by Sarah Noffke
She halted just in time to avoid colliding with Sebastian as he stepped out, blocking the space between two semis.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, his hands pressed into the pockets of his black jeans.
Zuma had been stupid. Careless. She flipped her head over her shoulder and gulped. She’d been an idiot. There, standing behind her, blocking the opening between the semis, was Gwendolyn. The girl, using her super speed, had blurred into the spot and now stood with her arms crossed in front of her tiny chest. Gwendolyn was smaller than Zuma. Not really a match. But the time and energy she took to fight the girl, to push her out of place, would give Sebastian the time he needed to put his hands on her. It had been their plan all along. Sebastian had been biding his time, waiting until Zuma was too reckless and went off on her own.
Zuma whipped back around to face Sebastian, only three feet in front of her. Gwendolyn at her back stood at the end of the semi, some forty feet away. She had seen the proud look in the girl’s eyes. It was no secret that the girl once named Power-Stopper despised Zuma. Her eyes were constantly narrowed at her and then they’d shift to Finley with pure adoration.
“So, you caught me,” Zuma said to Sebastian, her eyes on him, but actually studying the place under the trailers on either side of her. Were the spaces big enough for her to slide through easily before he touched her?
“It appears I have,” he said and pulled his long-fingered hands from his pockets. They hung by his side, like guns in holsters, ready to be whipped out and shot.
“What is your deal?” Zuma said, and it was obvious she was stalling, but Sebastian didn’t seem to mind as he trailed his cold eyes over her, not hiding their up and down path. “Why do you hate me? Why do you want me dead?”
He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I don’t hate you. Not at all. I want you,” he said and like his master there was a hiss to his words. Sebastian shrugged, almost looking remorseful. “Wished when I touched you it only paralyzed you, instead of giving you a cardiac arrest.”
“What?” Zuma said, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. Behind Sebastian she couldn’t make out much, only empty circus grounds and more trailers in the back.
“Well, then I could do what I want to you over and over again,” Sebastian said, and then there was the regretful shrug again. “But unfortunately once I touch you, you’ll die. Then you’ll grow cold. And cold bodies aren’t as much fun.”
Zuma thought she was going to hurl right then. Her hands hugged her stomach. Stalling wasn’t helping. Soon she’d have to charge at Gwendolyn or dive under the trailer. She had to do something. Try and escape somehow. She dared to turn sideways. This was to give her a way to scope her options, but she directed her voice to Gwendolyn. “And what, are you just going to watch? Are you a sicko too?”
Zuma’s combat sense told her Sebastian flinched on the other side of her. And Gwendolyn flexed with a new anger. Pissing them off was a part of the strategy. People didn’t react as fast when angry. What most didn’t know was that hostility fills a body with heat and cool bodies move faster. Zuma knew this though.
“I’m not a sicko,” Sebastian said and took a step forward. “I’m misunderstood.”
Zuma copied his step, backing up. “No, you misunderstand. I’ve read your thoughts and you are the grossest of humans and completely out of touch.” Then she flicked her eyes at Gwendolyn. “And you’re just as out of touch to think he would ever want you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gwendolyn said, her face flushing with both anger and embarrassment.
“Who? Who does she want?” Sebastian said, looking at Zuma. He looked a little amused, like this secret was of great interest to him. In truth, Sebastian’s only friend was Gwendolyn and he thought he knew her.
“Gwendolyn wants the guy standing behind you,” Zuma said and the words stole her breath, both due to fear and also exhilaration.
“I’m not turning around,” Sebastian said with a laugh. “Nice try though.”
“It’s better if you don’t,” said Finley, who had materialized like a bullet. Quick and then frozen, like he hit an invisible wall.
He’s standing too far away, Zuma thought. But he still stood there. His eyes were on Sebastian’s back, his fists clenched, making the veins in his arms bulge. Inside her head she felt Finley there, a presence she hadn’t felt for too long. It was like a fire on a cold night. His thoughts everywhere and then also nowhere in her mind. Intangible as smoke. You’re mine, Zuma. Think and know you’re mine, he said over the telepathic link.
Sebastian’s eyes widened in shock when he heard Finley’s voice. He shot forward, his poisonous hands reaching for Zuma. She didn’t race backward as he would have expected. Instead, she closed her eyes and thought something very real. I belong to Finley. And just before Sebastian closed the gap between them, Zuma was suddenly wrapped in something, but it was too much of a blur to catch. And then she was gone. Vanished. Sebastian turned, thinking she was behind him, as Finley had been. But the space was empty. No Finley. No Zuma. He turned back, only to find Gwendolyn standing in between the trailers, shaking her head, repulsion on her face.
“He got away with her,” she said.
“Why didn’t you stop him, Gwendolyn?” Sebastian said, realizing Finley had teleported Zuma away. “You could have stopped his power.”
“I know, but it happened too fast,” she said. And in truth, it had happened fast, the series of recent events, but not too fast for Gwendolyn. It had merely been that she’d been distracted at the sudden sight of Finley. He had that effect on her. Made her heart pause. Her pulse gallop.
***
Finley and Zuma appeared quite suddenly in his trailer, his arms firmly locked around Zuma. She had her head pressed to his chest, eyes closed. The last time she’d teleported with Finley, when they were in Knight’s compound, she’d almost thrown up all over him. It was a disgusting thought right then, because the last thing she wanted to do was be sick. The girl found that her arms were tight into her chest, having barely a second to register what was going to happen when Finley popped into her thoughts. He’d simply said in her head, You’re mine, Zuma. Think and know you’re mine. She knew instantly that this meant he was going to rescue her from Sebastian by way of teleporting. That’s what she had to do for him to teleport with her. He had to hold her and believe she was his to take. And she had to believe she belonged to him. It wasn’t a hard thought for her to think. It had been a forbidden one, but usually those kinds are the easiest to feel. The forbidden ones.
And Finley had rescued Zuma, who was seconds away from being Sebastian’s victim. But Finley had teleported in front of her, using his super speed he’d wrapped his arms around her, and then he’d teleported them both away. Sebastian had lunged for the girl and Finley nearly was touched by the outstretched hand. Nearly. But he was fast and every movement precise, as his father had taught him.
For a long minute Zuma didn’t open her eyes, although she knew they were safe in Finley’s trailer. It smelled of him, a warm smell. It felt like him, safe and comforting. She pulled in a long breath and with it the smell of Finley, his arms and body all around her. The girl knew that soon she’d have to open her eyes. To look up at the guy in front of her. Then he’d back up and push her away with his tortured gaze. And because she didn’t beg and couldn’t force him, she’d leave the trailer. He’d follow her, only to ensure she didn’t have another run-in with Sebastian, but he’d follow her as he always did, at a distance.
“Are you all right?” Finley said, his mouth close to her ear, his breath brushing her hair.
Zuma nodded, her head still down, her eyes still closed. And then as she’d been expecting, he pulled his arms off her. It was a fast movement, like she suddenly burned him with her skin. His arms had only been the device he’d used to transport her. Even though she wasn’t Ian she had read the future well, because as soon as she lifted her head and opened her eyes she saw him backing away,
giving her that look. The tortured one.
“God, Zuma!” he said, his tone punishing, his mouth tight. “What were you thinking?”
The sudden rush of adrenaline from her near death experience had left Zuma feeling zapped of energy now that she was safe and alone with Finley. “I don’t know,” she said and dropped her chin. She’d put up with so much since Knight had come to Vagabond Circus. Been strong for so long. Pretended not to feel the pain of losing Dave and Jasmine. But as Finley had suspected, her spirit was suffering. The girl of stone was being tarnished by the hot winds that Knight produced and the constant headaches. “I just…” She shook her head, feeling more haunted by the memory of Finley’s arms protectively around her than Sebastian’s recent threat. “Never mind. I’m sorry,” she said and turned her back to him.
Finley cleared his throat, but found he couldn’t speak. He hadn’t been alone with Zuma in a very long time. It felt like an indulgent pleasure right then, and that was the worst thing ever for a guy who didn’t allow himself to have such things. Again he cleared his throat and in a voice that wasn’t quite his he said, “Where were you going? I’ll take you there now.”
While Zuma’s back was still to him, he saw her shake her head. “No,” she said, and there were tears in her voice.
Is she crying? he worried. Was it because she’d almost died or because he was hurting her, as he had so much over the last few months? Hardly speaking to her. Leaving without acknowledging her. Pushing her away.
Zuma reached into her pocket and he noticed then she was shaking as she pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll have Ian come and get me,” she said, and her voice cracked then with what Finley knew for certain were tears.
“Stop.” The word jumped out of Finley’s mouth. He hadn’t even known he was going to say it. “I’ll take you to Ian.”
She shook her head again, this time more furiously, her whitish blonde hair swaying with the movement. Zuma’s hand was still shaking, Finley observed. He stepped until he was in front of her, a series of graceful movements. She had been crying, a tear hanging on the edge of her jaw. Finley made to reach for her but stopped himself. She had been broken so many times since he met her and he was responsible for all of it. With the back of her sleeve she pushed away the heavy tear that still clung to her skin.
“You’re safe now. I won’t let Sebastian hurt you,” Finley said.
Zuma didn’t bring her eyes up to Finley’s, although she wanted to. “He can’t hurt me. He can only kill me,” she said, and knew that was right. The death he delivered was probably quick and almost painless. And then her mouth opened and the rest of what she was thinking fell out. “The only one who really hurts me anymore is you.”
Slowly Finley’s eyes fell shut as his chin tensed. She was right and he had zero response. Even his father hadn’t punished Zuma with headaches in a while. She had been able to avoid him since Santa Barbara, spending all her time coordinating in the shadows.
Again Zuma brought the cell phone up, her hands shaking. She swiped through the phone, finding Ian’s number. Zuma knew what she’d just said was hurting Finley, since he was still frozen, his eyes closed, his chest tense. She turned from him to give him space. To give him the privacy to wear the hurt on his face. She pressed the phone to her head. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Zuma blew out a frustrated breath when it went to voice mail.
Ian had gotten the call. Knew what Zuma wanted. But he wasn’t going to help her. She needed to stay where she was.
“Damn it,” she said and ended the call, not leaving a message. Then Zuma found Titus’s number. Before she could call a hand reached over her shoulder, taking the phone from her. She froze. The girl didn’t turn to Finley to ask him why he’d taken her phone. She pulled in a steadying breath, trying to figure out what she should say now that they were locked in that tiny space alone. But before she could she felt the most unexpected thing. Arms belonging to Finley wrapped around her from behind. His arms slid over hers. His chest pressed into her back. And he didn’t stop until he was locked around her, his head pressed up next to hers.
“I’m sorry, Zuma,” he said. Those three words carried more meaning than anything he’d said all his life. They said he loved her. That he wanted her. That he pushed her away and that it hurt him. That not being able to be with her was his curse. And that he didn’t like it, but he didn’t know how to change it. And then he said what he knew he had to, to keep her safe. “But we can’t do this.”
Zuma laid her hand over his forearm, but didn’t hug into him. She wrapped her fingers around his arm and tugged, ever so gently, but still the intent was clear. The movement said, “Don’t.”
Defeated in almost every way that mattered, Finley dropped his arms and stepped back as Zuma turned to face him. For many months these two had left so much unsaid. All their words were sealed inside hearts they had almost forgotten were locked, keys lost. Zuma looked at Finley now, giving him a cautious stare. She slid another set of tears away, off her cheeks. Her expression shifted into one he couldn’t quite figure out. It was one of pain, but also something else. Emptiness, he thought.
“I can’t,” Zuma started, her words slow, painful. “I can’t keep reaching out for you. I’m not as strong as you are, Finley. And every time you pull me in tight and then push me away it tears at a part of my soul. Not having you is worse than my curse, because I’ve never known what happiness feels like. I don’t know what I’m missing. But with you, I’ve felt your love and not having it now is agony.”
Feeling a sudden weight from Zuma’s words, Finley pinned his hands behind his head trying to force oxygen into his lungs. He wanted to lean over to stop the pounding in his head. Finley would have left then but this was his trailer and he didn’t have anywhere else to go that felt safe. So instead he said, “What do you want me to do?” And it was a serious question that he really needed an answer to. He was forced to work side by side with the girl before him, to hold her in their acts. To carry her. To pretend they were in love and that they weren’t. He was forced to be with her constantly and forced himself hardly to look at her, afraid his father would be jealous of the devotion he felt for her. That his father would punish Zuma for owning his son’s attention.
“Finley, I almost died earlier. You pushing me away isn’t keeping me safe anymore. All you’re doing is punishing the both of us,” Zuma said. “And if you hadn’t shown up earlier and rescued me, then I would have died and all our months of depriving each other of each other would have been a waste.”
He brought his hands down off his head. Again he said, “What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t push me away. Not now. Not tomorrow. And no matter who is around.”
He looked at her like she was asking him to throw her off a cliff. “Zuma—”
“You asked, that’s what I want,” she said.
He closed his eyes and pictured this strange reality where they didn’t hide their affection for one another. Maybe they were discreet, but they didn’t hide it. They were prisoners at the circus, but they were free about their feelings. It felt like he was imagining living on another planet. Finley opened his eyes and looked at the girl before him, the one he hardly ever looked away from and hardly allowed himself to really study.
“Well?” she said, and her voice sounded so tired.
“Zuma, if I lose you—”
“Then at least you had me,” she said, and the most poetic smile laced itself on her pained face. And that expression simultaneously hurt Finley and made him feel that he could breathe again.
Come here, he said in her head as he extended his hand to her.
Zuma’s face shifted into a tentative look as her feet brought her to him. She didn’t take his hand, but rather slid her arms around his waist, tucking herself into him.
And this, to Finley, was proof that she owned him because that very action lifted a pain so searing out of him. Her arms. Her affection could heal him. And the absence of it had been killing him.
Literally putting a strain on his physical heart. Pushing his body to a dangerous capacity. Finley let out a long weighted sigh. He squeezed her into him before peeling back from her a few inches. Zuma’s face looked up at him, smileless, but seemingly satisfied. Finley was about to lean over and kiss her when she pulled her hand up and placed her finger to his lips, pausing him. “Finley, I love you.”
And he didn’t know until that moment that words had that kind of power. The power to transport. To make him feel like he was floating. To make him feel strong and weak at the same time. Finley leaned down and rested his forehead on Zuma’s. He had said those words to her. Maybe too many times. But to hear them… Only an inch away, she smiled at him. A nervous one. It was in response to the strange, almost cynical look that had just touched Finley’s face.
“Do you mean that?” he said, his tone even.
“Of course I do,” she said, pulling back from him, jumping into defensive mode. “I have never said that to a guy. Never felt it for anyone like this.” Her emotions were all over the place. The beautiful, healing moment now felt strangled by him questioning her love. She backed up another step, growing with frustration. But Finley was already pulling her back from where she retreated. His skeptical expression was replaced by an endearing one.
“Shhh, don’t be mad at my question, Zuma,” he said, both hands gently resting on either side of her neck holding her face, directing it at him. “I’ve just never been told that. By anyone.”
She blinked back a wallop of tears that shot through her being trying to escape. His words assaulted her insides. “No?” she said in disbelief and wanted to take it back instantly.
Finley simply nodded.
Zuma slid in close to him and angled her mouth next to his ear, standing up on her tiptoes. “I love you, Finley. I love you. I love you. I love you,” she said over and over and over, feeling his chest rise and fall rapidly against hers. His hands were now around her back, her arms around his neck. The two pulling each closer, trying to crawl into the other person. Finley slipped back enough to find Zuma’s mouth and kissed her, a gracious affection in his every move. He pulled her up until her feet came off the ground and she laughed against his mouth, a freeing feeling taking over them both.