Ignited

by Lily Cahill

  “Oh my God,” Henry said. He kneeled on the step before her, his hands running up the inside of her thighs. Ruth hooked her legs around his hips and pulled him tight against her. His lips attacked hers, his mouth open and hungry. She wanted to kiss him, but she also wanted to finish what she started. Their bodies were pressed together, and she could feel his cock hot and hard against her belly, his hips moving and seeking friction even as he kissed her.

  It wasn’t something she was able to dwell on for long. He pulled back and gave her a wicked smile before pressing a kiss right under her jaw, on her neck, in the middle of her chest, on her breast. Henry’s fingers slid under the band of her panties, and Ruth tilted her hips so he could pull them off. Then Henry gently pushed at her shoulders until she lay back on the carpeted hallway, her legs still spread wide on the stairs below.

  Henry lowered himself between her knees, his head dipping low. Ruth was finally getting used to the idea of Henry down there. He had done it several times in the last week, and every time it got better and better. It was strange, to think of someone’s mouth on her, but he seemed to enjoy it.

  And now, she thought she knew why. She had felt powerful and generous when she had taken him into her mouth. Next time, she vowed, she would give him the same kind of satisfaction he gave to her.

  Then his mouth was on her, and she stopped thinking.

  She could hear herself keening in pleasure, and she reveled in the sound. It was too much, too good—his tongue circling her sensitive nub again and again. His fingers migrated away from her side and began to pump in and out of her, and she felt herself getting closer and closer, the tide building inside of her—

  He pulled away, and Ruth outright moaned. She lifted her head off the carpet and looked down at him as he stood tall on his knees, sure that the betrayal was bright on her face.

  Still kneeling on the stairs below her, Henry moved up her body, stopping to suck on her nipples until they were peaked. She sat up and hauled him close by his shoulders, kissing him with everything she had.

  “You stopped too soon!” Ruth could hear the pout in her accusation, but she didn’t care. The too-tight, too-hot feeling was everywhere, and she needed that release.

  His hand disappeared, and she felt the tip of his cock nudge her entrance. She spread her knees and nodded as he pushed inside her.

  “Oh my God,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re so warm—are you?”

  Ruth could feel the fire beneath her skin, churning and burning, but it didn’t feel dangerous. She thought she maybe nodded, and then trailed her hands down his back, grasping him by the hips. She pulled him so he thrust and thrust until finally, everything inside of her was shattered and then put back together.

  Henry groaned above her, and then collapsed beside her on the landing a moment later. He kissed her shoulder; she could feel him smiling against her skin.

  “I’ll have you know,” he said. “This was not what I imagined our evening would be like.”

  She turned her head and caught his eye. “Well, I guess it’s good that I have better ideas, isn’t it?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Henry

  “Got an interesting visit from your mother last night,” Dr. Pinkerton said, too casually. He leaned into Henry’s office.

  Henry looked up from his paperwork. He only had fifteen more minutes until his next appointment, and he’d been trying to spend it productively. Thoughts of Ruth kept intercepting, but he needed to get everything done if he was going to go ring shopping after work.

  The thought made him want to grin like a fool. He just barely managed to hold himself together.

  “Did you?” he asked.

  Dr. Pinkerton closed the door to Henry’s office, shutting the pair of them inside. He sat down, and it seemed to cost him more effort than usual. He clutched at his arm, and then let it go with a sigh.

  “The way she tells it, you and Ruth stormed in, yelled at her, and left.”

  He hated talking about Louise with his grandfather. It didn’t give him any joy to talk about the flaws in Dr. Pinkerton’s only child, or to point out how they did not get along. It had always been easier to keep his mouth shut, let the conversation pass.

  Not anymore. He had a life to live, and it was with Ruth.

  “She invited us for dinner, and when we arrived, she insulted us, so we left.” Henry shrugged. “That’s all there is to it.”

  Dr. Pinkerton frowned thoughtfully. “She was very upset, Henry. I think if you went to visit her, talked it out, you two would finally be—”

  “Granddad.”

  His grandfather stopped talking.

  “I’m grateful for everything you’ve tried to do for me, and I know how important it is to you that Mom and I get along, but it’s just … never going to happen.” Saying the words was like chewing on concrete. But the more he spoke, the easier it became, and the lighter he felt. “She’s sorry for now, but imagine her at the wedding, or with a grandchild of her own, or ….” He sighed. “I’m done waiting for her to forgive me for something I didn’t do, and I’m done putting up with her for your sake.”

  The silence filled the air between them, thick and heavy, cluttered with years of words left unsaid.

  “I’m sorry,” Henry added, and he was. He had tried for as long as he could.

  “No, don’t be sorry.”

  Dr. Pinkerton smiled, a sad thing that only reached one corner of his mouth.

  “Henry, lad. I love my Louise very much, but I know she hasn’t been a good mother to you.” His face twisted. “I kept hoping that it would all come together one day, and the past would be forgotten, and we’d be the family I thought we could be. I’m sorry I held onto that dream too long, and that it hurt you.” He went quiet and shook his head. “The older you get, the more you realize how truly complicated love can be—how you can see someone do something you don’t approve of and still love them so much more than you knew was possible.”

  Henry took in his grandfather’s pale face, his grim, determined expression. “Thank you, Granddad. That means a lot to me.”

  “Before I forget, I have something for you.” Dr. Pinkerton rooted through his jacket pocket before he pulled out something Henry had never expected to see: a long delicate chain with a diamond ring hanging from it.

  The Porter ring.

  “She insisted I had to give it to you,” his grandfather said, holding it out to Henry.

  It looked beautiful, sparkling as it turned back and forth, back and forth. Henry watched it, mesmerized, but he did not take it.

  “You should give it back to her,” he said.

  Dr. Pinkerton frowned. “Henry, don’t let your pride—”

  “It’s not pride,” Henry cut in. “But she loves that ring. I don’t want to take it from her. Ruth and I will form our own traditions.”

  Even though he shook his head, his grandfather smiled. “I’m proud of you, Henry.”

  The words were so sincere, Henry felt them in his bones. “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you take off for the rest of the day? I’ll take your appointments. You go buy something nice for that girl of yours.”

  Part of Henry wanted to jump up and run for the door, but the more logical part kept him rooted in his seat. “I can’t leave you here by yourself. What if we get busy, or—”

  “You seem to forget that I worked forty years worth of shifts without you,” Dr. Pinkerton groused. He’d been saying all the opposite things just the other day, but this time, it worked in Henry’s favor. It was hard to turn down an afternoon of sunshine and Ruth.

  He shooed Henry out of the office and followed him toward the front door. “Get on out of here. Buy your ring, spend your time with your girl. Go on.”

  The warm weather and his grandfather’s reassurances swayed him, and he headed home, steadfastly ignoring the part of himself that insisted he ought to stay.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Ruth

  “Ouch!”<
br />
  Ruth stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking on the end of it. That was what she got for not using her thimble, she supposed.

  Sewing supplies sat in a circle around Ruth as she worked from the living room couch. Some of them, like the needles, she’d found around the house, others she’d bought at the general store or borrowed from June. Her shears sat next to her on the coffee table, the red fabric in a neat pile beside her. Her thimble was on the ground next to her bare feet, and she regretted not picking it up as soon as she’d dropped it.

  Hand-sewing had never been her greatest talent. She’d used an old sewing machine and dress form when she’d lived with her father, relics her mother had left behind when she disappeared. Neither of them had been especially good, but having spent all her spare time the past few days trying to sew by hand without a form, she now longed for them.

  The right seam was perfect, sitting like a dream, but the left wouldn’t lay flat no matter how carefully she stitched. The neckline finally looked nice, but it had taken several hours to do what would have taken minutes on her machine.

  It was enough to drive her mad, but she didn’t want to ask Henry for anything new. Firstly, a machine was too expensive, and secondly, he didn’t know she was working with the fabric he’d bought for her all those weeks before. She wanted it to be a surprise.

  Although if the left seam didn’t start cooperating, she was going to lose her temper and accidentally incinerate the whole project.

  Things were finally starting to come together. Ruth sang to herself, half-remembered songs that June had used to play all the time on her little record player. She hadn’t sung in ages, and her voice was rusty, but it felt good to do it again. It felt good to have a reason to sing at all.

  All she needed to do was fix the seam, attach the bodice to the skirt, and insert a zipper. Another day’s work, and Henry would come home to find her waiting in red chiffon. A little over the top and fancy, maybe, but there was nothing wrong with that, every now and again.

  The door opened. Ruth scrambled to put a pillow over her lap, hiding the worst of the evidence. The shears sat on the table, mocking her.

  “Ruth?” Henry called out.

  Ruth glanced toward the window—the sun was still high in the sky. It was early afternoon. “In here.”

  Henry appeared, smiling from across the room.

  “You’re home early.”

  He nodded, but stayed in place. Ruth hoped he didn’t move. The second she had to stand, the surprise would be over.

  “Granddad told me to take the afternoon. I thought we could go see a picture, get dinner. Have fun.”

  The way he grinned at her lit up his whole face, and she felt herself returning it without thought or hesitation. “I’ve never seen a film before,” she admitted.

  He blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. “Fairly sure the Millers are playing a movie about giant killer ants.” Henry waggled his eyebrows. “How does that sound?”

  “Ridiculous. Why don’t you go change? We can leave right away. I’m going to the mine tonight, and I don’t want to miss the meeting.”

  “You got it.” He winked, and Ruth breathed out a sigh of relief. She put her supplies in a pile under the couch. Henry would never look there.

  Them, the movie playing at the town’s single-screen theater, really had been about giant killer ants. Ruth had been pinned to her seat with terror. The pictures were large and moving and overwhelming, and she’d never been a fan of bugs to begin with. She was certain the film was going to give her nightmares.

  Henry was still laughing about her reaction even as they slid into one of the booths at the diner. The place was deserted, only three other tables filled. In the corner, Ruth spotted Meg Fields and Will Briggs. There were no other patrons in the tables surrounding them, the other two couples choosing the exact opposite side of the room. As Ruth passed by on Henry’s arm, they both smiled and nodded. She made sure to do the same, wondering if they, too, would be at the mine tonight.

  The waitress came by right away, dropping off menus with a smile. “I’ll be right back, you two. Think about what you’d like to drink.”

  She headed back toward the kitchen to pick up an order that had appeared in the window. As she passed Will, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me—”

  The waitress walked by like she hadn’t heard him.

  Ruth watched her pick up the plate and waltz over to one of the other tables, stopping to gab with the customers. As she came back around, Will tried again. “Sheila, could we get a menu?”

  Sheila stopped in front of Henry and Ruth instead, flashing all of her teeth. Suddenly, Ruth wasn’t very hungry.

  “What’ll it be?”

  “I think they were here first,” Henry said, motioning toward Will and Meg.

  Sheila didn’t even bother to turn around. “I don’t know who you mean. We don’t serve their kind here.”

  Ruth glanced back at the corner. She didn’t know Will and Meg, not really, but she knew they were like her, and that was enough. The Independents looked out for each other. Watching as they gathered their things to leave, Ruth was overcome with anger. Her fire raged inside of her, running hot below her skin.

  Henry’s fingers touched her arm, calming her, centering her. She flashed him a grateful look.

  “That was rude,” she muttered, trying to push all of her anger into her glare.

  Sheila pointed at Ruth with the tip of her pen. “Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of anti-demon hero? What are you doing sticking up for the likes of them?” She smirked a little. “Unless the rumors are true about you.”

  Ruth didn’t know which of the rumors this woman was referring to. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if everyone was saying she was fast, or if they thought her father had done something to her, or if they believed she had powers, or that she hated powers, or whatever it was that kept their mouths moving. The people who knew her, really knew her, knew differently.

  She stood abruptly, Henry did too. Sheila backed up, giving them space, a surprised look on her face.

  “Come on,” Henry said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They walked out hand-in-hand. Ruth looked to where Will and Meg were sitting, but they had already fled. She gnawed at her lip. She hoped she saw them that night, and she hoped she knew what to say.

  Sheila had enjoyed ignoring them. The powers weren’t inherently evil, but those kinds of reactions to them certainly were.

  The thought hit her like a lightning bolt, and Ruth stopped in her tracks. Her powers weren’t evil. She’d known it for awhile, but it still felt different to say it to herself, to fully acknowledge it: Her powers weren’t evil. In fact, they had done nothing but give her so much more than she could have ever imagined. She’d fallen in love with Henry because of them, and had become closer with June and Briar, and had met the Independents. She’d escaped her father’s abusive clutches.

  They were a gift, she realized.

  Her eyes flooded with grateful tears. She could hear Henry over her shoulder, asking her what was wrong, but Ruth stayed still, thinking of all that had changed for the better in her life in just a few weeks. For the first time in so long she couldn’t remember, she felt the overwhelming presence of God.

  Thank you, she said, silently. I’m so happy, and I’m so grateful. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  “Ruth? Ruth, what’s wrong?”

  She opened her eyes to see Henry hovering before her, his handsome face screwed up with worry, and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face, even as the tears pushed against the backs of her eyes.

  “Test whatever you want, but don’t take my powers from me.” She said. She held up her hand, let it emit a low flame. They watched it dance in her palm. “I love them.”

  When she looked up, Henry was soft and open, grinning. He kissed her once, briefly. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

  The flames extinguished, and Ruth went into his arms. As she breathed him
in, she thought again, Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  The trek to the mine felt short that evening. She was glad to walk alone, instead of with June and Ivan. Henry had offered to escort her, but she wanted the time alone to think.

  The moon was bright in the sky, and her spirits were unusually high. Even the troubling atmosphere in town made it difficult for Ruth to feel anything but buoyant. Her revelation that evening made her feel lighter, happier than she could remember feeling in her entire life.

  Her powers were a gift, and she would use them wisely.

  That didn’t mean everyone was feeling quite so cheerful, however. She thought of Will and Meg slinking out of the diner and felt a little guilty for her giddiness.

  She slipped between the slats into the mine, but it was a much different atmosphere she entered than it had been days earlier. There was already a large crowd gathered around the center of the room—both Briggs brothers stood near the front with Cora and Meg beside them. June, Ivan, Frank, and Evie were close by, with Matt, Blanche, and Teddy as well. Even Kent and Veronica looked worried. June nodded solemnly at her as she joined them.

  Her personal revelation had made it easy to momentarily forget that there was still so much prejudice and hatred floating around town. Her father was running whole meetings devoted to eradicating her “kind” from Independence Falls; people were refusing service to anyone rumored to have powers; and no one knew if it was a punishment from God or the Soviet Union or both.

  Clayton spoke first. “We need to figure out how to handle this.”

  No one asked what “this” was.

  “Maybe,” Frank started, stepping forward into the light of one of the barrels. “Maybe we just need to wait it out. People can’t act this way forever, can they? Once they realize we’re harmless—”

  Ivan interrupted. “We’re not harmless. At least, not all of us. The fight proved that, and nothing we’ve done since then has helped. We try to volunteer to clean up the town, we get turned away. We act as we always have, they think we’re suspicious. We change,” he motioned at Ruth, “and we’re possessed. There’s no easy avenue here.”