Words That Bind

by Ash Krafton

  And it was something she’d never been able to figure out, no matter how hard she thought about it or how many research articles she read on the subject. “Not me. I physically can’t. Even when I want to.”

  “Ooh. Now we get to the meat of things.” He took her hand and tugged her out of the chair, his grip gentle but uncompromising. He positioned her in the center of the room before strutting back to the desk and sitting in her chair. “Let’s explore this together. Promise me…you won’t leave this room.”

  “Burns—”

  “Now, now. It’s just an experiment. I have twenty minutes to go.” He shook his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Promise you won’t leave this room for the next fifteen minutes.”

  Where was the harm? Wearing a look of exasperated patience, she agreed. “Okay, I promise I won’t leave the room for fifteen minutes.”

  He narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly at the waist. “You’re sure about your promise?”

  She sighed. “Yes, Burns. Really, what is th—”

  “Okay, then.” And with that, he spread his hands. A massive ball of blue flame formed in front of him, as big as a beach ball, and he tossed it into the middle of the room.

  It bounced and hopped, spinning and swirling, stretching upward into a column. Her eyes nearly bulged. Like a leaf on a harsh wind, the fire tornado flitted about the room, leaving fingers of orange flame on everything it touched. The smell of burning wood and carpet filled the air.

  “Stop!” She yelled, her voice thinning and scraping her throat, struggling to rise over the sound of crackling flames. “You’ll put the whole place up!”

  She grabbed her jacket from the coat rack and tried to pound out the flames. He laughed, a booming sound, and leapt from his chair. With both hands outstretched, he coated everything he touched with fire.

  The curtains caught. Flames crept across the desk. The ceiling smoked, black with soot, the paint curling. The ceiling fan’s blades were burned down to the metal brackets.

  Desperately, she swatted at her desk, where a stack of client files had begun to burn. When her coat slipped from her fingers, her fingertips burned and she gasped in pain. Only the center of the room remained untouched. She backed up, looking wildly around the inferno that her office had become. She was corralled. “Burns! Stop this! You’ll kill someone!”

  Flames converged upon him, swallowed him whole. Only his face shimmered back out at her. “Then I guess you want to leave.”

  He swirled and melted into the flames. The ring of fire closed in on her. A single path to the door cleared, untouched and clear. Escape.

  She stared desperately at the door, wanting nothing more than to run out. The air, thick with smoke. Each breath was a searing struggle. She was going to die.

  If only she could reach the door—

  Her feet remained rooted. She screamed, voice lost in the rushing of the fire.

  She dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around her head, choking on the odors of burning carpet and singeing hair.

  And then it was gone.

  Smoke, flames, everything. All gone. She uncurled her arms and looked around, agape. Everything was exactly as it had been. No sign that only moments before the room had been an inferno.

  “You idiot.” In ferocious human form, he stomped toward her. “I could have killed you.”

  “Yes.” She pushed to her feet and lasered a piercing glare at him, her lips pressed into a thin pale line. “You could have.”

  “You could have walked out. I didn’t block the door. I made sure the doorknob was still cold.”

  “I could not have left. Promised would stay in the room. Promise kept.” Sniffing, she followed a faint smoky smell to the coat rack. Her jacket, hanging as if it had never been moved. She shook it out, a ribbon of smoke wafting upwards. One sleeve was singed, a blackened and sooty line stretching from elbow to cuff. “You forgot to undo this.”

  “I did not forget.” He crossed his arms and glowered. “I leave it as a lesson.”

  Apparently, he was mad. At her. Because he set the room on fire. “You cannot punish me for something I can’t change.”

  Looked exasperated, he rolled his shoulders. “You act like someone put a spell—”

  He stopped, cocking his head and looking at her out of the corners of his eyes. “Magic? Let me see.”

  He took her face in her hands, his touch warm and careful despite the quick-fire temper that had him seething only a moment before. Dipping his face close to hers, he peered into her eyes. “Well. I’ll be snookered.”

  She laughed to hear him utter such an odd phrase.

  “Silence,” he commanded. The curiosity resurfaced and, with it, a twinkle in his eyes. “There is old magic within you. Let’s try something.”

  He held her close enough that only a breath of a space separated their bodies. So close. His heat soaked into her, the entire line of her body. A pulse quickened low down, butterflies beating their wings inside her. She drew a shaky breath. Unaccustomed to that kind of proximity, she just didn’t know what to do with her hands, besides reach up and hold him.

  Not appropriate. None of this was.

  “Enough.” She wiggled out of his grasp and stepped back, putting safe space between them. “I had quite enough for one day. I don’t want you to burn anything else. And I’ll be adding the cost of my jacket to your bill.”

  “Small price to pay for such a great discovery. You are spellbound.” His smile showed all his teeth “We will get on famously.”

  Smoothing her slacks, she bobbed her head. “Next week, Burns?”

  “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “Tomorrow night, your place. I will count the hours.”

  He swept a hand downwards in front of his face and chest, his image shimmering and reshaping. Within moments, his clothing had changed into more contemporary trappings, a sage-green oxford shirt and light khakis. Dropping his head in a gentleman’s bow, he left. Through the door. Like a normal person.

  She sighed. Tomorrow night. Her place.

  She sank into her chair. A puff of smoke wafted out of the cushion beneath her and she grimaced. Last week, she smelled like yak. Today, she was a campfire. Toying with the burnt edges of her blazer, she wondered just what she’d gotten herself into by allowing him over to her apartment.

  And whether she had enough insurance to cover herself should he try another stunt like this one.

  Chapter 10

  Spellbound.

  The very thought that Tamarinda was spellbound made him almost forget his quest. That single notion was as intoxicating as the thought of his talisman itself.

  A spellbound human. He hadn’t seen one of those in eons—truly, eons. Magic had all but disappeared from this world. The prospect made him want to dance with glee. In fact, he would do just that—

  On his way through the waiting room, he spied the young woman with the oddly-colored hair sitting near the door. He seized her by the hand, pulled her up and whirled about the room with her.

  Perhaps a little too quickly for a mortal to keep up. Ah, well, her head was probably spinning before he’d grabbed her. It would explain the wardrobe. And the choice of perfume.

  He dropped the woozy girl back into her seat and bowed before skipping out the door, the sounds of her shaky laughter following him out into the hall.

  The thrill of fire dancing still coursed through his veins like liquid flame. Tamarinda’s stern look and harsh reprimand had done little to dampen it. To be in his true form, a twist of blue flame, oxygen in a rush of combustion, blooming, consuming, every nerve aware—there was no sweeter release.

  And to have done it with her so close by, the scent of her skin filling his head, the sound of her lovely voice, shouting to be heard over his own inferno—

  Of course, he’d planned on seducing her to reclaim his talisman. Women were simple creatures who responded very well to pleasure. Fortunate thing mortal men were selfish lovers. Some playful lover’s talk, a bit of physical generosit
y—women were putty in his hands. Tamarinda should be no different.

  But she was different. No one had ever played hard to get with him.

  No woman in her right mind would. Was she in her right mind? Ironic, her choice of profession—

  He paused, looking over his shoulder at the now-closed office door. Hmm. Maybe there was something to that…

  The tell-tale gleam of magic had flashed from the back of her dark eyes. And the strength of the spell—it had to be tremendous, to keep her from escaping the death trap he’d conjured. That magic must be the root of all her stubbornness. She was terribly set on playing hard to get with him.

  He licked his lips, slowly, thinking about the way she trembled when he held her close to him. He’d emanated a vast quantity of heat, intending to melt her chilly disposition just a little bit more. A normal woman would have puddled in his arms. A normal woman would have turned to simmered cream in his hands.

  But she was not a normal woman.

  And that made him want her all the more.

  He ducked into the elevator and urged the car downward faster than the mechanics would normally travel, causing the gears to groan in protest. He needed to get home, to get away from the prying eyes of gawking humanity. He needed to get back to a safe place so he could retake that beautiful blue flame form and wear himself out with it. Tamarinda brought out his inner beast.

  Time to let the tiger run free before it devoured him.

  Chapter 11

  Tam met Bethany in the hall outside the girl’s favorite treatment room.

  The brightest suite in the office, the walls were a lemony yellow with white trim and white furniture and a wide picture window that overlooked the courtyard. Beth said it always felt sunny in there, even when the weather outside was gloomy.

  Today didn’t seem to be a gloomy day for Beth, even after her hospital stay. Usually the girl came out of a hospitalization harboring an intense resentment toward Tam, who she viewed as the real person to blame.

  Not today. She giggled when Tam waved her through the door. “Wow. You get some weirdoes in here, Tam. Some dude just danced with me.”

  Tam put on a professional smile, certain she didn’t have to ask who that “dude” had been.

  “Whoa, Tam.” Bethany leaned close and sniffed. “I didn’t know you smoked. You rebel, you.”

  Feeling a tad bit defeated, she made a mental note to thank Burns properly the next time she saw him. Closing the door, she sat on the empty seat.

  This room had soft, white armchairs and billowy balloon curtains, a fresh mid-eighties feel that reminded Tam of Lisa Frank stickers and Molly Ringwald movies. Bethany had pushed her chair close to the window, something she did whenever she was in a good place.

  Interesting. Tam had expected just the opposite, considering the intensity of the girl’s outburst at group. Perhaps Burns had a positive effect on her. Hmm. Maybe Burns should attend group—

  Scratch that. He really had no place there. He had no place anywhere in her practice. Considering how he’d just set the place on fire, she wasn’t sure there was a good place for him anywhere.

  Tam left Bethany’s folder closed on her lap. “Do you remember when you decided you were ready to join the skills building group?”

  “Yeah, you said that I’d find support there.” Bethany chewed on her little finger. “Huh. Some support. I mean, look at what that jackass did. That was hardly supportive.”

  “Well, that’s part of why I wanted to talk about it. Do you remember the rules we set forth?”

  Beth shrank into herself, her jaw set. She grumbled a bit before answering. “Yes.”

  “Yes,” Tam said. “The group doesn’t work for everybody if we don’t work hard to follow the rules. We need the structure so that everyone can benefit.”

  “Well, some of the rules are really stupid.”

  “I understand that you might feel that way. But still. One of the top rules is that, while it’s important for participants to form personal relationships outside the confines of the group meeting, it is against the rules to develop a sexual relationship with another group member.”

  “But, that’s stupid! People have to be able to form healthy sexual relationships. It’s part of our integration into society—”

  “So, you have been listening.” Tam nodded, a subtle sign of praise. “But do you remember why it’s against the rules to become intimately involved with another group member?”

  “Because someone will go justifiably ballistic when the jackass decides that it didn’t mean anything after you bare your whole soul?” Beth emphasized her last words with a grand sweep of her hands.

  “Because it has the potential for the relationship to hinder open participation. Derek called and said he didn’t want to come to group anymore.”

  “Chicken shit.” Beth pulled her burgundy hair back, revealing dark undyed roots. Winding her hair into a ball, she secured it with one of several hair bands on her wrist.

  “I think he might feel uncomfortable about expressing himself. Would you?”

  Beth leaned back in her chair, sliding her rear to the edge of the seat. “I never do. You know me. Am I in trouble?”

  Tam tilted her head. “In trouble? Why would you be in trouble?”

  Beth shrugged, tucking her shoulder up around her neck. “I broke the rule.”

  “You’re not in trouble.” Tam leaned forward, forging a connection to Beth. “But we do have to deal with the consequences.”

  “Love isn’t supposed to have consequences.”

  “Relationships always have consequence. Relationships change us and change the way we look at everything from that point forward. They change the way we interact with our friends and family. They change the way we look at ourselves in the mirror. And changes are the biggest consequences of them all.”

  “Well, I didn’t change.” Beth crossed her arms and hunched in her chair, her chin jutting beneath a frown.

  “No?”

  “Nuh uh. I can’t change. Not anymore than how Bobby changed me.”

  Ah. Bobby. The first true love. Bethany didn’t like talking about him. He always evoked her strongest feelings and the girl had trouble handling them. “How has Bobby changed you?”

  Legs straight out, Beth rocked her heels and tapped her feet together. Bump-bump, bump. Cadence of a heartbeat. “He made me—made me feel…like I was worth liking.”

  “You are worth liking,” Tam said, her voice gentle.

  “Yeah, well.” Beth drew her knees in and pushed back into her chair. “Derek didn’t think so.”

  Her cheeks flushed, reddening quickly. It only took a name, a single word, to completely redirect her mood.

  Tam allowed her a moment to level off. “Perhaps you didn’t resonate with each other.”

  “Resonate?” Beth scowled, perhaps not understanding the word.

  “It’s a scientific term that describes vibrations that are in harmony. When two sets of vibrations resonate, they hum together, as if they’re one.”

  Bethany nodded. A glow settled over her, the sense of a cherished memory. It animated her, gentling the flush of her cheeks. “I resonated with Bobby and Bobby resonated with me.”

  She smiled, a quick flash that she stifled with her hand.

  “Thinking about him makes you happy,” Tam said.

  Beth nodded, still grinning into her hand.

  “But you try not to.”

  The grin evaporated, replaced by a heaviness that sagged her face, her entire body, sinking her deeper into her chair. “I don’t deserve to.”

  “Why don’t you deserve to think of him?”

  “Because I didn’t try hard enough to love him back. I took him for granted. I figured I had loads of time to get around to showing him how much he meant to me. I didn’t know—” A tear broke free of her lashes and streaked down. “I didn’t know we’d run out of time.”

  “But you would have showed him.”

  “Yes. I would have.”
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  “Then don’t punish yourself,” Tam said. “An accident got in the way. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it.”

  Beth tugged and twisted her bracelet, silent. Tears dropped, one by one, a sniff. Tam pushed the tissues toward her.

  “If thinking of Bobby makes you happy, then think of him. You deserve those happy memories.”

  “I don’t know if I deserve them but…” She knuckled her cheek. “I’m grateful for them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Bobby made me feel like I was worth liking before Derek tried to make me feel like I wasn’t. And Derek can’t change what Bobby did. Derek couldn’t resonate with me to save his life. Do you resonate with anyone?”

  Tam wasn’t prepared for such a question. A month ago, she would have re-directed the focus away from herself. Today…well, today was different.

  She was different.

  She rocked back in her chair. Did she resonate with someone?

  Who was she kidding? There was only one someone.

  Burns. He had struck a chord in her, sending a hum that penetrated her and rang through her bones. The way she felt when she was near him—the way she could feel—

  It was a harmony, even when his crazy magic nonsense left her reeling and clutching for composure and the cool confines of logic. She knew him, even if she didn’t really know him. He plucked her strings as if he knew her, too.

  Familiarity. Harmony. Complete resonance.

  Tam issued a breathy laugh. “Yeah. I suppose I do.”

  Beth crowed and clapped her hands. “Aw, Tam, you better be careful. Relationships always have consequences.”

  The laugh froze in her throat. Beth had meant it in a teasing way, but it hit Tam with the opposite effect. To her, it sounded ominous, something she would do well to remember.

  Relationships always have consequences. That wasn’t a tease.

  That was a warning.

  Chapter 12

  Seven o’clock came a lot sooner than Tam had expected.

  Perhaps it was the multiple outfit changes. A tousled pile of discarded clothing lay scattered across her bed, and shoes littered the floor like toys across a child’s bedroom carpet. Usually she opted for lounge pants and a tank top if she were staying in. Definitely not the right choice for company, let alone a genie whose eyes lingered rather possessively when he looked at her.