Sparks of Fire with bonus content

By Asper Reynolds

For a moment, he almost forgot why he was there. His heart sped up as he thought of crossing the room and asking her for a dance. The chance to touch her again-gods. His hands were already shaking. He needed a moment to pull himself together, or he would never be able to walk away again. The urge to take he

• Language: English
• Publisher: Asper Reynolds
• Release date: May 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869231949

Book preview

CONTENT WARNING

Swearing, mentions of abuse and manipulation, fantasy violence, depictions of PTSD triggers, sexual content, vampires, and brief mentions of suicide. Bodily autonomy is one of the major themes in this story and could be triggering to readers with trauma.

Pronunciation Guide

Treilah = Tray- la (or Tre = Tray)                  

Cadahm = Kay- dahm

Corramiel = Core- ah- meal

Remia = Rem -ee-ah

Daneel = Dan - eel

Mathion = Math - ee- on

Lorai = Lor- eye

Elion = El - ee- on

Anishia = Ann -ee- sha

Chapter 1

Magic coiled deep in Cadahm’s body, tense and waiting to be released. 

With every hour he spent crouching in the brambles and weeds, he grew more anxious. Only two hours left before sunrise. He bit down on the inside of his cheek. If the sun rose before they could finish their mission, everything would become complicated. 

His companions were nearby, hidden just out of sight along the narrow stretch of road that wound through thick forest. The only one visible to him was Mags, leaning on a makeshift stick of a cane. A weapon when the time came. Occasionally, across the road from him, he caught the flash of reflective golden eyes. Bex in her lycan form. 

The twins from Remia; Page and Lowe, stood one at each end of the ambush, ready to fire their arrows if needed. 

He swatted at the glow moths that fluttered around his head. Their flickering blue light could give him away.

When the team of oxen pulling the iron coach rolled slowly into view, he heaved a sigh of relief, even as his chest hammered in anticipation. 

As the coach approached, Mags stepped onto the road with an exaggerated limp. His one eye caught sight of Cadahm and winked. His silent message was clear, don’t worry so much. We got this.

The coach stopped, and the driver shouted, Out of the road, old man! 

An orc, Cadahm noted. Although he couldn’t see the driver from his hiding place, the tusks protruding from an orc’s lower jaw gave their species a rather distinct speaking voice.

Old? Mags repeated. Mock indignation colored the word. I may look worse fer the wear, but I ain’t old yet.

What are you doing on the road at this hour? the orc asked.

I’m no happier about it than you are. I was up a little while ago to do the milking and then I noticed my best cow, Talulah, wasn’t in her stall. She’s got a habit of wandering off you know, so I threw on my pants— 

Fine, The orc snapped, Move along. I want to get off this road before breakfast.

Would that be one of the legendary iron coaches? Mags asked. You must have someone mighty powerful in there.

This one, ha! Just a lowlife vampire who’s gonna get what’s coming to him.

It was all the confirmation Cadahm and the others needed. Bex loosed a spine-chilling howl and Cadahm stepped out of his hiding place. He released his pent-up magic, surrounding the carriage in a circle of flames.

A lycan guard sprang from the back of the coach. His eyes tightened in fury as he caught sight of Bex.

They were twin nightmares, standing at their full heights, muscled bodies tensed and ready for a fight. Faces stretched and distorted into something that was half human, half canine, with razor-sharp claws at the end of their hands and feet.

Traitor, he snarled. 

She ignored the word and flung herself at him, jaws snapping an inch from his face as he dodged out of the way.

Mags had the orc engaged, but the terrified oxen stomping and swaying proved more of a danger than the battle itself. The iron coach tipped dangerously to one side before thudding back down hard. 

Alright there, Hector? Mags called into the carriage as he landed a heavy knock on the top of the orc’s head.

There was no answer from inside. 

Bex fought the lycan guard back away from the coach, dangerously close to the flames, leaving about five feet between their slashing claws and teeth for Cadahm to run through and make a dive into the back of the coach.

 It was dark inside, and within the small iron space, Cadahm’s magic could not create a light for him to see by. He could just make out the vampire’s shape slumped on the floor. 

Hector?

A low moan confirmed his friend was alive. 

Cadahm kneeled and shook his head in disgust at the heavy chains attached to the floor on one end and Hector’s hands and feet on the other. The guard outside would have the key.

Don’t worry, brother, Cadahm said. We’ll get you out.

He took Cadahm’s hand in his icy one and lifted it to his face. 

Cadahm’s fingers were touching more iron, a mask held tight across the bottom of Hector’s face, held in place by straps of leather so tight that he could not open his mouth at all. 

Cowards, he murmured before backing up and calling out, Bex, we need the key.

Again, the coach tipped. When it came slamming back down, he bit his lip as he was shouting. He tasted blood and wiped it on his sleeve, trying to stop it. He had no fear of Hector’s vampiric hunger, but the smell would be agony for his friend, who would have been given barely enough blood to keep him alive in prison for the past month. 

Mags had rendered the orc unconscious and was trying to calm the frightened animals. 

Both lycans panted with exertion as they circled each other. Cadahm was near enough to detect Bex as the smaller of the two, but from Page and Lowe’s locations, beyond the flames, trying to fire an arrow at the correct lycan would have been a fool’s gamble.

Bex dove at the guard again, but he rolled beneath her and kicked up with his hind legs, sending her flat on her back onto the ring of fire. 

He took hold of her ankle with his teeth, dragged her back out of the flames and climbed on top of her, taking hold of her neck and shaking her back and forth like a dog with a squirrel.

Cadahm leaped down from the coach. He fired a blast of flames at the guard’s back. It hit, but the lycan refused to release his hold on Bex.  

Fire now! Cadahm shouted to the archers. 

Twin arrows soared over the fire and found their mark in the guard’s back. He screamed with rage but dropped Bex, who fell limp to the ground.

 Reeling on Cadahm he unleashed a furious roar, a roar that was cut short as magic stole the air from his lungs.

The guard dropped to his knees, clawing desperately at his own throat, then fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

Stop. Bex’s voice was a rasp.

He would have killed you, Cadahm said quietly, without releasing the guard from his invisible grip.

She sat up, groaning in pain even as her wounds were already healing, and leveled a glare at the wide-eyed guard. We don’t kill my people. 

Cadahm hesitated but called his power back to himself, leaving the guard gasping on the ground. 

In truth, he had killed lycans before. Bex knew this; it was a point of tension between them.

He held his hand out to the guard. Key, now.

The lycan looked between him and Bex, weighing his odds.

You aren’t my people, Cadahm warned. I’m trying to do something nice for my friend, but if you don’t hand over that key, I won’t get to do that. 

The lycan glared at him for a long moment but finally gagged like a cat a few times and the key, slimy and wet, dropped into his palm.

Disgusting.  

He wiped it on his shirt before climbing back into the coach, and emerged a moment later with Hector, now free of the mask and chains, leaning on his arm. 

Wait, the vampire said, pausing before Cadahm could climb down. The paper.

He looked back over his shoulder into the dark coach. 

It’s on the floor somewhere, Hector said. The guard was reading it earlier today.

He gave Hector his hand, and his friend stepped down gingerly. Whatever the guards had done to him that could leave a vampire in pain—Cadahm didn’t want to think about that yet. 

He ducked back inside and felt around the floor until he found a crumpled pile of paper. Once he had it, he jumped back out to the ground and held it up to the firelight. 

Front page news, Hector said, his face grim.

His stomach turned to ice as soon as he saw the headline. Lord Mathion announces his new apprentice, but it was the portrait in the top left-hand corner of the page that had his hands shaking.

Oh gods, please, not her. 

Chapter 2

(Five years earlier)

Treilah wasn’t surprised Cadahm was avoiding her; just disappointed. He’d hardly spoken to her all week, but today was her birthday.  

Maybe it was easier this way. She still caught herself forgetting to breathe when she remembered his hands inside of her blouse, or how his hips had ground against her the last time he allowed himself to touch her. That was six days ago, in the furthest corner of the dusty antiquities section of the library, where he had her pressed up against the side of a tall bookcase. Everything in her body wanted to know what it would feel like to have him move inside her. 

Her stupid body didn’t know what was good for her, obviously. She was too close to getting Lord Mathion’s apprenticeship to risk expulsion now. 

Still–every time their eyes met across the courtyard today, they stared just a little too long. Her heart beat a little too fast, and her mouth felt a little too dry. 

She wouldn't have even been here normally, today of all days. It wasn’t only her birthday; it was also the weekend, and the academy was half empty. In her bedroom, a giant apologetic bouquet of roses bloomed on her dresser, sent by her father, who had a meeting with Lord Mathion that he absolutely couldn’t miss. It didn’t really bother her. Her mother was planning an enormous party for her at home, next weekend, to make up for it, and maybe her father would have good news about the apprenticeship after his meeting. It wouldn’t have bothered her at all if only Cadahm had gone home for the weekend, and she wasn’t spending the day watching him from a distance. 

She walked out through the gardens and down to the lake, where he wasn’t in her line of sight. Here there were only a few other novices, most of them reading or resting in the shade. It was an exceptionally warm autumn, and she chose a spot on her favorite bench under a willow. The long, sweeping branches created a sense of solitude. It was also the first place Cadahm had kissed her, but she wouldn’t think about that. She took a leather-bound book on herbology out of her satchel and read the same paragraph four times before she heard approaching voices. 

Two novices, air year. A boy and a girl, she knew them by sight only since she was still in her earth year. They were walking arm in arm and harmlessly flirting, the way most novices interacted with one another, since anything more was against the rules of the academy. Everyone else seemed to be able to follow those rules just fine. She never saw anything beyond the most chaste kisses stolen behind the backs of the senior mages who, for the most part, looked the other way, unless it seemed a couple was becoming too serious. 

They had already warned her and Cadahm they were spending too much time together once at the end of their water year. She tried to take things slow with him and follow the rules when they came back to the academy, for their earth year six weeks ago, but they ended up a little closer to disaster every time they met. Their kisses lasting a little longer, their hands wandering a little more. 

She watched the couple pass by and then disappear around the corner back into the garden. Why couldn’t she be more like that girl, satisfied with an innocent romance and walks by the lake?  

She stood, forgetting about her book. It fell from her lap into the water before she could catch it. 

Reluctantly, she dropped into the cold mud on her knees and stretched out her arm, trying to get hold of the book before it sank completely. She used her power to rock the water a little, hoping to help it float closer. Instead, it sank faster. She stopped trying to use magic and stretched, just…a…little…further…SPLASH! She landed face first. 

She grabbed her ruined book and struggled back out of the water, soaked to her skin, and coated in mud.  

Face burning and keeping her head down to avoid the eyes of the other novices, she passed on the way; she headed back to the hall at a brisk walk. 

Leaving a trail of drips on the stone floors, she hurried to the stairs to get back to her room. 

Tre? 

Damn.

She turned around slowly, avoiding his smokey blue eyes. Looking into them had a way of making her forget common sense. 

Are you alright? Cadahm asked. 

Fine. 

What ha– He looked away quickly, his face turning several colors before it landed on red. What happened? 

It was then she realized that her wet blouse was completely see through. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned around.

Oh, you know. Just fell in the lake. 

She heard him stifle a laugh, but then he came up behind her and dropped his blazer over her shoulders.

I’ll see you later, she said, pulling the blazer around herself. She darted the rest of the way up the stairs without looking back.

Shape Description automatically generated with low confidence

Cadahm’s face was still burning as he watched Treilah disappear up the stairs. There had been nothing left to his imagination with the way those wet clothes clung to her body. The sight of those perfect breasts on full display had his pants feeling painfully tight. He needed to get out of the hallway before anyone saw him.  

When he got to his room, he thanked the Unknowable that his roommate was away for the weekend because as soon as the door was closed, he was unbuttoning his pants. Even after he had given himself relief, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Later, he brought a paper-wrapped package down to the dining hall for her birthday, but he didn’t see her anywhere. He left without eating and headed back up the stairs. 

Except for roommates, novices were not allowed in each other’s rooms, but for the next hour, during dinner, no one would be up there. Even after dinner was over the chances of running into anyone would be slim, with half the novices gone for the weekend. He knocked on her door. 

She opened it, wearing leggings and a long blue sweater. Her auburn curls were pulled up into a messy bun. He imagined twisting the stray curls that lay against her neck around his fingers.  

What are you doing here? she asked.

I was worried when you didn’t come down for dinner. I thought maybe you caught a cold after your swim.

She grimaced. I feel like such an idiot. Who falls in a lake?

You? 

She swatted at him, but he caught her hand and pulled her against him.

I thought you were avoiding me. The way she looked up at him through her lashes made his brain stop working. I thought you said it was too hard to– 

It is. He kissed her. 

He tried his best to keep it to a simple kiss, but dammit–her hands knotted in his hair, and she parted her lips, letting his tongue sweep in. She tasted like mint and honey. 

He stepped forward, still locked in her grip, into her room, closed the door with his foot, then turned her around and pinned her against it. Her leg locked around his and before he could stop himself, he was rocking his hips into hers, desperate for friction. 

Finally, she pushed back away from him, and he let go–it killed him, but he let go. 

Oh, gods Cadahm . . . she breathed, What are we doing? 

He took another step back and pulled the gift he had brought out of his pocket. Happy birthday.

When she took it, the slight tremble in her fingers made him bite down on the inside of his cheek.  

She unwrapped the paper and turned the well-worn leather of the book of poems over in her soft hands. It was a pocket-sized edition. He had carried it with him for years. His throat tightened as she flipped through the gilded pages. It belonged with her. 

Some of these are already highlighted, she observed, flipping to the front of the book. She read the name written inside the cover. Helena Lorik? 

 My mother. My real mother.

Her face softened. I couldn’t take this.

I want you to.

 She kissed him again, lightly this time. It still lit fire in his veins. He squeezed his eyes shut.

You should tell me to leave Tre. His voice was hoarse.

She didn’t answer. Her hand traced the side of his face, and then down his neck.

Tre please. If I touch you again, I swear to the gods… I won’t be able to stop.

Her hand dropped away, and he drew a long breath, steeling himself to leave, not ready to open his eyes yet. She took his hand again and moved it directly over her heart. It was pounding like it was trying to escape her chest. Her lips brushed against his again.

Cadahm . . .

When he dared to look down at her, her eyes were pleading, full of trust. She moved closer, leaning into him so he could feel every curve of her body against him. She lifted his other hand to her lips and kissed the tips of his fingers. 

You–you're sure? His voice barely fought its way out of his throat. 

I’m sure.

For weeks, he had barely been able to stop himself. Now he didn’t know where to start, his eyes darted to the bed on the other side of the room. She followed his gaze, walked over to it, and laid down. Somehow, he made his legs follow her. 

He lay next to her and ran one hand down the fabric of her leggings. 

Have you ever done this before? she asked.

Once. 

It was during the summer days before he started his water year, a week after he turned seventeen. She was the daughter of one of his father's friends and their families spent a few weeks together at the seaside. They found themselves alone together and bored one afternoon, and while it wasn’t something he had planned on, he enjoyed the first few moments of feverish kisses. He wasn’t ready when she kept going, but he didn’t stop her either. He should have. It hurt her feelings when he told her afterwards, he didn’t want it to go that far again. 

This time couldn’t have been more different. He had never wanted anything more in his life.

Tre shivered against him. I haven’t. 

He kissed her neck and nibbled at her ears while she unbuttoned his shirt. 

When they were both undressed completely, he stared down at her, unable to fully believe this was reality and not another one of the many fantasies he’d had about this moment. 

They moved slowly, letting things unfold naturally, neither of them quite sure what they were supposed to be doing. It took him several minutes before he found the courage to move his hand up her thigh and touch her the way he had been dreaming of for the past year. She let out a tiny gasp that almost cost him his sanity, and he began softly, to stroke and explore. He let the sounds she made guide him, doing more of what seemed to please and trying differently when she grew quieter. By the time her soft little sounds turned into moans and her legs started shaking, he was dying to be inside of her. He knew enough to be careful this first time, and he slid one finger deeper inside of her and circled it slowly, hoping that would ease her into things, prepare her. And then–

Oh gods.  The way her body writhed beneath him as she came . . . she twisted and bit down on her pillow to muffle the sound that she was trying to keep inside.  

Tre . . . I need…

She clutched his arm, I need you too.

Her back arched, and she whimpered as he moved into her. She gasped and bit down on her lip and he froze. 

Are you okay? he asked. 

Y-yes. Please, don’t stop. 

He held her head against his cheek, whispering to her as he rocked into her.

I’ve got you sweetheart, it's . . . gods, Tre . . . oh gods.

He couldn’t make it last, not this time. He fought to keep his pace even, but it was happening too fast. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders and her teeth clenched, desperately trying to keep quiet as he came. 

When their bodies stilled, he pushed the hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. She was staring up at him with wide eyes. 

How do you feel? he asked.

"Good. Wonderful, I feel