Burn (Elemental Series Book 4) Read online

  Angela took a deep breath, flicked a sideways glance toward the distant crowd, and whispered, “Maybe. I think I saw Eric in the parking lot. I figured you’d all lock me in a tiny, vented metal box if I went to investigate on my own, so I’m telling you.”

  An Eric sighting was a very bad thing, especially coming from Angela. But Dean couldn’t deny a part of him hoped he’d catch the kid. He hated every member of the Matthews family he’d met so far, but the hatred he felt for Eric was on an entirely different level. He barely had to think about the little bastard before his blood started to boil. Still, he needed to be smart, and taking Angela with him didn’t fit into that category. “Go find Mom and Dad,” he instructed. “I’ll go look—.”

  “What?” Angela interrupted, her wide-eyed shock melting rapidly into anger. It was an expression he was familiar with in more ways than one. “I want to go with you.”

  “No,” Dean insisted. “Someone needs to tell the rest of the family, and you’re it. I’ll find Eric.”

  Angela crossed her arms over her chest. “I could just text them. One mass text—boom, everyone knows.”

  “And I could let you come with me to the parking lot, toss you into my Camaro, and lock you inside,” Dean returned shortly. “Notice I’m trying to be more reasonable than that.”

  “Dean,” Angela began with a well-honed look of barely contained patience, “you can’t lock me inside your car.”

  Dean leaned close, held her gaze, and countered, “I could if I melted the doors shut.”

  “You would never destroy your car like that,” Angela declared confidently. She was mostly right. The idea of defacing his car made him a little sick to his stomach. But there was one part of this scene she wasn’t seeing clearly.

  “I would sacrifice my car to protect my sister in a heartbeat,” Dean pointed out. He extended one arm toward the beach, straightened, and repeated, “Now go find Mom and Dad.”

  Angela scrunched up her nose, silently assuring him she was far from thrilled with their conversation, and huffed dramatically. “Fine. Do me a favor and don’t take a bolt of lightning to the chest, okay?” She stalked off before he could respond, shoulders tight and stride heavy, aimed in the direction of their socializing parents.

  Dean sighed and turned in the direction of the parking lot. Angela was going to yell at him again, he was sure. He knew she hated being left out. Once the situation was behind them he’d figure out how to apologize this time, but he would never be sorry for prioritizing her safety over her happiness. He suspected she saw it as a sign that she was weak or incapable or something else equally idiotic, and if only because of that he was honestly surprised she’d come to him first. Or at all. But what mattered was that one of their enemies was quite possibly skulking around nearby. Which meant Dean would have a chance to vent his frustrations in a healthy, almost-socially-acceptable way just as soon as he caught the son of a bitch.

  In the interest of avoiding any awkward, rushed conversations, Dean opted to walk wide of the group. He crossed the sand as quickly as he could without breaking into a run since he didn’t want to attract any attention. The last thing he needed was for the wrong person to notice him acting odd and follow after him, especially if he ended up in a confrontation. Although making a scene would be just about unavoidable if he did manage to catch his target.

  He sharpened his focus the moment his boots hit asphalt. A quick glance up to the sky assured him they at least weren’t working on a big move, as the only clouds he could see were wispy and white. But he also knew how rapidly that could change, just like he knew there didn’t have to be any clouds in the sky at all for them to do some serious damage. So he held perfectly still for a long second, letting only his eyes scour the parking lot around him. It was completely full, with cars even lining the wide road connecting the parking area to the interstate.

  Nothing moved.

  Dammit.

  He’d probably missed his chance. Eric had likely noticed he’d been spotted and high-tailed it out as soon as Angela’s back was turned. Or maybe he’d already been leaving when she’d seen him. Just to be safe, though, Dean carefully started forward. It wouldn’t hurt anything to walk around a little and make sure no one was trying to hide under or behind any of the vehicles—some of the larger ones would, after all, make it kind of easy. It didn’t take long, though, for Dean to realize it was hard to check around and behind rows of parked cars without looking suspicious. He felt like the world’s most obvious criminal by the time he was pushing to his feet after checking beneath only the third car. But there was nowhere else around the flawless ‘60s era Mustang to hide, so Dean shifted his attention to the next vehicle in line.

  The dragging, stumbling sound of awkwardly shuffled feet a short distance behind him was all the warning Dean had before Eric called out to him.

  “Hey, Dean, look what I found.”

  Dean spun on his heel, instantly terrified of what he was about to see, but he came up short when his eyes finally landed on the pair across from him.

  Eric Matthews had one hand latched firmly around the throat of his human shield, and Darien’s newest lifeguard, Arianna.

  Chapter Two

  Dean pulled in a deep, steadying breath as he held Eric’s glare. Arianna tugged awkwardly on Eric’s arm, obviously trying to ease the pressure on her throat. But her angle was terrible thanks to the way Eric was holding her, and Eric himself didn’t seem particularly inclined to be merciful. The shine in his dark eyes assured Dean he felt quite smug in the moment. All Dean wanted to do was throw a flaming fist into the arrogant punk’s face, but given Arianna’s proximity, that was a bad idea. So he ground his teeth and said with a growl, “Let her go, Matthews. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “Sure she does,” Eric returned far too calmly. “You were talking to her earlier, weren’t you?”

  “What, so you’re just gonna threaten anyone who has the misfortune of saying hi to us now?” Maybe if I just set his hair on fire…

  “Or maybe you just need to remember who’s in charge here,” Eric taunted.

  Suddenly Arianna released his arm and dropped her elbow into Eric’s stomach with enough force to loosen his hold on her. She sucked in a ragged breath, gasped, “It’s sure as hell not you,” as she slammed the heel of her bare foot into his shin. Eric cursed and all Dean could do was watch as Arianna straightened properly, turned, and swung her fist into Eric’s face. “Keep your hands off me, asshole,” she added, her voice still a little choked, as she took a half-step backwards.

  Dean couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh at the irony of Eric getting his ass handed to him by the woman he’d been trying to hide behind or take advantage of the kid’s distraction and show him who really had the upper hand right then. But neither seemed entirely appropriate, so he settled on stepping up beside Arianna and asking, “You okay?” And how the hell am I supposed to get out of this one?

  Arianna pulled in another breath, shook her hand loosely, and nodded. “Yeah,” she replied, managing a half-smile and partial shrug. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes, though. She had every intention of pushing for answers as soon as the time was right.

  He could hardly blame her.

  “Bitch!” Eric cried as he righted himself, bracing the heel of one hand over the side of his face. The glare in his eyes would probably have been lethal if both eyes were visible. As it was, he was just posturing. He took another step forward, clenched his free fist, and added, “You’ll pay for that!”

  Eric’s arm lifted, hand opening as if reaching for the sky, and Dean sighed. He glanced again toward a clearly mystified Arianna and said, “Excuse me.” Then he stalked forward, enjoying the flicker of surprise in Eric’s eye, and latched his hand around the kid’s wrist before the arm was fully extended. He leaned in, exploiting his greater height, and growled, “Wanna see who can burn who first?” It was a rhetorical question. His palm was already rapidly heating.

  He le
t go willingly when Eric jerked back with an outcry of pain and smirked when the building charge in the air immediately dropped. Eric’s feet were barely planted again on the asphalt when a sharp breeze blew through, circling around them before seeming to fade away. But Eric clearly knew what that breeze meant, because resignation darkened his gaze even as he opted to cradle his burnt wrist close to his chest instead of shielding his blackening eye. “I guess you win this battle, Hawke. But I’ll be back.” Eric cut a hate-filled glare to Arianna and added, “And don’t think I’m going to forget about you, either.”

  “Just be glad I’m not wearing heels,” Arianna returned, crossing her arms over her chest for good measure. If she was bluffing, Dean couldn’t tell, and he had to admit to being impressed. Although he imagined the full force of what he was currently admiring was going to be turned on him sometime in the next ten to twenty seconds.

  Eric said nothing more as he walked backward several feet before finally turning and striding toward a Bentley at the other end of the parking lot. In fact, Dean realized, other than the different color, the car looked exactly like the Bentley Eric’s now-deceased sister had always driven. Not that it mattered. What mattered was that once again he was being forced to let the kid get away. He might have won the battle, but every time his enemy walked away it felt like a hollow victory.

  “Okay,” Arianna began, drawing him back to the moment at hand, “don’t get me wrong on this, Dean, but what the hell was all of that?”

  It was a perfectly reasonable question. And Dean couldn’t help but notice, now that he might be appreciative of it, there didn’t seem to be anyone about to jump into the scene and give him the escape he so desperately needed. He sighed and returned his attention to her, finding her leaning against the backside of the classic Mustang, palms splayed over the trunk. The reflective black paint against the bright red of her swimsuit was both alluring and distracting, and it was entirely not what he needed to be focusing on. Her expression was pure patience, but instinct told him it was a façade.

  I’m so screwed.

  ****

  Arianna held onto what patience she could muster as she waited for Dean to find his tongue. She respected that, obviously, she had been dragged into the middle of something that had absolutely nothing to do with her. Probably he wasn’t truly prepared to answer her question. But she was involved now and if the kid’s threat had any validity then it looked like she was going to remain involved. Whether she liked it or not. So before she decided how to handle the lovely new development in her life she figured she ought to give Dean a chance to explain things. In truth, though, she was most interested in his explanation about the burn that had been wrapped around the kid’s wrist when he’d pulled away from Dean’s grip. She knew first-hand that burn hadn’t been there five minutes prior. Was it possible Dean had somehow burned him?

  Hollywood has clearly gotten to you, girl. That’s impossible.

  Dean cleared his throat, shifted his weight, and lifted one hand to rub at the back of his neck. His sudden, glaring discomfort was oddly endearing and Arianna felt her lips twitch with a strange type of sympathy. “Listen,” he began, “I, uh, I’m really sorry you got dragged into all this.” He paused, swallowed, and his arm fell to his side. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

  Arianna let the smile show and shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s not your fault if you’re being stalked by psycho teenagers.” She straightened, inexplicably compelled to be generous, and stepped toward him. “I tell you what,” she offered quietly, “I really need to head back to my post. But I still absolutely want an answer, so call me after four o’clock and we’ll meet up somewhere better suited for this kind of conversation.”

  The surprise was blatant on his face and seconds ticked by before he finally replied, “I’ll need your number, then.”

  “Do you have your cell phone in one of those pockets?” This cannot be the smartest decision I’ve ever made. Giving my number to a guy I just met an hour ago, who’s already somehow managed to get me used as a would-be human shield, and who might have some weird superpower? Okay, so she didn’t really believe the superpower part. She just didn’t know how else to explain the burn she knew she should have seen earlier.

  “Ah, yeah,” Dean said as she berated herself. He tugged his phone from his pocket. “Okay.”

  Arianna rattled off her number and shifted her weight as he typed it in. She chewed on the inside of her lip for a second before finally relenting and adding, “It’s Carosella, by the way.”

  Dean’s gaze flicked up to her and his thumb stilled. “What?”

  “My last name,” she explained. She stepped into his personal space, planted her hands on his shoulders, and leaned up in order to press her lips to his cheek before whispering, “Ca-ro-sel-la.” Then she pulled back, grinned, and turned toward the beach, calling, “You’d better call me later or I’ll badger your number out of your brother!”

  She liked to think he was gaping after her in stunned silence as she made her amazing exit. The truth was there was a bruise forming on her throat and an obviously heavy secret swirling between them. Not to mention she’d overplayed her hand with that impulsive kiss. And, really, what was wrong with her? He was involved in god-knows-what, there was a teeny tiny chance he could burn people with his touch, and she was blatantly coming on to him? Had she lost her mind?

  You were wrong that day, Mom. This could just be the stupidest decision I’ve ever made.

  ****

  “We’ve got another problem,” Dean declared after dragging his hand through his hair for the hundredth time in the past hour. He felt the attention in the room return to him even before he turned his back on the comfort of the flickering flame in his parents’ fireplace.

  “Another problem?” Blake repeated from his seat on the large sofa. Their ever-growing family was gathered in their parents’ living room, and it didn’t escape Dean’s notice that if the Buchannons ever started joining their family meetings they’d need to knock down a wall. As it was, with everyone’s fiancées, Madison’s mother, and both Nate’s and Angela’s best friends sitting in, it was a good thing Dean preferred to stand by the fire. But this was what happened when they went straight from a very public social function to a family meeting.

  “What happened, Dean?” Christopher Hawke asked with a frown.

  Dean sighed and slumped against the mantle. “There’s a chance Arianna saw the burn I left on Eric’s wrist.”

  Expression carefully neutral, Lillian repeated, “A chance?”

  Glancing at his mother with a twinge of guilt, Dean replied, “I mean he was slow to cover it up, and who might see something wasn’t exactly my top priority in the moment.”

  “He was getting ready to strike,” Nate vouched.

  “No one’s disputing that,” Christopher allowed. Returning his attention to Dean, he added, “I think what your mother meant is, why aren’t you sure whether or not she saw anything?”

  “There wasn’t really time to chat,” Dean replied before he could catch himself. He cringed, but his father ignored the tone in his response, and he was sure to rein it in before he continued. “We’re meeting up tonight. But … I might have to tell her.”

  Silence held for a beat before Angela asked, “Why do you always get to tell everybody while the rest of us have to bite our tongues and lie?”

  Dean looked over at his sister, somewhat surprised by her harsh question. He noticed his shock was mirrored on his brothers’ faces, but that was little consolation. “Angie,” he began, “if she saw me burn someone, I’m gonna have to give her something.”

  “You always have an excuse, though,” Angela returned unflinchingly. “She might’ve seen you. You accidentally set her dress on fire, whoops. You had a nightmare, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Angela,” Lillian interrupted firmly. “There’s no point in reopening past arguments. None of us are thrilled about this, but Dean’s right, he may have no choice.”

/>   Dissatisfaction heavy in her voice, Angela looked back to her brother and added, “You always get away with it, too.”

  Anger sparking, Dean snapped, “I seem to recall being grounded six months out of the year, too. It’s not like I never got in trouble for the crap I pulled. What gives, Angie?” Why was she jumping down his throat for this?

  Before Angela could reply, Lillian interrupted again and said, “That’s enough, both of you. It’s too late now.” She took a deep breath, focused back on Dean, and added, “Tell her what you need to, but leave out what you can. No matter how nice she might be, we don’t know her.”

  Already knowing that he’d never been good at leaving out the so-called unnecessary, Dean inclined his head.

  Sighing heavily, Angela uncurled from her spot on the couch and asked, “Are we done, then? I need to take Hilary home. I’ll be back later.” She barely paused for her father’s acknowledgment before standing and leading the way out of the room. Hilary, her best friend and soon-to-be roommate, mumbled a polite farewell before following her.

  All eyes slid back to Dean, but he ignored them. He didn’t know what was eating at his sister, but he wasn’t going to stand by and let her rail at him when he hadn’t done anything for it.

  “Dean,” Blake called from behind him in that tone he always used when he felt caution was necessary. Dean ignored it and continued down the hall.

  “Angela,” he called as he stepped through the front door, finding his sister stepping onto the driveway from the porch. He was almost surprised when she stopped and turned back to face him.

  “What?” Angela asked pointedly.

  “You tell me,” Dean replied as he descended the steps. One hand gesturing absently at his side, he added, “Why’re you so pissed at me?”

  Angela narrowed her eyes, but hesitated with her answer. She took a deep breath, let it out, and finally replied, “That’s exactly it, Dean. I’m still mad at you.” She looked away for a second, sighed again, and mumbled, “But I suppose I was out of line in there. I’m sorry for that.”