Charred Tears (#2, Heart of Fire) Read Online Free

like brothers than friends. We take care of each other. It’s how this works. Although …” Gunner’s smile was warm. “… I appreciate it.”
    “Now that our special moment is over, here’s the bad news,” Chace said with a grin. “I need to climb a mountain.”
    “Let’s backtrack a little. Can you even walk?”
    “Not sure.” Chace chuckled. “I have to do it, Gunner, even if it kills me.”
    His friend sighed. “You need some real food then. I think there’s some magic left in your cabin. It’s kept the fridge full for me the past few days, though I’d say it’s obsessed with oranges. Feline shifters like me need meat.” Gunner crossed to the kitchen. “You’re healing quickly but I don’t think quickly enough to climb a mountain. It might kill you.”
    Chace glanced around, wishing he was able to feel the subtle hum of magic that used to fill his cabin.
    Freyja was right. He’d had everything and given it up. For what? To spend the last years of his life alone and regretful? He’d never appreciated his cabin’s magic or Gunner’s friendship or anything at all about Skylar. He had a chance to try to make things better or at least, to try to make it up to those who deserved better from him.
    “It’s a chance I need to take, Gunner.”
    “I’m going with you.”
    “If a cat can’t find its way out of a tree, what chance do you have on a mountain?”
    “My personal vendetta against heights aside, I’m not letting you do this alone.”
    Chace said nothing, genuinely touched by his friend’s concern. Gunner was leaving his comfort zone to help.
    I’ll pay you back someday, brother. Promise, Chace thought.
     

Chapter Four
     
    Thirteen-year-old Skylar sat in the room, lit only by the light from a single window. It was high in the wall, and both the walls and floor were made of cold concrete. Her surroundings and their musty scent reminded her of the basement of the farmhouse where they’d lived before moving to the two-story colonial where she’d been taken from.
    How long had she been sitting there, waiting? At least a day. The sun had set, and she’d been left to shiver in the darkness without even a blanket. Unable to sleep, she’d dozed fitfully until dawn crept into the cell.
    “Are you okay?”
    She jumped. Groggy and tired, she hadn’t heard her captors bring in the man seated beside her. He leaned against the wall, legs outstretched and smile quick, while she huddled in a corner.
    “My name is Mason,” he said. His skin was as dark as the corners of the cell, but his brown eyes were much warmer. “What’s yours?”
    She hesitated, scared. They’d snatched her out of her house, bound and hooded her and thrown her into the trunk of a car, driving for what felt like hours. Her voice was hoarse from screaming. And then she’d been dragged here and the hood removed.
    No one would tell her where she was, what happened to her mother.
    “I promise. I’m here to help you through this.” Mason had kind eyes and a warmth about him that made him different than the stone-face man who grabbed her.
    “S…skylar,” she managed. “I want to go home.”
    “I know. Are you hurt?”
    “No.” She lifted one elbow to show him the scrapes from the trunk.
    “Good. I’ll make sure you’re treated well. Okay?”
     
    Skylar awoke with a jerk. Her heart was flying, the fear and coldness of the dream making her shiver. Unlike the others, she didn’t recall the whole thing this time, but she remembered a cell. And Mason. He’d been smiling, always her friend, even in …
    “Where the hell was that?” She’d learned to tell the difference between memories and dreams. This was a memory. The harder she tried to recall it, the faster it slipped away. “Dammit, Skylar!”
    With a sigh, she got out of bed. Her first instinct was to want to see the scrapbooks again, to assure herself that the cold and emptiness remaining from her dream was only a tiny part of her life. That she had a