowhere and snatched me up.” I grimaced. “And just so you know, I don’t like heights, so it was an incredibly terrifying experience.”
“I don’t care about your little fears and idiosyncrasies.” He waved me off. “Continue.”
I rolled my eyes and huffed. “It dropped me in a creepy playground with creaking chains that – I gotta tell ya – really gave off a horror movie vibe. When I looked up, I saw that burly lumberjack Killian, along with four or five other shifters. At least I think they were shifters. At this point, I’m just going to assume that anyone who’s with him is a shifter, including that damn hawk.”
“What did he want?” Tristan barked. I could tell he was getting irritated by the color commentary of my exploits.
“He wants me to join his pack. He told me you can’t be trusted and that your only desire is to use me, whereas he just wants to help me reach my full potential.”
Tristan grunted. “Do you believe him?”
I exhaled dramatically. “I think you both want me for your own gain, and I don’t trust either of you. Now I have to decide who’s the lesser of two evils.” I shrugged.
We watched each other warily in the weirdest standoff ever. I refused to blink first. He wanted the truth, so I gave it to him. I didn’t trust him or Killian. It was obvious they both had an agenda, I just didn’t know what it was. Since I didn’t know anything about the supernatural world I’d been catapulted into, it would be tricky for me to puzzle it out. It would also make it easy for them to manipulate me.
I wasn’t oblivious to that, but regardless of their motives, I needed them. My fiery outburst the other night could happen again and I could really hurt someone. That, or do it in front of a news crew and end up in a laboratory being poked by scientists in biohazard suits. I needed to learn to control the phoenix inside me. If one of them could teach me, then I’d just have to dance with the devil to do it.
“Go get some rest,” Tristan said, nodding toward the bedroom. “I’ll lay out some clothes for you to change into.”
Without a word, I turned around and stumbled out of the living area, through the kitchen, and down the hallway to the bedroom. The sudden tenseness between us was suffocating, and I wondered if what I said hurt his feelings.
The next morning, I woke up to groceries being delivered and Tristan tipping the delivery person. Still in my borrowed pajamas, I surveyed the vast collection of grocery bags on the counter waiting to be put away. Everything from whole grain cereal to organic vegetables and fruits, pasta, and some frozen dinners. I frowned at the sight of it all because I knew he didn’t really eat.
Is this all for me?
When Tristan strolled into the kitchen, he ignored me completely and started to put the food away.
“Uh … what’s this about?” I said as I held up a bag of precut, organic carrot sticks.
He didn’t look up at me. “You need to eat, don’t you? You can’t survive off the limited scraps I have, and you obviously don’t drink blood, hence the need for food.”
Now, how do I explain this without coming off like a complete asshole? “Tristan, I’m not staying here.”
He froze, then tilted his head in my direction with a perfectly emotionless expression.
I hurried to explain. “I have to pick up my final check from NightCrawlers, the rent’s due in a few days and I have to go pay that, and then I have to go find another job. These are real world problems, dude. My life doesn’t just stop because I found out I’m some mythical phoenix or whatever.”
Tristan went back to putting away groceries. Plucking a box of honey buns from one of the bags, he opened a cabinet door and slid them inside. “I’m deducing the problem here is money,” he replied calmly. A little too calm. It made me suspicious.
I furrowed my brows. “Yeah … you know, the thing people can’t survive without.”
“Then it’s not a problem. Consider it taken care of.” He continued digging through bags and putting groceries away as if it were the end of the discussion.
My eyes bugged out. “Are you insane? I’m not taking your money!”
“Call it an investment.” He shrugged, unaffected by my indignant outburst.
“More like a sugar daddy,” I scoffed.
He spun around to face me, his eyes sparkling and dangerous. “Are you calling me old?”
I smirked. “Well, you’re definitely not thirty years old, if that’s what you’re asking. What are you, like a billion years old?”
He growled. “Don’t insult me, Ms. Cruz.”
“Only an old timer would call me by my last name.” I laughed, but the sound got caught in my throat when Tristan suddenly cornered me against the counter. Surprised, I dropped the bag of carrot sticks I’d still been holding. He’d gotten to me so fast, it was like super speed. My hair was still blowing around my face from his swift movement. “Holy shit,” I muttered.
He grinned. “I might be considerably older than you, Ms. Cruz, but don’t ever think it’s a disadvantage. Quite the contrary.” His eyes lowered as he sized me up and down and my face heated from his speculative perusal.
I placed my palm against his cold but firm chest and pushed him back, giving myself space to breathe. Normally I wouldn’t be able to move him, but he allowed it.
“Don’t think so highly of yourself, jackass,” I said a little breathlessly.
His deep, throaty chuckle sounded like music to my ears.
Eww. What’s wrong with me?
“You’re
staying here, Octavia. End of discussion. I’ll have someone pick up your check from NightCrawlers, and then I’ll take care of the rest.” He pulled away and went back to putting the groceries away as if nothing happened.
“This discussion is not over!” I grumbled and marched back to the bedroom, slamming the door loudly like a child.
I wanted to rip out my hair in frustration. He drove me absolutely insane! While a small part of me admitted I liked being here with him, he couldn’t just take over my fake life and expect me to bow down and listen as he rearranged it. I wouldn’t let him. There were many things he could get away with, but not that. I needed my freedom, and he was going to learn that one way or another.
But either way, he would learn I was no one’s prisoner.
After a long shower—a very long shower—I meandered into the kitchen wearing the clothes Tristan had laid out for me. Another pair of buttery soft leggings and a long shirt that reached mid-thigh. It was beyond comfortable, and I appreciated it compared to the barely-there scraps of material I used to wear at NightCrawlers.
Tristan was waiting for me at the dining table, having showered and changed as well. He wore a form fitting heather gray shirt and I saw the necklace hidden beneath it.
“While Echo searches for your killer, you and I have some work to do.” He stood and walked around the long rectangle table that could easily seat eight people to join me where I stood.
“What are we going to do?”
“We, dear Octavia, are going to see what you can do,” he purred, tucking a strand of my artificially red hair behind my ear. “Follow me.”
Tristan spun on his heels and crossed the living room to the sliding door that led to the balcony, where he slid the door open and stepped outside into the sun. I cringed, fearing he’d burst into flames, but nothing happened. He was fine.
I hurried to follow him and stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the ocean and was large enough to host a small party.
“All right, so you burst into flames the other night, but you did it when you were highly emotional,” Tristan said as he began pushing patio furniture around the perimeter to make room. “But you must learn to control it and only bring it out when you want it to. When it’s necessary.”
I fiddled with my clammy hands. “I don’t know if I can.”
“That’s why we’re going to practice.” He finished moving the last piece of furniture. “The other night was the first time the phoenix burst out of you—”
“I didn’t see it,” I interrupted.
“Because she came out of your back. She was behind you. Had you known how to control it, control yourself, you could have brought her forth on your own. In fact, you could have set that whole forest ablaze.”
“California has enough forest fires,” I mumbled.
“You know what I mean,” he said sternly. “You need to learn control.”
I shook out my arms and shoulders, trying to relieve the unbearable tightness in my joints. “Okay, fine. Let’s give it a try.”
He smiled. “Good. Now come here.” He motioned me toward him with his pointer finger. I crossed the balcony and stopped just a few feet in front of him in the middle of the balcony. “I want you to tell me what you felt the other night when the phoenix was released.”
I shifted uncomfortably on my feet. “I don’t know … I guess I was scared. You were human trafficking me and I was pissed at myself for falling for it. I thought you were actually trying to help me, so I guess I felt deceived, mixed with fear at what was about to go down.”
He nodded. “Tap into that now. Those feelings of anger, that bitter deceit. I was going to trade you off and never think twice about it. You were nothing but another shifter, another waste. I was going to use you up and discard you.”
My eyes turned glassy and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying. I wasn’t crying because he’d hurt my feelings. Fuck that. I wanted to cry because I was angry. Frustrated. And hearing him say those things out loud only pissed me off.
Tristan tilted his head. “Aw, did you think I cared? That I would save you because, what? Because you’re another pretty face?” He snorted derisively. “There are plenty more of those out there if I need them. Did you think that because I saved you that night at the club, I was some kind of knight in shining armor?”
My fists were clenched at my side and I felt myself trembling from head to toe. I grinded my teeth painfully and flared my nostrils. If steam could have blown out of my ears, it would have.
“No,” he shook his head, “I’m no hero, Ms. Cruz. If anything, you should be very, very afraid. I am not your friend.” He prowled toward me like he was a predator and I was his prey. “Maybe I’ll pay a visit to your family,” he whispered menacingly. “I wonder how your sister would taste …”
With an explosion that rocked my body and engulfed me within an inferno, I screamed. Keeping my eyes tightly shut, I couldn’t stop the ragged screams that tore from my throat with blistering intensity. I felt the veins pulsing in my neck from the exertion. I was a match that had been lit, flaring to life and burning with a sulfuric fire.
Feeling the force of my explosion begin to ebb, my battered chest heaved as I quieted and opened my eyes.
Tristan was perched far away from me on the other side of the balcony, his gaze wide and completely mesmerized as he took me in. When I looked down at my arms and saw the flicker of orange and red flames blazing across my arms, chest, and chin, I started to hyperventilate.
It didn’t burn, I didn’t hurt, but the fear of it hurting me was like an impenetrable barrier in my mind.
“Relax, Octavia,” Tristan soothed as he took tentative steps closer, still maintaining enough of a good distance where I couldn’t touch him. “You’re fine. The fire won’t hurt you.”
“I-I can’t move,” I stuttered, the hysteria clear in my voice. “Why can’t I move?”
“You can move.” Tristan held out a tentative hand. “You’re just scared to move. Tell me—tell me what you’re feeling.”
“There’s—there’s a warm ember running through my veins. It feels weird, but it doesn’t hurt,” I admitted, trying to wiggle my fingers. “I’m really starting to freak out, Tristan. And if you touch my sister, I swear I’ll kill you!”
He gave me a sly smile. “I would never go near your sister, Octavia.”
My brows scrunched inward and I realized he only said those things to get a rise out of me. Of course. I was embarrassed with how easily I fell for it. He was trying to rile me up to bring out the phoenix … which meant …
“Is the phoenix behind me?” I asked, peering cautiously around my shoulder to see if I could catch a glimpse of the mysterious beast.
Tristan nodded. “Turn around.”
I took a couple deep breaths before I shuffled around and came face to face with a fantastical creature who, like me, was wreathed in tangerine and scarlet flames. When our eyes met, the creature spread its blazing wings and I could see how large it was. Large and fearsome, but also beautiful.
I reached for her with a trembling hand and stroked her face. As I did, she leaned in and purred at my touch. The warmth in my veins tingled and I sighed as an incredible feeling of peace and contentment filled my soul. My touch was delicate as it went to stroke her wing and I felt her feathers, downy soft and real. I was in awe.
“Try to move her,” Tristan coached behind me.
“Huh? How?” I asked stupidly as I continued to stroke her magnificent wing.
“Your minds are connected. You’re one. Tell her what you want.”
I snorted. “So, if I tell her to kill you—”
“Octavia,” he deadpanned.
“Okay, okay,” I mumbled. “Hmm.”
I stopped touching her and tried to clear my mind of scattered thoughts so I could send her a message. Once my mind was vacant of any competing images, I pictured her flying around me in circles. At first there was no response, so I pushed harder, almost bursting a blood
vessel in my brain. When I realized that method wasn’t working, I relaxed and simply asked her to listen while I imagined her flying. Without hesitation, she did as I asked.
I gasped as the wind buffeted around me, the flames licking my face like a delicate caress. The phoenix squawked as she flew around me, but the sound wasn’t harsh like the hawk who carried me to meet Killian. Her voice was ethereal, almost melodious.
We spent the afternoon practicing my control of the fire and the phoenix who resided within me, a grueling endeavor that left my mind and body weakened. For one, it was physically arduous to keep the fire going for so long, and for another, the effort to control the mind of the phoenix alongside my own gave me a migraine.
We continued for hours until the sun started to dip below the horizon. I was nowhere near ready to handle so much as lighting a birthday candle, but it was a start. And that was what I needed. The entire experience was surreal; there were moments I needed to pinch my arm to convince myself it was really happening.
When we finally finished our practice session, I practically had to crawl back inside the penthouse. Tristan turned to look at me and said, “You never told me who gave you the lead to NightCrawlers.”
I gasped for breath and wiped sweat off my forehead. “Because I told you it was none of your damn business.” I dragged myself into the kitchen for a bottle of water, reaching past a stack of blood bags in the back of the refrigerator to grab it. I shivered. Gross.
“It’s important for me to know, Octavia.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why?” I took a big gulp of water. There was no way I was going to rat Nick out after all he’d done for me.
“Because whoever referred you to NightCrawlers sent you to a vampire den. So, like I asked before, who told you about the club?”
“A vampire den? What does that mean?” I asked, thoroughly confused.
“It means that all the patrons are vampires, and the people who work there are human blood bags.”
Oh, shit.
Phoenix Burn (From the Ashes Trilogy Book 1) Page 8
