Page 17 of Property of Fire

“You still don’t get it,” Heat snarls. “He claimed you in the process of getting his punishment. You’re his, Evelin. He said it in front of everyone. To top it off, Fire’s Freyja’s son. He hadn’t unlocked what’s deep inside him that’s unleashed.”

I open my mouth to demand what the hell he’s talking about when the door is thrown open, and Fire’s standing right there looking even more freaked than I’m feeling at the moment.

Behind him, Pyro speaks up, and when he does, it’s not something I expected to hear.

“Prez, you know Fire’s got a twin brother that looks exactly like him and can put out fires? A fire that Fire here started with just a touch of his finger.”

TWELVE

FIRE

How the fuckis any of this possible? Heat isn’t one that would lie about something like this. I know it, but it still doesn’t make it easy to swallow.

The fact that my back wasn’t throbbing with the pain I’d been feeling while he dealt out each lash is fucking with my head. I expected to feel the pain for days on end. I’ve always been a quick healer, but it’s never been anything like this. My back was completely healed within minutes.

It’s fucking with my head more so because all my life, I thought the woman who birthed me was my mom. A fucking junkie who bailed on me. How fucked-up is that? I figured the best thing she could do for me was what she did in allowing my uncle to raise me. I don’t even know who my birth father is and never questioned it until now. My uncle had been the only figure I needed. He wasn’t coddling, but he taught me to be who I am.

“Brother, you gonna be okay?” Pyro asks, speaking up for the first time since he and our brothers followed me from the campsite.

Stopping off to the side near a pop-up canopy, grills already going, I look at him. “Does it look like I’m okay?”

“Nope,” Hotshot answers, drawing out the lone word.

“Looks like you’re freaked the fuck out,” Flame grunts.

“Wouldn’t you be?” I demand, looking between the three of them. “You find out this shit about yourself. How do you think you’d take it?”

“Fire,” Pyro grins, “I’m a fuckin’ dragon, there’s not much I let get to me.”

“Brother, I get you.” Hotshot smirks. “Being a lowly human and all, I get you. But think about this shit. You don’t need me anymore to fix up your back when shit happens.”

“Fuck off, Hotshot.” I chuckle.

Hotshot is able to get me to chuckle, which is something he’s always been good at. He’s not just the medic for our club, and he ain’t just a lowly human as he claims. He might be human, but he’s got a gift for healing he learned from his ancestors.

“Well, he’s got a point,” Flame remarks, “You won’t need to be healed after fights and shit that go too damn far.”

They’ve both got a point.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I had to learn this shit now.

“Just think about this, your real mom wasn’t a junkie,” Pyro states, though it’s not something he needs to remind me about.

“Yeah, I know, instead, she’s just a Goddess that didn’t want me.” My anger is growing, for some reason, that thought pisses me off. Makes me question who the hell I really am and why this Goddess cast me away.

More importantly, makes me question what the hell I am.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Pyro grunts. “Wait until Herja gets here, she’ll hopefully give you the answers you deserve to have.”

Yeah. I’m not going to be able to do anything about any of this until she gets here. Herja could be here in a flash of a second if she wanted, so why the fuck can’t she show her ass until tonight?

“You gonna be able to cool it now? Get back to the RV and see to the other situation you’ve got going on?” Flame asks brow cocked. “Fucked up you with Evelin, but we all saw it coming.”

“Fuck,” I snarl. When I do, sparks fly from my fingers to the haystack next to us, starting a fire. “Oh shit.”

“Water. We need some fuckin’ water over here,” a member from another club shouts.

Before the guy can get water, someone else handles it, and how they do so is just how I started the damn fire. Though, instead, of sparks, it’s water. How the fuck . . .

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