Burn for Me: The Fae Chronicles, #1

By Kay Harper

Burn for Me

Book 1 of The Fae Chronicles

 

Livy

When my eyes met Jasper's from across the room, I was on a date with another man. Just as I think I've finally found everything I've been searching for, everything changes. Or maybe it's me that's changing. If I want the answers to my questions, I'm going to have to survive this new world I've been thrown into. Now the only question is, is Jasper going to be there with me when I come out on the other side? 

 

Jasper

The moment Livy entered my club, I knew I wanted her. Even though she's everything I try to stay away from, I knew she'd be mine. The moment my lips met hers, I knew she was my SoulMate. That one person meant just for me. But Livy is human. At least, I thought so. Every moment we spend together brings that into question. Then she disappears. Where is my mate, and who do I have to kill to get her back?

 

 

*Dual POV

*MF

*Book 1 of 7 in The Fae Chonicles 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kay Harper
• Release date: Aug 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223656722

Book preview

Prologue

This is impossible. My captor has effectively barred me from traveling through the space between realms as I usually would to escape. In the process, he has barred me from all but the most basic of my magic.

Pain consumes me, making me leave a wobbly trail of sparks behind me, like the tail of a comet through the night sky. The heavy beat of wings thunders in my ears, closer than I’m comfortable with. If I can get away, I can heal even this much damage, but... do I want to escape?

Maybe it would be best if they thought I was dead for a while. They’ll forget me with time. They always do. If I can make them believe I’m gone, it will buy us the time we need. The time he needs.

Very well. There’s no time to follow my usual preparations before doing this. I have no idea what will happen without them, so I’ll just have to hope for the best.

Luring my tormentor over the residential part of the city, I turn and hover in the air, waiting for him to get close enough. A bit more now. Gathering the magic that created me, the part of me that even he cannot keep me from, I form a large ball at my center and patiently wait. He’s almost there.

NOW!

As an explosion rips across the sky, my last conscious thoughts are those of hope... and him. I’ll be with you soon, my love.

Chapter One

OLIVIA

The cold air whipping my hair against my cheeks wakes me with a start, my eyes flying open in shock. I look straight down at the sidewalk below. I’ve made it halfway out the window this time. That’s the third time this week. If I keep having these dreams, I’m afraid one of these days, I won’t wake up until I’m halfway down the side of the building.

I carefully bring my leg back through the window and step away, shaking my head. I need to run. Running helps. It’s the closest I can get to flying like I do in my dreams, and it seems to calm the demons that consume my sleeping thoughts.

I quickly dress and race down the narrow stairwell, not wanting to risk the elevator this morning. Is it morning? I check my watch and sigh in relief. I have time for a quick run before I need to get ready for work, and the streets should be empty at this time of the morning.

Looking first one way, then the other, I try to decide which way to go. Does it matter? I just need to escape this feeling, like I’m burning from the inside out. Unfortunately, it’s all in my head.

Maybe I should see a therapist. Although my childhood wasn't perfect, if it were going to cause me problems, surely they would have occurred earlier. It’s been six years since the wedding and me making that final break with my family, so why now?

Unable to take the spiraling thoughts anymore, I randomly choose a direction and run. The cool air that heralds the beginning of fall rushes past me as I fly down the sidewalks, and my thoughts finally go silent. For now.

I check my watch and sigh. I can’t go any further without risking being late for work. Stopping, I brace my hands on my waist and take a deep breath of cool, crisp, early autumn air. Sweat dries quickly against my skin, making me itchy.

Why did I want a job that starts so early in the freaking morning? Oh, yeah, because I wanted a job where I could interact with a lot of people without having to be a part of them. For some reason, most people are uncomfortable around me. I don't understand it. I find most people absolutely fascinating.

Unfortunately, the early morning hours aren’t working out for me so well now that I can’t seem to get a full night’s sleep without dreaming of flying or burning alive. They’re not nightmares, though. There is no fear in these dreams. Oddly, they’re filled with hope.

I turn around to head home and catch sight of something... someone ducking into an alley out of the corner of my eye. With a stifled laugh, I jog back through the empty streets toward the apartment I share with one of my best friends. If it makes her feel better to follow me when I run at night, I won't argue. She’s always so overprotective.

Gerald waits with a worried frown when I enter the lobby of the large brick building I live in. The short, bald, walnut brown man wears a bottle green suit, even this early in the morning. I've never seen him in anything other than a suit in the six years I've lived here. No matter the time, day or night. Sometimes, I wonder if he sleeps in a suit. Maybe he doesn’t sleep at all.

Problem, Gerald? I ask, pulling the hair tie out of my wild red curls and scrubbing my fingers against my scalp.

Of course not, Miss Olivia. I wanted to make sure you made it back. You shouldn't be running around the city in the middle of the night. It’s not safe. Gerald shakes his head and mutters, Not yet.

I smile at the gently scolding tone. I don't understand why Emme and Quinn say Gerald hates everybody. He's always been kind to me and worries about me almost as much as they do.

Laying a hand on his shoulder, I tell him, You shouldn't worry so much. You know Emme wouldn't let me wander around this late without an escort. Glancing toward the glass doors at the front of the building, I continue, I'd better get upstairs so she can come in and pretend like she wasn't following me.

Ducking into the elevator, I push the button for the top floor and pray the whole way up that it won’t get stuck. That idea is more terrifying than the dreams that drove me out of bed, giving me the urge to fly.

Emme, what's this? I ask, carefully setting my phone on the table between us, open to the text I’d received while in the shower.

I’m afraid I’ll throw my phone at her if I don’t force myself to be gentle with it. I go through more than enough phones without intentionally destroying them by throwing them at my best friend's hard head. I know she had something to do with this. The garbled messages before this one are more than enough proof.

Emme glances down at my phone and guiltily chews on her bottom lip. Um, it looks like someone is confirming a date with you for tonight... she trails off uncertainly. I hope so, anyway, she mutters.

You know damn well I wouldn't have made a date with anyone. So, would you care to explain why this person seems to think I did?

I'm sorry, Livy. I found that phone number in your apron pocket and... she trails off, not meeting my eyes.

And what, Emmerson? I growl out from between gritted teeth.

Emme grimaces at the use of her full first name before saying, I borrowed your phone and made a date for you with West.

Who's West? I ask, throwing my hands in the air in exasperation.

I’d like to say this is the first time she’s tried to do something like this, but I’d be lying. However, she’s never stolen my phone or pretended to be me before. She’s usually a bit more subtle than that.

The guy who gave you his number. You didn't get his name, did you? she asks, rolling her eyes at me.

Of course not. I don't even remember him giving me his number. I don't want to go on a date with him or anyone else.

You have to get over what Steven and your sister did...

I hold my hand up, interrupting her. This has nothing to do with them. Truthfully, I'm grateful. The only reason I was marrying him was to make my parents happy. Like that was ever going to happen.

The only way I ever could have made my mother happy was by being a carbon copy of her and my sister Dahlia. Or hell, even Emme. Emme’s long blonde hair and height make her look more like them than I do.

As my mother frequently pointed out, I looked more like Little Orphan Annie. Too short, too skinny, too freckled, and with red hair that refused to be tamed, no matter how much money she threw at the problem.

Then why won't you go on this date? Emme asks, bringing my thoughts back to the current problem and away from my mother.

Sighing, I sit across from her, rest my elbows on the table and cover my face with my hands while trying to gather my thoughts. Why is this so important to you? Don't you have enough drama with your own love life? I ask, finally looking up.

Emme snorts. There is no drama with my love life. One and done. No going back for round two.

What about what happened a few months ago, when you double booked, and both guys showed up here at the same time? I thought they would start fighting right there in the living room.

Emme shrugs and grins mischievously. They learned to get along by the end of the night. No drama there. In fact, I think they’re still together.

I hold up a hand to stop her from telling me anything else. I swear, Emme’s love life is like a soap opera with an ever-changing cast of side characters. No drama. If she believes that, I’ve got a bridge to sell her.

I don’t want to know. Why are you so determined to find someone for me? It’s not like you’re ever going to settle down. Why should I?

Emme reaches across the table and grabs one of my hands. Livy, you're different. You've always seemed like you're searching for something. Maybe West is the something you're searching for.

I scoff at Emme's words, but she continues before I can say anything. Quinn thinks you should go. She even has a dress you can borrow.

Quinn is in on this, too? I ask quietly.

If there's one thing I've learned over the years of being friends with Quinn, it's that she doesn't do or say anything without giving it a lot of thought first, and she always seems to know things she shouldn't. There have been several instances where I should have listened to her and regretted not doing so. If she thinks I should go on this date, I'm going on this date, whether I want to or not.

Fine. But please never do this again. I have no interest in dating, I say as I get up from the kitchen table and leave the room.

If this goes the way Quinn says it will, I won't have to, Emme says so quietly I'm pretty sure I wasn’t meant to hear her.

Emme helps me straighten the strap of my borrowed dress and adjust the stretchy fabric so it lays right. The deep red should clash with my hair, but somehow it doesn’t. My pale, freckled arms are bare, and the top is a little lower cut than I usually wear. Should I tug the dress up or down to cover more of my skin?

I’m not sure about the length, I tell Emme, trying to tug the skirt down a little lower. It's not like there's much up top to hide, and I’d rather not show off my underwear.

Trust me, Livy. You’re stunning. West won’t be able to take his eyes off you, she insists. Emme throws an arm around my shoulder and leans her head against the top of mine as we both look in the mirror. You need to get your mother’s voice out of your head.

I don’t want to think about my mother right now. She would hate this dress. The color is too bold. It wouldn’t allow me to fade into the background where she wanted to keep me. That’s reason enough to wear it. Fuck my mother.

But I also can’t let Emme think she’s getting away with this, either. I refuse to go through this again. Remember, you are never, ever to do this again. Promise, I say, giving her a stern look in the mirror and ignoring the comment about my mother. 

Emme grins at me. If you give this guy a real chance, I promise to stay out of your love life unless you are about to become a crazy cat lady. Then, I reserve the right to step in. Cats and I do not mix. But you have to stay for the entire meal. No running off and leaving him there.

I only did that one time. I insist.

Emme grins. It’s one date. It won’t kill you.

"Unless he’s a serial killer. Then he might kill me. I sigh in defeat, knowing there’s no way to escape this, especially if Emme and Quinn both want me to go. I’d do anything for them, even go on this date. It’s not like I haven’t done worse for them. I’ll go. I’ll give him a chance. I promise to stay through dinner." A promise is as binding as a contract, though every time I say that to my friends, they give me a strange look.

You need to quit reading those true crime and horror books. What are the chances the guy is a serial killer?

Emme starts digging through my closet. She mutters to herself as she messes up my neatly stacked pile of running shoes, throwing them behind her and almost hitting me in the head with one.

What are you doing? I ask curiously, watching her throw my shoes everywhere. Great, now my room is going to look as bad as hers.

I’m searching for heels to go with that dress. You can’t wear mine. My feet are too big. I could have sworn I saved a pair when we bagged up the rest of your stuff to donate... Emme trails off. Only her bottom half is visible, swaying back and forth as she digs into the back corners of my closet.

There’s no way I have any heels in there. I may have a pair of black flats in there that might work, I suggest, hoping she’s mistaken about the heels. I hate heels.

No, I know they're in here. I thought you might need a pair if one of your parents died and you had to go to the funeral, she admits, straightening to look over her shoulder with a mischievous grin.

We’re never going to get that lucky, I mutter under my breath.

I shouldn’t say that, but I don't feel bad about it either. Sheer meanness will keep my parents alive until the end of time. If I died, I doubt they’d bother to show up unless they thought they would get something out of it. Unfortunately for them, everything I have goes to Emme and Quinn if I die.

Found them! Emme shouts, crawling out of my closet and triumphantly holding up a pair of sparkly red heels. Do you really need five hundred pairs of running shoes?

I shrug. They’re comfortable, and they come in lots of colors. Wait, you saved me a pair of red heels for a funeral? I ask, amused and not at all surprised.

I’m not even sure where those came from. My mother wouldn’t have approved of them at all, at least not for me. They look more like something Dahlia would wear. They are vaguely familiar. Maybe they got mixed in with my stuff when I moved away from home, although I have no idea how that happened.

Well, these shoes look like they were made for celebrating. I thought it would be appropriate, Emme explains, handing me the shoes with a cheeky grin. I’m going to run to my room and find a purse for you to borrow. I know you don’t have one.

Emme quickly returns, carrying a small black purse. Sorry, I didn’t have anything red. This should be fine, though. Black goes with everything. She grabs my cell phone and wallet, shoving them in the purse before handing it to me.

If Emme hadn’t remembered my phone, I probably would have left it behind. I hug Emme tight. You're the best, you know that, right? I appreciate you always trying to take care of me, even if you meddle too much.

I think growing up with my parents broke something inside of me. I have no interest in dating anyone. Never have. I don’t think I ever will. The idea has never sat well with me, as though I’m meant to be alone.

I’ll always be here for you. Now, let’s finish getting you ready. That man will be drooling when he sees you, Emme says, her green eyes bright with excitement.

Oh, that sounds attractive. If I wanted someone to drool on me, I’d get a dog, I shoot back, rolling my eyes.

You know what I mean. Tonight is going to be the beginning of something great.

I don’t share her enthusiasm.

Emme cocks her head to the side, and her brow scrunches together in thought. Then she gets off the bed and searches the top of my dresser for something. Where’s your makeup?

I shrug. I threw it out when I came back from my last trip. It expired. It’s not like I ever wear that crap, anyway.

You didn’t buy more? she asks, giving me a bewildered look. I’ve rarely seen Emme without makeup, and we’ve lived together for years.

I don’t like the way it feels on my face. That’s an understatement. It always makes me feel like I’m suffocating inside my own skin.

Hold on. I’ll be right back. Emme leaves the room again, coming back with a tube of lipstick. At least wear this. I’ve never used it. I got it home and realized the color wasn’t right for me.

Sighing, I get off the bed and return to the mirror. After putting the glossy red lipstick on, I curl my lips in disgust. Emme was right. This color would have looked awful with her olive skin, but it's perfect for me. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Slipping the lipstick into my borrowed purse, I slide my feet into the heels and take a few wobbly steps. Heels are torture devices, and nobody is going to convince me otherwise.

Okay, let's get this over with, I mutter to myself.

I can't stall anymore, or I’ll be late, and I can’t stand people who are late. I hobble down the hallway, trying not to fall flat on my face. Again. Emme follows behind, snickering.

Standing at the front door, I’m overcome by a sudden sense of foreboding. Are you sure about this? I ask, battling the dragons taking flight in my stomach. They seem much too large to be butterflies, and it feels like they're breathing fire.

Definitely. You don’t have to marry the guy. Go out on one date with him. He could be your soulmate, Emme urges.

Emme has always insisted that there’s somebody out there for everyone. Maybe more than one somebody if you're so inclined. I’ve never believed her. That was why I allowed my parents to push me into almost marrying Steven. There were other reasons, but those came later, and I refuse to think about them now. Happy thoughts only, or I won’t make it through this date.

I don’t believe in that crap. Alright. One date. I can do one date, I say, trying to reassure myself more than Emme at this point.

It takes everything in me not to run back to my room and hide. Or book a trip to the middle of nowhere so I can get lost for another six months or so. Surely, Emme would have forgotten about finding me a boyfriend if I went to the other side of the world for a few months. But Quinn said I should go, and every time I’ve not listened to her, something awful has happened. I force a fake smile onto my face and accept the inevitable.

Don’t wait up, I joke.

We both know that I’ll be home early. I have to open the coffee shop tomorrow and need a full night's sleep. Not that I’ve been getting a full night’s sleep lately, but there’s always hope.

I wish you were telling me that because you had plans of not coming home tonight. You can always call in sick tomorrow. Or better yet, quit. Those women you work for are demons trying to feed off your misery. Why not stay out late and have some fun? Emme suggests, waggling her eyebrows with a comically lecherous grin.

Shaking my head at her antics, I leave the apartment.

Chapter Two

OLIVIA

The cab pulls up outside Tír na nÓg, the restaurant West wanted to meet at. I’ve never heard of this place, but it doesn’t look like somewhere I would have chosen if given a chance. That’s obvious to me as I watch the people exiting the building. Fancy clothes and snooty expressions. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.

Steven and my parents loved eating at places like this. It’s the kind of place you didn’t go to for the food but to be seen by the right people while wearing the right clothes. I’d rather find a diner with good food, where I won’t have to dress up.

Exiting the car, I shiver as the brisk autumn air cuts through me like a knife. I forgot my jacket again.

A small group is waiting to enter a large black building a few doors down. The building they’re outside of looks like a club, but I can’t read the sign from where I’m standing. Not that it matters. Clubs are not on my list of fun places to go. Who wants to be crowded by sweaty, drunk people only searching for one thing?

However, the people-watching opportunities could make up for the rest of it. That’s the only reason I thought working at The Grind would be fun. Emme and Quinn always give me strange looks when I tell them humans are fascinating. I say it that way just to see the look on their faces. It never gets old. Serves them right for keeping secrets.

Pushing open the heavy door to the restaurant, a sticky, tingling sensation washes over me as if I had passed through a spider web, but I ignore it. It’s not the first time I’ve had that happen in a new place. Luckily, it only happens the first time I go somewhere new. Not that I plan on coming back here. This place is... hideous. Everything is overly ornate and covered in gold. It looks like Louis XIV threw up in here.

The hostess sneers at me and flips her long black hair behind her when I give her West’s name. Follow me. What's her problem?

She leads me to a small table in the back of the restaurant. Without another word, she turns on her heels and glides away. I wish I could walk like that in heels. I always feel more like a stumbling baby giraffe.

I text Emme to let her know I’ve arrived at the restaurant safely. Emme texts back, telling me to let loose and have a little fun. Laughing to myself, I put my phone away.

Yeah, right. Fun is sitting at home with a cup of coffee and a book. Not sitting in a restaurant waiting for some guy I don’t know, being glared at by a bitchy hostess. Yes, she’s still glaring. She may want to see a doctor about whatever crawled up her ass before her face freezes that way.

Eventually, she leads a man to the out-of-the-way table I’m sitting at. Of average height and build, with shaggy brown hair and dull brown eyes, the most remarkable thing about him is how unremarkable he is. Most people wouldn’t have noticed him at all. He’s staring at me intently, as though he’s trying to bore a hole into my brain.

I stand up, holding my hand out to shake his. His hand is warm and moist. I discreetly run my hand down the skirt of my dress as I sit back down, trying to get rid of the slimy feeling it leaves behind. Maybe he’s nervous.

Good evening, West, I greet him while giving him my best customer service smile. The smile I usually save for customers screaming about their coffee taking too long or not having the right amount of low fat, low sugar, no flavor crap in it. The smile that means I’d rather be anywhere but here and am too polite to say so.

West scrutinizes me with hungry eyes, lingering on my neck, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. The look he’s giving me reminds me more of the way someone stares at a juicy steak than a person. Gross.

Good evening, Olivia. Instead of sitting across from me, he picks the seat next to mine, invading my personal space by leaning closer. I scoot away, not bothering to hide how uncomfortable he’s making me. Or can I call you Livy? he asks with a smarmy smile.

Most people call me Olivia. Only my friends call me Livy, but I don’t want to sound rude, so I keep that thought to myself.

I thought I overheard someone call you Livy. Did I hear them wrong? he asks, leaning in again.

He must have come in for coffee once when Emme or Quinn came to see me at work. I don’t remember seeing him. I'm not sure I know you well enough for that.

I’m sure we’ll know each other very well by the end of the night, little rabbit. He leans closer, reaching out to touch my arm.

Instead of trying to scoot away from him again, I get up and move to the other side of the table, dropping the name thing for now. It's better than the alternative. Little rabbit? What the hell?

West leans back in his seat. Sorry. I’m nervous. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date with such a beautiful woman. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

While the words are correct, there’s something off about his tone, as if he’s reciting lines with no emotion behind them. But I promised Emme I would give him a chance, so I try to ignore the uncomfortable swirling sensation in my stomach. I know exactly how she’ll react if I come home before we even eat dinner. And I promised. I never break a promise. I sigh and pick up my menu, hoping to hurry this along.

The waiter has come and gone before he tries to speak again. You weren’t waiting too long, were you?

Only a few minutes. Long enough to text my friend, letting her know I had made it. It won’t hurt to remind him that somebody knows where I am and who I’m with. Tell me about yourself.

I’ve never met a person who doesn’t like to talk about themselves. Sometimes, you hear the most interesting stories that way. I doubt this will be one of those times, but maybe I’m wrong. There could be hidden depths to this man.

While he talks, my mind drifts, and my thoughts grow fuzzy. I need a full night’s sleep and a day off from work. I quit listening about halfway through his hour-long monologue. Not that he’s noticed. I think he would have been just as happy talking to a potted plant. He doesn't even see that I only smile and nod occasionally without trying to contribute anything to the conversation.

I've never met anyone who could talk about accounting like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Nothing is interesting about numbers. I don’t understand why Quinn insisted I go on this date. Maybe she knew the guy would bore me to sleep? If it works, I may have to thank her.

By the time we finish our too-tiny portions of artistically served cardboard, I would rather run naked through downtown Haven than listen to him drone on for five more minutes. Thankfully, we’re done eating, so I can go home without breaking my promise to Emme.

I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room while he waits for the bill. After using the restroom and washing my hands, I pull out my phone, wanting to text Emme to let her know I’m on my way home.

Dead. Dammit. How did that happen so fast? I charged it before I left home. There must be something wrong with the battery. That’s not a surprise with how cheap it was. It's not like this is the first time this has happened, either. Hopefully, charging it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

I reluctantly return to the table. When I get there, West has already paid. How much was my dinner? I ask, not wanting to owe him anything.

How about we go to the club down the street for a drink instead? You can buy if you want, he suggests with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

I don’t want to spend any more time with this man. I’m about to refuse when my thoughts drift and grow fuzzy again. Shaking my head, I hear myself saying, Just one. I have to get up early for work in the morning.

Shit. Why did I say that? It was like hearing someone else's words come out of my mouth, but arguing with him would take more time and effort than buying him a drink. Hopefully, someone else will catch his eye, and I can slip out without him noticing.

He places his hand on my back to guide me out of the restaurant. I shudder, grateful the back of the dress covers everything. I do not want him to touch me again.

We walk down the dark, busy sidewalk, and I shiver from more than the cool air this time. There’s a prickling sensation on my neck, as