Among Ash and Ember: A New Adult Romance Read online

  Among Ash and Ember

  A New Adult Romance

  Dani René

  Edited by

  Anna Bishop

  Illustrated by

  Jay Aheer

  Contents

  Playlist

  Prologue

  1. Katerina

  2. Ash

  3. Katerina

  4. Ash

  5. Katerina

  6. Ember

  7. Ash

  8. Katerina

  9. Katerina

  10. Ember

  11. Ash

  12. Katerina

  13. Ember

  14. Katerina

  15. Katerina

  16. Ash

  17. Katerina

  18. Ash

  19. Katerina

  20. Ember

  21. Katerina

  22. Katerina

  23. Ash

  24. Katerina

  25. Ember

  26. Katerina

  27. Katerina

  28. Ash

  29. Katerina

  30. Ember

  31. Ash

  32. Katerina

  33. Ash

  34. Ember

  35. Katerina

  36. Ash

  37. Katerina

  38. Ash

  39. Katerina

  40. Ash

  41. Katerina

  42. Katerina

  43. Ash

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Sneak Peek

  Prologue

  Also by Dani René

  About the Author

  Stalk Links

  Copyright © 2019 by Dani René

  Published by Dani René

  BETA readers - Carmen Jenner, Allyson Sherwood, Cat Imbault

  Editor - Anna Bishop, Creating Ink Editing

  Proofreaders - Illuminate Author Services & Main Manuscripts

  Cover Designer - Jay Aheer (Simply Defined Art)

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  This journey was deeply personal, and writing Ash, Ember, and Kat’s story hit me hard.

  This book means so much to me, and I hope you enjoy the rollercoaster you’re about to venture on.

  No matter how broken you may feel, someone will see the light in between your shards and put you back together.

  To Cat,

  Ash and Ember will always be yours.

  Thank you for your love, support, and friendship.

  Mad love,

  Dani xo

  Playlist

  Without Me - Halsey

  Heaven in Hiding - Halsey

  Lie - NF

  Paralyzed - NF

  Wonder if You Wonder - Witt Lowry

  I fall Apart - Post Malone

  Fading Away - Ollie

  Drinking About You - Ryan Oakes

  Breathe - Fluerie

  War of Hearts - Ruelle

  Hurts Like Hell - Fluerie

  Miss You - Nathan Feuerstein

  I Fell In Love With The Devil - Avril Lavigne

  In My Blood - Shawn Mendes

  Swan Song - Lana Del Rey

  Always Remember Us This Way - Lady Gaga

  For the full list, click here

  Prologue

  Katerina

  “Your parents are dead.”

  The solemn words uttered by a deep voice ring in my ears like a foghorn in the darkness. Sounds meld into nothing. Only silence remains as I pull in a breath. It hurts to do it. My lungs feel as if pins are filling them.

  When I exhale to keep the pain at bay, it doesn’t help. The agony is so acute, it feels as if my chest has been sliced with a sharp blade and I’m left flayed before the two police officers who are watching me intently.

  My gaze is locked on the armrest of the sofa across from me. Rather than on the police officer who’s sitting on it. He’d introduced himself as Officer Dalton. The house suddenly feels cold. Not like the burning heat of my parents’ store where nothing of them remains.

  I lower my gaze to the gray sweatpants I’m wearing. They’re dotted with smudges of paint. I’d been working on a piece of art for the shop when the doorbell rang. The woman who was meant to babysit me while my parents were at work is still in the kitchen. I hear her clinking cups, or mugs, the sound of the crockery is so close it’s as if she’s right beside me.

  “Ms. Nielsen,” one of the men, Officer Lionel, calls to me, but I’m frozen in time.

  My name is Katerina; that’s what my teachers call me. Everyone calls me Kat.

  But they don’t know that. These men are not my friends. They’re strangers.

  My hands tingle as if I’ve been sitting on them for a long time, and I can’t feel my fingers anymore. It feels like when winter bites at the tips, making them turn blue. My whole body shakes, trembling as if we’ve had a heavy snowfall and we’re in the middle of a storm of epic proportions.

  “Miss,” Officer Dalton says, reaching for me, but I flinch the moment his fingers are on mine. Lifting my gaze, I meet a set of worried brown eyes, his hair is messy, it looks like he’s been tugging at it. “Do you have any family to go to?”

  I want to shake my head, but I can’t move. My brain has switched itself off, and nothing works. My limbs, my eyes, even my heart. It’s stopped, and all I can do is sit there like a mute.

  “Perhaps she’s in shock. Let me get her some water.” The brown-eyed officer leaves, and I want to shout at him, to scream and tell him not to go near my mother’s kitchen because she likes to keep it neat and tidy. But no words come out. It’s her space. The one place she ensures is perfect at all times, even when she’s making her famous ravioli.

  I don’t want strangers to touch her things. It’s bad enough the babysitter is fiddling around in there. They all need to leave. To go away and never come back.

  Instead of shooing them out of the house, I just stare into nothing.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do. A sixteen-year-old girl needs a guardian, but I’m grown up. I can be on my own. I mean, would the authorities allow me to live alone? Or do I have to find some long-lost family member to take me in until I turn eighteen?

  How do I say goodbye to my parents?

  What do I do with all this stuff? Our home?

  How am I going to get to school?

  Am I going to graduate?

  Do I take over my family’s burned down store?

  How do I say goodbye?

  All these questions spill into my mind, turning over and ove
r like a reel of black and white photos, which feels like it’s never going to end. I suck in a breath, opening my mouth to tell the officer I want to be left alone, but no words come out.

  They can’t leave anyway. I know they can’t. Once Mrs. Lowell goes home, I’ll be alone, and I can’t be alone. It’s against the law for an underage child to be left without a guardian. But I’m not a child. I don’t feel like a child right now.

  I’m an orphan.

  No family, no parents, and nothing but the pain that’s sluicing through me.

  If I had been at the store tonight, I could’ve helped them. Maybe I would’ve been able to save them, call for help. Guilt lances my chest over and over, and I find breathing difficult. I usually stay home when they’re out working on orders.

  A flower shop in the middle of the small town of Olive Grove, only two hours outside San Francisco. My father told me the beauty of living here is we get the best of both worlds—a city on our doorstep and the stillness of a town.

  And now, the town has stolen them from me. I hate this place. This forgotten, hidden gem as it’s usually called that took my parents and burned them to ash, leaving me with nothing.

  Wetness drips onto my fingers that are twisted in my sweater. I glance down. Everything looks blurry, forcing me to blink. When I finally lift my hand and swipe at my face, I find it wet with tears. I’m crying, but I don’t feel anything.

  My focus is on the coffee table in the middle of the room. The glass top is lit by the reflection of the living room light. My mother would shine the surface every day, making sure there weren’t any rings on the top, or any scrapes from my father’s keys, which he used to dump on the table when he got home from work. He’d settle on the sofa and read while he waited for dinner.

  “Here you go.” Office Dalton appears from the kitchen; his heavy black boots don’t make a sound on the soft carpet. He sets down the glass of water which is soaked in precipitation, and that’s when it all hits me. They’re no longer here. My mother can’t shout at him for ruining her table. She can’t even tell him to use a coaster.

  As I pick up the glass, water spills over the sides. I subconsciously draw my hand back behind me. Flinging the object against the living room wall, I hear it shatter. The sound drags me from my stupor, and I’m brought back to the painful present.

  “Get out.” My voice is raspy, but they hear me. They rise slowly, one of them stops before me like he wants to say something, and that’s when I screech, “Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out!”

  “If you need any—”

  “I said, get out!” My voice is so loud, I wonder how I’m not shattering the windows in every room. Surely the neighbors can hear me.

  Officer Dalton leans in closer, his face in mine causing me to shuffle backward. “I just want to let you know we’ll give you some privacy. We can’t leave yet, but we’ll wait in the kitchen with Mrs. Lowell. Child Services will arrive to . . .” The words taper off into the silence, and he sets a card on the table, telling me to call them if I think of anything that could help the case.

  Once I’m alone, my mind runs a million miles a second. More questions dawn on me then. Will they find the person who did it? What would my parents want me to do? Will I be sent to a foster home? Is there anything left at the store? Do I bury their ashes? There aren’t any bodies left. They burned to nothing but piles of gray embers. And I wonder how one mistake can turn into an inferno. How can fire steal everything from me?

  Once I’m alone, I sit back in my father’s recliner, curling into a ball, I close my eyes, and that’s when my feelings—all my emotions—spill free and I cry.

  I sob like I’ve never done before. Until I can’t breathe. Until my body is shaking so violently, my teeth chatter and my head throbs with a migraine. And I shiver while lying on the soft leather, unsure of what is going to happen to me.

  I hear footfalls before I see the person enter the room. A suit—dark and foreboding—settles in the sofa opposite where I’m lying. I don’t look at his face, but his voice washes deep calm over me.

  “Ms. Nielsen, I’m here to talk to you about representing you in court,” he says quietly. “I know you need time to think about everything that’s happened, but I need you to contact me in the morning. I’m here to help you.” He sits in silence, watching me, I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t meet his inquisitive gaze.

  After long moments, he rises, sets a black rectangular card on the table on top of the officer’s card, and leaves me alone.

  I’m alone.

  I’m all alone.

  Katerina

  Two years.

  Twenty-four months.

  Countless days.

  And far too many tears later.

  I remember a time before this. My mother and father loved me. We were a family, and they tried to ensure I had everything. I remember the day I was told I would never be able to hear their voices again. The day I found out they were gone.

  Details from that night are vague. My mind hasn’t held onto much after the lawyer left his card. Child Services coming around; they told me I couldn’t live alone. I didn’t have any other family. I was a loner in a cold world.

  They took me to an orphanage where I spent a month. I kept to myself, scared and unsure of how to go on without the people I loved. I wished for death to take me too. But he never came. All I’d ever wanted was to have a normal life—to go to school, study, and have a career that I loved.

  None of that is possible now. It’s so far out of reach, it hurts me every day.

  I moved into a house with three other girls only a week ago. The room I’m renting is small with a single bed, a closet against the opposite wall, and a desk adjacent to it, that sits under the window which looks out over the city.

  Even though it’s not entirely run down, or dirty, I still miss home. My old bedroom was my sanctuary, and now I’ve got to make a new one.

  Looking at my reflection in the mirror, and I don’t recognize myself. I’m no longer a lanky teenager with Chucks and ripped jeans. Instead, a young woman with breasts and slight curves returns my stare. A young woman who may never get the chance to be normal because she is drowning in debt left to her by my parents.

  Allowing the orange dress to drift over my frame, I twist and turn, taking in the elegant garment.

  My new job demands perfection. Isobel—the girl who’s helped me since I got out of the foster home I was placed in—has been a godsend. Even though I’ve never gone as far as some of the other girls in this house, I’m still what they call a companion—an escort. I’m the arm candy without benefits. That’s one delicacy I’ve never willingly given to anyone.

  When Isobel’s boss added my photo to the website, she asked me if I’d like to use a pseudonym. I agreed, hoping to keep the real part of me hidden. Now, I go by the name Flame to the clients.

  Katerina, the girl who could paint for hours, and play the piano to her heart’s content is no longer here.

  And I’m not sure how to get her back.

  I haven’t heard myself play in so long, I now doubt my ability to create music. The only songs I listen to are the emotional, heartbreaking rhymes and the melancholic rap of NF.

  My earbuds blast the music so loud, it drowns out the whimpers and moans from the room next door. It’s the only way I can forget what’s happening only a wall away. They’re not pained cries. Far from it. My flat mate is an exuberant beauty, who enjoys her job a little too much, and has clients addicted to her seductive personality. They visit daily, and it’s never a surprise to see one of them coming and going from her room as if it were a five-star hotel.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on the lyrics, on how the rapper pronounces certain words. I listen to the pain so clear in his voice; it takes me to the place where I feel safe. It takes me to a home that no longer exists. I feel the burn behind the lids of my eyes, tears threatening as they always do. It’s almost time to go out and find a client for the evening. And even though my heart
is not in it, I know I have to.

  Part of the job I’ve taken on is to be available every night. It’s how I pay the bills for now. I wish I could find something better, but without a degree, and only my high school diploma, this is the only way to earn enough money to survive from day to day. Hopefully as I take on more clients, I can save for school.

  I could work as a waitress, at the cinema, or even get a job as a cashier at one of the local stores, but it wouldn’t pay me enough to survive, let alone save.

  After our business burned to the ground, everything that I should have inherited—the house, the insurance pay-out from the store, and my college fund—were all gone. Swallowed up by debts owed to the bank. I didn’t realize my father had been in trouble. I guess the boutique shop that he’d built from the ground up wasn’t cutting it.

  My mother, a stay-at-home mom, did the best she could, but not being able to work meant she’d had to rely on my father. I was the unaware daughter.

  The lawyer explained there was still outstanding debt after the house had been repossessed. And once loans were settled, my college fund had been depleted.

  Sighing, I head to my closet and look for the shoes I wanted to wear tonight. I’ll be late if I don’t get a move on. I’m lucky I am not under the stringent time guidelines the girls who work with me have. I merely smile and play nice until the evening is over, and the client and I part ways.