Resistance

by Allana Kephart

  I ease out of the back door as quietly as possible and take off running as soon as I clear the back stairs. The need to be free of the house for a little while takes over and I revel in the tepid night air that surrounds me. Here is a little relief, finally. The pounding of my feet on the ground and the steady thumping of my heart are the only noises in the night as I pass the gnarled old oak tree where I first saw Flint. When I hear a second set of footfalls coming up fast behind me, fear takes over for a moment and my mind goes blank. All I can think is that my brother is never going to forgive me for leaving the house without a guard. I make myself keep running and do as I’ve been trained to. On autopilot, I slow just a little and time my footfalls with my would-be attacker’s. I sidestep and reach for the dagger I keep sheathed on the inside of my thigh, and realize in horror that it isn’t there. Having spent the entire day in the house, I forgot my daggers and am completely unarmed. I never leave the house unarmed, ever. Not since I was twelve and my father gave me Gran’s old dagger for my birthday. Terror makes my heart stutter and I make myself turn around to see who is behind me. When I see Flint, of all people shadowing me, I let out a gasp of relief and move towards him without thinking.

  I fling myself at him and throw my arms around his middle, shaking with relief and adrenaline. I know I am incredibly lucky it’s Flint and not someone who is here to do me harm. I feel his hands close over my shoulders hard, not hurting but not gentle either, and I look into his face to see anger in every line and plane. All I want to do is hide my face in his chest and ask him to hold me. Apparently that is not to be. “Flint,” I begin, but he makes an angry noise in his throat and I shut up.

  His hands are like iron bands on my shoulders; holding me to him but keeping me from moving closer. “What happened to not leaving the house without a guard from now on?” he asks quietly, but I can tell by the set of his jaw that he is furious with me. “Why is it so hard for you to ask for help, Fi? Why do you not see that your brother would be devastated if something were to happen to you? How do you not see how important you are to him — to me?” His eyes are burning into mine and he seems to be just barely holding in the urge to shake me when I feel tears threaten.

  I open my mouth to offer an excuse for my actions and find I can’t argue with him. He’s right. I don’t think about what could happen if I wasn’t here. I know better, and still I act without consideration. When did I become so selfish? “You’re right,” I say. “I know you’re right. I’m sorry.” I blink the tears out of my eyes and plunge on, determined to confess everything. “I’ve never been so happy to see you. I need to tell you something…” I trail off and take a breath to steady myself. I glance up to see a calm watchfulness in his face, and I can tell he’s waiting for more bad news.

  He sighs, releases my shoulders and nods. “Go on, love — I’m listening.”

  I take a shaky breath and gather my courage. “I don’t know how to say this really,” I start; wondering how to even tell him all of it. He moves to lean against the tree where we met, crosses his arms and looks as though he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You might not realize,” I start again, and feel color flood my face. That’s not how I should have begun. I try again. “I’m just so tired of pretending…” Oh God, that sounds terrible, like I don’t want him around! I shake my head at my own idiocy. “I never stopped to think about how I felt before.” Flint looks defensive and confused at the same time now, and is looking at me like I may have lost my mind. I have no romantic know-how; it’s official. I look at him, see the confusion and tension etched on his face and feel worse, and then practically shout, “Oh God, I’m doing this ALL WRONG!”

  He stares at me like I’m insane and almost looks nervous, but shakes his head at me. “Alright — what are you trying to tell me, Fi?”

  “I'm trying to tell you — my feelings...and...I love you!" Oh my goodness. Did I really just blurt it out like that?

  “What?” Flint looks like I’ve hit him over the head with something. Oh, this is not going as I’d hoped it would at all! I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.

  I throw my hands up in the air, completely exasperated. "I'm in love with you!” I shout, and then start babbling. “And I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I just thought you…I mean…”

  He’s suddenly in front of me again; his hands cupping my face, thumbs stroking my skin. “Shut up, Fi,” he says softly, shocking me into silence. He tilts my head back so he can look into my eyes as he says, “I love you, too.” And then his mouth is on mine and all other thoughts flee my mind.

  There is nothing tentative about this kiss; it is all heat and passion and need. Every feeling I’ve been denying now rushes to the surface and demands to be exposed. Our mouths are open and our tongues tangle together as his hands move down my body to grab my hips and pull me closer to him. I loop my arms around his neck and stand on my toes, causing him to take a step backwards, bringing me with him. In a few more steps he has me backed up against the old oak tree, and I feel his rangy figure press against mine; effectively trapping me between his body and the tree.

  Under normal circumstances I don’t like being crowded, however I am finding being sandwiched between Flint’s warm body and the rough tree bark a wholly pleasurable experience. As long as he keeps kissing me like this, the world could fall down around us and I probably wouldn’t notice. I finally see why girls agree to marriage. This perfect melding of tongues and lips is what makes girls commit to a lifetime bound to another person. It doesn’t seem so silly now.

  His mouth moves to my ear, nips the lobe gently with his teeth and then rasps, “We should get back.” I moan with a longing I’ve never felt before; arching into him and snagging his mouth again with my own after he takes in a ragged breath. As far as I’m concerned, we can stay here leaning against this tree wrapped up in each other forever. He humors me for a few more moments, but when my hands snake under the back of his shirt to touch his bare skin, he groans and takes my wrists in his hands; putting them between our bodies and taking a step away from me.

  “Why are you all the way over there?” I ask, feeling almost drunk from his touch.

  He smirks at me and says, “I think we should head somewhere a little more private, love.”

  I feel color rise in my chest and cheeks and shake my head; trying to clear the fog his kisses have brought on and manage, “That would probably be best.” He keeps hold of one of my hands and takes a step back towards the path, tugging me along behind him.

  “I think so…unless you wanted to put on a show for the guards, that is,” he says, and I smack his arm.

  “Ass,” I say, trying not to smile, and he laughs as he tows me closer and kisses me quickly on the lips. I can’t keep the happy grin off my face as we walk home hand in hand.

  Chapter 23—Flint

  August 2102

  It is still dark and shadowy in the depths of the bedroom, and once again a squirming Fianna under my arm is waking me up before the sun has come over the horizon. She would have a much better chance of leaving me sleeping if she just got up and didn’t try to not disrupt me. I hear her growl in frustration and she deflates against the bed; trying very diligently to tug herself away from me. I bite my tongue to keep in a chuckle and wrap my arm more securely around her stomach; pulling her firmly against my chest. She gasps in surprise and goes stiff, and the cheek I can see is a deep red in nanoseconds.

  “And just where do you think you’re going?” I ask against her ear. My voice is raspy with sleep and I almost clear my throat, but I refrain when I feel her shiver at the tone.

  “Uhh,” she says, and I feel her head shake as she hisses at herself. “I was just going for my run,” she manages slowly, and rolls onto her back. I shift and prop my head on my hand so I can see her better. Her face is flushed and her lips are parted as she looks up at me, and part of me longs to lean down and take them in a kiss. The pale pink camisole she wore to bed is now bunched up above her bell
y button, and the waist of her boxer shorts has slid down in all her maneuvering to get out of bed undetected. I drag my eyes back to hers and rest my hand on her ribs, trying to get blood to return to my brain.

  “We really need to talk about this ‘early riser’ thing you do,” I tell her teasingly; trailing my hand down from her ribs to rest on the exposed skin of her hip. “You’re missing out on the inner peace that comes along with sleeping past, oh…five a.m.”

  Her face is still flushed and the skin under my fingers is rough with goose bumps, but she tries to reply to me anyhow. “I’ve done it before—” Her voice breaks and she flushes deeper and coughs; covering her mouth with her hand as she attempts to clear her throat and sound semi-human. I don’t hold back my chuckle, which only makes her blush harder.

  “I really should be going, now,” she says suddenly. She tries to sit up, but I stop her again and she glares up at me. If she really wanted to leave I would let her, and she knows that. I’m being annoying at this point.

  “I think we should take a walk, instead,” I suggest, not ready to be without her yet, and tug the hem of her camisole between my fingers. I look down for a minute, watching her stomach jump under the brush of my knuckles, and when I try to meet her eyes again she’s staring at my mouth. I smile down at her and her green eyes lock on mine. “Huh?”

  I laugh a little and press a chaste kiss to the corner of her lips. “I said you should go on a walk with me,” I tell her. “I can show you those weak points we were going to investigate, you know…a few months ago.”

  It takes a minute to process what I’ve said, but understanding dawns on her eventually and she nods mutely. My cheeks are sore and I realize I’m still smiling, but I can’t seem to wipe it off my face. “I guess I’ll go put pants on then,” I offer and she nods again with a smile, but still doesn’t talk. I’m not sure she can. I find that a bit too exciting.

  I kiss her cheek and finally release her shirt. Reluctantly rolling out of bed and slipping to the next room over, even though I’d much rather lie in bed and lock my mouth onto hers until the sun comes up…tomorrow morning…I yank open the dresser drawer and find something clean to wear.

  I’m just pulling a new shirt over my head when Fi pops her head in the room, bringing the scent of lavender with her. She’s changed into a black tee shirt and a pair of cut-off jean shorts and her hair is down, hanging in loose waves past the small of her back. She offers me a shy smile as she’s beating a brush through it. There are three hair ties around her wrist. “Hey.”

  “Hi there,” I reply, taking a few steps forward, my hands itching to touch her. I extend a hand and push some of her thick hair behind her ear, admiring how the dark locks frame her ivory features. “You should wear your hair down more often.”

  She blushes so hard this time her freckles almost completely disappear. She has a choke hold on the handle of the brush when she says, “I dunno…Eirnin always used to yank on it when he was little, and my mom told me I had to keep it tied back if I didn’t want it cut and—” She shakes her head and looks like she wants to kick herself. “It became a habit to pull it back.”

  I hum in response and smile at her. “You’re beautiful either way.”

  You’d think I just said the most sexually inappropriate thing ever by the look on her face. A smile comes over her features and she looks at her feet, and again I’m taken over by the urge to bring her back to the bed and not move for a few years. Her emerald eyes rise to mine and I take a step closer to her automatically.

  “Let’s go,” she says finally, sounding a little breathless. She rests the brush on my nightstand and leaves her hair as is. I hope that has something to do with what I just said. Once we’re outside, she gestures me forward to lead the way. I take her on her usual runway and end up ducking into a path only taken by a few guards.

  After a few minutes of silence, I start talking. I tell her how I got in at Sean’s post a few days before her parents left. She doesn’t ask me why it took so long to approach, and I’m thankful. I don’t have any other answer besides the fact that her mass amount of deadly weapons scared the crap out of me.

  We are right on the boundary when we find a small pile of slush and broken ice. Considering the time of year and the sun glaring down on us, I can’t imagine it’s a natural patch. There is a portion of grass that looks overly damp and squished down, and when I look at the tree it’s next to there is frostbite on the bark; making the rich oak look old and decayed. “I guess this is where Quincy got in,” I say, mostly to myself. I look to Fi and she’s gaping at the snow, shocked it could still possibly stand with the sun coming down so hot. “Lumi could blanket the entire city in ice and it wouldn’t melt unless she wanted it to,” I explain. She nods, staring at the sick reminder of that evening and I take a few steps backwards, not wanting her dwelling on that ordeal. “Let’s keep going. I’ll show you where I got in.”

  She follows after me but doesn’t say anything. It’s a silence I feel the urge to fill, but before I can come up with something to say, I feel her fingertips brush the side of my wrist. I glance over and see she’s looking at our hands so intently she doesn’t even notice my eyes on her. Spreading my fingers and extending my arm closer to her, I see her lips curl up into a smile and she tangles her fingers with mine. I feel myself grinning and look away before she realizes I was watching her.

  “There,” I say when we reach the edge of the compound. Rotting buildings of what once was New York are mere meters away, and I can still see the scorches I left along the premises when I first arrived to keep note of which guard fell asleep or wandered off the most. “A lot of the buildings in that direction are decayed enough that Fae can linger without much trouble.”

  “Seriously?” she asks; craning her neck as if she could see what I’m talking about from here. She shakes her head and scowls. “Sean is out here all the time. He should have told me — he should have been patrolling away from the tree line.”

  “Now, love,” I say, sarcasm thickening my voice. “Give him a break. I’m sure he was very busy napping and simply couldn’t find the time.”

  She snorts a little and scowls when she concludes my joke is probably closer to fact than anyone would like it to be. Before she can say anything, though, I point up into the tops of the trees. “I lived up there most of the time when I first showed up.”

  She gives me a strange look, unable to stop herself from asking. “Why?”

  “Well I thought you’d pull a knife on me if I just showed up in your path,” I tell her. “Guess what? I was right.”

  I expected her to blush and apologize, even though she was completely in the right, but instead she throws her head back and bursts out laughing. I always prefer this reaction and find myself trying not to echo her.

  “The hell is that?”

  It’s barely a hiss, and Fi didn’t hear it over her own hysterics. I, on the other hand, turn to see where the voice came from. Sean is standing there at his usual post, but he’s not alone. A tall blond man with cold eyes and the body of a wrestler is standing in front of him, and when he meets my eyes I’m greeted with a furious scowl. He looks like he’s going to say something to Sean, who looks horrified, but then his eyes land on Fi. The look on his face suggests a history I probably shouldn’t know about, and just before he turns on his heel and rushes away at top speed, I yell, “Hey!”

  Fi finally composes herself and looks over, but she doesn’t see where the other man went. Still holding onto my hand, she stays hooked to my side as we move in on Sean’s area.

  “What are you up to, now, Sean?” I snap. “Selling secrets to the Summer or Winter Courts this evening? Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “Oh, fuck off—” he begins, but then he sees how Fi and my hands are intertwined and his face flames near purple. “You really don’t have any loyalty left, do you, Fianna?” He is screaming suddenly, and the shock of his sudden change in demeanor has both of us pausing. He reaches forward suddenly and c
lamps his hand around Fi’s upper arm; her skin paling beneath it with the force. “What in the hell are you doing with him?”

  Fi gawks at him in shock that he’d lay a hand on her. She opens her mouth to reply, but is cut off when Sean lets out a pained cry. He scrambles back, gripping his wrist and staring down in panic at his hand. Fi gasps when she sees the skin of his palm, red and angry with blisters as if it’s been set aflame from the inside (which it has), and looks down at her own arm, finding no injuries.

  When it finally dawns on him that the only possible way that could happen is that he’s royally pissed off the faery with a fire affinity, Sean looks up and sneers at me through the pain. “You fucking bastard—”

  “No one,” I say lowly through my teeth; rage boiling over inside me and not really giving a damn about what he was about to say, “puts a hand on her like that. I don’t care if you’re her family or not.”

  “It’s none of your business what I do with her, faery!” he shouts, still holding his shaking wrist. I can tell by the look on his face he’s trying really hard not to scream, and I let the fire burn out, mostly so he’ll get out his bitching and get out of my sight sooner. “Who do you think you fucking are?” He grits out.

  “Someone who cares about her, that’s who I think I am,” I snap. I’m seeing red and can’t seem to separate my teeth, but I grind on. “You really should go have that checked out before you say something stupid and piss me off again.”

  For a minute I think he’s going to test me, and there’s a part deep down in my head that hopes he will. For grabbing Fi like that, it would make my day to turn him into a pile of lumpy ash. But he bites his lip and scowls at his cousin before storming off in the other direction, towards Ruth’s place to get his hand cleaned up.