The Lotus's Flame: Inflamed Flowers, #1

By Amie Taylor

 "The Lotus's Flame" is a gripping tale of love and sacrifice set against a world consumed by passion, music, and the relentless pursuit of salvation.

In the fast-paced world of rock and roll, where drugs and alcohol flow freely, a renowned rockstar finds himself exhausted by the constant disconnect in his lifestyle. Seeking solace and meaning, he unexpectedly crosses paths with an innocent preacher's daughter. Despite their stark differences, a powerful attraction ignites between them, blurring the lines between lust and love.

 As their relationship blossoms, tragedy strikes when the preacher's daughter is kidnapped by her overly religious father, who disapproves of their union. Fueled by love and determination,  As the stakes escalate and the danger intensifies, the rockstar must navigate a treacherous path filled with betrayal, loss, and heartache. Will he be able to save the woman he loves from the clutches of her father's twisted beliefs, or will forces beyond their control tear their love apart? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amie Taylor
• Release date: Jun 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224426126

Book preview

The Lotus’s Flame

1

Kaitlyn sat on the front porch of her parents’ two-story home. Her thoughts danced as the wind blew through her chestnut-colored hair. She could hear the chirping of sparrows and robins as the breeze stirred the leaves in the trees around her home. The sun shone earnestly today; the sky was the palest of blues. Kaitlyn thought that should have been enough to make her day brighter, but it was not. It was an exceptionally long morning at the diner she had worked at for the last three years. Her boss was exceedingly kind when she told her she would miss her when she left for college. Kaitlyn hated goodbyes, and everyone there made it so hard with their hugs and tears, but she knew she could not let that stop her from leaving. Kaitlyn let these thoughts fly away with the wind that blew steadily. Her thoughts then drifted back to her childhood. She remembered how she used to swing back and forth on the porch swing, wishing the wind would blow her far away from her parents’ watchful eyes; they seemed to be judging her.

Kaitlyn envied the wind and its freedom to blow wherever it pleased. As a child, she wondered if she would ever be as accessible.  She also remembered how cruel her father had been to her over the past nineteen years.  Kaitlyn remembered one time that would constantly torture her memories.

Kaitlyn had just turned sixteen. Her neighbor’s son had asked her to sit and talk with him on the family bench. They were talking when her father stormed up on them with fire in his cruel eyes. He shouted at the boy, sending him home. The very moment he disappeared from view, her father slapped her across the face. The slap nearly knocked her senseless and stung her like fire. Before she had time to react, her father grabbed her up and called her a whore, telling her to go home and repent her sins. Kaitlyn knew she would never forget that day or the crazy look in his eyes that would haunt her always.

Kaitlyn's thoughts quickly returned to the present as she heard her mother's voice.

Kaitlyn, come in for dinner.

Kaitlyn’s mother was a woman worn down by many years of self-sacrifice. She was starting to show her age by the streaks of silver mixed into her sandy hair. She had tiny little lines around her eyes and mouth. As she looked into her mother's lifeless pale green eyes, she wondered if there had ever been even a moment of true happiness for her in her life as her father's wife. She knew how strict and even a bit cruel her father was to herself and her mother. Once again, her memory roamed back to another time.

Kaitlyn’s mother missed church due to the flu. Her father grabbed her mother from their bed by her hair, shouting that she was going to burn in hell for deserting God on his special day. He removed his belt and struck her repeatedly with it as he made her pray for forgiveness.  

In this memory, Kaitlyn felt great pity for her mother because she had put up with this for so long. Even at the young age of seven, she knew her parents had no real love between them. Perhaps that was why her mother never really showed her any love or kindness, and her father always treated her more like a possession than his daughter, a pupil to test the word of God on.

Kaitlyn, her father's voice boomed.

Kaitlyn’s thoughts must have strayed again. Yes, Father, Sorry I was thinking, was her shaky reply. Her father shot daggers in her direction. His eyes could be so cruel and dark. His face was drawn tight, and he frowned as usual when he was near her as if he hated her.

We were about to say grace, show some respect for the Lord in this house, and get your head out of the clouds, her father shouted, his cold eyes darkly evil.

Kaitlyn’s father took his duty as town minister a little too far, especially with her and her mother. He thought he was God, considering himself beyond reproach and without sin. Kaitlyn sat through grace, enduring dinner quietly as expected while mentally praying for this night to end. Tomorrow, she will be off to the University of California. She had saved her allowance for almost six years and her tips and checks from the diner just to be able to go. She was thrilled she would be over a thousand miles away from the suffocating presence of this house and her father, away from a mother who never seemed to care at all. The words freedom rang in her ears. She would be as free as the wind as she always wanted tomorrow.  Kaitlyn’s thoughts made dinner go so fast that she was stunned when her father grabbed her arm roughly, yelling for her to clear the dishes and go to bed. She nearly cried at how hard he grabbed her arm; it would no doubt be bruised by morning; she ignored the pain and did as he demanded.

Every dish in the house was washed, and the tables were clean when Kaitlyn climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She grabbed her flannel nightgown from her dresser drawer, threw it on her bed, and undressed. She walked from her bed to her bathroom and turned the water on. She could hardly wait to soak in the hot water and forget the stress of dinner and her father’s violent behavior. Once she adjusted the water to her liking, she stepped into the tub; the hot water felt like heaven. She sat down, and the water reached just below her breasts. She laid her head back against the base of the porcelain tub, thinking of tomorrow and wishing it was already here.

After her long bath, Kaitlyn dried her hair and body with a towel and dressed in her nightgown. She walked to her bed, more than ready to sleep, before catching her early flight to California. As she lay on her bed, she was too busy thinking of tomorrow to let her fall asleep. She looked around at her bedroom, her only sanctuary away from her parents for nineteen years. She wondered if she would miss it as her eyes scanned the walls of gold and red, the matching curtains and dressers. She smiled, knowing that, in truth, she would not; this place was nothing but a dungeon. She would finally be breaking away from this place and the pressures of being a minister’s daughter. In her heart, she knew she would never come back to Druid Hills, Georgia, ever again.  

2

Jax awoke with a terrible hangover from the night before. As he rolled from the bed, he saw a woman passed out, naked beside him. In truth, he was thankful she was out cold because he did not have the faintest idea who she was. To be even more honest, he did not give a damn either. Last night was the same as many other nights before. Sure, she was pretty enough, with her milky white skin and red as-fire hair.  Those sexy lips of hers were so perfect, pink, and soft like velvet against the flesh of his body. She has the most magnetic, hazel eyes that almost seemed to beckon him to her bed. Her long, luxurious legs had been wrapped tightly around his hips many times, but she meant absolutely nothing to him. She was just another groupie looking to lay claim on him. He called her his little Jewl, with those tempting lips of hers, sweet and glistening after blowing him every night.  She was hot as fire between the legs, and she took it no matter how hard or rough he gave it to her. Jax was sure Jewl mentioned her real name several times when he first met her a year ago, if not longer. He dismissed her name just as he disappeared on her now, leaving her behind like dust in the wind, a distant memory in this hectic lifestyle of his.

Being the star he was, Jax partied vigorously.  He would party all night after a big show. When he woke up the next day, he would be in bed with some dumb groupie with a double-digit IQ and the body of a supermodel. Most men would have considered this a dream come true; to him, it was a nightmare. The truth was that he had grown tired of this lifestyle; he felt more dead than alive inside. He felt trapped inside a never-ending maze, drowning in his monstrous actions. The only time he felt alive was when he was on stage, singing the lyrics of his songs. Lyrics he had written from his very soul. He slowly rolled from the bed, grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand, and lit it. He turned toward Jewel again, ensuring he did not wake her. With a growl, he lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled.

Jax pulled his jeans up over his muscled, solid thighs and fastened them after finishing his smoke. He pulled his biker boots on. He did not even pause to take a last glance at Jewel when he walked from the hotel room to find the rest of his band. As he walked through the hotel, going to every one of their rooms, he wanted to break something. His misery was consuming his very soul. He told them they had an hour to be ready or he would leave without them. He knew deep inside that he would never make good on this threat, but what they did not know would not kill them. Once they were all packed and ready, they would be off to California for a big show.

The moment he stepped onto the tour bus, Jax stormed to the back. He wanted to be left alone to try to get a hold of himself. He loved every one of his bandmates as if they were family. He refused to burden them with his crazy, mixed feelings of depression and rage. He knew that they were the only family he would ever have, especially since his parents died when he was a young teen. He had been their only child and living relative when the car crash ended their lives.  Jax ran away to avoid an orphanage. He spent most of those teen years out on the streets of California but was fortunate that he knew how to play the guitar and sing. It was his gift in music that kept him fed and alive. He had played in bars and cheap hotels for food and a place to lay his head at night. It was in one of those bars that he later met Nick.  A drummer asked him to help form a band.

It seemed to Jax that he was cursed or doomed to be alone no matter where he went or was. He was in several relationships that always failed due to his trust issues. He never seemed to open up enough to make it work. His manager suggested that he see a shrink, but once again, he could not open up for the counseling to do him a bit of good. It was after these failed attempts that he started using alcohol and drugs to fill the emptiness of his soul. He felt the only time he was loved or understood was when he was on the stage, singing about his feelings that he could not voice.

Jax lay back on his bunk, listening to the engine of the tour bus as it took them to the airport, wishing he were anywhere but there. He wanted to drive his troubled thoughts from his mind, forget the woman he left behind in the hotel. He hated himself for not remembering her real name or how they first met.  He knew if his parents were alive, they would be ashamed that he used her as he did. He remembered his mother always telling him that a woman should be treated with respect. Both his father and mother were strict on marriage before intercourse. They both believed that the act of love should not be experienced until one was indeed in love. As a young man, Jax did not have to worry about this. He was not what one would call attractive. He had skin plagued by acne, so the girls usually shied away from him. Due to his parents’ extreme religious views and morals, he did not have many friends, so he always felt like a bit of an outcast. The friends he did have were only his friends because he was in the school band and choir with them. He played the drums while he was in the band, played them so wickedly that he was named best band member two years in a row. Music was his way of fitting in with others; in the choir, he sang bass and alto. He enjoyed singing only in small measurements because it was playing an instrument that was his real passion.

Jax smiled as he remembered his mother’s face when he finally got the courage to ask her for a guitar. She was surprised since the only instrument he ever played was the drums. He told her he wanted to try something new and was passionate about it. He was relieved when she asked no more and offered him guitar lessons. She told him if he learned how to play, she would buy him the guitar.

This memory faded as a single tear slid down his face. Jax closed his eyes, forcing the memory of his mother away. During the entire ride, he hid his true feelings from his bandmates. He knew they lived for the lifestyle just as much as they did for the music. He felt a strong sense of duty to them, and this duty was what kept him from revealing his true self. On the outside, he kept silent, but on the inside, he was screaming, pleading for something real, something pure in this life of darkness and despair.

Jax kept to himself, writing lyrics for the band’s next album. Nick, his drummer, usually helped him write them. This time, Jax closed himself off to even him. At one time, he considered Nick a brother more than a friend, but now he was just another stranger in the useless existence he called his life. He knew he should not feel that way, but he did. As Nick looked at Jax, Jax knew he was trying desperately to understand his drawl from the band and himself. He knew Nick loved him as he did him, as a brother. He desperately wanted to reach out to him. Jax could see the questions in his eyes but could not answer them. Before Nick could say anything, Jax stalked off the tour bus and into the airport. As he went inside, he could feel Nick’s and the other band members' eyes on him. He could hear them asking what was going on with him. He desperately wished he could turn around and tell them all the truth. Tell them about the emptiness he felt inside, the loneliness that seemed to suck him into the darkness further and further each passing day. However, he knew they could not understand, so he kept silent, letting his sorrows consume him.

Hours after the plane ride, Jax lay in a hotel room bed, praying for a sign to stop him from letting go and not feeling anything for anyone again. Just before he could shut his eyes, his cell phone rang, and he reached for it in annoyance. He was surprised when a familiar, seductive voice filled his ear.

Jewel, how did you get my number, he demanded.

Jax let out a growl when Jewl’s answer confirmed what he already knew: that he had given it to her in one of his drunken states.

I am trying to get some sleep right now. Can we talk another time, he hissed.

Jax was relieved when Jewl did not argue. He hung up the cell and relaxed against the soft bed again, stretching out like a panther. But before he could close his eyes, he heard Nick.  

Damn it, Man! What does a guy have to do to get a little peace these days, Jax shouted. His eyes grew dark like an emerald as they locked with Nick’s concerned ones. He watched as Nick walked over to sit on a chair in front of the bed where he lay.

Alright, Nick.  What is it? Make it fast, bro, because I am in a shit mood already, Jax warned as he sat up to hear what his bandmate had to say.

The guys and I want to know what is happening, man. We are all concerned about you,"