To Burn In Brutal Rapture

by Nyla K

  “Well? What do you want?” His tone challenges.

  I can’t speak. The truth is, I don’t know what I want. Or I do, but what I want is ridiculous, so it’s best to keep quiet.

  Unfortunately, Lazarus is stubborn and won’t let me.

  “Answer me, Trix. What do you want?”

  “I… I…” Stuttering, I gulp.

  He chuckles, that condescending huff of a noise that makes me angry and tingly at the same time.

  “Use your words.

  What…

  Do…

  You…

  Want?”

  “I want to kiss you.” My answer expels fast, shocking me. But Lazarus isn’t surprised.

  I expect him to be appalled by what I’ve said, but he’s not. He smirks up at me like the taunting jerk he is.

  Then he leans back in his seat and sighs out a growly noise, prompting more shivers, as if his sounds are directly linked to my physical responses.

  “Well, then… Kiss me.”

  Our gazes are locked and inside I’m fumbling, though my body remains still. His eyes drop to his lap for a moment, before picking back up to mine. Then his brow cocks, the sight of which tosses what little reserve I had right out of my mind.

  I climb onto his lap and he doesn’t touch me, though his aura seems to coil around me like a boa constrictor. A viper. Something deadly and poisonous.

  Taking the opportunity I know I’ll never have again, I run my small hands up his torso, and he says nothing. Doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t react. Just stares. I feel muscle beneath his soft tailored dress shirt, collar unbuttoned, showing a clavicle and some honey golden skin. And a tattoo of the number 4.

  His smell is intoxicating as I lean in closer, ditching my pride at the fact that I know soon he’ll shove me off of him and tell me to get lost.

  As my face inches, he licks his lips, and I close my eyes.

  I press my mouth to his, without the slightest clue how to kiss someone other than what I’ve seen in movies and TV.

  But it’s enough. Enough for me to know I want this, and to know he’s the one I want it with, regardless of how old he is, or that I’ve known him forever. If anything, it makes me want it more. It makes me want to know how to kiss. To show him how good I can be for him.

  Lazarus chuckles under my mouth and I cower inside, because he’s laughing at me, but it also feels euphoric and I can’t stop.

  “Taste me, Trix…”

  I whimper and kiss his soft, fat bottom lip over and over.

  “You love my lips, don’t you?” His voice surrounds us.

  A small moan escapes me.

  “Taste my tongue next, Tracien… Like the grown-ups do.”

  I’m frantic now. He parts his lips for me and I slide mine in, slowly since I’m still out of my league, but when mine touches his, his body shudders.

  I did good.

  “Sweet… sweet girl…”

  With my legs wrapped around his hips, straddling his waist, I sift my fingers through his inky hair and pull him closer.

  And then he starts to fade.

  “No…” I kiss harder, desperate to keep him. To keep this moment. “Don’t go.”

  His laughter tastes like my desperation. “You know I was never yours to have.”

  “No… Please…”

  “Trix are for kids,” he laughs, fading fading fading.

  Until he’s gone.

  I wake with a start, sweating and panting.

  My underwear is soaked, and my hair is matted to my forehead. Pushing it out of my eyes with my fingers, I exhale out loud, glancing at the clock on my bedside table.

  It’s seven-thirty at night. I must have dozed off doing homework.

  That dream… God, it was so vivid. I’ve never had a dream that felt so good.

  Stumbling out of bed, I wander to my bedroom door, following the sounds of voices. One is my dad. And the other tightens all my muscles and hardens my nipples once again.

  “I’m still not sure about this, man,” Dad says.

  “It’s too late to back out now. You’re picking her up in a half-hour.”

  Lazarus.

  My heart flutters, and I instantly feel stupid; naïve, embarrassed, immature. All the things he’s been unknowingly making me feel lately.

  “I just don’t know if I should leave Traci…”

  My dad sounds worried. I want to know what they’re talking about, but if I show myself, they’ll stop talking. So I keep quiet.

  “It’s only a couple hours. She’s fifteen. You’re gonna have to cut the cord eventually,” Laz chuckles. “Remember us when we were her age?”

  “Yea, exactly why I don’t want to leave her alone,” Dad says with mock humor.

  “Well, I don’t plan on letting her out of the house, so she won’t be finding any boys to make out with.”

  My stomach clenches while he and Dad laugh.

  Taste me, Trix… I swallow hard.

  “It’s one date, Day. Just see how it feels. No one’s expecting anything, trust me.”

  Date?? That word prompts me to move my feet. When I trot down the stairs, they both look up.

  My father smiles a tired one at me, while Lazarus gives me his usual uninterested dead eyes that for some reason make him look abnormally beautiful.

  “What’s going on?” Looking around the kitchen, I notice that Dad’s dressed up, but choose not to acknowledge it.

  The last time he wore that shirt was on his and Mom’s anniversary…

  “T, I’m going out for a couple hours,” he rounds the island and brushes my hair behind my ear. “Laz will be here if you need anything.”

  My eyes dart to Lazarus, who is now on his phone, ignoring us both.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just… out. With a friend.” Dad practically chokes on the word friend, while blinking about a thousand times.

  This time when I peek at Lazarus, his eyes are on my father.

  “I ordered pizza for you.” Dad kisses my forehead. “I won’t be late.”

  “Pizza? Jesus, I really am babysitting,” Lazarus scoffs, and I glare daggers in his direction that he fully ignores.

  A wide smile sweeps over Dad’s face as he turns, grabbing his coat off a chair. “Behave.”

  “I will,” I mutter, not hiding my disdain for this whole stupid situation.

  “Wasn’t talking to you.” He shoots a wink in Lazarus’s direction, whose expression is unreadable, though I think I notice some mild amusement in his eyes.

  “Love you!” My father shouts as he makes his way out the front door.

  “You too!” Me and Lazarus reply at the same time.

  I gawk up at him, and him down at me.

  “It’ll be in your best interest to stay out of my hair tonight, Trix,” he grumbles, then meanders away, leaving me standing in the kitchen alone, surrounded by the scent of him, the feel of his lips lingering in my subconscious.

  Hours have passed, and the pizza came, but I didn’t eat.

  I stayed up in my room, finishing my homework and trying to distract myself from the tension in the house. I think it has something to do with my dad being out on a date with some random skank, wearing a shirt that was only meant to be looked at by my mom.

  I finally leave my room and go downstairs to the den to locate a specific photo. When I get there, I gaze over all the memories on our shelves; framed photos of our family, sitting proud, as if we’re still those people. As if it wasn’t all ripped away three years ago.

  Then I come across the one I’m looking for. It’s of Mom and Dad at their ten-year anniversary dinner.

  Mom looks gorgeous, as usual. Wearing a pale pink sundress, accentuating her tan complexion, and highlighting her light blonde hair. And Dad looks happy, the way he used to look back then…

  Wearing the same blue button-down he left the house in tonight.

  It rubs me the wrong way, and I ditch the photo, stomping toward the living room w
here Lazarus is sprawled on the couch with a glass in his hand, watching TV. I stop right in front of him, but he doesn’t look up. He disregards my presence completely, even though I’m blocking his view of the television.

  “Where did my dad go tonight?” I demand, folding my arms over my chest.

  He ignores me.

  “Lazarus.”

  Nothing.

  “Lazarus…”

  Still nothing.

  “Lazarus!” I snap my fingers in front of his face.

  At last, his eyes slowly raise up to mine. He blinks once and lifts a lazy brow.

  “Did anyone ever tell you you’re rude as shit?” He brings his glass to his lips and takes a swallow of what I’m guessing is liquor.

  “Like it’s not rude to ignore someone who’s speaking to you?” I pop out my hip with attitude. The look on his face provides me a feeling of minute victory, because he appears surprised at my candor.

  Straightening up in his seat, he places his glass on the coffee table. “You’re right, Trix. My apologies. How can I be of assistance to you?”

  His tone is fake, dripping with sarcasm, but instead of snapping at him, I burrow my bare toes deeper into the carpet to distract from the fluttering in my belly. As I gaze at his face, I realize I’ve forgotten what I wanted to talk to him about. He’s just so gorgeous, and I can’t stop noticing things on him I never would’ve blinked twice at before.

  Like how his deep, gray eyes have flecks of hazy cornflower blue around the pupils. How soft his hair looks, dark and silky, flopped atop his pretty head. How it looks perpetually run-through by fingers, and how I’m now desperate for those fingers to be mine.

  Sucking in a breath, I force myself to say words before he tells me to leave for being a weirdo.

  “Where, um, did my dad go?” I fidget, twirling the ring on my thumb.

  Lazarus continues to stare up at me in silence, and it reminds me so much of my dream I have to look down at the floor before I pass out.

  Finally he sighs and says, “He went on a date.”

  “A date?” I repeat the word, even though I knew this was where he went because I overheard them saying it earlier.

  Still, I needed the confirmation, since Lazarus has no reason to tell me anything other than the truth. He doesn’t lie or baby me like Dad sometimes does. He shoots straight, and it’s refreshing. It makes me feel like the adult I know I am on the inside.

  “Yup. First one in years,” he mutters, sounding even less pleased than I am, which has me wondering.

  “Why?”

  “He needs to get out into the world and be with people other than me and you, Trix.” Lazarus reaches forward for his glass, tapping his finger on the side a dozen times before picking it up. “He can’t sit around in this house and wallow forever.”

  Those words, and the honesty behind them, have my legs giving out. I plop down on the couch next to him and stare at the drink in his hand.

  “But… What if he… Why would he…” I huff and shake my head, frustrated at not knowing how to express what I’m feeling, or even how to identify it.

  “I don’t know, Traci,” he hums then sips. “I have no answers for any questions you’re thinking of asking. All I know is that I love your dad like a brother, and I want him to be happy.”

  He turns his body to face me, so I pull my legs up on the couch so I can do the same.

  “I remember when he went on his first date with your mom,” he speaks softly, his voice still laced with that hesitant rumble it always has, as if he’s not sure he should let it out of his throat. “It was our sophomore year of college. I know you know the story of how they met, but their first official date was a week after that.”

  “A week?” A smile tugs at my mouth.

  I remember Mom and Dad telling me how they met a hundred times, and they always said they fell in love instantly. It seems odd to me that they didn’t actually have a date until a week later.

  “Mhm. The day after they met, your dad and I went to a cookout on some kid’s back terrace. They were grilling up food, everyone was drinking. Against my advice, Damien ate something there and got so sick.” He pauses his story to laugh humbly, which strikes like a match inside me.

  Seeing Lazarus Weston laughing at something, not sarcastically or prodding, but reminiscing about good times with my dad… It gives me butterflies.

  “He was sick for days after that. Head in a toilet, looking all green. It was awful,” Lazarus chuckles and my smile becomes unhinged. “Your mom came by to see why he was blowing her off, and I had to tell her the truth. She thought it was adorable.” His eyes twinkle in the dimmed lighting of our living room. “Anyway, it took him a week to beat that bug, and when it was over he was practically crawling out of his skin, so excited to finally take her out.”

  My cheeks hurt from smiling this wide. “Wow. I never knew that. Did they have a good date?”

  He bites his lip to smother another huge grin. “I know they did, but Day was afraid to eat anything. So he drank all night on an empty stomach, and from what Lia told me, he got cocked. Ended up singing Desperado on the stage at the bar they were at, which definitely wasn’t a Karaoke bar at all.”

  He cackles out loud and I can’t stop the giggles erupting from my throat.

  “The band wasn’t pleased, but Lia said it was the best date she’d ever been on,” he sighs and rests his head against the back of the couch.

  His gaze goes far away, and I know without a doubt he’s thinking about my mom. And my dad, and the three of them together. Best friends forever, broken up by the shittiness of life as we know it.

  I’m not sure what possesses me to do it, but something about him sharing that wonderful memory has me reaching out to grab his hand in mine.

  He glances up at my eyes and I hold them, threading my fingers through his. His hands are big; long fingers, somehow masculine and pretty at the same time. They’re warmer than I thought they’d be…

  Everything about Lazarus seems warm now. Very different from how I used to see him, like the robot vampire, or an evil warlock, with creepy eyes and dark hair, forever scowling like nothing could even come close to making him happy.

  Time around us stands still. My thoughts are silent and simultaneously so loud I can feel them bouncing around in my skull. A flash of my earlier dream bursts through the noise, and I remember what it felt like to climb onto his lap and touch his lips with mine.

  Would it really be so bad to do that now? I know I’m not supposed to. I’m not delusional. But maybe it would feel nice.

  I’ve never been kissed before. Maybe Lazarus would indulge me and kiss me back…

  Well, then… Kiss me, his voice says.

  Taste me, Trix.

  Before I know what’s happening, I’m leaning over him and closing my eyes.

  I press my lips to his, softly, but with enough force to make him grunt. The sound and vibration flood me with warmth. I barely even notice that I’m still squeezing his hand while the other grasps his shoulder and I part my lips to kiss him more.

  To make him feel good.

  But before I can, he yanks his face away from me fast, and my eyes shoot open.

  “Traci, what the fuck?!” He barks, wide eyes in the middle of a face riddled with shock and appall.

  He looks horrified by what I just did. I’ve honestly never seen anyone appear this mortified before, let alone Lazarus. If I wasn’t so embarrassed I’d have to laugh, but I can’t make any sound, nor can I move. I’m just frozen in this bubble of tension I’ve created like the dumb, naïve, idiot I am.

  What the hell was I thinking anyway?? He’s a man in his thirties and I’m a stupid fifteen-year-old. Did I really think he would kiss me back? It’s illegal for fuck’s sake. Not to mention practically like incest…

  Well, not really. But still. Judging by how creeped out he looks, he probably sees me as his niece. His niece who just kissed him.

  God, his lips felt nice though. So soft and warm
. And he smells amazing. And I’m still kind of leaning on his lap…

  “What the hell was that?” Lazarus snaps, and I jump. “You can’t just…” He snarls out an angry sound and rips his hand out of mine, raking it through his hair.

  “I’m sorry -”

  “Damn fucking right you’re sorry! Why would you do that? That’s… Fucking what the fuck…”

  He shoves me effortlessly off his lap, and I fall backward on the couch. Sitting up slowly, I bite my lip in nothing shy of disgusted humiliation.

  He hates me. I want to die.

  “I just… I wasn’t thinking.” My face burns hot. It’s probably redder than the devil’s dick right now.

  Why did I do that?? Stupid stupid stupid girl.

  “No, you most certainly were not thinking, Tracien.” He grabs his glass and slugs back the rest of his drink. “What, you think you can just kiss grown-ass men out of nowhere? I mean, Jesus, I hope you don’t go around doing that with all sorts of people…”

  “I-I don’t,” I stutter. “I’ve never… That was my first kiss.”

  His head flings in my direction.

  “Your first…” His voice trails off as he blinks over eyes round with realization. “Your first… Oh God.” He covers his face with his hand, rubbing his eyes hard. “I’m sorry, Trix.”

  Lazarus curses under his breath. I bite my lip and pull it between my teeth until it hurts.

  I made him uncomfortable. I feel like such an idiot. This is the opposite of what happened in my dream.

  “Traci, I didn’t mean to freak out like that,” he faces me with remorse in his tone. “It’s just… you can’t do stuff like that. I’m far older than you. You have to kiss people your own age. I mean, when you’re old enough. Maybe in like, a few years?” He squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, I have no idea. Ask your dad when you can kiss someone, how the fuck do I know?”

  “When did you have your first kiss?” The question flees my mouth before I can give it permission.

  He shoots me with a fiery glare. “None of your business. Now go upstairs to your room. If I see you again tonight, I’m telling your dad -”