Burned: Ash and Flames, #2

By Ana J. Phoenix

Three weeks after the events in Altasia, nightmares come to plague Asher. His only defense against them seems to be José, but Asher is struggling with José’s determination to shoehorn them into a relationship. If he’s being honest, he isn’t quite sure what José hopes to get out of a relationship with him besides sex.

His problems don't end there, though. Strange things begin to happen in Riverside. Suddenly the bond is back, José's sister falls into a coma, and to top it all off, someone sets fire to Asher's house--and it isn't Asher.

Somehow, this world and the other one are related, and if Asher wants to keep shit from hitting the fan, he needs to figure out how. There’s no time to worry about love, but ignoring it might be his worst mistake ever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ana J. Phoenix
• Release date: Oct 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519934819

Book preview

Chapter 1 - Taking the Long Way

Stones rained down on them. Pebbles as well as larger rocks, but none seemed to hit. The fortress was falling apart around them. That didn't matter, though. All that mattered were those warm lips on his, the way José's tongue slid into his mouth, and the heat that pooled in his body.

A crashing sound, and Asher's eyes flew open. The walls were caving in. José pulled away from him.

No, no, no.

Next time, José said.

Asher grabbed his arm. Don't you fucking do that! Don't— He stopped speaking. A cold shiver went down his back. Warm blood ran down José's arm and onto Asher's hand.

Asher held his fingers up to his eyes. Why...? The question echoed back at him without answer. He was alone. Dust swirled up from the stones where they crashed to the ground beside him. Shit...

His foot hit something cold and solid as he tried to take a step back. He was trapped. Pebbles hit his head, and he threw his hands up to shield himself. But he couldn't shield himself from the flames that rose around him, searing into his skin.

He woke in a dark room, his heart beating in his ears like a prisoner wanting to escape as the adrenalin peaked and ebbed away.

Just a nightmare.

He should have been used to them by now. It was either insomnia or nightmares ever since he'd come back to the real world two weeks ago. Or had it been three weeks now? Maybe. He couldn't say. Days all blurred into one and stretched out eternally at the same time.

He searched the dark room around him. Where was he? He couldn't have been asleep for long—he never had that luxury anymore—but he still didn't remember shit. Someone moved on the other side of the bed, and Asher's eyes darted to the dark figure.

A click, and light flooded the room. Asher threw his arm in front of his eyes and groaned.

Morning, pretty, someone said in a sing-song voice that Asher didn't recognize. Or well, it's really just 2am, but I'm sure it's morning somewhere.

Asher lowered his arm and blinked against the light. His head chose that moment to remind him of his date with a shitload of alcohol the night before. The room spun in front of his eyes. He groaned again.

My, aren't you eloquent.

Shut up. Asher looked at the noisy stranger beside him. Fuck. How the hell had he ended up with such a queen? He must have been very far gone. Did we—

Oh no, sweety, we didn't. Such a shame too. You're the prettiest little bird I've brought home in a while.

'M no fucking bird. Asher sank back into the pillow, one arm over his eyes. He wasn't going back to sleep, but the light still burned and the pounding in his head wouldn't stop. The headache had become a constant companion, but it was more furious now. He was so fucking tired. And maybe he was going to throw up.

You have such a potty mouth. The queen tutted at him. But when I found you, you looked so much like a lost little bird I just had to take you home.

Sure, Asher said. You were gonna save me by fucking me. Sexual healing and all that shit. Fuck for the good of humanity. His voice scratched in his throat as he spoke. Maybe he was catching a cold on top of it all. Wouldn't that be just fucking wonderful?

Oh, I would have shown you a good time, honey, you can believe that, but you were out like a light soon as we got here.

Mhm..., Asher murmured instead of bothering with an actual response. He should probably leave, but his limbs felt heavy.

You should really sleep more. You have a fabulous body, but that concealer on your face isn't fooling anyone. At least not this queen.

And you should really fuck yourself.

Oh, but why would I when I have such a beautiful blond in my bed? A hand landed on his bare stomach and Asher peeked at it from under his arm. He didn't remember giving the queen touching rights. He really should leave. The hand moved towards the waistband of his pants as he watched, then stopped short. Asher's eyes trailed to the queen's face. An unspoken question was written all over it.

What is it?

I'm curious, the queen said. Who's José? Asher winced at the mention of the name. When had he let that slip? You were talking of him in your sleep. You got a boyfriend?

No, I don't. I can fuck whoever I want.

Then who—'

Just the man of my dreams, Asher said, not caring how the queen would interpret that.

Your dreams or your nightmares?

There's no damn difference.

Mhm...Let me show you something you can dream of.

Asher raised an eyebrow at him. Really, could it get any worse? He closed his eyes and breathed. Shut up and fuck me.

As you wish.

It wasn't what he wished for, not by a long shot. The smell, the taste, the feel of him... It was all wrong. Still better than dreaming, though.

***

Later when he left the apartment, Asher checked his cell phone to see he had three missed calls. All from the same number. 'Nails' as it said in his contact list. Asher didn't bother calling back. Nails would try again before long.

True enough, his phone rang again in the evening when he was sitting in a coffee shop by himself, nipping on his third serving of all that was keeping him alive. His tongue had already numbed to the taste of the caffeine. Flipping his cell phone open, he answered the call. 'Sup?

Where'd you run off to last night? Nails's voice.

No fucking clue, Asher said. I met some queen, though.

The other guy groaned. Every fucking time, Asher, I lose sight of you for one second and—

What's your problem, man? Asher really didn't need Nails to worsen his headache. I'm gonna hang up.

No wait, where are you?

Asher looked around himself and out through the large glass windows onto the street. The sky hung gray overhead and the clouds let little light fall onto the buildings, but Asher knew exactly where he was. A coffee shop in Cleves Avenue.

What are you doing all the way over there?

Drinking coffee. Duh.

Right, wait, don't move. I'll be over in a few. With that, Nails disconnected the call.

Asher put his phone away and rubbed his eyes. He should just pay and leave before Nails would drag him out for another night of 'fun'. But then, what would he do?

He raised the steaming cup of coffee to his lips and inhaled the scent deeply into his nose. His gaze went out onto the street again and focused on one building in particular. 121 Cleves Avenue. The address that had been written on the pack of cigarettes he'd found in the hospital. He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving the road. His heart beat a little louder every time someone came out of the building. Never who he expected to see.

Time passed him by until a waitress stopped by his table, asking whether he wanted anything else. For a second, he only looked at her, trying to decide whether he wanted to leave ore not. Eventually he shook his head and waved her off. She went away. He looked out again, hands clasped around the warm mug on the table.

The door to the coffee shop opened, and Asher stole a glance at the new customer. And then he nearly shattered his cup.

Blind Guy.

It had to be him. There was no mistaking it. The color of his hair had changed—black with red tips—and he was wearing a white coat and carrying a cane, but it was definitely the man he dreamed of. Asher gulped, his heart beating all the way up in his throat. Blind Guy must have come in from the other side of the road. Asher should have left. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He directed his thoughts at Blind Guy as if telepathy was a thing.

Order to go. Don't drink your fucking coffee in here. You can't find me here like this.

Blind Guy would think he was some pathetic little stalker. At least, Blind Guy was blind. Asher could still pay and leave, and he would never know. And yet, Asher couldn't get up. Couldn't move. His eyes were fixed on the man in the white coat who came to stand at the counter. Asher couldn't breathe, couldn't think. So he watched.

A waitress appeared besides José, and José placed his order for a latte. The sound of his voice made Asher's stomach flip, and he couldn't decide whether the feeling was good or bad. All he knew was that he wanted to go up to José and grab him, and kiss him, and—

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip—hard. Coming here had been the worst idea ever. He took a deep breath and cracked his eyes open again when the door opened a second time. Nails entered the coffee shop, looked around, and grinned when he spotted Asher.

Oh shit. Don't say my name.

Nails strode over to him, and Asher jumped from his table as he opened his mouth.

Shut the fuck up!

Asher didn't dare voice the thought as long as Blind Guy was in earshot. So he did the only thing he could do, and shut Nails' mouth with his own.

Peppermint. That's what Nails tasted like. Just like that time they had fucked, though that was all blurry in Asher's memory. He'd expected Nails to be too shocked to do anything, but instead he clutched onto him and shoved his tongue into Asher's mouth. In the background, someone hooted. Asher watched Blind Guy out of the corner of his eyes as he paid for his coffee and turned to leave the shop.

Hurry up!

Blind Guy walked right by them on his way out. Asher closed his eyes, and dug his hands into Nails' shoulders to keep himself from doing something stupid. He caught a whiff of José's scent, and then the door fell shut and he was gone.

Asher broke away from Nails.

What was that? Nails stared at him.

Nothing, Asher said without looking at him. He returned to his table and drained the rest of his coffee to wipe the taste away. Through the window, he could have seen José walk back to his apartment, but he forced himself not to look that way. He'd seen enough. After all, he was no stalker. He wasn't.

So you up for something fun tonight? Nails asked.

Sure, Asher said. Whatever.

Anything to forget what had just happened.

***

José opened the door to his apartment and set the coffee aside while he hung up his coat and slipped out of his shoes. His little trip around the block had done nothing for his mood. Lately, it seemed he couldn't avoid running into couples. They were everywhere. The two just now in the coffee shop were the icing on the cake. Seriously, as if they'd only been waiting for his cue to jump each other. He could still hear the waitress murmur: Such a shame the hot ones are always gay. Cute, though.

Yeah, freaking adorable.

He shook his head at himself, took his coffee and sat down on his couch. Jealousy was ugly. He had to put himself out there again. There was no use waiting for Asher. After all, it had been three weeks since Asher had checked himself out of the hospital. Three weeks and four days—not that anyone was counting. But Asher had never bothered to contact him. Except for one weird phone call that José would rather forget. Still, he'd made sure to always have his phone in reach. Some days he checked if he hadn't missed any calls or messages, even when he knew he couldn't have. It was starting to feel ridiculous even to him.

He took a sip of coffee and foam stuck to his lips, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. Grabbing the remote from the couch table, he felt for the triangular button and turned the radio on. The voice of a news reporter droned through the room and filled the empty space.

It was time to do something. He couldn't go on counting the days and pitying himself because of some idiotic asshole who obviously wasn't interested. He needed distraction. Some friends and a couple of drinks would provide just that. So he reached for his phone and gave a voice command: Call Samantha.

***

Asher slumped over a table in the corner of the crappy bar Nails had dragged him to hours ago. The air stank of sweat, nicotine and alcohol, and even after his second painkiller, the beats of the drums still slammed into his head like boulders. Must be why they called it rock music.

The only positive thing about this place was how it was near impossible to fall asleep. Even when he did nod off, someone from the gang would come and annoy him soon enough. And maybe he'd been resting his head on his arms for too long now because someone poked him in the side.

Don't fucking-

—touch me, a female voice finished the sentence with him. He looked up and the girl rolled her eyes at him. Go home and get some shut-eye, Asher, or a lot of people will be touching you before you know it.

Mind your own fucking business, Asher muttered. Green Hairs, as he had dubbed the girl for a hair color she'd worn some years ago, held a drink in her hand, and he was tempted to snatch it away from her.

You know Gavin's real furious you're always running off on him, she said with a glint in her eyes. Gavin... Asher needed a second to connect that name to Nails. I don't know why he's after you. You look horrible lately.

Well, you look horrible, too.

Such a sharp comeback. Are you sure you didn't take any brain damage in your coma? 'Cause you're sure acting like it.

Asher narrowed his eyes at her, but he couldn't come up with anything witty to counter.

Your new hair color looks like shit, he said eventually.

She brushed a hand through one lock of brown hair and shrugged. My boyfriend loves it.

Fuck your boyfriend, Asher said. He grabbed the drink out of her hand and downed it in one go as the blue liquid burned down his throat.

Get your own, she said. Your own drink or your own boyfriend? Asher looked at Green Hairs, trying to decide which she meant. Just that moment someone approached the table calling for her.

Christen! I been looking all over for you!

Green Hairs jumped up from her seat and kissed the guy as if she was going to suck his brain right out through his lips. Fucking couples. Asher stood up and the ground shook. Either that was an earthquake or he was damn drunk. He blinked to get the world back into focus and made his way out of the bar step by step.

Outside, the fresh night air hit him like a brick wall. Fuck. He nearly doubled over and let go of all the alcohol he had consumed, but he got a grip at the last second. No way was he going to sober up now. He walked down the road with no idea where to go, but after a while, the streets looked familiar. He was close to that coffee shop.

Get your own, he heard Green Hairs' voice echo in his head, and he laughed quietly. The sound startled him.

***

José raised a shot of vodka to his lips and gulped it down. Awful. Still, he was going to forget his troubles tonight, and if he needed to get drunk to do so, he would get drunk. He was well on his way there already. His friends did their best to help, filling up his glass every time he emptied it. He hadn't told them what bothered him, but they must have noticed something was up, the way everyone was being overly cheerful. Though by now, that was probably more the alcohol than anything.

Someone sat down next to him on the couch too close for comfort. José inched a little to the side. It was as if he'd told his friend 'I want to get laid' instead of 'I want to get drunk.' This new guy she'd brought along, Brian, had been hitting on him all night. Even though José gave him no reason to think he was getting anywhere. Brian was almost as stubborn as Asher. Nowhere near as convincing, though.

Maybe Asher was getting drunk now too. Or maybe—

Mierda. José shook his head at himself. Stop thinking of that idiot. He took another sip of his drink, which had miraculously refilled itself.

You seem a little distracted, Brian said, over the noise of the music.

It's nothing, José said, backing away as the other man leaned in to talk. When would his friends get that two guys weren't perfect for each other just because they were both gay? Not even alcohol made him want to screw every asshole available. Maybe Asher would scre—

José took a deep breath, and shoved that particular thought back into the mental trashcan it had crawled out of. It didn't matter what or who Asher was screwing. It didn't.

Something wrong? the other man asked, making José notice that he was digging his fingers into the couch.

It's nothing, José repeated with a little more force than he had meant to put into his voice. Way to be convincing.

Sorry for asking, dude.

***

Outside 121 Cleves Avenue, Asher punched all the bell buttons with the flat of his hand until he heard a buzzing sound and he could go inside. Now he only had to find the right door. The number next to Blind Guy's name on the doorbell started with a three, so he'd go to the third floor. He could still turn back when he found the door. There was no harm in simply checking it out.

He climbed the stairs and turned into the hallway when he reached the right floor. Loud music sounded from one of the apartments. The apartment that had 'José Rodriguez' written on the nametag next to the door. Blind Guy was having a party. Asher halted. He didn't know what he'd expected, but a party wasn't it. He looked back at the stairs. There was still time to leave. Just turn around and go. Blind Guy didn't need him here, and Asher didn't need another party. But Asher stood frozen, staring at the door. And then it opened.

Out came some blond chick together with an ugly drunkard that had his arm slung across her shoulders. They must have been about to leave. Now all they did was look at him stupidly. Excuse me? the blond chick said.

Asher peeked past them into the apartment. His eyes landed on José, sitting on the couch with some asshole who was moving his hand onto his thigh, and everything else ceased to matter.

***

Oh, great. José ground his teeth together as that hand landed on his leg. What in the world made that guy think he could go further? Had he been dropped on the head too many times? José opened his mouth to give Brian a piece of his mind, but the words stuck in his throat when a warm and heavy weight replaced the hand on his lap. He had no chance to react before another pair of lips claimed his. For a few seconds, shock took over his mind. How dare that asshole?

But then a hand went into his hair and a tongue pushed into his mouth, and there was something about it he couldn't place, something—

Who the fuck are you? That was Brian's voice. And that was a damn good question. José brought his hands up to push the other man back, but his fingers touched bare skin, and he hesitated. Whoever sat on him was topless. And fit. And probably not one of his party guests, but possibly someone he'd kissed before.

Could it be?

José slid his tongue into the mouth of the mysterious stranger, and though he couldn't taste past the alcohol, the needy sound the other man made told him all he needed to know.

Asher.

What are you doing here? he said, breaking the kiss and leaning away. But he did not remove his hands from Asher's skin.

I like your hair. Asher sounded about as drunk as José had planned to get.

You're an idiot.

Asher laughed. So softly José might not have heard it above the sound of the music if Asher hadn't been so close. His chest vibrated under José's fingertips. The sound, the motion, the feel of it all sent José's mind on the fritz. You owe me, Asher said. A real kiss, you owe me.

José moved his hand up to grab his chin and pulled him in.

Chapter 2 - Burning Out

Heat scorched Asher's insides as José pulled him close. The drowsiness that had weighed on him all month fell off his body, and it awakened with desire, came alive from the touch of José's lips and the feel of his tongue. José wanted him. It was evident in the way he kissed. So sensual that Asher felt himself harden within an instant. He'd needed that.

A low growl escaped his lips as José broke the kiss.

Get up, José said. Asher opened his eyes halfway to look at him. The blindfold was gone from José's face and the view was unusual. Not bad, though.

In the background, someone cleared their throat and people talked in hushed voices.

Let them talk.

It didn't matter what they thought so long as Asher could just be close to... No. So long as he could get fucked by José tonight.

Asher. There was an urgency in José's tone. Right. Asher was supposed to get up, wasn't he? That didn't sound like a good idea. He had a better one. He leaned in and flicked his tongue across José's neck, tasted his skin and heard him exhale. God, he'd missed that. He'd fucked guys since coming back to the real world, but it didn't compare.

José grabbed his shoulder in a way that made it impossible for him to move. Hot breath ghosted over his ear and sent tingles down his spine as José leaned in to whisper.

Move. I want you to wait in my bedroom.

Mhm...bedroom...he could get up for that. Only he was still reluctant to lose contact, like this was all a dream that would end if he separated himself from José's touch. Already he didn't remember how he'd gotten here. How could he trust himself to stay? How could he trust José to?

José whipped his knees and Asher groaned. He swung his legs off José and put them on the ground. All eyes were on him, as usual. He scowled. These people were the reason José wouldn't just do him on the couch.

Someone, a short girl with trimmed red hair, dared approach him. Asher narrowed his eyes at her. She was holding a camera. He opened his mouth, but when a warm hand closed around his, fingers entwining his own, he forgot what he wanted to say. He liked those hands.

The girl redirected her gaze at José. Who—

I'll explain another time, José cut her off, squeezing Asher's hand. God, Asher needed him on a flat surface. Fuck the bed. The floor would do.

Can you take everyone somewhere else? José asked his friend. There was a pleading note to his voice. Maybe he was impatient too. Give us some privacy?

Yeah, I guess, but—

Good, thank you. José started walking, dragging Asher along. Seemed like he was in a hurry. And he wasn't walking straight, either. Asher grinned to himself.

Everybody out, José said, striding through a door and making a turn right that caught Asher off guard. Aw shit. His sense of balance had gone on vacation three drinks ago. He swayed and fell forward, taking the other man down with him.

Fuck, he cursed. José groaned. They landed in a heap, limbs tangling as José tried to get up first. Someone laughed—someone who occupied the bed. Tch.

Bed's out, Asher said, but he wasn't going to wait. The full body contact already had blood surging in his cock. He shifted to press his groin against José's, and the answering heat in the other man's pants underlined his own desire. Tonight he wasn't going to be refused.

He leaned down to plunge his tongue into José's mouth, and the feel of the other man's tongue sliding against his left him hungry for so much more.

Fingers crawled over the back of his neck and dug into his hair almost painfully as Asher rolled his hips, seeking friction. His cock swelled in his boxers, pushing against the restraining fabric of his pants. He needed to get rid of those, and he needed José's touch, his lips and most of all, his cock up his ass.

He broke the kiss and drew air into his lungs. Coming here, he'd thought that all he needed was to see Blind Guy alive, and then he could leave and move on with his life, but damn. He couldn't see José without wanting to touch, and he couldn't touch José without wanting to be touched in return. And Asher never wanted to be touched. He