Singing Fire

by T. L. Martin

  His eyes flashed angrily, and he spun around to face me, almost pinning me against the wall as his fist punched a deafening hole above my head. “I would never—”

  His growl halted abruptly, and I watched his infuriated eyes simmer as they wandered along every inch of my face. Studying me.

  As quickly as his rage had begun, it diminished, and I knew he’d caught me. Caught me in my lie, my act. I could sure as hell sound tough and confident when I wanted to, but my eyes couldn’t keep a secret.

  My heart was pulsating, and my breathing was ragged, only intensified by the sudden return of silence. I looked away. But it was too late. I was just as surprised as he was to find that Anastasie seemed to be right about me, too… He really did have me wrapped around his finger; enough so to have me falling for it. And now he knew it, too.

  Slowly lowering his arm, Desmond took a step back.

  I still didn’t look at him when I turned and walked to the front door, opening it quietly and hearing it clasp behind me. I didn’t care that it was nippy outside or that the onset of thunder was in a hurry to make its mark. The shockingly cold sand was a welcome contradiction beneath my otherwise desensitized body. I sunk my feet into it as I walked, feeling the wind’s pull as it brushed over my skin.

  I didn’t know where I was going, nor did I care. In the end, I was just as threatened by him as anyone else.

  My arms were tingling numbly from the prickle of the sharp breeze by the time I actually stopped to take in my new surroundings. Desmond was still trailing me, of course, but I could tell he was keeping his distance more than usual from the subtleness of his chill.

  Relieved to find that I hadn’t veered from the water in my mindless wandering, I was surprised to discover one of Desmond’s neighbors—if you could even call them neighbors with such a large gap in between the two homes. This house looked just as large as Desmond’s, though more traditional in style with its white shutters and large wraparound porch right on the sand.

  The thunder was roaring lividly now, and rain finally began to fall, quickly soaking through my hair. Pulling the robe in closer, I paused. I was trying to determine whether I should push my limits a little further or retreat to the cover of his house when a person’s figure on the neighbor’s front porch caught my eye. I squinted, pulling my hair away from my face as the wind tugged against me.

  It was an elderly woman with hair as white as snow. The wooden chair beneath her thin limbs rocked gently back and forth. I was mesmerized by the way she seemed to be in her own calm and quiet bubble, practically undisturbed by the howling winds and pouring water that suddenly swirled around us. A book was propped open on her lap, but she wasn’t looking at it anymore.

  She was looking at me.

  The violet streak of color that suddenly sparked in her eyes coincided with a bright pang of lightning, and I stumbled backward.

  I managed to regain my footing and immediately looked back at her, but it wasn’t the same. Her quiet little bubble was gone, and the frail lady was struggling to collect her books before the rain could damage them further. When she darted a startled glance over her shoulder before hurrying inside, I could see only the sweet, lined eyes of an older woman who had stayed outside longer than she’d intended.

  I sneezed, suddenly realizing I was completely drenched from my head to my feet. My bones shivered violently as I quickly turned around, and I found myself being swooped up into a pair of sturdy arms before I could take another step. A heavy coat was draped over me completely, and before I knew it, the warmth and silence of Desmond’s house was enveloping me. He shifted the edge of the coat so my face was no longer covered, and I watched the ceiling blur past as he carried me into the master bathroom. He lowered me smoothly into a sitting position on the bathtub’s ledge, holding onto my waist until I finally steadied myself.

  The sound of running water echoed around me as he started to fill the tub, but I couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes. That violet spark seemed so real, so vivid, and remarkably similar to those of that little girl I’d spotted by Sula’s; even that same impossible sense of familiarity struck me at my core. But then, it was so fleeting, and I wasn’t nearly close enough to either of them to be certain.

  Was it possible this was all in my head? Part of my anxiety? It had been a little while since I’d put my energy to use, after all. Maybe this was my panic attack’s way of coming back with vengeance?

  My shivering had mostly eased up by now, though the coldness of my freshly dampened clothes still chilled my skin. The steam from the tub was relaxing my muscles, clearing my nose.

  “Desmond,” I whispered.

  He was setting a towel on the other side of the tub when he stopped instantly to look back at me.

  “Do you know of any species with...violet eyes?”

  His brows furrowed, and I could tell my question was not what he’d been expecting. “Violet eyes?” he repeated, pausing for a moment in thought. “No.”

  I visibly relaxed at his response, though I wasn’t sure if I should be so relieved. If there wasn’t such a creature, then it was in my head—a revelation that didn’t do much to sooth me.

  “Why?” he asked suddenly, his attention fully peaked. “Did you see something?”

  I shook my head. “No.” My answer, though faint, was curt. Final.

  I didn’t need him knowing my mind was messing with me now, too. He knew more about me than I was comfortable with as it was. He took my response for what it was and walked over to the bathroom door before halting briefly.

  “For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, turning back to see me. “I may have sought you out because of what you are, and what it could do for me. But I stayed, because of who you are...and what you’ve already done to me.”

  The door clicked shut behind him, leaving his words to burn into me and my heart to forget its rhythm.

  The next morning, I slept in. Though I could hardly call it that, considering I hadn’t been able to sleep until just a few hours earlier. The violet eyes refused to leave my dreams undisturbed, and Desmond’s words did enough to consume me while awake.

  Could he be telling the truth?

  If he really did still intend on using me for the Opal, why admit it? Why risk the chance of me hating him and refusing to sync when he could just lie and stick to his smooth plan? I could vividly recall one of the first times we spoke: walking along the beach, when I’d asked how he knew I was the Opal. He had said that he didn’t at first. That he thought it was a stone and only figured it out after watching me closely.

  But...what I’ve already done to him? What did that even mean?

  A knock sounded at the door, making me jolt slightly from beneath the blankets. “Um. Yes?”

  “Breakfast is ready, if you’re hungry.”

  I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice, guilt washing over me. Here he was making me breakfast in spite of everything—with me, once again, being too quick to judge him.

  “Be right out,” I mumbled.

  I dressed first, opting for jeans and a top, then brushed my teeth and stared at my reflection. My brown waves were wild enough to make me cringe at the sight. It wouldn’t usually bother me so much, but today I grabbed my hairbrush and carefully smoothed it out.

  Desmond was standing before the tall windows with his back to me when I entered the living room. Whether he was keeping lookout or avoiding me, I didn’t know. I continued into the kitchen and took in the sight of pancakes topped with strawberries on a single plate at the bar counter.

  “Thank you,” I muttered, taking a seat. “But you really didn’t have to.”

  “I know,” he replied, his back still facing me.

  “Really,” I pressed softly, hoping he’d turn around. Just let me see your face. Give me some hint of what you’re thinking. “I can cook, and you don’t need to go out of your way for me.”

  He finally turned, but his expression gave nothing away. It was solid, guarded. Any trace of the humility
or tenderness he’d let me glimpse the previous day was gone.

  Without a response, he suddenly brushed past me and opened the front door. I watched through the kitchen window as he made his way down the porch, until I had to turn my head and look out the living room windows to see him. His back was facing me again when he stopped and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the wooden railing as he gazed into the late morning sea, whose shade of blue was deep enough to match his eyes.

  The rest of the day felt awkward and tense as both of us took measures to steer clear of each other despite the close proximity. I spent almost the entire afternoon in his library hoping to discover something new and useful, but once that disappointed me, I devoted the next several hours to enjoying the sea. My swim was long and exhausting, but in the best way possible. My body had missed being pushed to its limits, muscles working at full force until they were satisfied and sore.

  After my shower, I dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and wandered into the living room as I towel-dried my hair. Desmond was not in sight, and while the chill in my spine was still present, it had grown faint. I stepped outside on the front porch, hanging my towel over the railing and lightly scouring the darkening oceanside until I spotted taut muscles rippling between the untamed waves. I swallowed and turned away.

  I didn’t know why I was feeling this way today, not knowing what to say in his company anymore and being so weird around him. It was true that I’d been avoiding him, but I hardly knew why. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. I believed him, and everything he did only made it more obvious he wouldn’t hurt me or take advantage of who I was.

  When he appeared suddenly before me, his bare chest still dripping lightly as he slipped a shirt over it, I thought for sure my voice had disappeared. Because when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out, and I was left just standing there like an idiot. I cleared my throat. There it is.

  “Hi.” It wasn’t much, but I applauded myself for the effort nevertheless.

  “Were you looking for me?” he asked, his deep eyes searching mine.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t know you swam. Like, for pleasure.”

  His lips curved up, and my toes curled. I was afraid he was doing that thing again, where he saw exactly what I was feeling just by looking at me, so I glanced away and chewed on my lip to distract myself.

  “I’m going to go rinse off,” he finally said. “I’ll be inside if you need me.”

  He turned to leave, and my voice stopped him. “Desmond.”

  “Yes…?”

  “Um. What did you mean…what I’ve already done to you?”

  His eyes closed briefly before giving a small shake of his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was nothing.”

  I paused, trying to see past his guarded eyes. “Nothing?”

  His lips pressed together, and he turned his head away. “I’ll be inside,” he muttered.

  He was gone in a moment’s notice.

  My body felt strange when it leaned back against the railing, like it needed to be propped up, and I let out a breath I must have been holding. Was this really happening? Was I really feeling this way? I’d never felt it before, so I had nothing to compare it to. My palms were sweaty, and my heart was skipping beats, but the strangest thing was that I didn’t want it to end.

  I wanted to approach him again, though I didn’t know how. What would I even say? Uh, hey there. You make me feel funny. Yeah... Good plan, Charlie.

  Perhaps, for someone like me, the best thing to do was to not speak, not try to explain myself. I could try a different approach, right? One that could express myself better than my jumbled words could?

  I knew I wanted to see him. No...it was more than that. I wanted to feel him. For him to feel me. And I also knew I would back out entirely if I didn’t do it within the next few seconds; seize this rare moment of bravery—feeble as the feeling may have been, it was better than the crippling anxiety that, in the past, would have instantly taken hold.

  I took in a deep breath, forcing my suddenly stiff legs to move. I can be confident, I told myself. I can be fearless. Stop thinking and act. Without letting myself hesitate another moment, hand shaking, I turned the knob.

  He was pacing the living room when I stepped into the house, and he stopped at the sight of me. Slowly, I took a step toward him. And then another. He stayed frozen in place, acutely taking in my every move. When I finally reached him, I inspected his face. His guard had crumbled completely, allowing me to see straight into his darkening eyes—and they were inviting.

  “Charlie—” His voice was huskier than usual, not quite as controlled.

  “Don’t,” I breathed. Don’t try and talk me out of it now. His head might try to reason, but his eyes told me everything.

  When my fingers reached his hand, I took it into mine, lifting it to my face and tracing his fingers from my cheek to my lips. I was trying to tell him that it was okay, okay for him to touch me, to want to. Within a few moments, I wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He moved his own fingers now, letting them roam from my bottom lip up to my hair. I closed my eyes briefly, taking in each gentle stroke.

  His eyes were still inviting, but it was different now. The intensity, like they were all but burning.

  He stopped abruptly, withdrawing his hand from my hair, and I could see the silent fight behind his eyes. He turned sharply away from me, leaning over the countertop and grasping its ledge so forcefully I could hear it crack beneath his touch.

  “Charlie,” he whispered without facing me. Still, he gripped the counter, as though he himself might break if he let go. “Please. You don’t want this...”

  “I think I do,” I muttered as I inched closer to him, and I knew. At that moment, I knew it was exactly what I wanted. “I want you.”

  Maintaining his grasp of the counter, he turned his head over his shoulder to look at me. The yearning was still there.

  I had my answer.

  Forgetting everything else, I closed the gap between us and lifted myself to the tips of my toes. I could see the torn look in his eyes, but I touched my lips to his before he could stop it, before either of us could. The kiss was soft as I waited for him to respond, and when he did, I felt something shift in him. He finally let himself go. I’d never done this before, so I let him take the lead now—something he apparently didn’t take lightly.

  He turned his body and pulled me up against him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, curling both of my legs around his waist. The kiss quickly became uncontrolled, a desperation of fervor coming through every part of him. His hands tugged at my hair, and I surprised even myself when I heard a moan leave my lips.

  Suddenly he broke away from me, gently setting me down. He stared intently into my eyes.

  For a moment my stomach sank, and I thought he’d changed his mind. But, instead, he leaned forward and slowly, softly, pressed his smooth lips against my forehead...then my cheek, the curve of my jaw, and back to my lips. I closed my eyes, melting into his every touch. One strong hand caressed my neck, my hair, while the other rested lightly on the small of my waist, pulling me into him with subtle ease.

  Before I knew it, he was carefully wrapping his arms around me and lifting me off the ground. He carried me down the hall as though I weighed nothing at all, stopping only once we were back in my room. I felt the plush blankets catch me as he gently laid me down.

  Lowering his face to mine, Desmond closed his eyes and kissed me softly on the forehead.

  “Get some rest, Charlie,” he whispered.

  I was exhausted, but I didn’t want him to leave me. Not yet.

  “Don’t leave,” I said quietly. “Please.”

  He climbed into the bed and laid beside me, and I closed my eyes, resting my head on his chest. I let myself drift, relaxing into each gentle stroke of his fingers through my hair.

  Though it was getting calmer by the second, my heart still pounded. I couldn’t believe I had actually done it. But I was so glad I had.<
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  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: YOU’RE YOU

  A gentle thump sounded from down the hall as I jolted upward in the otherwise empty bed. Quietly exiting my room, I crept into the living room. I immediately stopped in my tracks, hardly able to comprehend the sight before me. Desmond was crouched on the ground with one foot holding down the corner of an enormous sheet of paper, his hands fumbling with the other end.

  “What’s this?” I asked curiously. Never before had I thought it possible for a vampire to look so uncoordinated.

  Pulling himself to his feet, he lifted the considerable creation onto the couch.

  “This,” he announced proudly, “is a kite. Your kite. I made it for you...is what I mean,” he stammered, briefly shifting his gaze toward his feet.

  I stepped closer, picking the item up in examination. He had taped four large sheets of paper together and bound them to two crossed sticks with thin pieces of string. It was indeed a kite.

  I looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and adoration. “You made me a kite.”

  Desmond rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “I know it’s not much, but I remembered what you said about that photo when you were a kid, and I just thought–”

  “You remembered,” I whispered.

  He leaned closer, stroking his thumb across my bottom lip. “I remember everything about you, Charlie.”

  I wanted to kiss him again. He was all but asking me to, and the gap between us was already slowly closing. But being brave like the other night didn’t come easily for me, and I could feel myself chickening out. I took an unsteady step back, my chest thumping when he wrapped a gentle, yet firm, hand behind my neck, and pulled me in completely. His lips pressed softly against mine and only lingered for a second, but it was enough to make my heart stop when I looked up at him.

  My legs were all but mush now, and the way he was looking at me only made me grow more flustered. My nerves quickly taking over, I snatched up the kite and raced—or, rather, stumbled—toward the door. Of course Desmond was there first and held it open, but he let me beat him to the bottom of the steps. He followed my lead toward the water, and I extended the kite to the sky. I frowned when it dwindled lifelessly to the ground.