Embers of Us (Burn For Me #3)

Chapter One

“I t’s perfect,” I practically squeal as I step into the two-story townhouse smack in the middle of the city, the keys dangling from the end of my finger.

“Uh,” Willow, my brother’s wife stutters as she tiptoes over the pile of rotten wood next to the door, and narrows her eyes at the cobwebs currently occupying the doorframe leading into the kitchen on the left, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

A laugh bursts from me as I turn and take in her expression, the cringe twisting her pretty features as her anxiety keeps her body tight and stiff.

“What do you mean!? Of course this is the right place! Can’t you see the potential?” I widen my arms as she hangs back in the doorway, and I stand in the middle of what would be the living room.

“I see holes in the wall and a broken window.”

“I wanted something I could do up myself,” I shrug, “And this place has good bones.”

The floorboards beneath my feet creak and groan as I shift my weight, “I’ve already had contractors out, they’ll be starting the structural work tomorrow.”

Willow still doesn’t look convinced, but she finally steps away from the entry hall and into the room, wincing when groans sound beneath her. “I feel like I’m about to go through the floor, Savannah.” Her shrill, anxious tone forces me to take pity on her.

“I promise it’s good. We had it inspected before I signed any contracts and they said, while it could use some serious TLC, it is solid so you’re not going to go through the floor.”

I watch my sister-in-law, begging her silently to just see it the way I do. We haven’t known each other all that long but I love her like a sister already. She is the perfect fit for my brother and an incredible mother to their newborn daughter, Hope.

“Besides,” I continue, “Sebastian checked it out too and we both know how over the top protective my brother can be, and he wouldn’t have let me near it, let alone you if he thought either of us could get hurt.”

She purses her lips, but I watch the apprehension leave her, her shoulders lowering with the relief, “That’s true. ”

“Exactly,” I grin, “Now imagine what this place is going to look like once I have it renovated!”

Willow’s blue eyes roam the large living room, taking in the bay windows that look out into a small front yard and beyond, to the city park across the street. The ceilings are high, and it even has a fireplace with an original oak mantel that I am hoping to be able to restore and original hardwood floors. The house has been neglected, left empty for a couple of years but no longer, because this is mine. A permanent home.

I’ve been on tour so much over the last couple of years that I haven’t been able to settle down anywhere, but I can now. My break was only supposed to be six months but after a long conversation with my manager, we came to an agreement that I could take more time. I still have to honor my commitments but that isn’t a chore in the slightest. I love what I do, just not the travelling so much.

I’ve seen the world, been to Europe, and Australia, danced in some of the most prestigious theatres and in front of thousands of people but nothing beats being home. Where my family and my friends are.

There’s plenty of work for me here and I’ve made a name for myself so it’s not like I’ll have to beg, borrow and steal to get it. Plus, I’ve earned a lot of money, money I’ll never be able to spend in this lifetime so if I wanted to take a full break, I could. But I don’t dance for the money, that’s just a perk, I dance because it is a part of my soul, it breathes life into me.

“This isn’t even the best room,” I tell Willow, grasping her hand and tug her across the hall and into the kitchen, not stopping as I continue through to a door at the back that opens into what I assume would have been a home office or library. An enormous one.

It’s an extension, which again needs work but one of the walls is made entirely of glass that faces out into a modest backyard. With its high ceilings and hardwood flooring the same as the main house, I’ve decided I’ll be making it my home dance studio. On one wall, I’ll be adding floor to ceiling mirrors with bars and on the other will be a small home gym. I never did like going to gyms, but I had to, and this way I can dance and work out in the privacy of my own home. But even with the equipment I’ll be getting, there’s still so much space to move. I can dance without restrictions.

I know by Willow’s face she can’t see what I am seeing in my head and that’s okay. With a little love, this place will be a home, my own little sanctuary. Something I have worked hard for years to achieve.

“Let me show you upstairs,” I tell her and guide her back through the kitchen and to the stairs in the entry hall that groan like the rest of the house, but it doesn’t bother me. I can’t wait to breathe life back into this place.

When the tour is up, we head back downstairs where she places her hands on her hips and frowns, “Where are you staying while this place gets renovated?” She asks, “Didn’t your lease just end?”

“Oh, I’m going to stay with a friend, the structural work will only take a few weeks, and I didn’t want to tie into a six-month contract since as soon as it’s done, I’ll be moving in, and I can decorate and such. She’s only around the corner.”

“Who is it?” Much like my brother, she’s protective and while I love her for it, I wish people would start treating me like an adult. I’m twenty-four, not a kid or a teenager, I mean I travelled the whole world on my own. I think I can look after myself in a city I know like the back of my hand.

“Sloane, I met her in college, she moved to the city a few weeks back.”

“You can stay with us,” Willow offers.

“And disturb your time with your newborn?” I scoff, “Absolutely not. You deserve this time with Bast and Hope, I’m good with these arrangements.”

“Okay,” She gives me a smile, “If you change your mind, you know we have the room.”

I nod, “I know.”

She turns her wrist and checks her watch, “I have to get back, we need to arrange a girl’s night soon.”

“We really do,” I agree, giving her a hug before I show her to the door, watching as she makes her way to her car parked on the street and drives off. It’s coming to the end of summer now and the leaves have started to turn but the heat is hanging on. The house should be done before Autumn takes over and the cold that comes with being on the Northeastern coast fully snaps into place. Winter is no joke here and I want that fireplace to be fully functional before it sinks its icy claws into all of us .

The door creaks as I close it and I wince as one of the hinges practically falls out the frame, hanging on by a single screw that even a small puff of wind will knock loose. Not a big deal, I tell myself, this will all be solved once the workers get here tomorrow and bring this place back to life.

Heading back through to the room I’ll be turning into my studio, I stop and put my hands on my hips, my eyes falling closed as I imagine how incredible it’s going to be.

I haven’t danced in a week, I’ve been doing paperwork, and having meetings with contractors so I haven’t had the time nor the space and even though it’s not ready nor is it practical, I pull my phone from my pocket and bring up my playlist.

Hitting play on the song, the soft notes of the guitar fill the room with sound, the intro to My Drug by Anthony Mossburg a balm that washes through me. My body moves in a sequence I have performed time and time again, in a way that is almost haunting but beautiful. I don’t dance to music like this in front of an audience, though there’s something special about the way the passionate lyrics and the elegant dance of ballet work in tandem. It creates a visual to match the burning need etched into every word crooned alongside the expertly pulled strings of the guitar.

I immediately break a sweat as my body twists and bends, sweeping through the room as the late afternoon sun beams in through the floor to ceiling windows. The floor creaks and dust is stirred up but still I move, eyes closed as each note and lyric echoes through me, like I am the puppet and the music is my master. I have no control over my body, not when I am dancing. My soul is on fire, but I am happy to sit in the middle of the flames until I am nothing but ashes if it means I can continue to feel the freedom that dancing brings.

I start to slow my pace as the song draws to an end and when silence falls around me, I keep my eyes closed, my whole body vibrating with the aftershocks of my private performance as my heart pumps heavily inside my chest.

It isn’t until I hear a shoe scuff across the grit littering the floor that I realize I am not alone. My eyes snap open, instantly finding the person currently standing in the door to the room. I was so lost in the dance I didn’t even hear him arrive.

Killian Archer stands there, touched by sunlight, his dark eyes pinning me to the floor. If heartache had a physical form, it would be in the room with me right now.

There is nothing but dust and silence between us but then he opens his mouth to speak only his words are cut off as his brother, Dean, shoves his way through.

“Damn, Sav,” Dean whistles, “You sure Bast gave the go ahead for this?”

I snap out of whatever trance I was just in and snatch my phone off the floor, “It’s not that bad.”

Dean’s face scrunches up, “Are you blind?”

“And for that,” I stomp toward the two of them and push my way through, holding my breath so I don’t breathe in Killian’s intoxicating scent as I make my way into the kitchen, “You’re not invited to the first dinner I host here when it’s all ready to go.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, mini-Levine,” Dean pouts, “You know I didn’t mean it.”

I shake my head at the younger of the two of them, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Wanted to check out the new house,” Dean answers, Killian remaining silent which is nothing new anymore. We used to talk, all the time, our conversations easy and light but something changed after I came home six months ago. Now I’m lucky if I can get two words from him.

It makes me sad, and I would worry that he’d somehow figured out I had a crush on him, but I have done nothing that would tell of such a thing. It’s harmless and I haven’t acted on it, but he won’t come anywhere near me anymore and I don’t remember doing anything to upset him. I have tried to ask him but he either ignores me or leaves the room if we ever find ourselves alone together.

I’m surprised he’s even here.

“I know it needs work,” I look around at the cupboards that hang off the walls, barely holding on and the cracked and chipped tiles above the counters, the faucet dripping water into the sink, “But I love it.”

Dean nods, “I can see the potential. It’ll be great once you have it up together, don’t you think, Kill?” He nudges his brother who only grunts at the question before he heads for the door, feet crunching on the debris littering the floor.

“The fuck is up with him?” Dean curls his lip at his brother’s back.

I shrug, “Beats me.”

“Anyway, want a lift to Malakai’s? We’re heading there now.”

“I’m good,” I pluck my keys from the counter, “I’m going to head to Sloane’s for the night. I’ve got to be back early in the morning for the contractors.”

I’ve been surrounded by my brothers best friends my entire life, all through my early and teenage years but then I went off to college for a few years and didn’t see much of them, though we stayed in touch and even though I came back, clearly no longer the dorky kid with braces too big for her mouth, they still treat me like that fifteen year old girl that wanted to go to the dance with a boy.

I love them but fuck, it grates my nerves.

“Alright, mini-Levine,” Dean gives me a two finger salute and follows the path his brother took, “Give me a shout if you need anything and let me know when I can come and fit the security system.”

I roll my eyes at his back, but I don’t tell him a time because he will not be fitting anything. I’m not giving those overbearing, overprotective men access to a security feed of my new home. I’ll have security but not from them .

“See you later,” I tell him, looking beyond him at the door to where Killian stands leaning against the side of his sleek, blacked out Audi R8 and lift my hand to say goodbye.

But he turns his back to me, throwing the door open to slip inside without ever looking back.