Her key paranormal shift.., p.1
Her Key: Paranormal Shifter Romance, page 1
HER KEY
PARANORMAL SHIFTER ROMANCE
IVY EMBER
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About Ivy Ember
CHAPTER 1
Keith
I don’t know if I was always a key. I can’t remember a time when I wasn't, but I have to assume, at least with how people act toward objects like me, that it’s not normal for us to be conscious.
Still, I am. And ever since I was in this form, I’ve felt the call to one thing. My lock. The one who was meant for me.
A fated mate.
I know I’m designed for someone out there. I just have to find her. That’s just a little hard to do when I can’t walk. Or talk. Or even move.
But she’ll find me. I know it. Until then, I’ll be here waiting.
I feel the hard surface beneath me - the tall glass shelf I know all too well. Dust in the air. Murmured voices. The antique shop. My home for now.
Or perhaps prison is more apt. An ornate key with no lock to fit. A protector with no one to keep safe. Merely an item to be turned idly in the hands of passing strangers who cannot free me.
But today that could change. The one destined for me may walk through that door. My true mate - I will know her instantly. A protector always recognizes his charge.
The antique shop's front bell chimes as the shopkeeper unlocks the door and heads inside. "Another day in the antique trade," she mutters while sweeping dust off the floorboards and tidying up displays. Hope blossoms inside me at the promise of new faces, new hands to hold me and turn me over.
Soon customers begin wandering in to browse the eclectic collection of wares. I observe them from my perch on the high glass shelf as I have done for years now.
"Oh wow, look at that elaborate old key up on the shelf!" remarks a woman to her companion.
The man replies disinterestedly "Hmm, just looks decorative to me. Doubt it goes to anything."
Their conversation fades as they meander to the next aisle. Below me, the shopkeeper approaches a well-dressed gentleman examining pocket watches.
"That’s a fine timepiece here!" she declares smoothly. "All in working order and excellent condition. Now, if it's a unique antique you seek, might I direct your attention to this exquisite key?"
She retrieves me from my shelf and places me into the customer's hands. I am turned over slowly, inspected from all angles.
"Very ornate engraving, but without the lock it's a mere curiosity," the gentleman remarks, handing me back to the woman who returns me to my shelf.
And so the days wear on, filled with the sounds of ticking clocks, creaking floorboards, and the door's bell chiming as patrons come and go.
I wait, vaguely aware, ready to alert at the slightest sign she is near. The one to unlock my power, my purpose. Centuries of anticipation will be worthwhile when she finds me.
For now, I listen to the chatter below, as I have done endless times before. Tourists on holiday exclaiming over quaint relics. Dealers hunting treasures to exploit. Lovers seeking a meaningful gift.
They notice me on my high shelf of course - an exquisitely forged antique key. Intricate etchings along my barrel and bow indicate great age and mysterious origin. My thick and hard length draws the eye of many.
Some ask to examine me further, running fingers over my engravings. Every time I ask myself, ‘Could this be the one?’ But the lack of connection is obvious - we are not meant to intertwine.
Each time, I am returned to my shelf with a sigh. My life of solitude continues, my existence on pause. Tomorrow I may wake to find myself in a new city, a new case, but my circumstances remain unchanged.
Does some part of me despair that I will never find the mate to break this limbo? That my vital purpose will never be put into action? Perhaps. But divination abilities are no gift of mine.
I can only trust Fate has a plan she has yet to reveal. My optimism may yet be rewarded someday... This hour... The next minute... When I least expect.
I continue to strain to hear the now familiar sounds of the antique shop - a bell chiming as the door opens, footsteps on creaky wooden floors, and the murmur of patrons browsing the wares. Nothing stirs me, but still a hope.
"Do you see anything you like, dear?" an older man's voice carries up to my perch on the high glass shelf.
"Oh, perhaps that jeweled hair comb," his wife replies. "Though the price seems rather steep..."
Their conversation fades as they move along to the next display. I am left waiting, watching, hoping as I have done for untold years.
The day's visitors filter in and out of my limited view. Bored teenagers, middle-aged collectors, curious tourists - none exhibiting that instant spark of recognition I yearn for.
Two young girls giggle nearby. "Wait till you see this wild old key I saw upstairs..." one says to her friend.
"Ew, who cares about some dusty old key?" her friend responds with a laugh. Their chatter recedes into the distance.
To them I am merely a boring antique. But my destined mate will know me instantly. We will be drawn together like magnets, two halves fused into a greater whole.
I long for that profound connection. I know that I am meant for more than display and collecting dust.
But I feel as if today could be different.
CHAPTER 2
Rose
I'm jerked awake by the buzzing of my phone. My best friend Clara’s name lights up the screen.
“Hello?” I answer groggily, not even bothering to keep my eyes open. It’s too damn early for this.
“Rose!” Her voice is too cheery and I let out a groan in response. “Are you not up yet?”
I try to push the sleepiness from my mind and sit up. “Of course I’m up,” I say even though it can’t be farther than the truth.
“Okay…” She doesn’t sound like she believes me. “Well, I’ll be there in thirty.”
“Great.” The word sounds more begrudging than excited and I hang up before she can say anything else.
I had almost forgotten I promised Clara I'd go shopping for vintage furniture with her today. But now I remember why I really want to visit the antique store - to finally find the key to unlock the locket I always wear around my neck.
I quickly text her back that I'll be ready soon, tingling with anticipation. Clara has always been supportive in my search for the fated key. Maybe today will be the lucky day. I look down at the locket where it rests against my heart, its familiar warmth calming me.
If only I could unlock its secrets. There must be answers inside, something I am meant to learn. Clues my mother left that might finally bring me peace.
Her face swims back to me then, a bittersweet reminder of happier times. How she would tuck the locket into my small hands when I was frightened or upset, reassuring me.
Even at the end, weakened by sickness, she managed to clasp it around my neck one last time. Her parting gift and legacy. I promised I would keep it with me forever.
But the locket has remained locked all these years. I've tried every key imaginable without success. Still, I can't relinquish the hope that the right one is out there somewhere, waiting to be found.
Then this heirloom can fulfill its intended purpose - guiding me through grief into wisdom and understanding. I just need to find the key.
Over the years I've tried bent paper clips, hairpins, any likely key I could get my hands on. But the locket keeps its secrets locked tight. Only one special key will do.
And I know in my heart that it is out there somewhere, waiting.
Sometimes I swear I can feel the locket almost tremble with anticipation, eager to share its message. Other times it seems strangely dormant, as if also waiting for that fated key to quicken it to life once more.
Perhaps I only imagine the locket's faint pulsing energy from being kept so close to my heart. Or maybe some fantastical magic does lie within. Either way, it gives me comfort when little else can.
I know the locket holds the last vestiges of my mother's love, even if its true secrets elude me still. And love can work a kind of magic - comforting, empowering, even transforming. I simply have to trust.
Half an hour later, Clara pulls up outside. "I'm so excited to see what the shops have today!" she says as I slide into her car.
I clutch the locket, as always, filled with that same sense of hope and possibility. Clara gives my hand an encouraging squeeze. She knows what this means to me.
At the antique shop, Clara and I scour the cluttered aisles together. She "oohs" and "ahhs" over the antique dresses and ornate furniture. But I barely notice, focused only on my search.
Then I spot it - a case of old keys. Clara smiles knowingly. "I'll keep looking over here. Come find me if you discover the one!"
I nod gratefully, already drifting toward my fate. The one key to unlock the secrets of my past is here...I can feel it calling to me...
I just need to find that one key amongst the clutter that calls out to me as the missing piece to fate's puzzle. It has to be
My eyes are already scanning the shelves and cases all around. Where are you, my destined key? My locket grows warm, anticipating the long-awaited union.
Holding my breath, I begin the search...determined not to leave until I uncover the mysterious key meant to open the doorway to my past.
CHAPTER 3
Keith
A woman has entered the shop. Not just any woman, but one that calls to me in a way no one else has. I am practically trembling with excitement, my teeth chattering against the glass. Something about her aura feels intrinsically familiar. Could this stranger be the one I've awaited?
Soft footsteps draw near, sending waves of anticipation through my dormant form. I attune my consciousness to her - quiet breaths, faint wildflower scent, the resonance of her spirit reaching for mine. Yes, she's the one.
The woman is here, at my shelf...so achingly close. If I had a heart, it would pound in this moment. Each second stretches on as she hovers just below, oblivious to the significance of our encounter.
"Anything catch your eye, miss?" the shopkeeper's voice carries up from below.
"Just browsing for now," comes the woman's muted reply. Her soft footsteps creak across the floor as she begins perusing the shelves.
Mere inches separate us now. I’m lucky I don’t have a physical body to betray the exhilaration shooting through me in this moment. So close...yet ignorant of the significance surrounding our first encounter. But soon she will understand.
"What a lovely key," the woman murmurs, more to herself than anyone. But I preen with the praise, and her eyes widen as I shift.
I quiver with the effort of projecting my urges across this ethereal divide. Touch me...turn the key...awaken our fate. The promise awaits just below the surface.
The woman lingers, intrigued but unaware. I plead in silence - take my physical form into your grasp. We are on the cusp of profound transformation.
Her hand reaches toward me, and I focus every fiber of my altered being into this singular moment, willing her to make contact.
Her hand hovers over me, hesitant. Does some intuitive part of her sense the connection brewing between us?
Then, contact. The woman lifts me gently, cradling my physical form. I expected to be unleashed instantly, but I remain in my key form.
But I can feel it this time. She is the one.
Everything in me yearns for her, my metal heating fondly in her palm. I hold myself tall and proud, hoping that there’s nothing in my teeth.
“You might work,” she murmurs, seemingly interested and my hope builds.
The woman caresses my surface, tracing each etched sigil. She lingers, studying me for longer than anyone has. My metal only grows harder under her soft touch as she traces her fingers along me.
She must feel our bond blossoming, and I beg her to acknowledge it. She needs to buy me, to find the way to unleash me. She is my mate, and I know that together we can find a way to be one.
The woman weighs me in her palm, oblivious to my fervent projections. Her thumb brushes over my bow, sending sparks of excitement skittering through my essence. Does she feel how we react to one another?
I cling desperately to the hope that she will.
The woman mutters to herself, "Are you the one?" She is so very near to revelation.
Her graceful fingers caress the length of my shank down to the teeth, and I swear I feel myself move, trying to lean into her touch.
She shifts me so that she is gripping me only by the bow, and I watch as she brings a locket up in her other hand. On the back are the grooves, waiting for teeth to push into it.
“I hope this works,” she murmurs.
She lines my teeth up with the grooves, pushing me forward. I am the perfect size.The gold of the metal precisely outlines my teeth. But when she pushes me in, the lock doesn’t budge.
She tries to push harder, and I realize that this lock isn’t a traditional insert. I am certain I’m a perfect match, but there must be another way of unlocking the necklace. But she doesn’t seem to realize that.
After a moment, she stops trying. The woman is silent, listening to some inner voice I cannot hear. Is this it? Then, regretfully, her grip loosens. No! I cry out silently. We’re meant to be!
But she sets me down, achingly ignorant of what was building. My core trembles with the agony of loss. We were so very close...
Yet I have to hold onto hope. This was but the first encounter in our story. The seeds have been sown - our bond already forming. She will return, and the time will be right.
No... After an eternity of waiting, I will not let her go so easily! Not when I have finally found her.
With all my scattered essence I project to the woman now moving away - come back! You are my mate.
But my silent pleas fade unheeded as her graceful footsteps retreat down the aisle. Each creak of the floorboards a hammer blow to the foundations of my fragile hopes.
She continues on without a backward glance. Off to resume her mundane existence, leaving me behind like she didn’t feel the draw I know she did.
A presence that stirred such life and possibility in my core reduced once more to another faceless patron. Did she really feel nothing between us? No bond or call to me? Does the mate bond feel so feeble compared to these humans?
But denial comes easily to those who are uncertain of something different. The rational mind will wall off what it cannot grasp. Protectors often wait lifetimes for our charges to answer fate’s call. I should not despair so quickly.
Yet loneliness threatens to engulf me as I watch her retreat. The half I know I’m destined for is disappearing from view and memory.
No! I must hold on to our bond. It will pull her back to me, I know it. Her hesitance today does not negate the potency of our bond. Even if she is ignorant of what just transpired, the magnetic pull will leave her with no choice but to return.
Until then...I will wait. My essence settles back into stillness, the brief excitement fading like cooling metal after being shaped by a blacksmith. But traces remain, keeping me eager for her return.
Patience is no stranger, yet now it chafes. To have felt my mate, only to be left behind! Perhaps temporary, but agonizing nonetheless.
For now, I still my thoughts. She will be back. Our story has just begun. I need only keep faith.
CHAPTER 4
Rose
"I really liked the antique store we went to yesterday. It was so cool!" Clara exclaims as we sit down for coffee. "I’m surprised you didn’t find anything."
I stir my latte absently, thoughts still lingering on the ornate key I left behind. We’ve been to four more shops in the last two days, and I’m still thinking about it. "I did spot this neat old key..."
"You and your obsession with keys!" Clara laughs. "Was it one of those big skeleton ones?"
"Yes. It was large and heavy.” I refrain from saying that it felt good in my hand, even though it did. “It even had a matching vine pattern like my locket. It looked about a century old, but it’s stuck with me."
Clara smiles knowingly. "You’ve searched every key section in the city at this point. You should've just bought it then if you were so drawn to it!"
"I know, I regret not purchasing it right away..." I trail off, remembering the weight and warmth of it in my palm. "I can't stop thinking about that key for some reason. Is that weird?"
Clara shakes her head while I stir my coffee. "I think we all end up heavily drawn to a piece from time to time,a dn it it seems like it made quite an impression. Maybe you should go back for it?"
I sigh, realizing she's absolutely right. From the moment I left the shop, a persistent pulling has remained, urging me to return and claim that key as my own.
"I think I need to. I can't fully shake this feeling that the key and I were destined to find each other that day. Fanciful as that sounds."
Clara smiles and squeezes my hand supportively. "Hey, listen to your heart! When we feel drawn to certain items or places, it's for good reason, even if we don't understand it yet."
