by Nina Lane
“I’m going into the forest.” Jack’s voice was so low, Anne leaned forward to hear.
“What?”
“I’ll hunt for food. I’ll find something. Enough to last us through winter, I hope.”
Anne shook her head. “No one goes into the forest.”
The massive trees and thick foliage protected the village on three sides—or had until the cold invaded—but it was vast, dangerous, spreading over the foothills, the mountains, no one knew how far.
Generations ago, those who had tried to navigate or map the terrain never returned. Even the village dogs and cats didn’t go near the tree-line.
But for Anne, Jack would enter the forest.
I stop and leaf through the rest of the notebook. Flynn’s black-ink penmanship covers the recto side of the pages, the scrawl giving a sense of urgency. And on every reverse side, there’s a detailed sketch in colored pencil and ink. Anne, a young woman with my features, clad in an embroidered tunic and wool skirt, her eyes bright and inquisitive.
Jack, a dark-haired young man looking back over his shoulder, his hands fisted. A little brown sparrow in a forest. A black-cloaked man with a narrow, pale face and brilliant green eyes. A womanly figure rising from a nest of fire, multicolored wings outstretched.
I turn back to the beginning and continue reading, unwillingly captivated by the story.
When Jack fails to return from the forest, Anne summons her courage and goes after him. She searches for hours, befriending a helpful sparrow, before she’s captured by an evil sorcerer, Koldun, who cast the cold spell as punishment for her rejection. He is also holding Jack hostage, lashed to a tree with invisible bonds.
To free him, Anne must solve twelve mazes before the clock strikes twelve. She works her way through the complex puzzles—an undersea maze with walls made of bright, twisted coral and seashells. A star maze composed of bright constellations, a flower maze where thorned roses stick out at every turn. A maze constructed of ancient ruins, an Amazon jungle maze with vines slithering around every corner.
I envision the story as a finished book, each maze captured on the page with painstaking detail, the story sending the reader on the same journey as the heroine.
Though Anne solves every maze, the sorcerer fails to keep his promise. But Anne refuses to give up. She has a vision of a golden egg, and with Sparrow’s help she realizes she needs to break it.
Using a slingshot, she battles Koldun and finds the egg hidden deep in the forest. She fires a stone at the golden egg.
Koldun screamed in outrage. The egg shattered, releasing a foul-smelling black liquid. Gray smoke spiraled upward like snakes. The egg shrieked—a high-pitched noise that made Anne’s head spin. She grabbed another stone and launched it at Koldun.
It hit him square in the chest. His cloak began turning to smoke, his eyes dimming. Even as she watched him change, she was changing too. Her arms took the shape of wings, her body grew brilliant red-gold feathers, her eyes grew glassy and bead-like. A word appeared in her mind, whispered in a woman’s milk-smooth tones.
Fiamma. Flame.
She understood. The egg had contained the wizard’s dark soul, and the one to break it would destroy him and absorb his power. She rose into the air, flooded with strength.
She swooped toward the wizard, lashing out with her wings. Fire shot from the tips of her feathers, striking Koldun down. With every flash, he grew colorless and lifeless, his face twisted with agony. Finally he faded completely, sinking into the forest floor.
The firebird flew to Jack, sending shafts of light to break the invisible bonds lashing him to the tree. He fell. She caught him in her multicolored wings and carried him safely back to the ground. Her wings folded into a circle around them both.
Light shimmered. She became Anne again, and it was her arms embracing Jack, and his face pressed to her hair, and neither needed to speak. Though they had entered the impenetrable forest alone, they would walk out of it together.
By the time I close the notebook, my heart is pounding with both trepidation and a slowly brewing hope. I gaze at a drawing of the heroine in battle.
Is this how Flynn sees me? As a loyal, clever girl, a powerful woman, a creature strong enough to defeat evil?
The answer is here, in every stroke and line of his pencil. He saw me at the secrets wall and thought of a flame. A Firebird. His inspiration.
I pile everything back into the box and close the lid. Ghost pads over to me from the foyer, butting his head against my leg. I rest my hand on his back.
Somewhere deep inside me, in a corner of my soul I’ve forgotten about, a change is taking place. Maybe it started a long time ago. It feels scary and exhilarating, even painful. A seed breaking open, an oak tree shedding brittle leaves, a wound knitting into a scar.
It’s the realization that I wasn’t destroyed or defeated after all, not in the most secret part of my heart. No one ever had that kind of power over me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I arrive at the lighthouse just before eight on Monday morning, carrying the box of drawings and my usual work supplies. Flynn opens the door before I knock, his posture tense and guarded.
My heart tightens. He’s a mess. Dark shadows ring his eyes, his jaw is scruffier than usual, and deep grooves bracket his mouth. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, his hockey sweatshirt rumpled and fraying at the edges.
“May I come in?” I finally manage to ask.
He blinks, as if coming out of a trance. “Yeah, sure. I mean… of course. Come in.”
I pass him and set the box on the desk. He steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“It’s Monday. A workday.”
He scratches his head. “You… uh, you still want to work?”
“I want to finish cataloging the collection, yes.” I place my hand on the box. “I spent most of yesterday looking at your drawings. I read the story too.”
He looks away, regret clouding his features. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize anymore.”
“I should have told you.” His breath expels on a heavy sigh. “It didn’t even occur to me that you’d see similarities between my work and what that bastard did to you. I didn’t think you—”
“Flynn.” I hold up my hand. “Stop.”
He meets my gaze, still wary. Anxiety clenches me. I dig deep to find the courage that has been so stifled. It’s still there, pushing through the dirt like a little green shoot. Seeking light and air.
“For a long time…” My throat closes over. I swallow hard. “I didn’t think I would feel anything again except fear and shame. I was so devastated by everything that happened. So humiliated. I stopped talking to people, especially men. I hated knowing they’d seen the pictures of me, that they were probably imagining the things I’d done… everyone was…”
Flynn tightens his hands into fists. “Eve, you don’t have to—”
“Wait. Let me finish.” I take a breath and keep going. “When I moved here, I hoped it would finally be a new start. A smaller life, one in which my past could at least stay in the past. But I discovered quickly that my reputation had preceded me. And if you hadn’t come after me that day at the museum, I don’t know what I would have done.
“Working here and reconnecting with Uncle Max’s collection, finding an artist to study, running alongside the ocean, even learning how to repair things at the house… it’s all been more healing than I could have imagined. And you…”
Tears blur my vision. Flynn steps toward me, then stops as if he’s uncertain how I’ll react to his nearness.
“You gave me something else to think about and focus on. I spent so much time wondering about you. And even though you didn’t know it at first, you helped me… um, relearn how to like my body. To appreciate feeling attractive and desired again. Even you looking at me felt good because I knew you weren’t seeing the horrible pictures or specula
ting about what I’d done.”
“All I ever saw was you.” His voice is rough, like rusted metal, his gray eyes burning.
“I know.” I press a hand to my chest. My heart hammers against my palm. “It was just one of the reasons I trusted you even though I knew so little about you. That and knowing you’d been friends with Uncle Max. He could sense a black-hearted person a mile away. He’d never have befriended you if you’d been anything less than honorable.”
His expression hardens. He looks past me to the window. “I’m not honorable, Eve. I steal secrets. Keep them.”
“I think you do that because it feeds whatever is inside you. Whatever makes you create art. It’s why you stole my secret, isn’t it? Why you didn’t tell me who you really are, why you’re so guarded and protective of yourself. Your secrecy gives you freedom.”
“I wish it were that pretty.” He shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “It’s not. I’m a selfish coward who thinks it’s easier to hide than deal with the world. If people think I’m strange and even dangerous, they stay away.”
“I don’t want to stay away.”
He jerks his gaze back to me. Our eyes collide with sudden heat.
“You…” He swallows and rubs a hand over his hair. “You need to stay away, Eve. I’m not good.”
My insides clench. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No one who creates such beauty is anything less than extraordinary.”
A hoarse laugh breaks from him. “Right. I’m so extraordinary I used you without your consent, just like he did.”
Pain stabs me. “That’s what I thought at first, yes. But I’ve looked at every drawing, every sketch. I read your story of Fiamma. You didn’t manipulate and exploit me. You didn’t attack, ruin, or threaten me. You didn’t think I was worthless. A nobody. You saw me as a woman strong enough to defeat evil. As fire.”
“That’s not how I saw you.” His eyes glitter. “That’s how you are.”
The rich golden light encircles my heart again. I nudge the box in his direction.
“Take these back. I want you to have them again.”
“No.” He stills, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t give a damn about the book anymore.”
“I want you to write it.”
“After what I did to you?” He shakes his head. “No.”
“Flynn.” The courage inside me has broken through the dirt and is spiraling upward, spreading through my veins. I will give him everything he sees, everything he believes me to be. Everything I am. “I feel more for you than I’ve ever felt for anyone.”
His head jerks up, disbelief crashing over his face. I cross to where he’s standing and rest my trembling hand on his chest. His heart hammers against my palm. He stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“I’m not telling you because I expect you to say the same thing to me,” I say softly.
“Eve, I…” His voice cracks.
“I’m telling you because I haven’t felt something so powerfully good in a very long time. And you’re the reason for it. I want to be the loyal girl who braves the unknown forest, who solves mazes, who dares to look a villain in the eye even though her knees are shaking. I want to win battles and walk out of the darkness. I want to be the woman who will do all of that for love.”
A rapid pulse beats in the hollow of his throat. He lifts a hand and touches my hair.
“You’re killing me, Eve,” he mutters.
“You’re bringing me back to life.”
A groan breaks from him. As if he can’t do anything else, he slides his hand to the back of my neck and brings his mouth down on mine. My body goes up in flames, blood rushing straight to my core. I curl my hand into his shirt and open my mouth to let him inside. My confession opened a box inside me, freeing whatever inhibitions I might still have had.
He brings his hands to either side of my neck, tilting my head to just the right angle, and presses his lips to mine. For the first time in my life, with him, I know what it means to be kissed right to your soul, to feel a kiss in every inch of your body.
He urges my lips apart with his. Our tongues meet. My veins surge with light, like a million flickering fireflies. I slip my arms around his waist, pressing our bodies together, loving the sensation of his heat flowing through my skirt and blouse.
He murmurs something low in his throat, caressing the arch of my back and down to my hips. I nestle closer, rubbing my breasts against his chest. He unzips my skirt, letting it puddle onto the floor. I ease away only long enough to unfasten my blouse and push it off my shoulders. Flynn’s eyes darken as he rakes his gaze over my navy lace bra and panties.
He cups my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my hardening nipples. My pussy clenches with growing urgency. I lift my face to his again, desperate for more of his intoxicating kisses, and then he tucks his arm beneath my legs and lifts me against him. He takes a few strides to the sofa and lowers me onto it.
Bracing himself over me, he kisses me again and again. The weight of his body combined with the deliciousness of him fills me with light and pleasure. I run my hands over his back, delighting in the feel of his muscles beneath his shirt, and part my legs so he can settle between them. His erection presses against my thigh, the sensation eliciting a new wave of lust.
Tension rolls through his body. He unfastens my bra and drops it to the floor. A rumble of appreciation echoes in his throat as he presses his mouth against the swells of my breasts and rolls his tongue over my nipple. Heat fires through my body. I arch to rub against his erection.
“Touch me,” I whisper. “Please…”
He mumbles a response against my skin and slides his hand down my belly, into my panties. My body flames, a haze of lust descending over my mind.
“Ah, fuck, Eve…” His breath is hot against my neck. “I need you…”
I need you.
The words reverberate inside me, like a violin string plucked and vibrating.
He slides two fingers into my body and circles my clit with his thumb. Desperate need floods me, sweeping me into the pleasure of his heated kisses, his muscular body pressed against mine, his fingers stroking me. An explosion of heat and light bursts through me, wrenching a cry from my throat.
He pulls at my panties, tugging them down my legs and off. His hot gaze strokes my naked body like the most fervent of touches. He lowers his head, and then he’s kissing my breasts, trailing his lips down to my belly, his tongue circling my navel as his hands glide over the curves of my waist and hips.
I melt, closing my eyes. An ocean rolls and pitches inside me, whitecaps licking at my blood, riptides surging beneath my skin. I tangle one hand into his hair, brushing it back from his forehead as he moves to press kisses against my thighs, my hips, over my arms and shoulders. By the time he reaches my lips again, I’m tingling all over with fresh desire. I open my mouth under his for another slow, hot kiss.
“I want to touch you now,” I whisper, easing myself to a sitting position.
We adjust our bodies so he’s lying on the sofa, a vision of masculine beauty with his long body and tousled dark hair. I straddle his thighs and pull off both his sweatshirt and T-shirt. My heart races at the sight of him—the slopes of his hard pecs, the ridges of his abdomen, the trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.
His gray eyes lock to me as he watches me spread my hands over his chest, his muscles rippling with the force of his breath. Urgency sizzles my nerves. I run my finger down the line bisecting his pecs, trace the flat circles of his areolae, skim my palms over his hips and thighs. He’s so much more than anything even my vivid imagination could dream up.
My pussy throbs in response to the restrained tension of his powerful body beneath mine. I move back on his thighs to unfasten his jeans, releasing his thick, erect cock. I close my hand around his smooth shaft and run my fingers over the pulsing veins. My heart hammers.
With a groan, Flynn grasps
my wrist. “Can’t take much more.”
I slide back up the length of his body, pressing my fingers between my thighs, shivering as another explosion rocks my insides. He eases me onto my back again. Our bodies press together, his body heat warming me to the center of my being.
“I need you,” I gasp, sweat trickling between my breasts as he glides his fingers into me again. I arch toward him, aching. “Do you have a—”
He fumbles to get his wallet from his jeans and take out a condom. I roll it onto him before he moves between my legs to align our bodies. Anticipation unleashes inside me.
I grip his shoulders, weakening with lust as his thick erection slides into me. For an instant, he stills, his cock throbbing against my inner walls, sending pulses of stimulation into my blood. Our eyes meet, his glittering with heat and passion.
An emotion floods my heart, something I can’t name, but that feels like all the good and wonderful things in the world wrapped into one. Trust, power, hope. Happiness. Truth.
In that instant, Flynn lifts a hand to my face, cupping my cheek as if I’m precious to him. He presses his forehead to mine. Our breath puffs between us, our eyes linked by a bright silver thread.
“Okay?” he whispers.
“Oh, yes.”
He pulls back and eases forward again, filling me, stretching me.
“Flynn.” I slide my hands down his back, my whole body vibrating with pleasure. “You feel so good.”
He lowers his mouth to mine. Our lips crash together in a collision of urgency, our bodies tensing and flexing. He slips his hands beneath my thighs, opening me wider, and thrusts again and again. My world distills to the sound of our moans and gasps, the friction of our skin, the thrust of his cock driving us both toward bliss.
I come first, crying out his name and tightening my pussy around his shaft as quivers rock and spiral through me. His body tenses, pressure uncoiling as he increases his thrusts and drives into me with a deep, heavy groan.