“Eh, em… I don’t mean to be rude, lass, but am I at the wrong house?” For a moment he looked serious—eyes aside—but as soon as he caught my blush, he erupted in a shy chuckle. Was this his version of flirting? Because it was adorable.
“Please, come in.”
In he came, passing by as I caught a scent of fresh cologne. It was the same one from before, but much stronger now; very pleasant, and rustic. The intoxicating smell did quite a number on my already-wavering morals.
“Take your coat, sir? Stay a while?”
“Gladly.” He said, his back to me as he turned his head to smile at the sloppy blanket fort—and the now more audible snores that came from it. I watched the tight flex of his back muscles as he snaked out of the coat, noticing every coil that stood so pronounced from the white cotton. “I almost didn’t recognize you all—”
“Done up?”
“Glowing.”
I paused as I hung his jacket from the hook by the door, watching as he adjusted his shirt cuffs, rolling his shoulders against the twists in the fabric.
“Oh.” Not quite the answer I was expecting, but it sounded like a compliment. “Well, I feel much better now. Happier. Thanks to you.”
“Hmph,” he hummed, walking toward the kitchen as he took intermittent sniffs. “I see you two had an eventful day, aye?”
“Aye aye.” For that, I shook my head at myself. Aye aye? That made me sound a fool. “Can I ask you something, though? Why are you always sniffing like th—” I had followed so closely while looking down that as he turned to about face I ran into him, both of us catching the arms of the other, just like when we met. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t expect…I’m still a bit scatterbrained I guess.”
“It’s alright,” he said with a bit of tension. My hands had migrated to his chest, visible heaves growing within it, and his grip loosened as we both took a step back. “Where did you want to talk?”
“I um…that’s a good question actually, I guess…the great room?” I pointed through the kitchen and to the left, through the archway. “Through there.”
The great room connected to the kitchen, which led to the living room through another arch. It was a peculiar sort of architecture, but at least I’d still be able to see Iris while giving us a bit more privacy to chat. He moved at a calm pace, and I made sure to hang back a bit this time.
As the tile turned to wood, his Dockers grew quiet; both of us standing side by side trying to figure out the seating arrangement. The surface rug at the center of the room was a tinged woven farmhouse sort of thing. Once, it may have been sky blue, but with years of sun and cleaning, it had faded to something much duller.
He also seemed very fond of the inornate green tartan pattern of the short sofa, paying little attention to the two emerald chairs across from it. It was amusing to see him turn to me for guidance, to which I motioned for him to sit where he pleased. He sat on the couch.
I shuffled past him to sit at the opposite end. My thighs pressed tightly together as I did, the skirt hiking up a bit as I tugged it back down nonchalantly, distracting him from it with conversation. Or trying to.
“So…” I said, hands folded neatly in my lap as my ankles locked. My knees rhythmically rubbed against one another.
“So…” One of his legs had lifted, and he rested an ankle on the opposite knee with his hands coming to rest on his thighs. The silence dragged on a few minutes, both of us locking eyes every so often only to break it with a bashful smirk. After a while, a tightness grew in my chest—the kind of tightness that comes when you’re starting to worry about the lack of conversation.
“So did you really kill that…thing?”
“Is that really something you want to talk about right now?” He seemed astonished that I asked, but I was curious. I needed to know if I still had anything to fear, for Iris’ sake.
“Sorry…I haven’t really talked to anyone for a while, socially, so I guess I’m a bit out of touch with…you know, how to converse.”
“It’s alright. But, yes. If it makes you feel better to know, I did.” His hands were fidgeting a great deal, and I could tell that talking about this made him uncomfortable. “And the same goes for me by the way…socially.”
“Really?”
“Oh aye. Look at me, Leila.” Even though he seemed a bit anxious, I could tell he was opening up a bit, his body language becoming much more unreserved. He even spoke with more friendliness as he continued.
“If someone’s not staring at me like a freak, they’re apologizing profoundly for staring. And then they apologize for having to apologize in the first place. And that’s if they have any social respect at all. Some people just…stare.” His eyes glazed over like he was imitating the very stare he mentioned, before snapping out of it. “Otherwise, I deal with law enforcement, distressed parents, and the like. Casual conversation is something I haven’t had in…well a great while.”
“Maddy…why are you so hard on yourself?” His message was heartfelt, but only the beginning seemed to bother me. I had also grown a bit irked, considering I was one of those utterly apologetic people at one point. Did he think I saw him no differently than anyone else did?
“What do you mean?”
“About the way you look. Does it really bother you so?”
“Well, me personally? Not anymore, but…doesn’t it bother you at all? I know it did. I’m just not sure what changed all of a sudden.” His fingers lifted to trace the ridges of his brow as he spoke, as if to stimulate a thought. I could tell he was trying to understand.
“It doesn’t bother me at all anymore. And, see…I actually think…to be honest I think that…well…” These words were difficult to say because they felt so out of place. Here I had invited him over to chat and answer all these questions, but instead I started getting bowed up like a schoolgirl. “I think…”
“You think what?”
“That…you’re actually quite…handsome.” It was surprisingly hard for me to say, my cheeks burning in what felt like the revelation of my deepest darkest secret. I worried the hesitation would come off as insincere.
“Luíonn,” he spat under his breath, almost insultingly—whatever it was he said. His usually defensive stance grew even more so.
“English, Maddy, please?”
“I said I don’t believe you.”
“Well, could you at least try for like…a day…an hour…or any amount of time?”
“OK, Leila…look.” Suddenly his back straightened further. Both feet were now planted on the floor as his right arm came to sit on the back of the sofa, the other in the air, ready to gesture with his words. Finally the floodgates opened through the storm that had been stirring in his head this whole time. “If you want straight, here it is:”
Our eyes locked as he continued.
“I find it hard to believe that you have genuine feelings for me, seeing as you know nothing about me. It’s just far too convenient for you to think that you have some sort of… attraction for me.” Something about the way he smiled after that was increasingly dry, but even then, it looked like he was holding back some semblance of sadness.
Now he wasn’t even looking at me, and his eyes even seemed to close for the remainder of the conversation even though his hand continued to move in a most animated fashion.
“I mean, maybe you feel like you owe me something for saving your daughter? Or for, I don’t know, dragging you out of that tunnel. Or maybe you’re just, you know, tense and having me around is aggravating that. I tried not to let this happen, not to reciprocate, to say as little as possible, but you just kept pushing. And, yes, I admit, for a second I thought…I let my guard down just enough. Then last night I saw you had read my journal. It doesn’t make sense. I think you need to reevaluate your…mmm.”
While he was running his mouth about the things I had already considered, most of which weren’t true, I had managed to inch closer to him, and waited for my window to once again pounce on this stubborn man wi
th a kiss. Partly because I wanted to kiss him, but also to prove a point—to see if he would push me away instinctively—which he didn’t.
It was a simple, soft peck, but one that lingered long enough for both of our bodies to warm a bit. His fingers eventually tickled the small of my back while my bum sat perched in the air behind me. We had been holding our breaths so long that we had to back off once the air ran out.
My hand fell to his neck as I waited for his eyes to open. Hesitantly, they fluttered, meeting mine as my hand slowly began to slide over his chest. I felt the ripples of skin suddenly end as I reached his stomach, which sank beneath my touch, tensing. The skin beneath felt inherently…smooth?
Even so, my hand continued, tugging at his suspender. My fingers traced the length of it, but as I reached the clasp and my fingertips slid further down to the thigh of his khakis, a firm hand took hold of mine. He squeezed it tightly as he brought it back up to his chest.
“Oh, Leila…no.” His words shook with a fervor, both of us shuddering rather sheepishly. His knees slowly opened to a widened sit the harder he breathed.
“Why?” I whispered, brushing my lips ever so gently against his.
“I…mmm.”
I pecked him again, his eyes rolling a bit this time.
“Don’t you want to?” Something drove me. Something devious. And I could feel my morals slipping away—almost too fast for me to keep up with.
“I…ohh.” He couldn’t speak because every time he tried, I flicked my tongue against his lips. I swayed my butt in the air in hopes of increasing the allure, which led his sights astray.
“Gods…help me,” he whispered under his breath, hand starting to slide down and take hold of my display before quivering and balling into a fist. A sharp inhale startled me as he pulled away fast, sidestepping my kiss and causing my head to fall beside his. The grip he still had on my hand grew increasingly tighter. “Leila, why?”
“I didn’t read your book, Maddy.” My voice quavered, arms wrapping around his neck as I tried to snuggle the tension out.
“But it was on the tab—”
“I was going to…okay?” For this I sat up, knees bumping against his leg as I put on a more austere demeanor. “Because I wanted to know more about you, but…I couldn’t do it. It just felt too dishonest. And all I wanted…all I want…is for you to trust me and just…talk to me. About you.”
“And I thought…” He laughed at himself, pressing a hand against his chest before it fell back into his lap. “I thought you had and now…that whole lecture was because of it…I’m not sure what to think.”
Now I took it upon myself to steer the conversation in a more productive direction, and a less dangerous one.
“How about we start with something simple like…where are you from?”
“What? Oh…Ireland.” His expression lit up as he spoke, seemingly delighted that I’d asked. “A place called Wicklow.”
“I knew there was something familiar about your accent…” I pointed at him like it was some secret he had been harboring all this time. Maybe it was.
“Do I have an accent?”
“Mmhm, sometimes it’s more…profound than others though.”
“Oh…well…” I think he was blushing again, with that coy sort of smile and his head turned downward. “After all this time, I thought it had gone, to be honest.”
“How long? You say that like you’re…really old.”
That smile faded from his face as I worried I had just ruined whatever progress we seemed to be making. But he just sat there in silence, pondering something. Another secret must’ve embedded itself in our conversation.
“Let’s just stick with ‘a while’, for now…if you don’t mind.” Something was definitely tumbling around in that head of his; another insecurity?
“Hmm…fair enough. Well, is there anything you want to ask me?” Butt on my heels, I sat close to him. My hand cradled my cheek as my elbow laid against his. That question perked him up quite suddenly, not even a second passing before he spit it out.
“Yes. How long has it been, exactly?”
I think I knew what he was implying when he asked, but the forwardness threw me. So I decided to play dumb. Assuming and being wrong would’ve been far more embarrassing.
“Sorry…how long has what been?”
“Since you’ve…been with someone.” His posture hardened when he paused.
“OK, if you’re going to steer it in the direction of ‘you’re attracted to me because you haven’t been with anyone’ you better just shut that idea right back down, because—”
“How long?” He interrupted, staring deep into my eyes for an honest answer.
“Five years…” I was almost ashamed to say. Here I was, a mother of twenty-eight, and the last time I had had sex was when I was twenty-three. “But before you…you know, run your mouth, I have tried in those five years. I just never… clicked…with anyone. But why would you ask me that? I just worry you’re trying to find an excuse or—”
“122 years.”
“What?” My face must’ve read like I misheard, but that’s only because I thought I had.
“It’s been 122 years, for me.”
“You’re 122?!”
“No…” He snickered, rubbing his chin before hugging it between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s been that long since I’ve been with someone. Physically.”
“I just…wow. But…” His gaze was unflinching as I questioned his truthfulness. While I wouldn’t have believed him a week ago, it was hard not to now. “You’re serious?”
“I am. So I can’t really say anything about your five years, to be fair.”
“But why? Surely you’ve wanted to…right?” Secretly I was pushing, in the hope that he’d admit he wanted to now, but I may have been a bit too hopeful.
“Not as much as you’d think. And when I tried in that time, it just…didn’t really work out, I suppose.”
“Wait…” As I looked at him, it hit me. With how severely he was scarred, I had never even considered what was or wasn’t burned. For all I knew, he had lost every part of himself to the fire, more or less. “You…can’t? Is that it? God, I feel so insensitive for—I’m sorry.”
“Insensitive for—can’t—wait, what are you thinking?”
“That…you know, not everything survived the fire.”
His face was still filled with bewilderment, until I flicked my eyes downward.
“What? No…that…that’s not—” With that his legs closed, and a hand folded over his lap before he looked up again. “That’s not why.”
“Wait…so you do have a—?”
“Yes, Leila. My humble lad is still intact.” Admittedly, I giggled a bit when he called it his “humble lad”, much to his confusion.
“Then…why the celibacy?”
“I don’t know I guess…I just haven’t really ‘clicked’ with anyone.” Our sights collided something terrible as he said it, lingering on each other’s face. “As you would say.”
“Well it’s no wonder you’re so…wound up.”
“Wound up?” He laughed, smiling shyly as he threw his head back. “How am I wound up?”
All I had done was lay a hand on his thigh, and his whole body had gone rigid. My hand gripped his leg more firmly now, lips just barely touching his neck.
“You…are wound up. There’s no denying—oh…” I moaned, feeling a sudden heat devour me as a quick hand slid up to the middle of my thigh. He didn’t dare go higher, but this was torture in itself.
“And so are you…” As quickly as his hand had brushed me, it left, leaving nothing but goosebumps in its wake.
“So what do I have to do?”
“For what?”
“To get you, you know, out of your shell. Because with how I’m feeling right now I would literally get naked just to prove a point to you.”
“What-uh-what point is that…exactly?” Again with the laugh. He caught on to my foolishness with ease.
“That I’m serious about all this. Because being naked, I would be completely vulnerable and open to you, so maybe you’d take my words a little less for granted.”
“OK…” His torso shifted more toward me, index finger to his cheek and middle finger resting against his jaw as he stared, tauntingly. “I’m waiting…”
“Waiting for…what?”
“For you to prove your point…”
“Oh? Oh.” The speed at which I unbuttoned my shirt was praiseworthy. The look on his face, however, was much less so. I had gotten down to the last few buttons before he grabbed hold of my shirt, eyes glued to the round, bulging cleavage.
“You want me to stop?”
“I was trying to call your bluff, but I didn’t… I didn’t think you were serious.” I could tell he was trying to deescalate the situation, but the way his body quaked only drove me more wild.
“You really need to stop doubting me, Maddy.”
“Apparently so. Could you…give me a moment? To…just a moment.”
“Mmhm…” While he tried hard to look away, I knew he wouldn’t be able to. All the while, I gently stroked the still very visible mounds as he let out a deep sigh.
“Oh, Leila…that’s not helping.”
“I do have a question for you, though, now that you’re here and we’re, you know, talking.” I said, still stroking unapologetically as he continued to fight with his vices.
“Hmm?”
“Why did I pass out last night? After we kissed?”
“Because, um…because I was hurt so badly. When we kissed, I was drawing from your—”
“Saliva?”
“Well yes, but also your breath.”
“My…breath?”
“Yes, I guess you could say I…” With the most serious face he could muster, he looked me dead in the eyes before continuing. “…took your breath away.” He stole another glance at my chest before peeling his eyes away with a tight-lipped smirk.
Ashes of the Fae: (Leila Davis Book 1) Page 8
