Flames of fury, p.1
Flames of Fury, page 1
Flames of Fury
LEADVILLE SERIES
BOOK ONE
K. J. LAVALLEE
Edited by PAIGE KRAFT
Cover by GRAPEFRUIT DESIGNS
Formatted by LAVALLEE FORMATTING
Contents
1. Imeria
2. Imeria
3. Jericho
4. Jericho
5. Jericho
6. Imeria
7. Imeria
8. Imeria
9. Jericho
10. Imeria
11. Jericho
12. Imeria
13. Jericho
14. Imeria
15. Jericho
16. Imeria
17. Jericho
18. Imeria
19. Imeria
20. Imeria
21. Imeria
22. Ivy
About the Author
Also by K. J. Lavallee
Chapter 1
Imeria
“Hey, Jessica, can you take out the croissants from the oven? They just need to cool!” I shout to her from the front of the shop.
We come in at four to cook everything so it’s ready when we open, which is in ten minutes. I need to make sure we have more than enough to get us through the rush. It's always a madhouse here first thing in the morning, and the weekends are where most of the business stems from.
The one girl who was only trained to work counters called off today, and Stephanie had requested the day off. So, it’s just Jessica and me. Luckily, the people in this town are great, and they won’t give us crap if they're waiting. Jess and I worked out a game plan; she takes the back, and I’ll handle the customers. We haven’t had many of them meet me since coming back, because I’m always in the kitchen cooking. It’ll be good for me, and the people of this town, to realize that I'm the owner.
Jess is great, too. She graduated from college last month. She was hired here to be my assistant and help take some of the load off. She did great and picked up more than half of my job baking.
It was a relief when she said she would like to come on full time. We’re only open until six every night. Both of us pull long shifts a few times a week. But we both love it. She agreed to tell me if the long days start to make her dread her job. There’s nothing worse than an employee who hates coming to work. It shows in their attitude and how they perform.
I knew running a business would be tough. But I love baking, and owning my own shop is what I’ve wanted to do for as long as I can remember.
The clock strikes six, and I unlock the doors. There are only a handful of people out right now, but that's okay; I know it will pick it up when everyone starts getting up for the day. I serve the best pastries. Everyone loves them.
Two hours later, the line is fully out the door. The door is constantly opening and closing. With it open, I catch a whiff of snow. We don’t need any more snow. I personally think we’ve gotten enough already.
I box up the dozen pastries that the lovely Bernie ordered and hand him the box, “Have a nice day. Hopefully it’ll be snow free.”
“It's not going to snow for another few days. The weatherman said we'll have some more for Christmas.”
“I hope he’s right.” The smell of snow to come hits me again when Bernie leaves.
I glance around the shop; there are two people, then three more behind them, and a few more people behind those. The morning rush is almost done.
I serve the next two customers quickly; they just grab an item and mutter something about wishing we had coffee as good as Joe’s. I wish I did, too. I even grab my own from there every morning. Joe’s wife, whom he married after I left for college, knows me and always has my order ready. They get in at the same time as us but open earlier than we do.
“Good morning, how may I help you?” I ask the group of three.
The face that jerks toward the sound of my voice makes my gut clench. I know this man. He was, probably still is, a regular at Joe’s Diner. Joe’s friend. “Hi, Jericho!” I say, excited to see him. I don’t know why I feel so much excitement. There are butterflies fluttering in my belly. His amethyst eyes and Marine-style haircut always called to me on some level. I thought he was much older than me, but now? He barely looks a day older than forty. He's handsome, and those eyes sing to my soul. As if he can see my deepest secrets.
“Mia? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to college?” Does he not realize I did? It’s been twelve years since I left Leadville, only living here for four years prior to leaving.
“I did. But I came back here. Put my own roots down and opened my own shop. I can’t leave home for long.” I tell him.
“Mera.”
“Imeria.”
The two females who are with Jericho say. That name. I look at them, then. “How do you know that name?” I hiss. No one has called me Mera, ever. But Imeria? I haven’t taken that name since that fateful day.
Both girls look shocked and concerned. “It’s your name,” the black-haired girl says.
“You're my twin,” the other one finishes.
“Well bend me over.” I hear Jericho mutter.
“And fuck me sideways,” the black-haired female finishes.
The words don’t penetrate as I stare between the three of them. “I’m who? You must have me confused with someone else.”
The one who claimed to be my twin shakes her head. “No confusion. We've been searching for you. Our parents died while we were children. We were all given up for adoption. I recently found out I have sisters. A twin and an older sister. When I found Stella, we both tried looking for you.”
I stare at them. Stella, and my twin. “That’s impossible. I’m an only child.”
“She's not lying. It's a lot to take in. I know how it sounds. When Vivian found me, I fought the urge to call her a liar. She’s not lying,” Stella says, giving me a name for the female who claims to be my twin.
“Listen, I have customers waiting. You need to order or step aside for the others to get something.” My tone is biting. I haven’t used that stern of a voice in such a long time. Not since—I shake my head. I'm not going there. Not now.
The three of them move over to the side. I wish I told them to just get out. Even as I think it, I know I don’t wish that. I want to see and speak to Jericho. Who are these women to him? Why do I have the sudden urge to make some claim to him as if I have the right to?
I handle the last customers and set about cleaning up the area. “Why should I believe you?” I say to anyone who wants to answer. Stella and Jericho share a look, but Vivian is the one who shakes her head. What is with them?
“We can show you proof. I have it at home. If we left, would you still be here when we came back?” Vivian asks.
Not likely. I keep that to myself. I may not be here today, or tomorrow, but I will be here. I own the place. I don’t answer and continue to wipe down the counter, and then start to sweep.
“Mia, would you like me to vouch for them? I know you.” Jericho stops and shakes his head. “I knew you,” he corrects. “I’ve seen the evidence they have collected. I’ve watched as Stella, by some miracle, found the proof to be telling. Her adoptive mother even told her the truth. She was adopted, and so was Vivian, and I believe you were, too. For you three share something that is undeniably a trait of your family.” I stop cleaning and glower at him.
My glare must have told him enough, for he continues on. “Your eyes.”
It is, at that moment, I find myself staring into the eyes of the two women who claim me as a sister. It's like staring into a mirror. Their eyes are mine. Almond colored with specks of green throughout them. I have never seen another pair of eyes like mine before. The sight of them stuns me.
My hand goes to my mouth, and the one holding the broom tightens around it. “Our mother’s eyes,” Vivian says to me.
“We would like to explain everything to you. Once you’re free tonight, that is. We can come back, or you can meet us at Joe’s Diner. Somewhere public so you don’t think we're trying to kidnap you or something,” Stella says.
“Why would I think that?”
Stella smirks. “So, our sister stops by my house, with two friends and her husband, telling me she's my sister. The first thing that any sane person would jump to is, what the fuck do you want with me, and why are so many of you here? Am I right? This time, however, we were just here for food. We had no idea you lived in the same town as us. Although, I just moved here. Literally, I lived in La Junta until a few days ago. Vivian lived out of state and found herself living in Colorado Springs. Now, she lives here with her husband and his family. They knew them, you know. Our parents. Jericho knew them, too. He can tell you stories about them.”
My head whips to Jericho. How would he have known them? He couldn’t have been much older than I was. “How well did you know them? How old are you? Why are you three so determined to make me see the truth? What if I'm trying to hide from the truth? What if I just wanted to live a quiet, boring life, making pastries all day and going home to my cat?”
"A cat?" Jericho asks, his nose scrunched up as if it's a horrible thought. I ignore him as Vivian speaks.
“Can we explain that later tonight? I’ll bring the items in question, and you can meet us at Joe’s at seven?” Vivian doesn’t give me time to decline or accept. She nods her head and walks out the door.
“Well, that was interesting,” I say to my now-empty lobby.
“Hey, Mia, how’s it going out there?” Jess says, coming through the door that separates the kitchen from the lobby.
I blow my bangs off my face; they’re getting too long. “Just dandy,” I mutter.
Chapter 2
Imeria
I can do this. It’s just Joe’s. I can say hi to him and his wife. Maybe sit quietly in the corner while I survey the area. Maybe freak out and bolt before they come in. Maybe not. I haven’t been able to get Jericho off my mind all day. I had gone home and showered. I changed into some jeans with knee-high boots and a green turtleneck sweater and finished it off with a green and black striped scarf.
I push open the door, sensing immediately that something is off. I walk in casually, scanning the small dinner for any sign of danger. Over in the right corner, I see the two girls, Jericho, and another two males. I recognize them. They used to come in here when I worked here. I scan the rest of the Diner. No one else is here. Not one person.
Well, this shall be fun, I think to myself as I make my way over to the small group. There is a place beside Jericho open. I feel relief and dread at the same time. Grateful that the one person I connected with is the one who I will sit by, and hoping it isn’t as awkward as I know it will be.
I fought with myself all day. I was an only child. There's no way they're my family. But the three of them were dead set on me being their sister. It’s not like I can call up my mother and ask her. She's been dead for sixteen years now, her murderer lost in the wind.
He has evaded the police for sixteen years, and I was placed under witness protection. My name changed to Mia. I was put into the home of a police officer. Moved from California to this small town in the middle of nowhere Colorado. I was forced to live without any of the friends I made out there and ordered to have no contact with my family for fear it may be tracked to me. I even went to college in New England. Further from California and the memories that haunt me.
I take the seat, tentatively smiling at them. “Hi, I’m Mia Jones.” I wave at them.
“Imeria, you met me earlier. This is my husband, Marcel,” Stella says, gesturing to the handsome man.
“Hi Mera,” Vivian offers me a small smile. “This is my husband, Alexander.”
“Hello, nice to meet you.” My voice is tight. “Please don’t call me that. My name is Mia Jones. It’s—” I pause and glance over my shoulder at the empty restaurant.
“We're alone. Even the cooks left. My brother's back there making some food for us, but no one else is here. It’s just us,” Alexander says to me.
“Thank you.” I swallow. Alright, better say it so they know why they can't call me what they want to. “It’s for my protection.” Every single person at the table stiffens at my words.
Vivian opens her mouth to ask me a question. Presumably about what I need protection from, but her husband puts a stop to that by covering her mouth with his hand.
“When or if you ever feel comfortable enough around us, we would like to hear about it. The thought of you needing protection from something hurts me deep inside,” Stella says. Her brightly-shining eyes broadcast the truth in her words.
I nod. Alexander pulls his hand away from Vivian’s mouth, wiping it on his pants. “Did you have to lick me?” He asks, not an ounce of disgust in his tone.
“Yes. I was hoping it would make you let up on my mouth. I wasn’t going to demand she tell me. Geez. I’m not an asshole.”
A small smile crosses my face. “You said you would bring proof?” I ask before I lose my nerve to see it.
Vivian rummages through her bag and places the proof before me. The proof is a small stack of photos. The first one, a woman who has Vivian’s hair and eyes with a man who has my hair standing there. The guy looks down at the woman, who is clearly pregnant , with such love, you can feel it through the picture.
The next one is the same couple with a new baby girl. The next one is the girl, a little older, with two more baby girls, one in each of the adult’s arms. The oldest sister looks as happy as pie.
The last one. The three girls are older. They all have their mother’s eyes. My eyes. We each have different hair. Stella’s different from both parents. The twins, that is me. I had to be about three when this was taken. The oldest seven or eight. I look from the picture to the two females sitting across from me at the table. Sitting close together, with their men on the outside.
“Tell me everything,” I demand, and they do. Stella’s biological father, what happened, and how our father raised her and loved her like his own. How I'm a dragon? I scoff inwardly at that. No way. Stella's a wolf; so is her mate—not husband, mate. As if the paranormal world has come alive. How our parents were killed by some evil beings and there are people out there trying to hunt us down and kill us. At that comment, I stopped myself from saying, “Get in line, buddy.” It would have raised more questions than I'm willing to answer.
How some witch, Deseres, put a spell on us to hide our animals and wipe our memories. And finally, ending with Jericho being my mate. The one person who was meant to be mine forever. The one who is to break the curse placed upon me before the spell kills me.
Jericho, my mate? I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that; and with his scent surrounding me, it's hard to compose my thoughts. He smells like the wind, carrying with it the smell of snow to come. It’s clean. Crisp. And fits him perfectly. His nice clean clothes, marine haircut, and freshly shaven face; there isn’t a thing out of place on him.
Thinking of his scent, his unique smell, just for me, tells me that I was not imagining smelling the scent of snow to come this morning. It was him. Once they left, I hadn’t smelled it again. But now? It's wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
I push my chair back and stand up so fast, I don’t realize what I plan to do until I’m walking to the door.
“This is all just too much. I need some time to think about it. Process everything.”
My sisters, they are my sisters. I know it deep in my bones. They're not lying. They're telling the truth. They meet me at the door, trying to stop me from leaving.
“Please don’t go, Mia,” Jericho’s velvety voice washes over me a split second before his hand grasps my own. The shock of electricity that shoots through my entire body at that contact frightens me. If they hadn’t told me he was my mate, I probably would have guessed it with that touch alone.
I fight back the tears of frustration threatening to fall free of my eyes. “I.—” I stop. There is truly nothing to say to him, to the two girls around me, that will not make me sound like a monster. “Give me a few days. This is just so much. Sisters I could have handled. Evil beings, shifters, and witches? I can’t. Not without processing it. For crying out loud, I feel like I just walked in on some Harry Potter crap and I don’t know my way around a wand.”
Stella smiles at me. “Sorry. It's not you. It’s your reference.” She points down to her shirt, and for the first time, I realize the Deathly Hallows symbol is loud and proud.
“How do I get in contact with you?” I ask Stella.
She hands me a card. “It's my cell. I just moved up here from La Junta, as I've told you. It's my old business card. But the number still works. I scribbled down Vivian’s number on the back, too. Call or text either of us with any questions or concerns.”
“Thank you.” I take the card and bolt out the door. Leaving behind everything. My mate. My sisters. My brothers-in-law. I have a whole family here, and I didn’t even know it.
Scared. That's exactly what I am. I'm terrified that somehow amongst my happiness, having my own family, my father will come back and finish what he set out to do sixteen years ago.
I think I need to visit my foster parents, the police officer I was placed with and his wife. They didn’t have kids. Couldn’t have them. I was all they took in. They were and are nice people. I only see them on holidays and special occasions.
