House of Darken (Secret Keepers #1)(63)

“We just wanted to check in on you,” Marsil said, distracting me from my ogling. “Do you have everything you need?”

Warmth filled my chest. It had been a long time since anyone had checked in on me like this. I was finding I could grow quite accustomed to the caring this family showed me.

“Thanks, I’m all good. Uh…” I flicked my head back toward the bed. “Someone left what looks like a knitting kit on my bed, and some books.” Truly the perfect things to keep me occupied.

The brothers exchanged a look, returning their gaze to me. “Wasn’t us,” Jero said. “And Star didn’t mention that when she said she was bringing you clothes and bathroom stuff.”

Which left only one other Daelighter, one who no doubt knew I was going to struggle to sleep tonight and had provided me with something to occupy my mind. Damn Lexen. Damn him being so thoughtful. The asshole box that I had been stubbornly keeping him in was slipping away. No longer could I hold on to those feelings of animosity toward him. But I needed to … I couldn’t fall for him. We were from different worlds. He was going to be the leader of his house. He was an entire universe out of my league.

“Well, well, well, looks like Lexen might just be on team human now,” Jero said, amusement crinkling his eyes. He had deduced the same thing as me. Lexen was the only one who could have left that basket.

“It can’t work, and … and I don’t even care.” The words slipped out, my thoughts unable to be contained any longer.

A blush stole across my cheeks. I could feel the heat, and as my embarrassment grew, so did Marsil and Jero’s grins.

“Shut up,” I snarled, sticking my tongue out at them and stepping back to firmly shut the door. I dropped my head against the wood panel as their laughter echoed through to me. I stayed like that until I felt the warmth leave my cheeks, then I slowly made my way back to the bed. I crawled up onto it, the thick pillow-top of the mattress cushioning me fully.

I was going to struggle to stay awake, but the thought of my dreams … of reliving the smell and feel of the fire … of reliving my parents’ death … I couldn’t go through that tonight. I just couldn’t.

Hooking a hand into a handle on the basket, I dragged it closer. Inside were a few different knitting needles. They had a slight curve to both ends, but I was pretty sure with a little practice I could use them. The wool was … not wool, but seemed to knit similarly. I didn’t have any great plan in mind, I just wanted to keep occupied, so I started with a square pattern.

There was no way for me to tell time here. I couldn’t see anything that resembled a clock in the room – no doubt they used something different to measure their days anyway – so I guessed I’d been knitting for an hour when I ran out of the blue thread.

Needing a break, I dropped my half-finished project into the basket, picking up the three paperbacks that were in there too. I didn’t recognize any of the stories, so I chose the one with the cover that appealed to me the most. I was a bit of a cover snob; the “not judging a book by its cover” thing was not something I’d ever been good at.

I chose a fantasy story, with bright imagery of dragons, fire, and waterfalls.

Laying my head back, I got comfortable and started to read. I was five chapters in before I realized it, and when that fact registered I took a second to be grateful for books. They were a magic that could not be replicated, even when I was actually in a fantasy world. The escape they offered, it was priceless. It had saved me so many times, and I knew I wasn’t the only one. When my parents died, most of my friends handed me suicide-crisis-line numbers. The rest ignored me, preferring not to deal with it. Not one had told me to pick up a book. That should have been their first piece of advice.

I managed to make it another few chapters before my heavy eyes won, and…

It’s so hot. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe? The smoke chokes me. Slithering into every part of my body until I feel like I’m dying. I crawled with desperation, unable to see, unable to breathe. Searching for them. Hissing as embers bit into my exposed flesh. As smoke and heat charred my throat and lungs.

I rolled across my bedroom floor, crying out again as more flickers of fire bubbled my skin. Coughs rocked through me, my lungs screaming for air. I dragged myself, busting through the door to my room, ending up in the hallway of the upper level.

The sound of a fight registered in my hazy mind. I was only just aware enough to know that the sobs belonged to my mother. She always gasped like that when she was devastated.

Dad! Something must have happened to Dad. But who was she arguing with?

My crawl slowed, then a scream ripped through the air, jolting me, and I found myself screaming with it. That scream had been my mom, a call of pain, a cry of death.

I jolted upright, my own screams dying on my lips as tears relentlessly fell down my cheeks. I attempted to lift my hands to scrub at my face and throat, trying to dispel the smoke that always seemed to linger. But I couldn’t move them. I was being held in someone’s arms, and as soon as I felt that firm hand stroking up and down my spine, I relaxed into him.

“The fire again?” Lexen said, his voice low and rough.

I pressed my face harder into his chest, trying to stem the tears and calm my heart.

“Yes,” I mumbled. “But there was more this time. It’s like … an extra memory unlocked. My mom, she was crying and arguing with someone. Then she screamed.” I pulled back to stare up into his dark eyes. “I was on the top floor. The building was completely ablaze. There was no way I could have survived without help. No way.”