Page 106 of When Hearts Ignite

That night, a new storm brews in the skies. I can smell the sticky humidity in the air, the charged tension in the atmosphere. The winds whine and wail and a flash of blazing light ricochets through the opened windows, followed by the quaking rumble of thunder.

My body awakes with a start, my breathing coming out in harsh pants, my mind filled with images of a sea monster swallowing me whole as I watched Father and his other family helplessly from afar. No one heard my screams as the monster bared her fangs.

My heart riots in my chest, a layer of sweat gathering on my upper lip and my pulse roars in my ears.

It’s a dream. Distorted memories.

The ache from my muscles distracts me temporarily—I must’ve had them clenched as I tossed and turned in the blankets. I turn toward the open windows. The dark clouds are thick and angry, blanketing the city in tightly leashed anger, the beginnings of the morning light attempting but failing to break free from the suffocating thickness.

My heart races as my mind latches onto the sea monster, with her tendrils and razor-sharp teeth, cold sweat gathering anew on my chest and—

A low moan. A satisfied whimper.

The smell of sweet, calming jasmine.

A tiny package of warm heat and smooth softness burrows against my side, a shapely leg curling across my groin, followed by an arm on my chest.

I glance down, looking at my sleeping beauty and my pulse instantly calms, the ropes binding my lungs slice open, and I take in my first full breath. A deep warmth generates from within, spreading through my body to my hands and feet, and I gather her in my arms, arranging her so she’s tucked inside my embrace as I spoon her on the soft bed of my apartment on the Upper West Side.

She lets out another soft sigh, a small smile tipping on her lips, like she’s dreaming of wishing stars and butterflies and I find myself smiling, the earlier slithers of terror fading into the night.

Pressing a kiss on her head, I mull over her words from earlier, when she suggested contacting Elias Kent.

My father’s haunted face rises to the forefront. Those sunken cheeks, thinning hair. The life leaching out of his eyes. It’s as if he’s given up on living. Father’s heart is broken for the second time because I failed as a son.

If it weren’t for his determination to win this above-board, playing the usual corporate tactics, I wouldn’t have hesitated to use all means necessary to stop Voss in his tracks.

My father trusted me to solve this for him.

I saw the hope in his eyes all those months ago when he believed I would take care of the problem.

We’ve tried his way, and we failed.

It’s time to do anything necessary to win this.

Sharp resolve races through my body, the spark burgeoning into a dark flame inside me. Heaving out a deep breath, I carefully roll to the side and grab Grace’s cell phone from the nightstand. After swiping it open—we traded passcodes awhile back as we didn’t want any secrets to be between us—I scroll to Elias Kent’s contact information.

I grab my phone and type a message.

Steven

Elias, this is Steven Kingsley. I’m sure you know who I am and who I am to Grace. I’d like to ask you for a favor to solve a problem.

A few minutes later, his reply comes through.

Elias

I’ve been expecting your message. Let’s talk.

After setting up a time to meet at The Orchid tomorrow morning, I set our phones back on the nightstand and curl my arms around Grace once more. For the first time in the last few months, I feel like I’m not fighting against the current anymore, that perhaps I have a chance to turn the tides around and win the war.

And if I don’t, this woman will still be by my side, loving me with her heart, lighting up the darkness inside me.

Everything will be okay.

With that thought in mind, my eyes drift shut, the exhaustion of the day pulling me back under the cloak of sleep.

The storm rages on, the howling of the wind shrill through the windows, the quaking thunder and blinding lightning shaking the world outside—a swirling tempest looking to destroy everything in its path.

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