Phoenix (21 page)

I run my palm along the wall in the hallway, searching for the light
switch. When I finally find it, I flick it on and the space is illuminated. The
side table that I had placed at the foot of the stairs is broken to pieces,
splinters of wood littering the floor. It looks like Maxwell used a baseball
bat to smash it up. Something in my chest is struck with pain, not for the fact
that he has destroyed my belongings, but by the idea that he came here with a
weapon, searching for me.

What would have happened if I’d been here alone?

I can hear grunting and the noise of a scuffle coming from the living
room. With my heart in my throat, I venture inside.

If I thought the
hallway was bad, it has nothing on what Maxwell has done to my living room. The
large window is completely broken and the furniture has either been tossed over
or smashed to pieces. My eyes are drawn to the wall by the fireplace at the
head of the room, where Phoenix has my brother pressed up against the cream
painted surface. Maxwell’s arms are in a tight lock behind his back, held in
place by Phoenix’s strong grip, his face mashed into the wall.

He sputters swear words and obscenities at Phoenix, but my lover plainly
ignores them, a look of cool disinterest on his face. The tension that had been
building in me subsides, as I realise that he isn’t going to inflict further
violence on Maxwell. He is simply holding him in place until the police arrive.

At this, bright headlights illuminate the room and a squad car pulls into
the drive.

“Oh, thank God,” I say, something like relief taking hold of me.

It doesn’t last long, because as the two policemen enter the cottage and
begin putting handcuffs on my brother, my eyes are drawn to the spot where my
piano sits, Harriet’s beautiful shiny black Steinway.

It isn’t beautiful anymore.

It leans to one side, the legs broken, the sides bashed in and the top
split in half. Pieces of it are scattered all over the hardwood floor. A loud
cry erupts from the back of my throat as I rush to it, shaking my head in
disbelief. This can’t be. The one object that gave me peace for so many years
cannot be broken.

I blink, wishing I could open my eyes and it would all be a dream. A
mistake. I feel like I’m looking at the dead body of an actual person, the
broken legs their limbs, the destroyed strings on the inside their bloody
organs and veins.

He knew. Maxwell knew that this was the one thing I loved the most and
now he has taken it from me.

Phoenix’s arms wrap around me as I weep, resting my head on the battered
keys. I hear the awful sound of Maxwell chuckling with sick satisfaction and I
whip around to face him. One policeman is ushering him from the room but he’s
putting up a fight.

“You fucking evil bastard!” I wail, rising to my feet and lunging at him.

I get several hard slaps in before Phoenix pulls me back and the police
officer is shouting at me, ordering me to calm down.

“Hush, hush, it’s okay,” Phoenix whispers in my ear, his hand stroking
soothingly at my hair.

I level my gaze on Maxwell, loading every ounce of hate I have into this
one stare.

“I hope they put you away for a really long time,” I seethe, raising my
face and showing him that though he might have broken my piano, he has not
broken me and he never will.

He swallows and some kind of comprehension forms in his expression, a dim
realisation in his bloodshot eyes, before the policeman urges him to keep
walking. I go to the front door and watch as my brother is ushered into the
squad car. The door slams shut and then the other officer is telling me and
Phoenix that we need to come to the station to make our statements.

We go. We don’t get back to Phoenix’s cottage until early the next morning
and we both fall into his bed, exhausted. We sleep through the day and wake up
to have slow, tender sex. Phoenix touches me as though I am fragile and might
shatter at any moment. He never moves his eyes from mine as he pushes himself
into me, as we both come in unison.

His love is a balm to the loss of my piano. The music is inside of me, I
keep telling myself.

But the reassurance feels hollow. No other instrument has ever felt as
right as Harriet’s baby grand. I have home contents insurance what will replace
everything Maxwell ruined. However, I know in my heart that a new piano just
won’t feel the same.

Music has always been my therapy. What will happen if I can’t have that
anymore? If playing another instrument doesn’t give me the same peace, then it
is pointless.

A couple of days later I hear news that Maxwell will be facing trial in
Cardiff. After witnessing what Phoenix did to him at the funfair, my mum fled
back home. When the police came to interview her she claimed she had no idea of
what my brother had done. I’m not sure whether or not I believe her, but I don’t
think there’s any way to prove the truth either way.

I haven’t been back over to my cottage yet. Maxwell’s stamp on it is too
fresh. Phoenix has been back and forth cleaning up for me though. I feel
blessed to have him in my life right now. Had I moved here and never met him,
things might have gone very differently when my brother first decided to show
up. Instead I had a warrior at my side, someone prepared to defend me until the
bitter end. Sometimes it feels as though I’m so full up with love for him that
I’m going to burst.

“Let me take you for a picnic today,” Phoenix says, coming up behind me
as I read the morning paper. Soon this very same paper could be reporting
Maxwell’s sentencing. The idea that he might be found innocent makes my blood
run cold.

“Sure. What do you have in mind?” I ask, turning in his embrace and
placing a soft kiss to the line of his jaw.

“There’s a place I want to take you to. It’s a surprise,” he answers, kissing
my temples and going to collect a basket I hadn’t noticed sitting on the table
by the window.

We get in his truck and he drives us to the beach. It’s empty now, the
Easter Festival long finished. The day is unseasonably warm for spring, and it
feels more like late summer. I’m fizzing with curiosity to know where we’re
going. He retrieves some blankets alongside the picnic basket. A couple of sun
worshippers line the strand, but not many. Phoenix links his arm through mine
and leads me down the beach.

We walk for a good twenty minutes until we’ve left the main area behind
and are now venturing towards a more secluded spot. We pass by several rocky
patches and Phoenix has to help me over a couple that I almost trip on. Another
ten minutes and we’ve reached a small nook that’s full of pale sand and pearly
seashells.

I stop and put my hands on my hips, staring around me in awe. Who’d have
thought such a pretty piece of paradise could be found so close to home?

“I like to come here sometimes to meditate,” Phoenix explains, laying the
navy tartan blanket down on the sand.

He gestures for me to sit and I lower myself onto it, folding my legs
beneath me. “I can see how you’d like it here. It’s very bright and calming.” I
pause, allowing the warm breeze to caress my skin. I put my hand over my eyes
to shade them as I glance up at him. “What do you think about when you
meditate, Phoenix?”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s funny you should ask that,
because it’s actually something you mentioned to me when we first met.”

“It was?”

“Yes. You spoke about the Phoenix of mythology when you heard my name. My
grandfather had in fact named me after the myth; he would always tell me the
story before bedtime when I was a child. It made me feel powerful to know I was
named after something so magnificent. So, now when I meditate I envision myself
as the Phoenix, rising out of the flames a new man. It helps me to know that I’ve
left my past behind me.”

I smile widely at him. “I like that.”

“Good, come here,” he murmurs, eyelids lowered.

I sidle over to him and he puts one arm around me before reaching for the
picnic basket. He pulls out some cheese and pickle sandwiches and pours us both
juice from a flask. Under the hot sun we sit quietly and eat, the gentle sound
of the waves lulling my mind into a relaxed state. I watch how the sunlight
glints off the water, making it seem like it’s glittering.

“What’s your real surname?” I ask giving him an affectionate smile. “I
know it isn’t Smith.” I reach up and run my hand over his handsome face and
murmur, “Nobody named Smith ever possessed such exotic looks as these.”

He grins at me devilishly, answering, “Anastos. I was born Phoenix
Anastos. I began using Smith originally to avoid Richard’s detection after I
escaped him. When he was…gone, I continued to use it. It made me feel less like
a stranger in this English setting.”

“Ah,” I say in understanding, allowing my back to sink deeper into his
chest and sipping on my juice.

When we’re finished eating I toe off my sandals and saunter down to the
shore where the sea kisses the sand. Phoenix leans back on his elbows to watch
me with an amused yet curious expression. I hitch my long skirt up and step
into the water. It’s warm against my skin, luring me to venture further. I
continue until it reaches my knees. It feels like it’s been decades since I was
last in the sea. Looking back and forth I realise just how far away we are from
the main beach, no other people around whatsoever.

When I glance back to where Phoenix had been sitting I find him gone and
I gasp in surprise. I look all about but I still can’t see him anywhere. Then I
turn and he’s behind me, slipping his arms around my waist and pulling me close
to his hard body. It’s a wonder how he managed to get to me so quickly. He’s a
stealthy one. Sometimes I’ll be alone in a room and I won’t even realise he’s
entered until I set my eyes on him.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my skin heating up with awareness as his
breath hits my sweat dampened neck.

He brings his mouth to my earlobe, sucking on it and teasing me. I want
nothing more than to melt. His hand reaches up to my breast to pluck at my
nipple beneath the thin fabric of my white blouse. My nerves build up because I’m
afraid that someone might come strolling this way and see us in our clinch, but
there is no one. This place is utterly deserted.

“Please,” I whimper as he pinches the other nipple.

“Please, what?” he purrs with satisfaction, his mouth completely
corrupting my ear at this point.

“I need you,” I answer so quietly that I’m not sure if he hears me at
first.

He pulls me back through the water to where it is shallow enough for us
to sit, before lowering us both down. Water soaks my skirt and the ends of my
blouse as I land with a wet slosh, tearing at Phoenix’s shirt. I pull it up
over his head and then toss it to the dry sand beyond the shore. His tanned
skin shimmers with perspiration. He’s anticipating this just as much as I am.

My body feels as though it is on fire while the tepid water cools it,
counteracting the heat I feel from his hands on my body. He is unbuttoning my
blouse now, revealing the pale lacy bra I’m wearing underneath. Moments later
he has removed them and tossed them to the sand beside his shirt. Both topless,
we explore one another with eager fingers.

Phoenix braces himself above me. The sun shines through his brown eyes
and for the first time I see hints of gold in them. Lowering his mouth to my
breast, he clamps down onto my nipple, swirling his tongue around it
torturously. I arch back in the water, my hands sinking into the soft, wet sand
beneath me. Then I grab his face and pull it up so that I can attack his mouth.

He groans and thrusts his rock hard cock against me. I need the rest of
our clothes to disappear right this moment. He continues kissing me, our
tongues doing battle, as he drags my skirt and knickers down my legs
simultaneously. Seconds later I’m completely naked right out in the open. I
gasp with the realisation and he chuckles at my embarrassment.

“There is no one here,
agapim
énos
, relax. I’ve got you.”

His words are laced with affection. I let the tension drift from my body
as he moves down, his mouth laying kisses all along my abdomen. When he reaches
the cushion of my lower belly he drags his tongue over it, lapping at me and
sucking until his lips make a loud pop when he withdraws. My thighs clench in
anticipation, my eyes soaking up the sight of his rippled chest wet with
seawater. A few tendrils of damp hair hang over his forehead.

His big warm hands spread my legs wide apart so that I am open for him.
He runs a finger down the centre of me, his head tilted to one side as his gaze
eats me up.

“God, you’re saturated,” he growls.

Seconds later his mouth is on me, his tongue sweeping up and down my
folds in a languid rhythm. I squeeze my eyes shut, falling into the sensation.

He moves lower and actually dips his tongue inside of me. It feels all
slippery and wet and delicious as it sinks in and out. Then he is taking my
clit into his mouth and sucking on it hard. I let out a strangled cry, my
entire body bucking forward. I know I’m moments away from losing it. I clutch
his head in my hands, holding him to me desperately for fear he might stop and
my orgasm will evade me. He laughs against my sex, the sound rippling through
me and sending me over the edge.

I shake hard under his skilled mouth, pleasure sweeping over me by turns.
He continues to lap at me, his dark eyes looking up from their position below.
I moan when I see him like that, all intense and watching me come.

Then he is kissing his way back up my body, and I am yanking at his
jeans. He pulls them off, soaking wet and throws them onto the sand. Gentle
waves move around us, causing us to rock our bodies together. He is so hard
when he finally ploughs inside of me, so hard that I bite down on my lip out of
sheer agony and pleasure. He thrusts slowly in and out, in and out, his motion
matching the movement of the sea. I stare past his head at the bright blue sky
and the fluffy white clouds and then bring my gaze back to him. I have never
felt more alive than I do right now.

Freedom is like a taste in my mouth that I can’t get enough of.

I have found the other half of my soul in this man and I am never, ever
letting him go.

“I love you,” I tell him, my voice half cry, half moan.

“I love you, too, my Eve, my rose,” he answers back, his body straining,
the muscles in his arms tightening as he holds himself over me.