by Mason, V. F.
But that was not what surprised me.
The deck of the boat had one round table filled with two tall candles and two dishes covered by round domes, so I had no clue what he’d chosen for the cuisine. “What is it?” I asked with wonder lacing my tone, and he circled my waist, pressing me to his chest as he nestled his chin on my shoulder, our cheeks touching. “Happy eighteenth birthday, baby,” he said, and warmth spread through me along with guilt.
My parents had the tendency to organize a big event for my birthday, claiming their princess had to have only the best, but usually they used those opportunities to create new relationships with business partners. And since my dad was the head judge in the state, a picture of loving parents always leveled up his campaigns that sometimes seemed never-ending. Despite their love for me, I hated the stupid gatherings where everything had to be proper and official, so I never celebrated my birthdays when I didn’t have to.
Olivia and Nona promised not to mention anything to Brochan, but clearly they didn’t keep their promise.
Although technically my birthday would be after midnight, I guessed Brochan wanted to celebrate midnight with me.
Spinning in his arms, I placed my hands on his chest, and whispered, “I’m sorry for not telling you.”
He moved my hair behind my shoulder, holding my nape possessively, and brought us closer. “It’s all right. You have your reasons. But there won’t be a time when we are not celebrating your birthdays, okay?”
Rolling my eyes, I nodded, and he clasped my hand with his. “Come on. Let’s enjoy this evening.” But as confident as he appeared to be, I noticed an uncharacteristic nervousness surrounding him, and my brows furrowed. Was he afraid I wouldn’t like his cooking or…?
Oh.
The boat he brought me to was different from their usual one; it wasn’t the one he worked on with Donovan. In fact, this reminded me more of a slightly expensive yacht. “Does it have a room?” I asked, and he stilled for a moment before replying, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the pressure he put in his word. “Yes.”
Heat along with shyness penetrated me, and I shifted my attention to the ocean when I imagined my cheeks becoming red as a tomato. My red hair, freckles, and pale skin didn’t allow me to hide any kind of emotion.
“It’s ours for as long as we need it. It belongs to Paul’s son, and he just needs it by tomorrow evening,” he added, hiding his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. I nodded calmly, even though an inferno awakened inside me.
Did this mean what I thought it did? Was he waiting for me to turn eighteen for us to do it? And suddenly panic entered me at the prospect of making love to him. Even though all these months I pushed and pushed him for us to finally try it out, in that moment, with desire came fear.
What if I didn’t do it right? Would I suck at it? Or—
“Hey, hey. Baby, look at me.” He appeared in the line of my vision, palming my face so I could focus only on him. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want,” he assured me, but I shook my head, needing to quickly reassure him before he came to the wrong conclusion.
“I want to. I do. But—”
How could I have told this freaking gorgeous guy that the prospect of him seeing me naked unsettled me a little? Oh God, what a mess.
“But?” he probed, and I finally replied.
“I’ve never done this before. I wouldn’t want to do something wrong.” And with that came relief too, because I didn’t have to hide my emotions from him.
I was an open book.
“Everything will be good. Because it’s us,” he said, kissing me on the forehead, and his heartbeat calmed mine. “I promise you, Em.”
Brochan would have given me the world, and for one night, he did.
Only after that, everything went to hell.
Island, United States
July 2019
Emerald
Dropping the key on the reception desk, I smile at the guy behind the counter, who is probably Rick, and say, “Room 102. I’m going out now, should be back by night.” The guy who appears to be in his twenties, dressed in shorts and shirt, salutes me. “Great. Have a nice time. And the dragon is asleep, so you can go out without any encounters,” he jokes and instantly laughs, finding it hilarious, I guess.
“Okay,” I reply, because what else is there to say? This place becomes weirder by the second. But then I don’t know the rules in the small town. Maybe they grew up together so there’s no subordination between them.
Shrugging, I wave at him and move to the door, quickly getting out and inhaling the salty air as a breeze brushes my face.
Deciding to leave the laptop back in the room was an excellent idea, because carrying around a heavy weight while the weather is divine is truly a crime.
Instead, I want to explore the town today, time how long it takes to go to different places before settling into a routine.
With that determination in mind, I check a location on my phone GPS, which says it’ll take me around twenty-five minutes to get to the coffee shop and down a narrow path leading to the beach.
My camera sways back and forth on my arm as I study the nature and beauty around me. I see families taking goofy pictures with their kids while they are standing opposite the beach, probably tourists. Couples holding hands and giving each other puppy dog eyes, and older generations drinking in the coffee shops and laughing about something.
Various buildings greet me in all colors of the rainbow. Most of them appear to be public places like a school or police station, because most of the people here live in houses.
In fact, I haven’t seen an apartment building so far, and Peter and I drove through almost the entire town when he got lost on the way to the inn.
My feet ache, as I haven’t walked this much in a while. I mostly sit writing this damn book, so when I see the sign of Eve’s Bakery, giddiness overpowers me. I’m so ready for breakfast and some tea it’s not even funny.
I’m so focused on my final destination I don’t notice the woman sitting on the bench until she pulls on my hand, stopping me. I try to wiggle my hand free.
What the hell? “I’m sorry, but what are you doing?” Seriously, what’s with this town and their touching policy?
The middle-aged woman wears a long skirt and a flannel shirt as her chocolate eyes scan me from head to toe. She tips her head to the side, her dark locks falling. “You came back,” she mutters, and I blink in surprise. “I told you not to do that. Why did you come back?”
I tug on my hand gently, because I don’t want to make a scene in the middle of the street, although people pay no attention to us anyway. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaking me for someone else. It’s my first time in this town.” And the last. Not even twenty-four hours here but I’ve experienced enough to know this much. It’s beautiful and mesmerizing but somehow, deep down, I don’t feel welcome.
Kaden is right sometimes after all.
The woman shakes her head, pointing a finger at me. “Why are you lying?”
“I’m not… Agh.” I squeeze my head as the familiar piercing pain comes back, digging in my scalp while another scene plays in my mind.
“Em, don’t even think about it,” Olivia warns, but I just wink at her and run toward the lady on the bench. I can’t help but feel sorry for her. The townsfolk say she lost her marbles after her entire family burned in a fire, so instead of dealing with it, she comes to the exact same place she used to come with her family and sits in the park, hoping they will come back. The story causes nothing but sadness in me, or the townsfolk for that matter who always have food and blankets and even umbrellas ready for her. She never wavers, even if the weather is shit. She goes home after midnight and comes back before eight in the morning.
But also people come to her because she’ll throw one-liners at them, like predictions, and although most of them never come true… it allows people to leave some money and help her survive.
This town takes care of their own.
<
br /> “Em, you are very superstitious. She’ll tell you some crap, and you’ll believe her,” Olivia shouts as she follows me, but she’s too late as I address the lady who raises her brown eyes to me. “I’m in love right now. Do you think I have a future with him?” I pick a twenty from my purse to leave in the hat she has nearby, but she clasps my wrist with her long fingers and drags me closer so she can whisper, “Leave the boy.”
Furrowing my brows, I ask, “What?” I’ve never heard that she touches anyone; she just says a freaking line! “Leave the boy or you will forever destroy his life. He’ll burn just like my Jim,” she says, and then her blank gaze returns to gazing into space like I’m not even there.
“She just says crap,” Olivia quickly says, pulling me to her mom’s cafeteria, and although I agree with her, part of me fears her words.
Especially with my parents. Superstitious or not, one can never be sure what they’ll do.
“Maybe you’re right,” she suddenly proclaims, letting go of me. “You’re not her. Go.” She motions for me to walk away, but I’m too dumbstruck to move, or do anything.
This no longer reminds me of the story in my head, but the memory that selectively comes back whenever it pleases.
My longing to come to this town, the restless nights filled with nightmares, Kaden’s reaction… can only explain one truth.
“I’m going insane.” Maybe I just come up with scenes for my characters as I go and that’s why they are so real for me. Surely no one would have hidden the fact that I lived here at some point in my life.
I came here for clarity, but all I get is more confusion.
“Okay, ignore Mags. She has her moments.” I’m taken aback as Joe shows up next to me, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. “Half the time she doesn’t even know who is in front of her; although, I think she has known us all since we were in diapers.” He chuckles and then motions for me to follow him. “Let’s go to the bakery.”
Part of me feels grateful to him for showing up and snapping me out of my thoughts. “Yeah, those pancakes should be awesome, based on your stories,” I tease, and he winks.
“Out of this world. But truth be told, she’s an amazing baker, so try anything.”
The minute we reach the door, he opens it for me and the ringing above us bounces off the walls. Everyone turns to look at us while I see a woman my age wearing a long flowery dress screaming at someone. “John, I told you this is not gonna fly in my bakery. You want to eat, get your ass to the counter. I’m not waiting on you.”
“Hey, Eve. I brought a new client from Micaden’s inn,” Joe says, and she spins around, a bright smile on her lips, but it dies the minute her eyes land on me.
I stare at the woman with long, blonde hair, a feminine body, and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen on a woman as they fill with disbelief, then wonder to happiness, then sadness.
Then the tray she holds in her hands falls to the floor, and the porcelain dishes on it shatter. The little pieces fly in different directions, causing a few of the customers to curse.
“Shit,” Joe mutters, jumping to help her, but she continues to stare at me, shock evident in every feature while I try to understand this odd reaction.
If she had been someone in my story, she would be… Olivia.
Gulping a breath, I step back, but then she snaps out of her stupor and looks around. “Sorry, everyone. I’m a bit clumsy today. Joe, darling, bring the broom from the back of the kitchen.” He’s already on it, and she wipes her hands on her black apron before picking up a teapot from the counter and approaching me with a wide smile intact, although I have a feeling it’s fake. “Hi, welcome to my bakery. My name is Eve.” She emphasizes her name as if expecting some kind of reaction, but all I do is return her smile, even if chaos is erupting inside me.
“Emerald. Nice to meet you.”
She stares at me, and for a second, I see disappointment flashing in her gaze, before she asks, “Would you like an ocean view or—”
“Ocean view,” I quickly answer and then decide to lighten up the situation. “Why? Do some customers get seasick gazing at it?”
But instead of sharing my amusement at such a ridiculous assumption, her eyes water as she quickly points at the table near the window on the right corner. “Then this booth is perfect for you. Check all our selections there.” She points this time at the counter and leaves the teapot, rushing to help Joe, and the only thought playing in my mind as I sit down and watch them is this.
I never told her I like tea; even back in New York, most people assume I love coffee.
Why did she give me a pot of tea?
The headache slowly starts to nag, so I take my pills out of my bag and wash them down with tea then shift my focus.
The lack of sleep, important gallery projects, along with school projects have kept me so busy that adding writing to it has only exhausted me more. Because of that, I’ve come to the stupid conclusion that makes it seem like my entire life is a lie and someone else orchestrated it.
But even thinking that is ridiculous.
With enough sleep and rest here, everything will go back to normal.
Even if I no longer know what that normal entails.
Micaden
She’s like a temptation.
Impossible to resist.
But once the person savors her… he’s addicted, with no way out of his insanity.
With every temptation comes the price to pay.
And I’m fucking done being the only one who pays for it.
Emerald came back here.
She shouldn’t have.
With this, she sealed her death.
Chapter Nine
From the pages of the book…
Only the moonlight shone brightly while Brochan and I stood in the middle of the captain’s cabin, staring at each other, our hearts beating wildly. We’d had dinner and then even danced a little to a song on the radio before he extended his hand to me, and I knew it was a silent question to follow him downstairs.
The room had rose petals scattered all over the place, with the bed neatly done, just waiting to be used, and I understood Brochan had done his best to make it as romantic as possible.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one nervous in the room after all.
He sighed. “Emerald, there’s no pressure. Let’s just—”
I fisted his shirt and smashed our mouths together, our teeth clacking against each other, and for a moment he froze, not expecting that.
But then everything changed.
Brochan tangled his fingers in my hair while his other arm wrapped around my middle and he brought me closer, drinking from my mouth, each lick and swipe of his tongue showing me how much he cherished me. I palmed his head, rose on my tiptoes, and deepened the kiss, wanting to be closer to him even though there was no way to get closer.
Slowly, he moved forward, then stepped back, kissing all the way to the bed until the edge of it hit the back of my knees, and then slowly he lowered me down, and only then did our mouths let go.
I breathed heavily while we stared at one another, him still standing. Then I decided to be brave.
My fingers started to unbutton my summer dress, and his eyes darkened, causing me to gasp, because it sent unfamiliar sensations all over me and awakened something unrecognizable, something primal. “Brochan, I—” I didn't know what to say, how to explain it, but he seemed to have all the answers.
“I know, my love. I’m here.” He tugged on the back of his shirt, and it ended up on the floor. At the same moment, I shimmied out of my dress, leaving me only in light blue lacy panties. He murmured, “Dear God.” My cheeks heated up from his stare, and then I gasped when I noticed the wet spot on them and quickly covered it with my palm. I froze when he growled, “Don’t.” He swallowed and then lowered his zipper, and my eyes widened at the sight greeting me.
I’d never seen a guy naked before, but I think Brochan had more than the average package. “It’s huge.”
/> He laughed despite the moment. “Don’t worry. People have been doing it for thousands of years.”
“Well, not with me,” I pointed out, grinning, but then my breath hitched as he stood in all his naked glory in front of me. Although I’d seen him in trunks… but like this… with his hair loose, every rigid muscle on display, and his cock… yeah, fire spread inside me and lit up my entire system.
I wanted him fiercely, but I had no idea how to vocalize it or do anything about it.
The bed dipped the minute he placed his knee on it. I lay back, and he instantly came between my thighs, spreading them wider and giving himself space. The position wasn’t new to us, because we’d had some hot make-out sessions, but they never went below the waist.
My breasts jiggled from the action, and then his hot mouth wrapped around my pointed nipple. As he sucked it hard, he earned himself a moan from me.
I fisted his hair and hiked my leg over his back, causing his cock to push against my panties, but all I focused on were the sensations his mouth provided. His mouth travelled to my other nipple, leaving the previous one wet so that every draft from the AC sent goose bumps across my skin.
His hands dug into my ass cheeks, while he feasted on my flesh. I scratched my nails over his back, drawing in pleasure from all this male glory in my arms. “Mine,” he said against my skin, skimming his lips to my stomach and dipping into my belly button, tickling me. “Mine and only mine,” he repeated, and I nodded eagerly. There would never be a time where I wouldn't want to be Brochan’s.
I jerked when his face ended up between my thighs, his breathing fanning my most intimate place. As a reflex, I wanted to close them, but he didn’t let me. Instead, he nudged my panties to the side and slipped one finger inside, my muscles instantly clamping around him. “So fucking tight,” he murmured right before ripping my panties away and putting his mouth on me, flicking my clit with his tongue while his finger continued to push inside me.
My hips rose, and my groan echoed through the room while pleasure unlike anything I’d known before blinded me and made me a prisoner of the heated desire that ignited a fire within me with his touch.