Singing Fire

by T. L. Martin

  “So I guess I’m supposed to wait for a good breeze?” I asked.

  “Actually,” he replied, inching toward me, “I was thinking we might try it my way.”

  Immediately scooping me up into his arms, I squealed as he set off across the sand, gliding so gracefully and at such an unbelievable pace that I may as well have been flying. The scenery around us blurred together in seas of blues and greens, and the only stable focal point was the perfection of his face. I threw my head back against his shoulder and shouted in exhilaration, never having felt such a rush in my entire life. Releasing the kite but for the bottom end of its string, I watched, completely entranced, as it soared magnificently above our heads.

  “I’m flying a kite!” I shouted mid-laugh, above the noise from the wind.

  His smile, wholehearted and unrestrained, reminded me of the boy I’d seen in his old photograph. I leaned into him, snuggling my head into the curve of his neck.

  He slowed to a smooth, relaxed stroll as we returned to his house and lowered me onto a thin, white sheet beneath the porch. Dropping the kite to the ground, I scanned the spread in awe, taking in the intricately displayed baskets of strawberries, blueberries, bananas, and muffins, with a miniature chocolate fondue fountain in the center.

  “Oh, my gosh,” I whispered.

  Setting himself across from me, his eyes studied mine. “Picnic. The second thing on your list of ‘nevers’.”

  Slowly, I nodded my head. “Yes. I know.” So much had happened since I’d even mentioned any of that, I hardly remembered it myself.

  We were quiet for a moment while I picked at the berries, and I hated that the brief silence was enough to invite Tempest’s shudder inducing threats to return to my thoughts.

  “Why don’t I just sync with you?” I asked suddenly.

  “With me,” he repeated, as though it was a trick question.

  “I’m serious.” I lowered my voice, leaning closer. “I know I can trust you, so why not make you—and Matt, Quinn, and Pixie, for that matter—as strong as you could be? Able to protect not only me but also yourselves from anyone who might want to hurt you?”

  He paused, looking down, and I didn’t understand why he wasn’t jumping up at the idea. I knew it wasn’t what he was after, but that just made me all the more willing to give it to him.

  “It’s not that simple,” he finally muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “For one, I’m guessing Priscilla told you what syncing does to its subject? Bringing out their basic nature?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Sure.”

  “Their darkest side?”

  I hesitated, realizing what he was getting at. But if there was one thing I knew better than Desmond, it was his true nature. “Or their best,” I reminded him.

  He looked down again, shaking his head gently. “It’s not something I could risk. Not anymore.”

  “Look, Desmond. There are a lot of things I worry about. And I mean, a lot. But you? You’re not one of them. I know that now.”

  He glanced back at me. I could see from the distraught look in his eyes and the tension in his pressed lips that he wanted to argue. But, for whatever reason, he held his tongue and moved past it. “That’s not the only issue.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not skilled in magic—far from it. But I know it’s based on balance. Balance between the keeper: you, and the source, which is nature and its spirits. If you do anything to disrupt that or abuse the trust you’ve been given...well, everything comes with a price.”

  “What price?”

  This time it was his turn to shrug, a gesture that looked remarkably human on him. “I don’t know. But I don’t intend on you finding out, either.”

  I wanted to ask more, but he looked away, returning his focus to the picnic between us. It was gorgeous, and clearly a lot of thought had been put into this moment. I didn’t want to spoil it further. I forced myself to drop it for now, and instead grabbed a blueberry and popped it into my mouth.

  He picked a strawberry from the basket, dipping it into the melted chocolate and holding it up to my lips. I leaned forward, about to take a bite, when he moved it out of reach and smeared a streak of chocolate across my cheek instead.

  “Number one,” he muttered with a crooked grin. “Food fight.”

  Dropping my jaw, I narrowed my eyes at him in challenge. “Oh, you’re on.”

  Plucking up a handful of blueberries, I chucked everything I had at him. Though he easily could have ducked, he let me have it—but not without retrieving the entire basket and pouring the remaining blueberries over my head. Our hands began a hurried race for the fruits, grabbing what we could and covering each other in it as quickly as possible before moving on to the next. I yelped when he smeared a chunky crushed banana over my arm. The chocolate fondue was nearest to me, and I cupped the warm sauce into my hand, eying him warningly before lunging myself at him and splattering it all over his body.

  We were both laughing when he hit the ground, my body pressed on top of his as I assessed the aftermath. Even covered in a coat of fruit and chocolate fondue, the man was irresistibly, tantalizingly, attractive.

  Too attractive, bringing forth images in my mind I didn’t know I was capable of thinking up. I chewed my lip, about to shake the thrilling yet terrifying thoughts away, when I stopped myself. I didn’t have to be afraid...not with with him. No, I was exactly where I wanted to be, with just the person I wanted to be with. So why not let myself go again? Act on my impulses? I’d let my nerves and anxiety hold me back from too much in my life. Almost everything, in fact.

  Not anymore. Not here, with him.

  Without taking my eyes off of him, I dipped my hand into the chocolate once more, taking my time as I drizzled it smoothly over his neck and chest, lifting his shirt to get to his skin. His lips parted as he watched me, his eyes traveling along my face almost hungrily.

  “Charlie.” His low voice faltered when he spoke my name.

  I touched my index finger to his lips. “Shh.”

  Leaning down, I took my time licking the decadent chocolate from his neck, my pulse racing as I lowered my mouth to his chest, his stomach. He moaned against the strokes of my tongue, and the sound was riveting.

  I could hardly believe I was doing it, acting on what was stirring in my head. The feeling was entirely freeing.

  I found my way back to his lips. Grabbing my neck with his hand, he flipped us over, so I was the one on my back, and his muscles were pressed solidly against each and every curve of mine. His tongue was fervent as it entangled mine, and his hands roamed every inch of my skin. He had utter control over me, and it was intoxicating. His strength overwhelmed me in the best way possible as he explored my body with his, and when his hands gripped mine and forced them above my head, I had to bite my tongue to keep from letting out another embarrassing moan. Muscles rippled beneath his skin as his body trembled against mine. I felt his lips wander back to my neck and linger. They pressed firm against my throat. Then a little harder.

  He suddenly tore himself from me, using his forearms to keep his body hovering above mine.

  Eventually sitting up, he ran a hand through his particularly tousled hair.

  “What is it?” I asked, trying to level my breathing.

  “You saw me just now,” he groaned disgustedly, clenching his jaw. “I was too close.” His expression was somber when he looked back at me, his voice pained. “I couldn’t live with myself if I...if anything...”

  Pulling myself up to sit beside him, I leaned in. I tilted my head to one side and revealed my neck. “Go ahead.”

  “What?”

  “Bite me.”

  Something darkened in his eyes. “Charlie...”

  He lowered his gaze to my neck.

  “Go on.”

  “Enough.” Snapping his head away, his voice came out in a low growl. “Why would you do such a reckless thing?”

  I finally pulled away. “You can’t
do it. Can you?”

  He said nothing.

  “Is it still reckless if I know you won’t hurt me?”

  The anguish remained on his face when he looked away. The inner fight he kept bottled up was tormenting him every second. I couldn’t pretend to know what this was like for him. Sliding my hand in his, I waited until he glanced back at me.

  “Okay,” I said in a whisper, “...it’s okay.”

  The smoldering look in his eyes had me wondering if he was having second thoughts, but he closed them briefly. He was already scooping me into his arms again when he’d opened them back up, and we traveled steadily up the stairs.

  “There is something else I had planned,” he said, setting me down in the living room. “Will you excuse me?”

  He set off toward the hallway closet, returning with a large poster-sized sheet of paper that he then flattened over the living room floor. There were four rows, each consisting of five large circles filled in with red, yellow, green, or blue marker. In his hand was a small squared sheet of paper with a pencil-drawn circle in the middle. The circle consisted of pie chart-like sections filled in with colors to match the poster, and an opened paperclip poking through its center served as the spinner.

  “How–when did you do this?” I asked incredulously.

  “I don’t sleep. Remember?” My stomach flip-flopped at the way his lips lifted slightly. “I had to do some research on this...Twister...but it was on your list so…time to cross another thing off.”

  He extended the spinner toward me, and I smiled, flicking the paperclip with a strawberry-stained finger and making my first spin. Right hand blue. Traces of rich chocolate and mashed up fruit were still tangled in our hair and sticking to our clothes, but he didn’t seem to care and neither did I. I followed the instructions before raising an expectant eyebrow at him.

  It took a minute for him to realize what I was implying, and once he did, he cocked a brow in return, as if to say: no way.

  “I don’t really...play...”

  “Please? It doesn’t really count if I play alone, does it?”

  He paused, and I knew I won.

  “Right,” he muttered, glancing from the spinner to the poster board hesitantly. “So. My turn.”

  He took a spin and watched as the paperclip landed on left foot yellow. He got lucky this time. We took turns flicking the spinner, back and forth, over and over again, until we were almost completely intertwined with one another. Flexibility was never a strong suit of mine, and the slippery chocolate sauce on my hands didn’t help. It was evident in the way I struggled to maintain my awkward, pretzel-like pose. Desmond, on the other hand, held his sideways pose with ease, eying me with amusement as he patiently awaited my inevitable defeat.

  I could almost laugh at how ill-fitted the whole thing looked, a vampire—especially this one—playing Twister. But I was too busy trying to make the butterflies in my stomach settle down.

  “I give up,” I gasped, collapsing onto the poster exhaustively. “You win.”

  He smirked ever so slightly and caught my fall with one arm. My breathing steadied as I rested against him with his fingers slowly, softly, running along the curves of my waist.

  Here, right under my nose, had been this impossibly perfect guy, yet I was too ignorant or judgmental to see it until now. How could I have been so blind? Even now, there was so much I did not know. So much left unsaid, left to learn. The one question most prominently on my mind, however, was one I doubted he would welcome. He made sure to keep it tightly locked away in the dark at all times. I inspected his face, and the way he keenly watched me. Perhaps now was the best chance I would get.

  “Desmond?” I asked softly.

  “Hmm?”

  “What happened to you...the night you were turned?”

  Instantly his body stiffened, and he closed his eyes briefly as though trying to repress an unpleasant memory.

  “I’m sorry,” I quickly said. “You don’t have to–”

  “Don’t apologize. You can ask me anything. Besides,” he muttered vaguely, “it was a long time ago.”

  I could tell it wasn’t easy for him, and I lightly pressed my lips to his shoulder.

  “Clementine,” he whispered, turning his head back toward me with a slight smile at the mention of the name. “Clementine Ottilie Stone was my sister’s name. She had only just turned thirteen and was intent on convincing me she was no longer a child.” His lips upturned further at the recollection before his eyes wandered into the distance. “She was stubborn though, and I couldn’t stand to say no to her. So I let her come collect firewood with me despite it being dark out, so long as she promised to stay close. I knew nothing back then.”

  Pausing, he closed his eyes once more. This time he held them tightly like that for a moment before continuing.

  “They appeared out of nowhere, the two men. Faster than I could fathom, stronger than I dreamed to compete with. They got to my sister first, hitting her hard enough to render her entirely unconscious. Then, they tied me to a tree and beat me. When they got bored, they went back to my sister. Undressing her completely before...” His voice, tormented with anguish, faded briefly, and his eyes were completely lost now. “Praying she wouldn’t yet wake up, I screamed, begged them to stop, offered anything...anything at all to make it stop. But that only made it worse. They were purely entertained by my reaction.”

  My throat had grown utterly dry as I listened, paralyzed by the ghastly nightmare and overwhelmed by the desire to take Desmond in my arms and comfort him.

  “Eventually, they tired of that, too, and fed off of her instead. Seeing how much it tortured me, they decided to turn me, thereby forcing me to live with the memory forever. But...turning someone is no small task. You need to drain their blood thoroughly, then they must feed off of vampire blood before finally being laid into the ground. By the time I woke from the transition, not only were they long gone, but Clementine was as well. It was far too late for me to turn her.”

  “Desmond,” I murmured. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  Sitting up, his expression hardened. His eyes got dark, and his voice became menacing.

  “I found them not long after,” he replied gingerly. “They got what they deserved. And I dedicated myself to hunting down others like them, vampire or otherwise. Demented creatures who get their kicks by tormenting and taking advantage of the innocent, the helpless.”

  I didn’t bother to wipe the tear which had escaped down my cheek. I sat myself up and watched him closely.

  Even in silence, the mixture of sorrow, pain, fury, and passion unwittingly poured out of him, running wildly through his very core and piercing straight into mine. I didn’t speak, for there were no words. Instead, I leaned in, resting my head on his shoulder and gently kissing him on the neck. Wrapping my arms around him, I gave a soft squeeze to let him know that it was okay. It was okay to feel pain and anger, to want revenge on something so twisted and cruel. And that I was here, if he wanted me.

  It took him a moment to respond, but eventually, piece by piece, his body relaxed. He returned my embrace, enveloping me within it, and I felt his chin rest on the top of my head. I didn’t know how long he held me like that, unyielding and all consuming, as though he could never let me go. But I did know I could stay just as we were, frozen in the rawness of that moment, forever.

  The rest of the day progressed far too quickly. We spent much of it strolling along the shore with our toes in the water or jumping from wave to wave. There was nothing like it, swimming with a vampire, and I imagined with envy the freedom he must feel in the water; not ever having to worry about holding his breath, his body never tiring from the motions, and being able to push against the current fast enough to generate incredible waves in his shadow. It was a majestic thing to watch, and even more magnificent to experience alongside him.

  Gripping tightly around his chest, he led me from the vibrant and loud, wind-driven surface, to the beautifully mysterious darknes
s, so furtively lurking in the depth of the ocean. There was no Opal to obsess over, no Tempest to fear, or magic to ponder—just us, him and me, with a breathtaking beach to ourselves.

  I had never felt so at peace in my life.

  The sky had darkened by the time we reluctantly left the sea behind, and I followed Desmond up the front steps. But he stopped me when we reached the door, holding up a hand in pause.

  “Wait here,” he said suddenly. “It’ll only be a moment. Please.”

  I furrowed my brows, wondering what he was up to. “Okay.”

  Waiting curiously on his porch, a crashing sound of objects colliding from within prompted me to make an attempt at peeking inside through the kitchen window. What could this otherwise exceptionally stealthy man possibly be doing to produce such noise? Alas, he’d already thought to close the curtains.

  A few moments later, Desmond was propping open the front door. Rather than invite me inside, he stepped onto the porch and faced me, lifting my right hand and cupping it within both of his.

  I could hardly hide my surprise as I took in the drastic change of both his clothes and demeanor—a look I had not yet seen on him. He wore a high-end, classic black suit, which was nothing short of stunning on his lean, sculpted build. For the first time, his midnight hair had actually been styled. Though still managing to be slightly unkempt, it had been casually constructed to utter perfection, in a manner that easily complemented his dazzling, deep blue eyes in an entirely new light.

  “Desmond,” I muttered suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of my hand before raising his eyes to meet mine.

  “Charlotte Eden,” he murmured. “Will you dance with me this evening?”

  I stood dumbfounded for a moment. “But this...this wasn’t on my list...”

  “No list,” he said softly, with a slight shake of his head. “No plan. I simply want to dance with you.”