Flame Moon (A Flame Moon Novel: Volume 1) by K.J. Jackson

Author:K.J. Jackson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, romance, adventure, sex, mythology, romance and adventure, romance action, mythology gods weaving art children, mythology adventure, mythology gods, amnesia romance, mythology sex, mythology goddess, mythology fantasy

{ Chapter 11 }

Skye made a bee-line through the rain straight to Triaten’s jeep. She jumped into the driver’s seat. Keys were still in it. She tore down the driveway, kicking up mud behind her.

At the main road, she stopped, knuckles white on the steering wheel. She started to turn left to get the hell off the mountain. It didn’t matter if she had to steal the jeep to do it, she’d abandon it when she got the chance. But then she remembered Rafe. He was still at the ranch. She turned right and pushed the accelerator as hard as she could up the road, tires banging with brutal force into the wet potholes littering the rutted road.

The jeep slid to a stop in front of the ranch. Giving herself a breath, she turned and grabbed the wooden box from the back seat. It made her pause. The box didn’t open, though she could tell it was hollow. She’d had it ever since she could remember. Her finger traced one of the tigers, gorging on a fallen antelope, just as it had done thousands of times as a child. Her fingers were the reason the paint had worn off so long ago.

That someone had thought a tiger kill was appropriate scenery for a toddler had never struck her until now. She turned the box over in her hands, studying each side of it, crocodiles with the hippos, lions and zebras, vultures picking on bones, and her favorite, the angry monkeys in battle with a snake. She was never sure who was going to eat who in that scene. No matter the grotesqueness, it was hers. Through her parents’ deaths. Through the foster and group homes. Through it all, it was hers. At least it was until she was sent to juvie.

She put the box under her arm as she left the jeep, dashing through the rain into the ranch house.

“Rafe,” she called out, “Rafe.” Hopefully he wasn’t in the barn. She just wanted to get out of here. Skye poked her head into the sitting room and library at the front of the house with no luck. She made her way back to the kitchen. It was empty too.

She ran up the stairs to the room she had been staying in. She stopped to take off her jacket and then quickly stripped out of the wet teal v-neck and jeans — Charlotte’s — and dug through the dresser drawers for the jeans and tank she had come to this town in. She was going to leave with what she came.

Rushing back down the stairs, box and coat in arm, she heard the kitchen door close at the back of the house. Rafe’s barking echoed into the hall before Skye heard the ungainly clickety-clack of his nails running across the wood floor.

She was at the base of the stairs by the time Rafe got to her, nearly bowling her over. His ecstatic tongue was on every inch of Skye’s exposed skin.

“Skye

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