by Casey Hays
Casey Hays
Copyright © 2018 by Casey Hays
Editor: Anna Faulk
Graphic Designer: M.A. Phipps
We Got You Covered
BeSpoke Book Design
Published by Whispering Pages, LLC, an independently owned company.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Publisher Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Scorch Song, bk 2 / by Casey Hays
324 p. 22.86 cm
ISBN 978-0-9905698-7-3
1. Paranormal Romance - - Fiction. 2. Urban Fantasy - - Fiction 3. Fantasy - -
I. Hays, Casey, 1972-
PZ7.H3149176 SCO 2018
[FIC]
Books by Casey Hays
The Cadence
A stand-alone YA Contemporary Fantasy
The Arrow's Flight Series
Breeder
The Archer
Master
The Arrow's Flight Novellas
The Scent of Lilac
A Heart of Flesh
A Tongue of Fire (forthcoming)
A Soul of Stone (forthcoming)
Firebloods Series
Firebloods
Scorch Song
About the Author
Casey Hays lives on the Eastern Plains of New Mexico and has been writing professionally since 2008. She has a deep love for God, music, and a good cup of coffee. Scorch Song is her 8th published work and the second in a paranormal romance series. Find out more about Casey at www.whisperingpages.com
For
every little girl
who has ever
wanted to
fly…
Prelude
In the beginning, it’s the same dream. Well, the same concept anyway. The dream itself—it’s always a tiny bit different. I’m dancing with the boy—the same boy. Every time. I think I know him, or pieces of him. Sometimes, he has dimples… like Kane. That always makes me smile. Other times, he doesn’t even have a face. Or at least not one I can see. Just wings. Big, beautiful wings full of life.
There’s always music… without sound. That seems strange, doesn’t it? I used to think so too. Not anymore. My dreams make a lot of sense these days.
Daddy only shows up when I’m in the rose garden wearing the rainbow dress. I haven’t decided yet if that means something important. I’m guessing it does.
I hope Daddy tells me soon.
The man is there sometimes. The sharp-toothed man with the rough hands and long tongue? Thinking about him makes me shudder. Tonight… I dream again.
I have wings! I shoot into the air like a bullet, leaving a trail of golden dust in my wake. The boy waits for me on the clouds, and when he shows his dimples, I know for certain he’s Kane.
“I’m flying!”
I speed past him, but he catches me by the ankle just in time. Just before I jet out into space to be lost forever.
The stars watch us. They see our kiss. They hear our music. They twinkle for us.
For once… nothing explodes.
One
“Jude?”
The whisper tickles the nape of my neck. I shrug up my shoulders against it, snuggling deeper into the blankets. Lips brush my earlobe, pulling me another degree toward consciousness. My mind searches through the dark until images of last night burn into my memory. Burn. That’s an interesting use of imagery considering the circumstances, isn’t it?
“I have to go to work,” Kane whispers.
I force open my eyes and meet a canopy of black feathers. That’s right. Feathers—not blankets. I shuffle my fingers through them, and they shimmer with iridescence that pulls the smile to my lips again. I haven’t been able to stop smiling. Not even in my dreams.
Kane’s mouth finds my neck, his tongue flicking my skin lightly, and that smile just widens another inch. It takes me half a second to meet his mouth, to sink into his kiss, to taste the musky vanilla on his lips. I sigh, and it’s settled: Kane O’Reilly was made to kiss me. It’s cheesy, I know, but it’s an undeniable fact. Look, if you were me, you’d be compelled to agree. Compelled. Ha! Did you see what I did there? I’m full of those little puns today.
We fell asleep on the sectional in my den just before sunrise, wrapped in each other’s arms and cocooned in his wings. This morning, I snuggle into him, his bare chest scalding me with that familiar glowing heat. Only now, my skin matches his, and the heat explodes right through my tank top. It’s totally mind-blowing.
“It’s Sunday,” I whisper.
With a laugh, he hugs me closer. We both know that doesn’t matter. Connor O’Reilly doesn’t know the meaning of “day of rest” in any shape or form. Because every Sunday he and Kane clean the auto shop top to bottom to get ready for the next week. I swear, he’s the cleanest mechanic I’ve ever known, and that is seriously interfering with my plans to keep Kane all to myself for a few more hours.
“Can’t we just stay here forever?” I ask. My palm absorbs the heat of his chest.
“I wish.”
With a kiss to my temple, he eases us up together, his arms tight around me. I sigh with disappointment and plant my own kiss on the end of his chin. I don’t want this to end. Not ever. Because I don’t know if or when I will ever have a night like this again.
Kane swings his legs over the side of the couch and spreads his wings out behind him, long and dark black to match the color of his hair. I take him in, a little awestruck that any of this is happening to me. It’s unbelievable on every level of comprehension. But here I am… and here he is. A phoenix in disguise.
He furls his wings inward against his back. Another blink, and they vanish.
“You were dreaming again,” he says. Legs flung over his lap, I stretch to my full length.
“You could tell?” My response is stifled by a yawn.
“Yeah. You make little noises in your sleep when you dream.”
“Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“It’s cute,” he winks. “So don’t stop.”
And there I go, smiling like an idiot again. Because honestly, why not?
I pull my legs into my chest as he pushes to his feet, and I remember the dream. It was vivid. So vivid that it didn’t feel like a dream at all. Kane was there, and this time, there was no confusion over whether it was him. It was. And I felt safe because he was with me.
In reality, I didn’t have much time for dreaming last night. We hardly slept. We danced a little, cried a lot, but mostly, he told me everything he knew. Years ago, as our parents swore him to secrecy, he secretly made his own promise—to me. Obviously, I didn’t know about it, but that doesn’t change the fact that he made it. He was always going to tell me. In fact, he’d bought this little silver key exactly six months before he gave it to me. The token that symbolized the unlocking of my identity year by year with each new added notch—counting the days to my eighteenth birthday. That was the year he planned to risk our parents’ wrath and break it to me. Of course, due to extenuating circumstance, that day came a bit sooner than expected.
Apparently, the O’Reillys have known about me all along. They teamed up with my parents ages ago with the express intention of doing all they could to keep little ol’ me safe. And now… you’re wondering what in the world I need to be kept safe from, aren’t you?
Patience. We’ll get there.
From where I lie on the sectional, I have a clear view of Kane—right through the slats of the metal railing that divides the sunken den from my kitchen. He rummages around in a cupboard. His taut back muscles, right where his wings sho
uld be, stretch and pulse with each motion. I puff up a little. I can’t help it. That hunk of a Fireblood belongs to me.
This morning, bronzed and toned and full of silent fire, he is worlds more beautiful than yesterday morning, or the day before, or the day before that. Because this morning, I’m different, and it makes everything that much sweeter.
The room fills with the smells of fresh coffee before Kane drags up his duffel bag and disappears into the guest bath off the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hand. Moments later, the shower comes to life.
Mom’s huge clock chimes the noon hour, but I don’t budge. I stifle another yawn and hold still, thinking back over my crazy night, and here comes my smile again.
Over the past week, it’s become increasingly clear that none of us knew Kane. Not Jonas or Devan or Frankie, and if you can believe it, not even me. That’s weird, I know. But you see, Kane was right about being good at camouflaging. In fact, he doesn’t give himself enough credit. Because he wasn’t just camouflaging himself; he was hiding me too—for four years now—and that’s impressive.
He shared the truth with me from time to time by the tiny flecks of fire breaking through the camouflage. It always shows in the eyes first. I didn’t pick up on it, but I saw them… many times. I just thought his eyes were weird, in a cool sort of way. He says it happens when he grows tired or weak. Or vulnerable. Exhaustion cripples his capacity to fully camouflage. And me? I’m one of his weak links.
Last night, when he came clean, that little fact became pretty obvious. He couldn’t have stayed camouflaged if he’d used every bit of the strength he had left. Because the cloak was shed for both of us, and we stood in the raw before each other. I saw him… with my true eyes. I saw the pain and the scars and the fears that have made up his life. I saw the effects of his having to look me in the eyes every single day for the last twelve years and keep his mouth shut about what we really are. But last night, not a single secret hung between us, and he felt it too. It was exactly right. It is right. This is how it should have been our entire lives.
I kind of feel cheated.
My ruby ring sits on the edge of the coffee table, staring at me with a neglected glint and a broken heart, as if it understands its change in circumstances. For the moment it’s no longer compelled, and it rests on my palm as light as a feather when I sweep it up. The one puzzle piece that has continually haunted me for the last week. Today, the weight of its mystery is gone.
I slide my fingers the length of my forearm, my nails causing my ghostly illuminated skin to shiver with intense friction. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. It’s just… it’s so wild.
The corner mirror beckons me, and I don’t waste a second answering the call. I bask in its reflection, moving in close to see myself better. My hair tumbles over my shoulder, dark and untamed and accurately expressing how liberated I feel today. The fire of last night has settled into a calm. No flames stare back at me from my otherwise familiar face. But the tiny golden flecks sprinkled inside my dark brown irises shimmer, and I know if I called to my mantra, I would blaze up full force again. After all these years, the Fireblood has been set free.
Not once in my life did I notice any discrepancies in my appearance. That’s how deeply my parents had me buried from the world. Dad had so heavily compelled first Angelica and then the ruby ring that I didn’t suspect a thing—not even when Rylin’s mantra weaved its way into my head and tried to awaken my own repressed song. Nope. I just thought I was crazy.
I’ve been thinking a lot about that. I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t been such a coward. What if I had embraced Rylin’s song instead of shrinking from it? If fear hadn’t crippled me, would I have figured things out on my own? Who knows? Dad sensed my fear and delayed the awakening. But honestly, it was inevitable. Because here I am, fully awake.
I slide the ring onto my middle finger and study it. What were my parents thinking? They couldn’t have kept this up forever.
I only wear one additional piece of jewelry. Well, not jewelry by most people’s standards, but for me it’s priceless.
The key.
Around midnight or so, I found myself in my room, digging through the top drawer of my jewelry box for a chain. Kane, seated on the floor against my bedroom door, watched me with lazy eyes, his wings draping like black curtains. I slunk beneath his feathers and snuggled in close, the key hanging to the middle of my chest—shiny and cool on my hot skin.
I link my fingers around it now, just a plain silver key with five teeth. It’s beautiful.
My eyes flicker when Kane’s arms come from behind and encircle my waist. The smell of shampoo and musk floods my nostrils.
“Are you marveling over how beautiful you are?” I catch his reflected smile in the mirror, his hair wet and curly all over the top of his head.
“Sure. That’s what I’m doing.”
“I’ve gotta go.” He rests his cheek against mine, and it feels wonderfully scratchy. “My dad’s already threatened to kill me in three different texts.”
“Hmm… persistent.”
“You gonna be all right on your own?”
“Mm-huh.”
Our skin rubs together when I turn, and the fire in his eyes responds, sending my heart into a windstorm of flutters. Apart from revealing his wings, we’re both decamouflaged, which stirs up a myriad of sensations, both physical and emotional, familiar and new. Raw… and as smooth as silk. Kane presses in, his lips pulsating with glowing warmth that mimics my own. Boy, am I a goner. Hard to believe how boring my life was just one week ago.
The doorbell rings. Torn out of the moment, Kane pulls away, shifting toward the sound on high alert. My heartbeat stammers with a sudden panic. My skin glows hot-white, and a shrill warning echoes through my body. We can’t be seen like this! But Kane, calm and collected, winks at me.
I feel a slight change in the atmosphere as his compelling force moves in on my ring. Slowly, my glowing forearms fade to my natural skin-tone. The warmth eases off my body as if I’ve stepped outside of a cozy cabin on a snowy night. The doorbell rings again. Kane eases the fire completely from his eyes, his skin takes on its natural bronze hue, and just like that, he’s simply that green-eyed boy again—not a single trace of Fireblood to give him away. I toss a glance at my reflection. There I am. Simply Jude.
We smile in sync.
This. Is. Amazing.
I’m in Kane’s arms before he knows what’s happening.
“I love you,” I whisper.
His gaze turns slushy with emotion as he tightens his grip on me. And when our lips meet, a different kind of warmth fills me up.
We finally make it to the door where Devan stands on the porch dressed in a short skirt and a floral-print, bikini top. A huge, pink bubble emits from her mouth. She adjusts the large beach bag hanging in the crook of her elbow and sweeps through the door. The bubble pops with a loud crack.
“It’s about time,” she huffs, smacking. “I rang twice already.”
“Sorry,” I shrug. “We were… busy.”
I glance at Kane; he hides his smile, running a hand down the side of his jaw.
“I bet,” she smirks. She drops the bag at her feet and settles her entire gaze on Kane. “I know Jude’s going to miss the heck out of you, but I assume you need to get to work. You’re late, right?”
He goads her. “Now you’re psychic, are you?”
“Not quite,” she shrugs. “Your dad called Jonas when you two didn’t answer your phones. So you’d best hurry along.” She links an arm through my elbow. “Jude and I have a date at the pool. No boys allowed.” She winks and chews. “Sometimes, we need a day off.”
Kane shakes his head, then tugs me by the waist away from her and into his arms. “I’ll call you later.”
He plants a kiss on my temple. I nod, and my heart kind of sinks when he exits. I know I said I’d be all right, but first time on my own with the knowledge that I’m a Fireblood? That’s a bit intimidatin
g. I don’t even want to think about the trouble I could inadvertently get myself into.
“You two are seriously adorable,” Devan quips with a wrinkle of her nose. She kicks the door closed and pops me on the butt. “Now go get your suit. We’ve got some rays to catch.”
She saunters off toward the kitchen, blowing another bubble, and I float to my room still lingering on this brand new high. I flop onto my bed, back pressed into the mattress, arms and legs spread wide and a big, silly grin intact. And I just bask in the memory of how wonderful it feels to be a Fireblood.
I’m still trying to process everything Kane told me, and it’s mentally exhausting. For starters, I’m not adopted. Yeah. That yo-yo decided to swing the other direction just when I was getting used to the idea that my life was a complete lie. I was born in Costa Rica; that part is true. But the adoption certificate? A farce designed to safely smuggle me into the country and keep the Contingent off my parents’ backs. Because you see, I was never supposed to have been born.
Shocker, right? I thought so.
If you’re wondering how in the world I couldn’t have known about myself, well, here’s the partial answer: my mother isn’t a Fireblood, which only makes me half. My dad on the other hand? So many clues I never picked up on. Now that I know the truth… let’s just say the clues are like darts to a bullseye.
By the way, it’s strictly forbidden for a Fireblood to breed with a human. Oops. I guess my parents didn’t get the memo.
For some reason, I feel like wearing fire today. Hmmm. Wonder why? My little burnt orange bikini will do nicely. I drag it from a drawer and slip into my bathroom.
Downstairs, the stereo blasts to life, Devan’s voice competing with Adam Levine’s over who can really reach the higher note. I shove my toothbrush past my smile and brush hard. Honestly, I’m nervous about going out, and I feel kind of foolish about it. I mean, I was a Fireblood yesterday. How is today any different?
