From The Flames (Innocent Series Book 3)

by Kendall Duke

  Did that make me a wolf? I didn’t know. Was I hunting her?

  Not… Exactly.

  But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to fuck this girl. Let’s just get that out there. I’m a guy who likes a good time, and as everyone in the goddamn world knows, sex is a good time. And everything about her—the shape of her lips, the length of her neck, her wrists, her ankles, her damn dirty feet—made me hard. There was absolutely nothing about this particular girl I would change. She was perfect for me. Practically made for me.

  Which meant that I didn’t just want to fuck her.

  And that was kind of tripping me up. I mean, I’m a decent guy—I’ve got those older sisters watching my every move in life, and you can be sure they taught me to leave the seat down and open the door for a lady—but I’m not, as they say, a gentleman. I’m not a relationship guy. I’m Mr. Right Now, not Mr. Right, and I like it that way.

  But not with her.

  I have never leaned on the counter in my kitchen and happily watched a woman eat. I’ve never even had a woman over to eat, actually—if there’s a woman here, it’s Desi or Mia, and because they invited themselves, usually with their kids in tow, and sometimes with Marco or David, their husbands. I cannot remember a single time in my life I’ve had a woman here for any reason, at all, ever, past nine o’clock at night. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why it brings me so much joy just to know she’s fed. What the hell is that?

  The impulse to protect her, I supposed; I’d rescued quite a few people by this point in my life, so maybe I should have recognized the signs… The thing is, I did. And something was different this time.

  I didn’t want to feed her and give her a place to sleep just because I felt responsible for her. That transference was typical for people in my profession, and I’d worked through it before; it was the hardest with little kids. You just wanted to adopt them. But this…

  It was just like my physical attraction to her—sure, she was gorgeous. But the world was full of gorgeous women—I’d fucked at least a few of them. This… This was something else. Like I said: she was made for me.

  She was meant to be mine.

  And maybe… Maybe I was meant to be hers.

  That hit me in my gut, hard.

  The idea that someone might want me, just as I was… The idea of being lovable simply for being who I am… I mean, I’m a happy guy. Don’t get me wrong.

  But I didn’t have that.

  I had a lot of love in my life—tons, actually, so I tried never to think about this because it made me feel really ungrateful. But the truth was that I just wasn’t good enough for the people I loved the most. I had a ton of love, but all of it, every drop, was conditional.

  Go to college.

  Be a perfect fireman.

  Why don’t you stop partying, or doing this, or doing that? Why are you the way you are?

  My father. My sisters. Even Tony. They really loved me, a lot, and I tried so hard to never let this bother me, because I knew that. I totally knew it.

  But I wished…

  My mom had loved me, is the thing. Maybe if I hadn’t had her, I wouldn’t recognize the difference, but I did. My mom loved me exactly the way I am. She hadn’t wanted to change a thing about me.

  No one else ever loved me like that, and she died a long time ago.

  I leaned against the countertop and watched Darcy and wondered if she had someone who loved her like that—someone who loved her so much they would do anything for her, someone who understood everything she couldn’t say, someone who wanted the best for her but knew, instinctively, how to let her find her own path. I wanted…

  Shit.

  I wanted to be that for her.

  I have a lot of flaws. I’m not anyone’s first pick for responsibility, I don’t ever hear the end of how late I am to every-goddamn-thing, and I can’t shut my mouth to save my life. But I am honest. I don’t lie to myself, and if someone asks me a question I really have to weigh the answer—I hate to lie, and the truth just has a way of needing to be out in the open. I try to keep the edge of cruelty away from the truth, but when it comes down to it, I am a fundamentally honest person. That’s the deal.

  And I felt things about this girl that made no goddamn sense.

  I wanted her. I wanted her to want me, in a way I never had, in a way that I had no right to. I wanted to take her in my arms and carry her to the bath, lay her down in warm water and gently cleanse away the hurt she carried with her. I wanted to make her feel safe. I wanted to hold her, to rock her to sleep, I wanted to know what she would look like pregnant with my child, if she would let me brush her hair, if she needed more lasagna, more anything, if she could possibly need me the way I was beginning to think I might need her.

  Jesus, man, I told myself. You didn’t just drive to Crazytown—you got your ass elected mayor.

  I couldn’t lie to myself. I’m not good at it under any circumstances, but in this one, particularly, I just gave up. I felt what I felt, I thought what I thought, and that was it.

  But I didn’t have to drag her in to it.

  I’m not good at shutting up. But even I knew that blurting out some combination of, ‘hey I think we’re soul-mates, would you like to move in and have my babies’ and ‘I’m totally normal, promise, why don’t you relax and get a good night’s sleep’ would probably not work out in my favor. Or hers, which is what I was really worried about. She had nowhere else to go. She didn’t need to escape into the night because she thought I’d lost my damn mind, which any reasonable person would.

  So I stayed where I was until I settled down inside, pushing aside all of these strange, unsettling thoughts, and went back to the table when I wasn’t completely overwhelmed by my own weirdness. It took me a minute.

  And as soon as I sat down next to her, she smiled up at me—the purest, most innocent smile I’d ever seen, the smile of a woman who needed a little kindness so badly and was just simply too proud to ask for it, the smile of a woman so beautiful it literally took my breath away. And I just surrendered completely.

  Sure I was weird, and I was thinking something crazy.

  So what?

  If I could make her smile like that, I didn’t care. I would hang on until she was ready to hear those crazy thoughts, even if it took a life-time. I would wait.

  I am an honest man, and I saw it clear as day.

  Darcy was meant to be with me. Forever.

  Even if it took forever to happen.

  ~~~

  Darcy

  “You’ve been quiet,” I said, looking up at Mike’s face again, trying to read what was happening behind those incredible eyes. I put down my fork, a horrible thought occurring to me. “If I’m putting you out, I’m sorry—I just thought—” I just wanted to believe that this was somehow alright, I’d fooled myself again—

  “Darcy, please don’t say you’re sorry,” he told me, and I felt his warm, broad hand on mine, keeping me from pushing away from the table as if he’d read my mind. “I’m just… I’m thinking about you.” He studied my face for a moment, his own expression uncharacteristically pensive, and bit his lip.

  Wow. He was really lovely to look at. I could probably have sat there for an entire day, just day-dreaming while I gazed at that face. He must have a million girl-friends. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what’s your story?” Mike leaned back, thinking, and I realized immediately that he was trying to find a way to ask me something without being rude. Even though we’d just met I really felt like I knew him already, and he wasn’t good at taking his time with his words. He was working very hard to be patient with me. “Why did you live in that place?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean,” he said quietly, his electric gaze impossible to break. Those eyes bore into my soul, searching for the truth. “You don’t belong there.”

  “How do you know?” I finally managed to pull my focus back to my plate, and tried to nonchalantly t
ake another bite of lasagna. He wasn’t having it, and I felt his broad fingertips gently touch my cheek and draw me back to him. I couldn’t help the shiver that ran over me at his touch; it was a little embarrassing, so I broke contact and glanced up at him defiantly. “You don’t know me.”

  “You’re right,” he said, not fooled for an instant. Mike raised one sarcastic eyebrow and gave me a mulish look. “You’re totally a crack-head. Jesus, what was I thinking? I’ll have to lock up my jewelry, the silver, the china, that Buddha I bought at Pier One—shit, I’ll have to lock the damn shed, too.” I was laughing at this point—I couldn’t even help myself. “You look like the kind to steal a man’s lawn mower. Heartless.” He shook his head at me, the smirk on his lips far too inviting.

  “I…” I hung my head, my shoulders shaking as I laughed, and realized I didn’t have a come-back of any kind. “Shut up.”

  This made him laugh so hard he slapped the table, and when I looked at him again his face was pure glee. He grinned mischievously down at me, that wicked eyebrow still raised as high as it could go, and pointed at me. “You got it, missy. You’re going to do just fine around here.” We looked at each other for a long moment before I realized I was staring and then I returned my attention to my plate, waiting for it. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle, but the question was serious and I knew he expected an answer. “Why did you live there?”

  “I don’t want to tell you,” I said. I’m not much of a liar—although, you could make a very good case for my super-human capabilities with avoidance—and I just… I didn’t want to seem so pathetic. I was angry with myself, and I already felt strange about accepting Mike so easily right after I’d been fooled by Andre… The truth was that I was enjoying myself too much to ruin it by confessing that I was an idiot, a dupe, and in hiding. I wanted to pretend a little longer that Mike and I met some other way, that I was a capable, independent woman. A woman that he’d want to invite over for a romantic dinner, not a woman he pitied.

  “Huh,” he said, mulling my words over. “Well, let’s narrow it down. Are you a bank-robber?”

  I felt a smile curving my lips, even though my thoughts had taken a turn. “No.”

  “Umm-hmm. Didn’t think so—you’re outfit’s a little too conspicuous.” I reached over and lightly slapped his arm before I could stop myself, the familiarity too intense, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. “Got under your skin, though… You must be some kind of bandit.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Clearly on the lam. Are you a jewel thief? That’s more of a lady’s gambit.”

  “Yeah,” I said sarcastically, then gestured down at my filthy night-gown. “I’m a jewel thief.” His eyes ran over my entire body in the space of a second, and I felt my nipples harden under the thin fabric. Hopefully he didn’t see, though, because my response made him burst out laughing.

  “Fine, not a jewel thief.” He scratched the dimple in his chin with one long finger, and for some reason the gesture made my stomach flip-flop. “Perhaps… Are you a time-traveling bandit?” Mike grinned while I laughed even harder. “Because that night-gown is… Late 1880s, I take it? Let me guess. You were robbing a wagon-train--”

  I slapped his arm again. “No!”

  “Hmm. Alright then.” His smile softened as he looked down at me, thoughtful again. “Darcy… I know there’s almost no reason you should trust me, but I… I really wish you would.”

  Wow. Wow. I looked up at those green eyes, the thick black lashes around them… The set of his full lips, the sincerity on his face… He was right, in one sense, but in another he was very wrong. “I guess I can trust the guy that ran into a burning building to save me,” I said softly. And when I saw the hope spark behind his eyes, the excitement that my trust gave him, I decided to tell him the truth. I did trust him.

  I’d stopped trusting myself because of Andre… But Mike had already shown me that the world was not made of Andres. I didn’t have to live like that.

  “I came here from Tennessee,” I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering. I couldn’t bear to see his expression, though, so I stared down at my plate. “I moved here for college. Got a nice apartment, started my classes, and on the first day I met a guy. I…” I had to take a deep breath, but then I continued. “I don’t have a ton of experience with men—” I saw his hand, then; it’d been sitting on the kitchen table, flattened with the long fingers spread, and now it was curling into a white knuckled fist. “Mike—are you okay?”

  “Nope,” he said through gritted teeth, and when I looked up at him, his nostrils were flared and his eyes were hard. “But go on.”

  “I… I thought he was nice. But he wasn’t.” I blinked, not sure of what to say, how to explain it. “I…”

  “What happened?” Mike’s gaze was trained on me as if he were trying to pull the thoughts out with his own. “Seriously, Darcy. I want to know.”

  “I feel like an idiot,” I said softly, and then I felt tears in the corners of my eyes and it made me furious. Brushing them away, I forced myself to continue. “He didn’t—we didn’t… I don’t know how to say this without…” I turned my body towards his and looked up in his face, gathering my bravery. “He just tricked me, Mike. He’s a creep. He wanted me to drop out of school and marry him and basically just be some kind of servant, and I said no. Because who would say yes? But then he… He started rumors, he…” Mike was watching me. I sounded like a crazy person.

  “He did what?” That fist was still clenched on the table.

  “He just… He managed to make it so I had no friends, and now he’s trying to get me kicked out of school. I’m pretty sure he stole my debit card and hacked my account, so I have no money—but I have no proof, either,” I said, glancing up at him. He was very still, not a single muscle moving, for the first time ever since I’d seen him. Only his eyes moved, watching me. I felt myself babbling, and tried to reign it in. “That’s the hard part. He’s just… He has keys to my apartment, and I found things… Moved. Like he was coming in when I was gone. And…” I sighed. “The last straw was when I woke up one morning last week and found the gas stove on.” I looked up at Mike, my own voice growing stubborn. “I didn’t go to bed with the stove on. I didn’t. I’m sure of it.”

  “So you were hiding.”

  “Yes,” I said. My hands were shaking, so I buried them in my lap. “He knows everybody—he went to high school with the doorman to that apartment, he could have gotten in at any time. But I had no proof, so I couldn’t… I didn’t know what else to do.” I sighed. “I moved in to that house with a friend I met through work—work is the only place I feel safe,” I said, running out of steam, “and I didn’t think he would find me, although I know he watches me, sometimes.”

  “Watches you?”

  “Yeah,” I said absently, running my hands over my face, “at work. He just sits there on a bench by the door, pretending to be on his phone.”

  Mike was very quiet for a long time. So long that I finally looked up at him, wondering if he was afraid—if I should leave so he would be safe, the way I was staying away from my family in case Andre tried to hurt them.

  “Well…” I waited, listening. His voice was different—a mix of gentleness and something else, something unbending, something fierce. “You’ll be needing a place to stay, then?”

  I snapped to attention, looking up at him. “What?”

  “You stay here, with me,” he said, not asking this time. The set of his mouth was firm. “Big house. Got plenty of room.” He started to slide back in his chair, giving me a little more space, and then stopped and placed his hand on mine again. “Darcy… I know part of you thinks you shouldn’t be here. Part of you is scared, because this prick probably… I understand why you would be scared.” Mike reached up, his face close to mine now, very close, and peered into my eyes with his hypnotic emerald gaze. “I will never hurt you. Never. I will keep you safe. You belong here, with me.”

  I couldn’t break that gaze.

 
I couldn’t even breathe.

  You belong here, with me. I felt the strangest thing—I felt a longing, a pull in my chest. In spite of what I’d just described, in spite of everything that had happened… I wanted to kiss him.

  He was right there. Full lips. Beautiful eyes. Mike. Joy, and light, and kindness.

  I felt myself falling into it, giving in to that magnetic pull, the urge so overwhelming that my hands were moving towards him too, as if I had no choice.

  And then, just like that, he jerked backwards.

  ~~~

  Mike

  So my first thought—a very reasonable one, as far as I’m concerned—was that I was going to find this guy and kill him. No big deal. I’m sure the court would understand. Hell, I was positive my dad would, and he was Mr. Morality. And then… I tried to breathe slowly, in and out, the way I counseled folks I’d just pulled out of a burning building to do, and focus on the moment.

  Darcy was safe now. She was here. She was with me—where she was supposed to be. Whoever the fuck this guy was, there was an excellent chance he wasn’t 6’6, 230 lbs and a good bet in a bar fight. If he managed to get himself some weaponry, I would meet him where he was. No problem.

  Darcy was fine.

  She was absolutely fine.

  Except… Now that I knew this fucker was out there, how would I ever let her leave the house again?

  “Mike?” Darcy was staring at me, her wide gray eyes taking all of this in. She looked absolutely terrified, her hands making little fists as she clutched her night-gown under the table.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my hand roughly across my mouth as I tried to concentrate on the here and now. “I’m… I’m pissed. I want to fucking kill that guy.”