Firelight (23 page)

“Tell me now,” he urges, the glitter in his eyes desperate and hungry for the truth. “I want to know everything about you.”

He already knows. At least the biggest secret of all. And while logically I know I should keep as much as I can to myself—for the sake of my pride, my species—I can’t. Not anymore.

Not with him. I can hold nothing back. Not with the boy who protected me countless times. In the mountains. In his house. Even that day at school. If he wanted to harm me, he would have done so long ago. If he wanted to hurt me, he would not look at me the way he does. He couldn’t fake that. I don’t want anything coming between us again. It’s time for the truth.

“My mother, Tamra…they’re not like me. Not…draki.”

He looks at me, confused as he takes my other hand in his. I plunge in, explain the pride to him, how we live, manifest and demanifest. How our evolution has provided us with the greatest means of protection—allowing us to shift into human form. “You see, it’s impossible to maintain human form while we’re afraid and threatened. It’s a defense mechanism of our species…to revert back to our true form where we’re stronger and can use our talents. That’s why I started to manifest in the bathroom when Brooklyn and her crew jumped me.”

We’re quiet for a few moments, then Will asks, “You mentioned talents. What’s yours?”

I look away. “You might have noticed mine already.”

This is the hard part. It shouldn’t be. He already knows I’m draki, after all, but this takes it to another level. I’m not just a draki. I’m a draki that’s freakish even among my own kind.

Drawing a deep breath, I face him. “I’m a fire-breather.”

He looks confused, and I yearn to smooth the wrinkle from his forehead.

“There’s no such thing. Not anymore,” he says. “There are no reports of any fire-breathing—”

“Guess I pulled some lucky recessive genes.”

He doesn’t smile. His hand flutters over my face, hovering. But this time he doesn’t touch me.

Gradually, understanding fills his eyes. “In the stairwell…your skin got so hot. Your lips…just now…”

My face burns even as his words make me feel bitter cold inside. I nod. “Yeah, I kinda…heat up when you kiss me.”

“So…what does that mean? When we kiss I might catch on fire or something?” His eyes widen then. “That’s why you’ve avoided me. Why you ran away when we kissed that night.”

I resist pointing out that’s why I ran away every time, not just that night.

His hands touch his lips as if remembering the warmth of my lips moments ago. I laugh. A miserable sound. Can this be any more mortifying?

“I can only hurt someone if I release fire or steam,” I confess. At least I think that’s true.

As I speak, his fingers trail down my arm. I’m just so relieved he’s willing to touch me after I’ve told him this. He turns my hand over and traces the fine lines on my palm. “And?” He looks up beneath heavy lids. “What else should I know about you?”

“My skin—” I stop, swallow.

He leans down, presses his lips to my wrist in a feathery kiss. “What about your skin?”

“You know. You’ve seen it,” I rasp. “It changes. The color becomes—”

“Like fire.” His gaze lifts from my wrist and he says that word he said so long ago surrounded in cold mists, tucked on a ledge above a whispering pool of water. “Beautiful.”

“You said that before. In the mountains.”

“I meant it. Still do.”

I laugh weakly. “I guess this means you’re not mad at me.”

“I would be mad, if I could.” He frowns. “I should be.” He inches closer to me on the couch. We sink deeper into the tired cushions. “This is impossible.”

“This what?” I clutch the collar of his shirt in my fingers. His face is so close I study the varying color of his eyes.

For a long time, he says nothing. Stares at me in that way that makes me want to squirm. For a moment, it seems that his irises glow and the pupils shrink to slits. Then, he mutters, “A hunter in love with his prey.”

My chest squeezes. I suck in a breath. Pretty wonderful, I think, but am too embarrassed to say it.

Even after what he just admitted.

He loves me?

Studying him, I let myself consider this and whether he can possibly mean it. But what else could it be? What else could drive him to this moment with me? To turn his back on his family’s way of life?

As he looks at me in that desperate, devouring way, I’m reminded of those moments in his car when he tended the cut on my palm and ran his hand over my leg. My belly twists.

I glance around, see how seriously, dangerously alone we are. More alone than in the stairwell. Or even the first time together, on that ledge. I lick my lips. Now we’re alone with no school bell ready to rip us apart. Even more alarming, no more secrets stand between us. No barriers. Nothing to stop us at all.

I hold my breath until I feel the first press of his lips, certain I’ve never been this close to another soul, this vulnerable. We kiss until we’re both breathless, warm and flushed, twisting against each other on the couch. His hands brush my bare back beneath my shirt, trace every bump of my spine.

My back tingles, wings vibrating just beneath the surface. I drink the cooler air from his lips, drawing it into my fiery lungs.

I don’t even mind when he stops and watches my skin change colors, or touches my face as it blurs in and out. He kisses my changing face. Cheeks, nose, the corners of my eyes, sighing my name like a benediction between each caress. His lips slide to my neck and I moan, arch, lost to everything but him. In this, with him…I’m as close to the sky as I’ve ever been.

I make grilled cheeses for lunch, one for me, two for Will. We don’t have any chips, but I find a jar of pickles in the pantry.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” He pauses for a drink, staring at me over the rim of his glass of juice.

“It’s the provolone,” I say, swallowing my last bite.

“It’s the chef.”

I smile and look away.

We listen to music. Talk. Kiss until my flesh glimmers gold-red. Warms to the touch from the deep scald at my core. He stops to watch. Leans his face close to my neck and smells my skin. Like I’m something he might taste. He sweeps his hands along my arms…making me burn hotter.

“Is this what it’s like for other fire-breathers?” he asks, winks, holding my hand up in his broad palm. “Or is it just me and my magic hands?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m the only one in my pride.”

His gaze snaps to mine, laughter gone. “Seriously?”

I nod. “That’s why we left the pride. Mom says it isn’t safe for me there anymore.”

His hand on my arm tightens. “They would hurt you?”

I shiver, thinking of the wing clipping they planned for me. I close my hand over his, force his fingers to loosen their grip. “No. Not like you think. They just want to plan out my life for me.” I think of Cassian and shiver again. “Own me.”

His brows dip. “What do you mean?”

“Your information wasn’t totally off. Fire-breathers were thought to be extinct, lost. Then I came along. I’m the first fire-breather in my pride in generations.” I shrug, trying to make light of my words. “And they want more. More like me. It’s simple, really.”

I deliberately don’t tell him about the wing clipping. Maybe I don’t want him to think we’re barbaric creatures. Considering his family, I know it shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. It shames me that my brethren planned to misuse me so cruelly.

He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes hard, penetrating, processing. Then, he gets it. Understands how my pride plans to get more fire-breathers like me. His hazel eyes deepen to a forest green. He utters a profanity. “Your pride expects you—”

“Not the entire pride,” I say quickly. I can’t think that Nidia does. That’s probably why she let us escape that night. Az and my other friends wouldn’t support such abuse of me either. “Our alpha picked his son, Cassian, for me….” I wince at his expression, slide my fingers over the back of his hand. “It’s all right.” I lean over and kiss the side of his mouth. “I’m here now. With you. They’re not going to find me.” Well, except Cassian, of course. He already has. But I’ll deal with him later. I still have a few weeks until his return.

He turns his hand over to lace his fingers with mine. “Promise me you’re not going to leave.”

I hold my breath, stare into his eyes, know I must decide now. Not whether I’ll return to my pride.

That’s already decided. I can never go back there. But I need to figure out once and for all if I’m going to stay here in Chaparral and forget about finding another pride.

Will could help me leave. I believe he would, if I asked, if I convinced him I needed to go. Explained to him Cassian would be coming for me soon. He cares enough to do that for me even if he doesn’t want to see me go.

He squeezes my hand. “Promise.”

“I promise,” I whisper. Even if I shouldn’t. Even if a small part of me will never feel safe here and never should.

At least I don’t need to leave anymore in order to keep my draki alive. With Will around, it will never fade. And together, we can keep what I am hidden from the world. I believe that together we can do anything. And Mom and Tamra get the lives they want. Win-win for everyone.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear a sound. A yippy, broken ka-kaa-kaa. It’s that bird again. Or one just like it. From the night it rained. The one I thought too stupid for failing to seek shelter.

“What is that?” I ask.

For a moment, he looks confused, then Will hears it, too. “Desert quail. Distinctive, huh? They come into town when it starts getting hot. Looking for food and water. A mate.”

For some reason, I shiver once again.

“You cold?” He chafes my arms.

I haven’t been cold since I moved here. This is something else. “No, but you can put your arms around me anyway.”

That afternoon, Catherine comes over after school.

“Miss me?” she asks with her usual wryness, tossing her backpack on the floor and dropping down on the bed beside me like she comes over all the time. “I feel like a rebel just knowing you. Everyone keeps asking me if you really lit Brooklyn on fire.”

I arch a brow. “On fire?”

Catherine plumps up a pillow beneath her head. “The actual event has gotten a bit exaggerated.”

Her lips twitch. “Maybe I had something to do with that.”

“Nice. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“So I guess I’m pretty much done for at school.” For the first time, it matters to me. If I’m to stay here and make a go of it, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few friends. To not be a social outcast. Especially since it seems pretty important for Tamra’s success at school, too.

“Are you kidding? You’re a hero.” Her lips twist with a smile. “I think you’ve got a shot at home-coming queen next fall.”

I give a short laugh, and then her words sink. Next fall. Might I be here then? With Will? It’s almost too sweet to believe.

“So,” Catherine begins, picking at the loose paper edging my spiral. “Rutledge was absent today.”

“Yeah?” I try for nonchalance.

“Yeah.” She stretches the word, her blue-green eyes cutting meaningfully into mine. “And his cousins were around, so he’s not off somewhere with them. I wonder…” She cocks her head, her long, choppy bangs, sliding low across her forehead. “Wherever could he have been?”

I shrug and pick at the flaking tip of my pencil.

She continues, “I know where Xander thinks he was.”

My gaze swings back to her face. “Xander talked to you?”

“I know, right? Can my days as a pariah be coming to an end?”

“Where does he think Will was?”

“With you, of course.”

“Me?” I moisten my lips. “He said that?”

“Well, practically. He expected me to confirm it when he cornered me in study hall.”

I swallow. There’s no help for it. Xander still thinks I know too much, and Will’s involvement with me isn’t going to change that.

“Why’s that guy have it out for you?” Catherine asks.

“I don’t know.” I shrug one shoulder.

“Yeah, well, he definitely creeps me out. He reminds me of my mom’s old boyfriend, Chad. He gets that same intense look on his face. We finally had to get a restraining order on him.”

“I don’t think it will come to that.”

Catherine shakes her head with a wisdom beyond her years. “You never know about these things, Jacinda. You never know anyone. Not really.”

“True,” I murmur, wishing it were anything but…wishing I could see the world and everyone in it for what they truly are. No lies, no pretense, no masks. But then I wouldn’t live a very long life without my own masks.

Later that night, my skin still hums with warmth, glowing faintly from the day spent with Will.

I have the house to myself. Catherine stayed for dinner, but left just before Mom went to work, and then Tamra left for a study group. I’m reading To Kill a Mockingbird on my bed. I like it but haven’t turned a page in half an hour. My concentration drifts.

The scratching at my window begins subtly. It takes a moment to penetrate. At first I think it’s nothing more than a branch. Blowing in a nonexistent breeze…

A chill runs through my skin. I slide off the bed, stare hard at the window between my bed and Tamra’s. In the low glow of lamplight, I make out a shadowy shape behind the blinds. Immediately, I envision Xander, imagining he knows the truth and is here to claim me. Not because Will told him, of course, but because Xander figured it out on his own.

Then, I think of the pride. Cassian. Severin.

I draw air deeply, expand my lungs. Remember that I’m no victim. “Who’s there?” I demand.

The sound at my window grows louder, like someone’s fighting with the screen. I hear a pop, then a vibrating jerk. The screen is off.

“Who’s there?” I repeat, smoke filling my mouth, puffing my cheeks, rushing from my lips in a cloudy gust. My back tingles. My wings move, crawl beneath my skin like beasts seeking escape.

The window slides open. The blinds rattle noisily, ripple with movement. My skin ripples, too. Heat rolls over my flesh in a current. I part my lips, ready to blow fire.

The blinds shove upward, and Will’s head pops inside. Those bright eyes lock on me. “Hey,” he breathes.