Firelight

13

He drives for a while, aimlessly. Turning down street after street. They all look alike. Middle-class homes in varying shades of white and beige stucco line the sidewalks. Tiled roofs undulate like a red sea.

My heart races, excited at his nearness. Alive as it hasn’t felt in the days that stretch like years behind me.

I’m aware of the promise I made to myself. The promise to avoid him. I feel its echo in my head. In my bones.

But I recall the other promise I made to myself when I first came here. A promise to keep my draki alive whatever the cost. And around him, my draki can hardly contain itself. It definitely lives.

I gently grip my thighs and slide my hands over my skin, chafing my goose-bumped flesh. Until I persuade Mom to take us back, getting close to him might be the only way. And letting him get close to me…My heart trips at the thought of this.

His low voice breaks the stillness. “You didn’t say what you were doing out this late.”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” I reply. Not a lie.

His mouth curves. “So we’re perfect for each other. A pair of insomniacs.”

Perfect for each other.

I grin a mad, stupid smile.

Even when his smile fades, I can’t stop grinning — can’t play down the dumb happiness tripping through me.

“You’re bleeding,” he announces, quickly veering to the side of the street and setting the car in park.

I follow his gaze down, to the streak of blood on the top of my thigh. Panic squeezes my heart. Flipping my hand over, I see the small tear in the plump ridge of my palm oozing blood. Please, please, please. Don’t let him notice.

In full light, it’s easy enough to detect the purple shimmer of my blood. In this gloom, it’s surely too subtle for him to note. At least I tell myself this as I draw in a deep breath.

“It’s nothing. I cut myself on the fence.” Will pulls his shirt over his head. My breath locks in my throat. His chest is broad, smooth. Muscles and sinew cut his body, ripple beneath his skin. He wads up the fabric of his shirt and presses it into my palm. Like I’ve suffered a mortal wound.

“N-no, really,” I sputter, fingers flexing, itching to touch his chest, to feel him. “You’ll ruin your shirt.”

“It was my fault you were on that fence. Let me do this, okay.”

Mutely, I nod. I can’t resist anyway. The press of his fingers on my hand feels like points of heat on my skin. I close my eyes in a slow blink. His gallantry reminds me of the first time we touched. Together in that small cave. The closeness. The way his eyes devoured me.

This close to him, I inhale, drink in his smell. The salty warmth of his skin. Lush forest. Wet wind. I know where he’s been. Where he hunted. Instantly, I’m home.

I open my eyes and study his face, the rapid pulse jumping against his throat. His nostrils flare, like he’s scenting me back.

His gaze drops to the smooth stretch of my thigh and to the streak of plum-colored blood. My flesh gleams golden from the light of a nearby streetlight. At least I think it’s because of that. Please, don’t let me be manifesting, too.

He lowers his hand. It shakes on the way down. His head bends close to mine. Our breaths merge, mingle. I quiver, tense as his hand touches my trembling thigh. Air hisses between my teeth.

His gaze flicks to my face for a moment. Questioning. The centers of his eyes are so dark, the surrounding hazel irises luminous and glowing. He looks back down, his face stark, intent on my thigh, on the smudge of blood marring my skin.

Again, I’m reminded that he’s a predator. In that hungry look on his face, I see him for what he is. A hunter.

His thumb grazes the thin streak of blood, smearing it. I gasp, singed from the caress.

“Your skin.” His thumb strokes again.

My belly tightens, almost hurting.

He frowns. “It’s so hot.”

And I am, I realize, feeling the deep fume building inside. Steam expands my lungs. I need to stop him. Pull away from his touch. The familiar shaking vibration starts at my core, and I know what’s coming if I don’t break away.

So many things about this — about him—should fill me with fear. Should make me want to run. But I only want more. More Will.

My stomach clenches at the sensation of his hand on my thigh. His thumb brushes me, wipes the blood clean, then lifts away. I inhale through my nose.

He lifts his shirt from my hand and examines my injury. “It’s not bad,” he announces.

I nod, my heart racing too fast for me to speak.

He continues, “Do you have antiseptic at home?”

I still can’t speak. Is he really talking about first aid? My leg tingles, throbs where he touched me. His gentle grip on my hand has the same effect.

At my silence, he looks up. Traps me in those hazel eyes, the pupils dilated, large and tar black. Strange but beautiful. I wonder then if he’s on some kind of drug. Something inside me denies this though. Either because I can’t sense it in him, or I simply don’t want it to be true.

“You’re different,” I whisper, staring, forgetting about his question. My palms prickle, tickling at the centers, yearning to feel him…to touch his face, the broad expanse of his chest.

He stares back, consuming me with his eyes.

You’re different from your cousins, I think. Different from anything I ever heard about hunters. Different from the draki boys I’ve known. Cassian’s watchful eyes never made me breathless. Never brought my draki to life, made me pulse with awareness.

I wet my lips and take a deep, shuddering breath. “Where are your cousins? Don’t you pretty much do everything together?”

Because I need to remember this. Always. Because even if I don’t think he’s a threat to me, they are.

A shutter falls over his eyes. He pulls back, releases my hand. “Someone’s been educating you on me and my family, I see.”

“You’re the one who told me to stay away from them. Naturally you provoked my curiosity. People talked, I listened.” Well, Catherine at least.

He nods slowly. “Yeah. I said that. And you should.” Sighing, he drags a hand through his hair. “And while you’re at it, I guess you should stay away from me, too. That’s what I should be telling you.” He drops his head back on the headrest and closes his eyes, his expression suffering and intense. Again, I want to touch him, to stroke a hand down the plane of his cheek and ease whatever it is that gnaws at him.

His words echo inside me. You should stay away from me. Something I already know, but sitting in the front seat of his car, I’m not quite succeeding at that. I wish I could. Wish I didn’t feel this pull, this constant tug toward him. Wish my draki didn’t revive around him. I slide my left hand beneath my thigh, trapping it there.

“You’re the one who chased me down,” I remind him, then wince. I slip my hand free to rub my thigh, where the burn of his touch still pulses.

“You’re right.” Opening his eyes, he puts the Land Rover in drive and rolls away from the curb. After a few turns, I realize he’s driving me home. Desperation spikes inside me, makes me ask quickly, “Why did you come to my house tonight?” In the middle of the night?

His knuckles whiten where they clutch the steering wheel. “I didn’t expect to see you outside, but…”

“Yes?” I prompt.

He slams the vehicle to a stop in front of my house. Kills the lights. Twists in his seat to face me. Leaning