Touch of Fire

by J. E. Taylor

  “Cold, my lady?”

  The chatter of my teeth answered him and he chuckled in my ear. I pointed toward a winding rocky path just wide enough for Shadow to pass through. “Th, th, that w, w, way,” I managed to stutter through my clacking teeth.

  He put the reins in my hands, shifted and a moment later, he draped a warm blanket over my shoulders and wrapped it around me as tight as he could. With a squeeze, he took the reins back and clicked his tongue.

  Shadow reacted and dashed up the hidden trail winding up the side of the mountain and into a gully. Steep canyon walls embraced us and the path turned to a solid rock wall, ending just as abruptly as it began. Shadow whinnied and tossed his head back.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Press your palm on that indent in the center of the rock.”

  He positioned Shadow sideways next to the rock and did as I requested. At first nothing happened, and he sighed. He pulled his hand away, but the indent noticeably changed to take the form of his hand.

  I nodded toward the rock. “Again.”

  “Oh, for the love of—”

  “Just put your hand there again.”

  He did and this time, white light spread from the rock, surrounded his hand and crept up his arm; it pulled him toward the rock and beyond the solid surface. He wrapped his arm around my waist to yank me into the enveloping light.

  We tumbled to the ground on the other side of the magical entranceway. Shadow whinnied and pawed and danced around in a circle. I reached for him to settle his obvious nerves but my hand hit a solid, cold looking glass. My fingers ran across the smooth surface and I turned to Galahad. A strange sensation filled my form, and this time I had a name for it. Awe—the same kind of awe I used to feel stepping into the kingdom of heaven.

  He traced his fingers over the glass before returning his gaze to mine. Without a word, he turned and surveyed the dark cavern; his hand slid to the hilt of Excalibur.

  I laced my fingers in his and stepped toward the only available outlet. He stopped me.

  “I will go first.”

  I raised my eyebrows, but he ignored my incredulous expression. He drew Excalibur and took the lead.

  We did not encounter danger, at least not in the mortal sense, but the deep cavern pathway led us higher and higher, winding in circles until the path opened up to an enormous cave. The stone stairwell stretched upwards along the walls of the cave, spiraling without a railing. Bright light shone in from various archways along the stairs. He stepped into the center of the cavern and uttered an exhausted breath.

  Galahad tore his gaze from the impending stairwell and scanned the cave. He licked his lips and looked at me. “You wouldn’t happen to have one of those loaves of bread, would you?”

  I shook my head. My stomach echoed his unspoken sentiments.

  He exhaled and looked up at the long journey ahead. “In that case, maybe we should rest a bit.”

  When his eyes returned to mine, I understood his definition of rest and it came with that playful grin. The blankets rolled off my shoulders and crumpled to the ground at my feet. He closed the distance.

  My hunger transitioned into a need that throbbed in my belly. Anticipation of his touch moistened both my pussy and my lips, and his hands found the ties to my britches. His mouth covered mine. Longing prickled my skin, even as he pulled the cloth from my body, replacing the garments with the strokes of his hands and the warmth of his mouth. He broke free long enough to spread the blanket and strip his armor; the metal clanked to the ground and echoed off the stone walls. Then he was on me—his hands, his tongue inside me, teasing until my moans filled the cavern. Heat stripped me of any modesty and I wrapped my legs around his neck and buried my hands in his hair.

  “Yes! Oh Galahad, yes!” I repeated over and over, until the blanket below me was wet with my juices. Only then did he shift; he crawled up my body, kissed every inch and left my skin burning with every pass of his lips. When his mouth covered mine, mingling our tongues in a frantic dance, his hard cock slammed inside my aching pussy, eliciting another orgasm and muffled moan.

  We rode hard and fast, both of us climaxing in the same moment. His name cascaded from my lips in a crescendo of ecstasy.

  If I had known what awaited us, I would have lingered in his arms longer, but after the euphoria wore off, the bite in the air nipped at our skin and hurried us back into our clothing.

  With nothing left to do but stare between each other and the staircase, we began our ascent. By the time we reached the first arch, the daylight was fading and clouds of mist blocked our view. The stairwell lining the arch was wet and slick; my foot slid off the edge of the step and threw me forward. My chin slammed into the stone, cracking both skin and bone. Dazed, I slipped further over the edge and my heart leapt into my throat. Panic skittered over my skin and my hands reached too late to find purchase on the icy surface as my body started the freefall.

  My shirt yanked and cloth tore, but Galahad remained on the stairwell, a handful of the peasant shirt tightly in his grip. He pulled me into his chest and stepped away from the open edge of the stairwell, holding me tight. His chest rose and fell, his breath haggard, and his erratic heartbeat, mixed with my own, echoed in my ear.

  Blood from my chin stained his shirt and when I could hear above the pounding of my own heart, I pulled away enough to look into his haunted eyes.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  I wiped my sleeve on my chin and offered a smile I was sure was nothing more than lackluster. “I will be fine.”

  His laugh echoed in the chamber and his gaze traveled from my bloody chin up the staircase. “Up or down?”

  I bit my lip as I looked at both options. Above, periodic arches graced the pathway and offered the same slick surfaces I just encountered. The thought of traversing them in the dark sent my heart into overdrive again. Below was a known evil with no food or water, just the pile of blankets we used as a bed earlier. Either way, we would be in full darkness before long and we were more than halfway up the daunting path. “Up,” I finally said.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, and he slid Excalibur into his hilt. He took my hand, leading the way, and tested each stair before taking the step. His hand sweat in mine, evidence of the stress of the climb, but we made it to the top and through the small passageway into another cavern. This one boasted a pool of mirror-like water in the center and both of us rushed forward to spoon handfuls into our mouths. We swallowed the bitter liquid.

  I coughed. The water sputtered out in a spray and disturbed the mirror-like quality. I shot to my feet and yanked him back. “No!” What I pointed at struck fear in my heart.

  His eyes followed the path of my finger and he covered his mouth with his hand. The water was tainted with bloated bodies and only then did the vile stench of death hit us.

  He vomited a stream of water and bile onto the floor, but I knew it wasn’t enough to rid his body of the poison. My eyes darted around the cavern, looking for the path—the path that would save Galahad’s life.

  “There!” I yanked his hand even as his breath started its wheezing labor. “The grail is through there. It will save you! Go!” I shoved him in the fastest direction, straight through the pool.

  We waded through the shallow lake, both of us wheezing and coughing; we stepped on bones that crunched under the weight of our feet. He climbed out and helped me onto the dry rock before he turned toward the opening. He stepped out onto the ledge and fell to his knees, coughing. “Jesus,” he managed to sputter, his eyes glued across the cavern.

  A decrepit stone pathway connected the ledge we stood on with one close to fifty meters away. An ornate round hut graced the far plateau gleaming in the moonlight, sending shimmering beams bouncing against the rock walls.

  I looked down into the smoky clouds. The swirling snow blocked any view of the ground miles below. His coughing fit pulled me out of the trance. “The grail,” I whispered.

 
He nodded and stood. “Wait until I get across.” Before he stepped on the stone path, he took me in his arms and kissed me with all the passion and fear we both felt. When he pulled away, he ran his fingers over my cheek and nodded; he turned on his heels and stepped onto the path with a confidence I lacked.

  Winds pressed against him and he faltered; he fell to his knee before he gathered himself up and moved on again. When he stepped on the far ledge, I let out my breath, slightly dizzy from holding it so long.

  He smiled at me and then coughed again; this time blood splattered from his lips and I pointed. “The grail!”

  He nodded and disappeared inside the hut. I stared at the rock path, wondering whether God would allow me to cross, afraid to try without Galahad cheering me on. Time slowed. Each breath ripped my lungs to shreds in my chest; pain gripped me. I stared at the door and prayed to my Lord. Please don’t take my Galahad, please don’t let him die. My silent mantra continued until he stepped onto the ledge. He held the golden chalice in his hand; water dripping from the edge as well as from his chin. The smile on his lips was one of triumph and I knew he would live.

  I fell to my knees. My tears blinded me even as they cascaded down my face. “Thank you.” The acknowledgment was bitter sweet because I knew he couldn’t leave the plateau he now stood on.

  Galahad went to step on the path to bring the chalice to me, and I shook my head. “No!” He paused and cocked his head; he looked between the cup, the path, and me. “You can’t. You’ll die.”

  Galahad set the cup on the ground inside the doorway and turned back toward me. “Now?”

  “No, you can never leave.”

  His expression fell, and he looked at the rock path. He tilted his head and listened to the wind gods whisper the truth of the grail to him. It was one thing to hold the cup of life, and an entirely different thing to drink from it. Yes, immortality begets from drinking, but so does the obligation to protect and serve the grail, which, for Sir Galahad, meant he had to remain on the secluded mountaintop or forfeit his life.

  He raised his eyes to mine, haunted shells of what they had been when I first met him. They glimmered with one last strand of hope. I bit my lower lip against the sobs welling in my chest, and he held his hand out, beckoning.

  I climbed to my feet and took a deep breath, hoping against hope as I stepped onto the rocky path. The path held, and I took another tentative step, which brought a smile to his lips.

  I made it far enough onto the path to feel the winds batter against me and leave me teetering to catch my balance. But that’s not what froze me in place nor was it what wiped the smile from Galahad’s lips.

  The rumbling tremor welled up from the bowels below and shook the ground around us. The path started to crumble. The first rocks to fall were those at Galahad’s feet.

  “Run!”

  His shout broke my paralysis and I bolted toward him. I dove the last bit of distance as the rocks crumbled from under me. My fingers missed the rock below the ledge where he stood, and then his hand brushed my wrist, but it wasn’t enough, and I plummeted. His frantic blue eyes locked with mine and his scream followed me into the abyss.

  Some things are much worse than death.

  As I fell, God whispered the extent of my fate: eternally damned to an existence of agony and torment and misery and pain.

  Without my Galahad.

  The End

  Miami Heat

  Sizzling heat.

  She could almost hear the steam hissing off the Miami tarmac. The plane rolled to a stop at the gate and she waited her turn to exit, staring out the small window while the passengers gathered their luggage. July in Miami: some found it unbearable, but not Lynn Spoffard. She loved the sweltering gusts that blew over the sand and brought with it the salty tang of the ocean.

  The rush of heat assaulted her as she stepped out of the airport. She tilted her head into the gentle breeze and wiped away the strands of golden hair that drifted into her face.

  The tension of the last few months melted away by the time she slumped in the back of the taxi and gave the driver the address of her parents’ cottage. The lush scenery passed. She shivered at the frigid air circulating in the taxi and rubbed her bump-laden arms.

  She paid the cab driver, turned and looking at the white cottage bordering the fine pebbled sand. The black shutters aligned perfectly on the siding. It amazed her that the place never changed. Shaking her head, she entered the spotless abode.

  Silence, soothing silence. She inhaled, hauled her suitcases onto the bed, and relished the quiet after so many days and nights of arguments and insults. She knew she was running, avoiding the inevitable confrontation, but she didn’t have a choice, especially after Bryan’s last tirade.

  He called her a tease, a frigid bitch, a cunt.

  To hell with that bastard.

  She picked up the note on her dresser and sighed at her mother’s handwriting. It was as neat as everything else in her life.

  Lynn dear,

  Enjoy the house. We will see you in September.

  Love,

  Mom

  She carefully folded the letter and placed it in the top drawer of the bureau, opting to enjoy the rest of the day instead of wallowing in the past.

  Clad in a slinky pink bikini, she paused at the back slider to scan the crowded beachfront for an open spot. Homing in on a destination, she slid out the back door and trudged onto the beach barefoot, relishing the hot sting.

  The heat of the sand soon went from pleasant to scalding and she moved quickly to the spot she spied from the cottage. Shifting from foot to foot, she spread the bamboo mat and her feet sang with relief when she stepped on it. A few yards away, a heated volleyball game caught her attention. She spread her towel, settled on her stomach, and watched the game. The men on her side of the net were mighty fine specimens: rippled muscles outlined in golden tans gleaming under the sheen of sweat; hair darkened and dripping; patches of sand on elbows and stomachs, evidence of falling leaps to keep the ball in play. Your typical beach bum: hot, sweaty, and scrumptious.

  She slipped in her earbuds and scrolled to her favorite playlist. The first page of the book didn’t hold her attention and she kept stealing glances at the volleyball players. One glanced in her direction and their eyes met. Instant heat layered on top of the already high temperature that saturated her. She caught her breath in her throat and she dropped her gaze quickly to the book in her hand. But not before she saw the hint of a dimple in his cheek or the playful gleam in his eyes.

  She forced a breath and reined in her focus on the book in front of her; the sudden fire in the pit of her stomach diluted to a manageable level.

  “You really thought you could run away from me?”

  Lynn’s entire body went rigid and she turned her head. He was the one person she didn’t want to see on the Florida beach front. Bryan.

  His dark eyes glared at her, his lips pressed in that manner that meant an explosion was only seconds away. His cheeks carried the blotchy red of anger and he squatted. “Get up.”

  “Fuck off.” She wanted to dismiss him by turning away and focusing on her book, but a twinge of fear cascaded down her back and locked her in place.

  “Do you really want to cause a scene?”

  “I told you it’s over.” Her voice lowered into a growl. “Go back to New York and leave me alone.”

  He hauled her to her feet. “It isn’t over until I say so.”

  A sudden hush overtook the beach with all eyes on them, including Dimples. Mortification encompassed her, and she shot her gaze back to Bryan. “Let go of me.”

  “No.”

  He yanked her closer and she flinched from the fury in his eyes. Her gaze darted away from the mask of crumbling control in front of her toward the stalled volleyball game.

  Oh shit! Dimples headed in their direction and her mouth went dry. The closer he got, the more striking his eyes seemed—brilliant green wrapped with silky black lashes and the initial gle
am was now replaced by a hardness she couldn’t read. Heat rushed into her cheeks and she cut eye contact. Her gaze dropped to the sand before turning to Bryan.

  “Please, Bryan, you’re causing a scene.”

  “I believe the lady said let go.” His voice was laced with an edge despite the smooth, deep, musical quality it carried.

  Bryan glared at the stranger. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  He turned his emerald eyes to hers. “Is this guy bothering you?” He hooked his thumb at Bryan.

  Lynn’s heart pounded in her throat; she swallowed and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  His eyes swiveled back to Bryan’s. “Then this does concern me. I suggest you let go and back away.”

  “What are you going to do if I don’t?”

  His hands curled into fists at his side and the already defined muscles in his arms flexed, hardening into a work of sculpted art and a clear threat of violence.

  “Bryan, just go.” She hated herself for the pitiful whine in her voice.

  Bryan brought his fiery glare in her direction. “This isn’t over.”

  He shoved her away and trudged in the direction of the houses. Lynn wondered whether he knew which one belonged to her parents. A chill raced through her, and she rubbed the spot where he had gripped her arm. She turned back toward the unmoving shadow standing next to her. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and ran his fingers over the hint of a bruise on her arm before returning his concerned gaze to hers. “Are you gonna be all right?”

  The physical contact of his fingers against her skin produced an electrical current that encompassed her entire body. Heat rushed to her cheeks and to her crotch with the same bravado; it sucked the air from her lungs and overrode her senses. She fought for a breath, fought for a coherent thought, fought to form a smile of reassurance but she lost the battle. Tremors started in her feet and rocked their way up her legs. She collapsed onto her beach blanket.