by P. M. Briede
“Why what?” he responded through labored breaths.
I opened my eyes to see that his were liquid pools of the green fire. And not in their coloring or meaning that he desired me. Though that was there too. I mean flames. Living, undulating flames were burning in his eyes; dancing around his pupils. Holy crap! How is that possible? All the familiarity snapped into place. The burning I’d experienced from his kiss, while exciting, was the same as when I had the fire dreams.
I blinked and they were gone. No smoke. No embers. No trace. Had they even been there? I must be crazy. It’s not possible for them to be there. Actual fire doesn’t burn in someone’s eyes. I’d had quite a bit to drink tonight. My mind has to be playing tricks on me. When I let go the image of my dreams lighting in his eyes I remembered what he’d said before he kissed me.
“Im iam damnari,” I repeated in a steady voice since I was no longer breathless from passion. “That’s what you said wasn’t it? Why do you think you’re damned?”
Luckily I’d also gotten my legs back and shifted my weight to them because he dropped me like a hot potato and stepped away. I’d thought he was guarded and tense before but it was nothing compared to what I was seeing now. “You speak Latin?”
“Fluently.” Done with the frenetic pace his moods were setting, I decided to no longer be intimidated by them and adopted Paige’s inquisition stance, putting my hands on my hips.
“How?”
“Probably the same as you, someone taught me.”
“Now is not the time for games, Charlotte. You speak Latin. It’s not a common phrase, and it’s a dead language. Yet you speak it as they did in ancient Rome. How?”
“Ha, ha, Olivier,” I sarcastically responded. “I took three years of it in high school and four years in college. Exactly how would you know how it was spoken in Rome?”
Too late he realized he’d said too much and fear was apparent in his expression. Suddenly he turned his back on me and descended the couple steps from my porch before freezing. “This was a mistake, my mistake. I can’t do this with you, not again. Neither of us will survive it.” The words came out in a rush.
“What in God’s name are you talking about?” While I was resolved to not be intimidated, he was starting to scare me. I inched my way closer to the door. “Never mind, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you after Christmas. Good night, Olivier.”
When I said his name, he spun around and looked at me sharply. “Charlotte, I’m sorry. I know none of this makes sense to you.” You’re damn right! He slowly came back up the steps. “Please, don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I wish I could connect the dots. Trust me that it’s for the best.”
Curiosity and irritation got the better of me. “You keep saying that. Trust you. I really want to and just when I do, you do or say something that reminds me that you’re hiding things. Honesty is what we both wanted tonight and for most of it I believe that you actually gave me as much as you could. I like you, Olivier, and there’s something here, but something in our past, that you seem to remember, and I don’t, is keeping us from it. Until you reconcile yourself with it, or choose to share it with me, I can’t do this with you. You can’t approach me, you can’t touch me, you can’t…” The words choked me, and the brokenhearted look on his face almost killed me.
He stepped closer and made to embrace and comfort me until I jerked away. Sighing, he dropped his arms. “You’re right, Charlotte, enough is enough. Don’t upset yourself more. I understand. I’ll restrain myself when we have to be together to ensure it remains professional. Please forgive me for this last lapse in judgment.” His fingers deftly and lightly caressed my cheek and curved around my neck, tilting my head back. This kiss was controlled and lingering and said good-bye as no words could. When his lips freed mine, I took a deep breath before opening my eyes and was startled to see no trace of him or his car. How was that possible? It wasn’t until then that I realized I’d heard the same Latin phrase once before in my life. It was right before my first kiss with Henry.
* * *
I sprang from the bed later that night to lose my stomach in the toilet due to the sudden pain that engulfed my body. My head was throbbing but rhythmically to the cadence of a distant voice that repeatedly echoed in my ears. “Quitting is not an option! Find a way to fix it!” My skin felt raw. As I peeled off my clothes, I was met with red flesh that appeared as if it was smoking. That’s impossible! To try and soothe the pain, I stepped into a cool shower. But as the first drops touched me steam wafted off my skin as it would pavement that had been baking in the sun when an unexpected spring rain showers.
Eventually the pain behind my eyes ebbed, the burn in my flesh subsided, and I was able to master the quivering of my body. I turned off the water and intended to head back to bed. However, I obviously didn’t make it because when I next opened my eyes I was in the shower stall with an awful crick in my neck and little memory for how I got there.
Chapter 11
“Looking really good, guys,” I hollered over the music as I watched and critiqued the choreography of the juniors planned Valentine’s performances.
That bit closed out our practice, and I dismissed the students. “Please make sure to thank your families for me and you guys have a great Christmas. I’ll see you in a couple of days. Russell, are you sure you’re available to practice our piece on the twenty-sixth?”
He laughed as he slung his dance bag over his shoulder. “Yes, Mrs. Grace.”
“You’ve been listening to the music?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be ready.”
I nodded and went to grab the iPod to put it in my bag. I glanced at the time as I locked the dance studio. There was just enough to get home and cleaned up before I was expected at my parents’ house for Christmas Eve. As I walked through the hallways, I heard a piano in the distance. When I realized I recognized the tune I followed the music.
At the door to the music room, I saw Olivier sitting at the piano. I leaned against the doorframe and listened. I’d never heard him play before. The song was sad to begin with, but he was playing it in a much more haunted way. His fingers moved deftly over the keys, but his shoulders were hunched and his head bowed. We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since our date and even though I meant what I said that night, I found myself missing his company. Especially when I was at the school. The green fire in his eyes made me leery of him but didn’t erase the overwhelming sense of comfort and familiarity I always felt in his presence. So I decided to try and mend things somewhat. I didn’t want there to be an ocean between us. “You Don’t Know Me, right?”
Never turning to look at me, he didn’t miss a note but kept playing. “I know you better than you think.” Even though his posture didn’t change, his voice held mild amusement.
I took it as an invitation and walked towards the piano noticing for the first time that there wasn’t sheet music on it. “You’re playing that from memory?” He didn’t answer and continued to play. I remained silent until he was finished. Never before have I been jealous of a piano. Once his fingers stopped stroking the keys, he put them in his lap and looked up at me expectantly.
“The song it was You Don’t Know Me, right? Although, it sounded like it was in a lower key.”
“You have a good ear, Charlotte. I’m in the middle of tuning the piano, so I was playing it lower because I had some trouble getting those tones right.” As he spoke he stood and walked around to the back of the instrument. He never looked at me; he’d looked through me, but never at me.
I followed him and watched with curious eyes as he loosened one of the strings before removing it. “That’s what you do to tune it?”
“No, since I can’t seem to get it in tune, and I’ve tried cleaning the string, now I’m just going to replace it.”
“You know how to do that?”
“Yes, I do,” he quipped in a clipped tone.
Undeterred by his demeanor I continued to press him into a conversation. “Interes
ting choice in song.”
“The only thing that’s interesting is your timing. I didn’t realize you’d be able to hear me from the dance studio.”
I tried to clamp down on my frustration and was about to give up on this foolhardy attempt at casual conversation when I heard him grunt. He’d been kneeling on the floor cutting the string. I hadn’t noticed that he’d removed his gloves until I saw the blood rapidly dripping onto the floor. I gasped. “Oh my God, Olivier, that looks bad.” I pulled a towel out of my dance bag and tossed it at him. “Sorry, it’s not clean, but use it to put some pressure on that cut, and I’ll go get the first aid kit.”
“Charlotte, that’s not necessary, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Minor cuts don’t bleed like that.” I turned and ran to the door, but he beat me there. “Get out of the way. I need to get the first aid kit.”
He had the towel wrapped around the hand that he’d cut, but there didn’t seem to be any blood on it. I stopped trying to get around him and focused my attention on it. “Let me see that,” I demanded as I reached for his wrist. “You know it might need stitches.” He tried to pull away, but I tightened my grip on him. I looked up into his face. I saw the same fear that had been there at the end of our date. “What are you trying to hide from me, Olivier?” I asked softly. “Let me see.” He tried to pull out of my grip one last time, but it was a halfhearted attempt. When I didn’t give in, his eyes closed, and he sighed. I took that as permission, unwrapped the towel, and found that there wasn’t cut at all. There was no blood on the towel anywhere. I ran my fingers along the webbing between his thumb and index finger where the cut had been. His skin was smooth but when I brought his hand up to my face for a closer examination I saw the lightest pink line. Like what you’d expect from a cut that had maybe happened weeks ago. I looked at him in astonishment. “How is this possible?”
His eyes were wary, his voice controlled, as he answered and stepped closer to me. “How is what possible?”
I was on the edge now from frustration, confusion, and fear. He’d cut himself. I’d seen the blood. It had dripped onto the floor. When I remembered that I ducked underneath his arm and ran back behind the piano. But I was stunned to find it clean. I dropped my bag and picked up the wire cutters. There was no blood there either. “I saw you cut yourself,” I pressed as I turned back towards the door to glare at him. “I saw the blood, Olivier! Where did it go?” Each sentence was an octave higher than the last. I knew that the fear wasn’t just evident in my voice. While keeping my distance from him, I tried to tamper down my hysterics.
He approached me again with his arms outstretched in front, palms facing me. “Charlotte, I didn’t cut myse…”
“You’re lying. I saw it. There was blood flowing from between your fingers! There was a pool already on the floor before I headed for the door!” None of it made any sense, and I was angry with myself for having thought he’d be any more truthful with me today than he’d been previously. I showed him the wire cutters. “These should be covered in blood! Your blood!”
“But you see that they’re not.”
I wanted to scream. He was so infuriating! But I hate doing it. I took a deep breath and regained my composure. “Why aren’t they?” I asked through grit teeth.
By this time he’d reached me. He took the wire cutters out of my hand and gently grabbed my arms. His touch instantly calmed my frazzled nerves. His eyes were locked on mine. “I’m fine. It’s been a long couple of days.”
Something flashed in my peripheral. He’d put the wire cutters on the piano. The ones he’d cut his hand with! Damn it! “How do you do that?”
Confusion lit his face. “Do what?”
“Make me forget why I’m upset with you. Why I can’t trust you!”
“You can trust me!”
“You haven’t answered a single one of my questions! And I doubt you ever will!” I’d had enough. I jerked away from him and bent down to snatch my bag. That’s when I noticed a few drops of blood underneath the piano. I hesitated in pointing them out to him and instead tucked the information away in my mind. Standing, I realized I was now running late. His pleas to stay and let him explain fell on deaf ears as I brushed past him and marched out the door.
* * *
“Paige, do you mind stopping by the school tomorrow?”
“On Christmas?”
“Yeah. We’ve had some recent vandalism in the music room. I noticed something on the floor today, and I was wondering if you could test it.” I could tell she didn’t believe me, but she agreed to do so anyway.
“Test what?” Wesley had just walked into the kitchen where we were sitting eating Christmas cookies. “Really, girls? Almost twenty years later, and we’re still all stealing cookies while we wait for your parents to bring dinner home?” Although he chastised us for it, it didn’t stop him from snagging a couple for himself. We were staying the night at my dad’s plantation house in Greenwell Springs since it was sixty miles from New Orleans. Their parents didn’t live in Louisiana, and my father and stepmother insisted that they join us for Christmas, especially when they heard that Paige’s sons would be with their father this year.
My parents walked in and caught us huddled around the island laughing. My stepmother just shook her head. We ate dinner, and after my parents went to bed we decided to hang out, watching White Christmas. Wesley groaned about it, just like he did when we were kids, but he sat on the couch between Paige and me with hardly any convincing. About thirty minutes into the movie Paige stood up and stretched. “Well, it’s been a long day for me, so I’m going to go up to bed. You coming, Charlotte?” She nonchalantly glanced at Wesley when she asked.
Suppressing a laugh, I shook my head. “No, I’ll be up when the movie’s over.”
“Wesley?”
“Um, no thanks, Paige. I think I’ll stay down here with Charlotte and finish the movie.”
“Uh huh. Finish the movie you don’t like, right?” He ran a hand through his hair. At his blush, I could no longer hold back my own mirth. “I’ll see you two in the morning.” Her shoulders shook with laughter as she walked away. When she reached the landing that overlooked the den she called out, “Make sure you behave yourselves.”
I laughed harder, and Wesley joined in. After we were done, I got up to refill my drink and asked Wesley if he wanted anything. He shook his head and paused the movie. When I got back he’d taken my seat by the arm of the couch, his arm outstretched across the back of it with my blanket over his lap. I quirked an eyebrow at him and crossed my arms. “Really?”
He shrugged his shoulders, spreading his arms as if to say “what?” while flashing a troublesome grin. Pointedly ignoring his purpose, I curled up on the other end of the couch. My plan failed when I started shivering. I’m always cold, no matter where I am. Wesley and Paige found it hilarious that even in the middle of the hottest summer in Louisiana, with all its humidity, I could still be freezing. “You know you’d be a lot warmer over here.” His voice was devilishly tempting.
“I wouldn’t be cold at all if someone hadn’t taken my spot and blanket. Don’t think for one minute that I don’t know what you’re about.” I tried to infuse my tone with annoyance, but I wasn’t really mad, just nervous to be alone with him.
He grinned at me broadly. “Oh, I’m counting on you knowing exactly what I’m about!” Hopefully my blush was hidden in the shadows since the room was only lit by the TV. I turned to give him the full force of my glare. He chuckled before continuing. “You don’t scare me, Charlotte. Now stop being so stubborn and come over here so I can warm you up. I promise to behave.” His eyes flashed as he spoke.
Mumbling my frustration, I shifted positions to curl up into his side and was instantly grateful that I had. He was so warm that I buried my head in his chest for a moment. His arms circled around me as he situated the blanket across us both. Once he was done, I decided to get a little childish payback of my own and inched his shirt up to place my ice co
ld hands on his stomach. His hiss at my touch was immensely satisfying. “Et tu, Brute,” I said quietly.
“I don’t think that was necessarily called for.” He wasn’t mad though; his voice was tight but pleased as his arms firmly embraced me. I left my hands where they were because it was honestly better than having them by a fire. Plus the firmness I found was thrilling. We slipped into a comfortable silence and went back to watching the movie. It wasn’t long until he was stroking my arm in a soothing manner. Sighing, I snuggled in closer to him which shifted my hands off his abdomen. I was able to comfortably pull the arm closest to him back around my own waist but was having trouble finding a comfortable position for the other without placing it intimately on him.
“Its fine, Charlotte,” he finally said while grabbing my hand and placing it high on his thigh. He returned to stroking my arm and began caressing my back. Warmth arose from the middle of my body, and I was unable to restrain a more passionate sigh from escaping my lips. I tried to rein in my arousal by remembering that my parents and Paige were in the house.
Focusing on anything other than him and how intensely aware I was of his body and my own reaction to his feather-light touches had been hard enough. But when he finally shifted his position to accommodate for his own arousal, I knew I had to make a decision. “You know we aren’t kids anymore trying to get away with something in my parents’ house.” It came out with more control than I felt, and I took my hand off his leg.
He grabbed it and placed it securely back on his thigh. His voice was not controlled but dripped with seduction. “I’m well aware that we aren’t kids anymore.” Lips were suddenly kissing along my hairline sending a rippling heat to meet with the swells that were emanating from deep within my lower torso.
I lifted my chin involuntarily but remained committed to not looking at him. “I thought you were going to behave?” This time there was no control in my voice to hide my burgeoning passion. My eyes closed as his lips moved from my hairline to my jaw line.