HEARTFIRE
Book One
The Key
By
Celeste Davis
I can't stop myself from wanting her, and I don't even know her name. Or if she even exists...
Kaylia Thomas has a secret. She can do something no one else can. She can travel in her dreams. Sometimes she even meets other people...
Dylan Westen has it all. He's the richest boy in town and a star athlete with a bright future. But he has a secret. He was only sixteen when the dreams started. He would wake to find a beautiful girl standing above him. Like him, she seemed lost in the desolate worlds they would visit together in their sleep.
Now it's two years later and he's the prize catch of an Ivy League football team. He's just starting his freshman year when he sees her- the girl from his dreams. She's a fellow student at the prestigious university. And she's real.
Kaylia resists facing the truth about their connection, but Dylan won't give up. He's not the only one drawn to the quiet beauty though. When he rescues her from a group of rowdy sports fans after a game, it triggers something in him that has been long repressed. A family curse that once awakened, can only lead to blood.
Is Kaylia his true love? Or is she the key that unlocks the curse that will be his undoing?
*The Key is the first story in the Heartfire Books, a paranormal romance series from first time author Celeste Davis. It has been completely rewritten and expanded in anticipation of the third book in the series- coming soon from Celeste Davis and Pincushion Press*
Copyright © 2016 Celeste Davis
All rights reserved.
For Maggie and JoAnn
Chapters
Chapter One ♋
Chapter Two ♘
Chapter Three ☼
Chapter Four ☽
Chapter Five ☿
Chapter Six ✧
Chapter Seven ♐
Chapter Eight ✪
Chapter Nine ⚔
Chapter Ten ♒
Chapter Eleven ♈
Chapter Twelve ☈
Chapter Thirteen ♅
Chapter Fourteen ♆
Note from the author
Excerpt from The Hidden- book two in the Heartfire Trilogy
Excerpt from Second Sight- also from Pincushion Press
Chapter One
Kaylia
♋
Each night it began the same way. She'd rise from her bed and stand, still wearing her soft nightgown. It was soft and threadbare from being washed more times than she could count. Like her, it was perfectly ordinary and familiar. Her bedroom looked the same, her house, her street.
But everything was different.
She'd take a step, and then another, her feet never quite touching the ground. She climbed out of the window, barely feeling the curtains as they brushed her shoulders. She would stand on the pitched roof, feeling the cool night air on her face.
And then she'd step off into nothingness.
And fly.
She did not fly like a bird. It was more like she had springs in her legs and a loose tether to this world. Gravity had little sway over her. In the night, she did not bow to it's rules. Each step would take her ten to twelve feet. Sometimes she would rise twenty feet or higher.
And sometimes she'd blink and be in another place.
Of course, you couldn't really blink in dreams.
She knew that. She was a rational human being. Even in the dreams she knew that.
The world followed certain rules and you had to obey them. Red meant stop. Green meant go. Girls didn't fly or leap or travel hundreds of miles to visit a beautiful boy that made her heart flutter and her breath catch.
You didn't actually breathe in dreams. Your pulse didn't really race. You didn't fall in love.
Only that wasn't entirely true. She knew because she had felt all those things. And more.
On certain nights, she'd find herself going to the same familiar house in the same sleepy town. She didn't know where it was, or what the town was called. She knew it was near the sea, with a sandy coast and the tang of salt in the air. She'd never been there in her waking life, but she often found herself staring up at his window in her dreams.
The boy she visited. She'd never met him before. He wasn't an actor or someone she'd seen on TV. She knew because she'd tried to find him.
She'd been searching for him for years. It wasn't easy with so little to go on. But every now and then, she'd try all the same.
Just to figure out if she was crazy.
Some nights she would blink and find herself on his roof. It was a big house with large white columns, set in the middle of vast manicured lawns. Then she'd be in his bedroom, staring down at him. He was a restless sleeper, often tangled up in the sheets, his hair falling over his eyes.
Her hand would press his chest and like her, he would rise. She didn't know his name or how old he was. She didn't know if he was real. All she knew was that the stormy dark blue of his eyes reminded her of the sea.
The sea... she'd never seen in it person. But she knew it well from the dreams. The cool sand beneath her bare feet. The salty smell. The vastness of the ocean.
They'd often go there together and watch the night sky. She would take his hand and they would be there, listening to the waves crash on a deserted beach. He was always startled by the sudden leaps to a new location. She was used to it and could control it sometimes, though it was never an entirely conscious decision. She knew on some level that she was dreaming so she never panicked when she found herself someplace new.
She was sure of herself in the dreams in a way she never was when she was awake. Or at least she was until he kissed her. She could still feel his hands where they had pressed her cheeks, guiding her towards him. His lips had felt so real, so hot that they almost scalded her.
That had been last night. The dream had stuck with her even longer than usual, the vivid memory of the kiss keeping her distracted and tense while she packed her meager belongings.
Most people forgot their dreams. But Kaylia never did.
Especially not this one.
After all, it was her very first kiss.
Dylan
♋
Dylan stood in the doorway to his new room. It was spacious, with a full-sized bed, dark wood desk, and dresser. A window overlooked the woods that bordered the school. As a member of the University football team, he was given special housing on a separate part of the campus.
Really nice housing.
Of course, he was used to really nice housing. His family home was a two-hundred year old mansion, even if his parents refused to call it that. The three of them rattled around the estate, hardly ever bumping into each other except for meal times.
This would be different. For the first time in his life, he'd be living in close proximity with other people his own age. The only people under thirty in his parent's house were servants.
But here, he had roommates.
Right next door, knock on the wall if you need something, probably going to be annoying as hell roommates.
Still, he couldn't lie. Dylan was more than a little excited to be here. For once in his life, he wouldn't be the heir to the richest family in the state. No one knew who he was.
Here he was just another student. An athlete, but still. He was practically normal.
Each player was in a suite with three other teammates. They had private rooms with a central living room and a large kitchen on one side of the room. They even had their own en suite bathrooms, along with a powder room.
Dylan was vaguely aware that the rest of the student population did not live like this. Especially not the Freshman. After Sophomore year you could move off
campus, but only the richest students could afford anything like the townhouses the athletes got.
Well, not all the athletes.
The best housing was reserved for the football team.
It was a football school and the players were treated like kings. And Dylan knew he was their prize catch for the year. He'd been told he was going to get field time in almost every game, to prep him to take over as lead quarterback next year as a Sophmore.
His future was mapped out for him. He was at an top tier school. He had a bright career in either sports or business ahead of him. Maybe both.
Everything was being handed to him on silver platter.
He should be ecstatic.
But as usual, something was missing. And not something he could tell anyone else about. Nobody would understand. Even worse, they would think he was crazy.
He'd never told anyone about it. Any of it. He'd never even considered mentioning the gaping hole he felt inside him. The hole that only one, impossible thing could fill.
Her.
The girl from his dreams. The beautiful girl with the big brown eyes that seemed to stare right through him. The touch of her hand when she woke him at least once a week for the past several years. And her lips... he'd been dreaming about her for years but only last week had he dared to kiss her.
What a kiss it had been.
Dylan had girlfriends in real life of course. He was rich, good looking and by far the best athlete his hometown had seen in a decade. Girls fell into his lap with an almost annoying frequency. But he'd never been too invested in anything romantic.
Not while he was awake anyway.
On some level, he knew it wasn't fair to compare them to her delicate, ethereal beauty. But he couldn't help but notice these real, flesh and blood girls seemed silly and superficial next to the sad eyed beauty from his sleeping life. And to him, it really was a whole other life.
Dylan knew that other people didn't dream like he did. Nowhere near as extensively and nowhere near as vividly. His dreams were almost brighter than real life somehow. More substantial. It wasn't every night though. Only when she was there.
"Dyl? Want to help me with this buddy?"
His dad called to him from the street where he was unloading the van they'd rented to get Dylan's stuff up. Not a grubby old moving van, either. No, this one was bright white and practically brand new.
His mother had gone all out as usual. A new laptop, an easy chair with an ottoman, a desk chair, and thousand thread count sheets with matching quilts and blankets. There were throw pillows and a rug to 'tie it all together.' She'd even packed some artwork, tastefully framed posters of places they'd travelled and a few of the old rock bands that Dylan loved.
It was going to look like an interior design magazine's version of a college dorm room.
He grimaced. He did not want to be labeled as a spoiled rich boy on day one. His parents had over done it as usual. They meant well though. And he could always tone it down later. He ran down the stairs to help.
Dylan was nothing if not a dutiful son.
Chapter Two
Kaylia
♘
It was drizzling as Kaylia peered eagerly out the dirty window. The bus pulled to a stop in front of a dingy bus depot. She leaned forward, her forehead nearly pressed against the glass. It was a gray, chilly day for September, but nothing could dampen her spirits.
Or soothe the small knot of nerves in the pit of her belly.
This was it. She was here at long last. Her first day at college. It didn't matter that she was stiff and in sore need of a shower after 18 hours on a smelly old bus. She was no longer the odd girl from the edge of a tiny, backwater Louisiana town. She was not the girl whose mother had run off. She was not the one in everybody else's hand-me-downs.
As of today, Kaylia could be anyone she damn well wanted to be.
It was pretty much the best day of her life.
She stood on the sidewalk with her bags at her feet, looking around. There was a grubby old coffee shop and a few low rent looking storefronts. But to her, it was all exciting.
You would think the bus would stop directly in front of the college, considering the school was the top draw for the town, but no. The University was at the edge of town, far from the gritty downtown area where the bus let out.
Well, it was a large town or a small city. She wasn't really sure which. But for the next four years, it was home.
Either way it was already way more glamorous than where she'd come from. If she had her way, she would never be going back except to see her Gran. Never for any longer than a quick visit. This was the start of her new life.
The new Kaylia.
She heaved her second-hand backpack over her shoulders. Inside it were her prized possessions: her favorite pillow and a sketchpad. Her two escape vehicles. One for drawing and one for dreaming.
The ancient duffle bag contained two pairs of jeans, a handful of t-shirts, two button downs, a cardigan and a jean jacket that was a little on the tight side. Actually everything was a little tight across the chest these days, what with her bosoms coming in late. That had facilitated a last minute trip to the local thrift shop. All the unstained shirts happened to be in the men's section, so that's what she had. Her Gran had taken up the sleeves for her so she wasn't swimming in them. Other than her underthings and a couple of nightgowns, that was all she had brought.
Hell, it was everything she owned more or less.
Every last bit of it was rolled up into the beautiful quilt her Nan had given her for her sixteenth birthday. The quilt was comprised of scraps from sewing projects, faded curtains and, most meaningfully, from a few of the old dresses her mother had left behind.
Those little snips and bits were all Kaylia had left of her. It wasn't much, but it kept her warm and safe at night. And that magical feeling stayed with her all through the night, even in her dreams.
Until she had to wake up and face the real world anyway.
On her feet were her one pair of sneakers, plus the broken in penny loafers that swung from her arm in a plastic grocery bag. 'Traveling light' her grandmother called it. 'Being poor' was another way to put it.
Speaking of which, she was in dire need of some grub.
It was mid-morning and she was starving. She'd gotten on the bus yesterday afternoon with a bag full of snacks. Mostly fruit but also a tuna fish sandwich and one of her favorite bags of chips. Those were long gone, as was the bottled water and iced tea she'd brought along.
Kaylia started walking the half a mile from the bus station to campus. She stopped and got an iced tea from a deli and kept walking. No need to show up with a scratchy throat after all. She hoped the dining hall was open soon. That was included in her scholarship, so all her meals had to come from there.
And all this walking was working up one hell of an appetite
She didn't mind too much though. It was a beautiful day and she got the lay of the land.
Besides, she was used to being hungry. Not starving. Nan set a good table. But there wasn't always enough for seconds. And snacking was a foreign concept in her house.
Like she always said, dirt poor.
Thank goodness for financial aid and scholarships. Her Gran had always pushed her to work hard at school and it had paid off. Kaylia had earned both merit and hardship assistance. Even with that she already owed more money than her Nan's tiny house was worth. Or would by the end of the year.
Never mind how deep she'd be in the hole after four years...
She hadn't even set foot on campus yet or learned one thing and she was already in over her head. Better make this count girl. Kaylia had a habit of making things count. Art class at school for one thing. Mrs. Craddock had developed a system of letting Kaylia stay after school and use all the supplies. She was the star art pupil after all, and her teacher had known that money was hard to come by.
Those afternoons had earned her a spot in the
coveted Fine Arts department, as well as provided the portfolio that had won her yet another scholarship in mixed media. Kaylia loved drawing, painting and sculpture, though she planned to major in Art History, and minor in fine art.
It was safer. Smarter. And lord knows she had to be smart.
She was sweaty and tired by the time she found her dorm. She stared up at the gray stone building. It was bigger than the town hall back home. She squared her shoulders and climbed the three flights to her dorm room.
The hallway was bustling, with parents and kids everywhere. There were trunks and boxes and luggage clogging the way. She nudged her way through, trying to be polite about it.
Finally, Kaylia pushed the door open to her room. A pretty blond girl was already arranging one side of the room. There were pink pillows everywhere. A sparkly pink lamp sat on the desk next to a laptop and printer.
The laptop was also pink.
Kaylia blinked and shifted self-consciously on her feet.
"Hi."
The blond looked up with a friendly smile that quickly faded.
"Hi. Kaylia right?"
The girl was looking her over and obviously finding her wanting. Kaylia noticed she was staring at her shoes and lack of luggage. She sighed, already resigned to being the odd girl out.
Again.
Kaylia knew she looked like a wet rat at a pedigree dog show. That was the main reason she kept to herself for the most part back home. She'd most likely do the same here, new start or not.
It was just easier that way.
Plus, she didn't want anyone to figure out just how different she really was.
"Yes, I'm Kaylia. Are you Charisse?"
The girl nodded slowly.
"It's pronounced Charrr-eeese."
The Key (Heartfire) Page 1
