Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 114247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I thought of Flame on the bed, his back arching like someone was penetrating him from behind. It dawned on me that we shared more in common that I had previously thought. Though, I was sure, what was done to Flame was far worse.
I thought of him talking to me. And in the quickest of turns, my heart fluttered. As I lay on this floor, I struggled to suppress the smile forming on my lips.
I like your hair…
Such a simple truth, yet one that sang to my heart. Because I was sure Flame did not offer compliments. Viking had told me Flame was shy and that he did not understand the subtlety of human emotions. The more we spoke, the more I could see for myself that he struggled to understand my emotions. His dark eyes would narrow on mine when I assumed my expression was changing. But he could not read me. Yet he felt comfortable enough with me to ask why I shed tears. Why I blushed.
Some may find it abrupt, the way he spoke, and question why such simple understandings did not come to him as easily as they did to others. But I found it to be a most amazing transgression. Men, in my experience, generally had no qualms about using falsehoods for their personal gain. But with Flame, I knew he would not lie. He could not lie. That made me feel so unbelievably safe. And to me, feeling safe was the most important thing in my life.
The cabin was dark. I knew that hours and hours must have passed. I wondered if AK and Viking remained outside, keeping watch. I suspected that they were. I knew I should tell them that Flame seemed to have subdued whatever had held him in its clutches. But I refused to move. Flame was still not back. Right now he was broken down by dehydration and his inner demons. His skin was still raw and he needed lots of care.
And, selfishly, I wanted to be left alone with him. I did not know how long we could stay in this existence—just the two of us—however I did not want it to end for a while.
Feeling my eyelids flutter down, the last thing I saw before I drifted to sleep was my hand, just a fraction from touching his.
*****
The sound of birds outside the cabin called me from sleep. Opening my eyes, my body jerked at the sight of an unfamiliar room, then clashed with a familiar face. Intense dark eyes stared at mine.
We stayed that way, laying in silence, until I took a deep breath and spoke a nervous, “Hello.”
Flame’s eyes blinked; once, twice, three times. Then his dry lips parted and he replied, “You stayed.”
The expression on his face had not changed but the tone of his voice expressed disbelief. “I told you I would.”
A sigh slipped from between his lips.
“How did you sleep?” I asked, glad to see that beneath the dried blood and dirt on his face, color had returned to his cheeks.
“I slept?” he asked. I frowned at his question. He waited patiently for my answer.
“Yes, Flame. You slept.”
“For how long?” This time his already broken voice was raspy.
I glanced up out of the covered window of kitchen, letting in the beginnings of the day. “Hours. Maybe seven or eight? I do not know precisely.”
Flame’s breathing increased and his nostrils flared. I quickly sat up as his muscles tensed. I feared he was slipping back into the darkness, back into the pit of hell he was in when strapped to the bed. Instead his lost eyes sought out mine, and he whispered, “I never sleep. I always want to. But I never can. There’s always too much in my head.” Flame’s weak hand lifted and tapped at his head.
I feared my heart had torn straight down the center when I heard these gutting words. Flame swallowed. When he was still the same Flame from last night, the Flame who talked to me so sweetly, I relaxed and lay back on the floor. Flame’s tense body relaxed too.
“You never sleep? At night, you do not sleep?”
Flame exhaled. He held out a bruised arm for me to inspect. He pointed to his wrist. “The flames. They keep me awake. They run though my blood. And they burn. When I sleep, they wake me and he is always here to release them. So I stay awake.”
Flame’s eyebrows pulled down. “I don’t feel the flames now.” He dropped his hovering arm near my leg. “I don’t feel the flames when you’re near. Somehow, you calm the flames.”
My throat closed up. I swore I could feel my heart aching. I shuffled to lie on my front, mere inches from where he lay. I saw Flame’s body tense, but he did not protest our proximity. His hands balled into fists, but he did not speak.
When I saw his fingers lose their rigidity, I said, “I rarely sleep either. Yet, here, on this cold hard floor…” I ducked my head feeling my cheeks heat searching for words, then whispered, “with you. Beside you, I did not wake once.”
Flame searched my face. “Your cheeks are blushing again. That means you liked it. You told me you blushed when you liked something. That I’d just made you feel special.” His lips rubbed together, and I could see his mind turning over. “You liked sleeping next to me. Because it made you feel special.”
A smile crept on my lips. I fought the need to shy away. “Yes.”
Flame hissed through his teeth and, releasing a long breath, said. “I liked it too.”
On hearing his answer, my finger traced along the wood patterns on the floor, but inside my feelings were joyful. Warm and… happy…
Silence ensued for several minutes. My hands remained tracing the wood on the floor, but I could feel Flame watching me. When I eventually lifted my eyes, my cheeks heated anew.
As the light grew brighter outside, I noticed that Flame’s blanket had bunched at his legs. And in this light, I saw the true extent of his injuries, the open gashes on his skin, the dried blood and dirt that he needed to remove.