help keep him in check. God knows he needs somebody to
do that for him.” Yet as he spoke, Antonio's smile vanished.
He was no longer talking about a rakish playboy, getting into
scrapes for seeing too many girls. His voice was too serious
for that.
In check? I looked up. Who was this mysterious bad
boy Chance Cutter – and how could I manage to keep him
from getting into trouble? I had my own problems to worry
about – a new school, a new life, this new place – without
worrying about someone else's? Yet something about
Antonio's smile gave me a shiver. Did he know something I
didn't?
21
KAILIN GOW
Chapter 2
The conversation between Antonio and my mother
turned once more to business, and I took this as my cue to
make a graceful exit. As much as I loved my mother, there
was something about this place, this night, that made me
want to be alone. Alone to watch the fire-dancers, the
flickering of the flames. Alone to cast my eyes over the grass
skirts and the fluttering flowers, the muscled chests of the
shirtless dancers.
The feeling of uneasiness I had about Antonio's
Chance began to grow. I felt as if my body, my blood, were
reacting to something in the air – like an allergy, a sickness.
The fire, the music, the throbbing beat of the drums and the
pulse of the melody, seemed to course through my body; it
overwhelmed me. I walked closer to the bonfire, my body
aching to feel the flames once again close to my skin, to let
them singe and caress me so slowly, so gently...
The music grew louder. All conversation subsided as
22
Princes of Paradise (M.A.G.E. #1 )
the drone of the music, punctuated by the ever-more-rapid
beat of the drums, took over. I could feel my heart beginning
to beat to the rhythm – the loud, long wail of the singers
mingling with this passionate pulsing as the drummers struck
their hands against the stretched skins of their drums, again
and again. The flame at the center of the bonfire seemed to
grow brighter; as I looked into its white-hot heart, I felt all
at once that it was calling to me.
Come on, Mackenzy, it seemed to be saying. Come
here. Come join us.
I took a step closer. I could feel the heat of the fire –
so hot now that my skin was prickling and the hairs on my
arm grew singed – and yet I felt no pain. I felt only a strange,
dull pleasure in the heat – a pleasure that grew as the music
grew louder still, echoing in my ears.
Come on, Mackenzy. Come closer. Come with us.
Without knowing what I was doing, I took another
step towards the flame, shaking as I did so. All at once, I
wanted nothing more than to throw myself onto the bonfire,
to catch my clothing alight, to burn, burn with the fire and
the passion and the magic of this music, of this sound. I
23
KAILIN GOW
wanted it to envelop me; I wanted it to become part of me,
to be one with the music and with the fire.
I took another step closer.
Suddenly, I was pushed back, coming back to my
senses as a group of masked male dancers made their way
onto the stage, their sweat-drenched bodies glistening with
effort as they began leaping and dancing into the air.
I looked around wildly, trying to figure out what had
happened. What had come over me? As I looked at the spot
where I had stood, so painfully close to the flame, so close
to danger, I was overwhelmed at my own stupidity. Didn't I
know I could have been killed? It would have been so easy
for a misplaced spark, a stray gust of wind, to set me alight...
And yet I had felt that force of desire within me, so
strong, so overpowering. I had wanted to get closer to the
flame. I had wanted to be burned. It was just exhaustion, I
told myself – I hadn't even finished unpacking, and the stress
of school tomorrow was making me nervous. I was just tired.
That was all it was.
The men's dance quickly distracted me. This was the
most skilled dance I had seen yet, an acrobatic set of jumps
24
Princes of Paradise (M.A.G.E. #1 )
and kicks, as the dancers flirted with the flames, their feet
and arms lightly skirting danger every time their bodies
passed through the fire. One by one, the dancers were
reaching into the audience, pulling up women – mostly the
other hotel guests – to dance. They came – some reluctantly,
some (including one eminently flattered-looking woman in
her late seventies) with glee – eager to participate in the luau.
I tried to slink away as quietly as I could. The event
with the fire had unnerved me, and although I normally
loved to dance, I wanted to stay as far from the flame as
possible, lest that strange desire overtake me again. I looked
away, hoping no pairs of eyes would catch at mine from
behind the mask.
Yet one of the dancers seemed to fix upon me. His
face was hidden beneath a wooden mask decorated with red
and orange flames, but a look at his body alone was enough
to assure me that he was, without a doubt, the most attractive
of the men onstage. Even sparkling with sweat, his beauty
was clear. His body was not the lifeless chiseled marble I had
seen
