Dark Hearts

by Micalea Smeltzer

  It always comes out when you least expect it.

  Nova

  The air crackles with intensity and silence reigns.

  It feels like the calm before the storm, the moment where the whole world goes still but electricity sizzles through the air.

  I can feel him watching me, but I try to ignore his searing gaze.

  I take a bite of my eggs, my eyes glued firmly to my plate.

  I finish and stand to carry my plate to the sink.

  “Fuck this.”

  I jump as his plate goes clamoring to the ground and food rains all over the floor by my feet.

  Before I can blink, he’s in front of me, his presence commanding. He takes my plate from me and slings it in the direction of the sink. It misses, hits the cabinet, and breaks into a million pieces.

  “Jace,” I gasp.

  He grabs my face, pressing his lips firmly to mine and stealing all my breath.

  He lifts me up and carries me back to the table. My butt touches the hard surface and he releases me, using his body to press me down onto it.

  “What are you doing?” I ask on a gasp when he releases my lips.

  He kisses his way down my neck. “I told you I was going to fuck you on this table. I couldn’t stand waiting any longer when you look more appetizing than my breakfast.”

  His words make my heart race.

  “I have to get ready for class,” I protest weakly.

  “And I have to find a stupid costume for this party tomorrow, but fucking you is much more appealing.”

  He has a point there.

  “Lay back,” he coaxes. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Our eyes meet and he urges me to trust him. I nod once and do as he says. I lie back so I’m completely flat on the table.

  “Take your shirt off,” he commands.

  “You first,” I parry.

  He shakes his head, his lips tipping up in his trademark smirk. “I make the rules, not you.”

  I lick my lips, turned on more than I can ever comprehend by his bossy attitude.

  I reach down and slowly lift my shirt. His gaze follows my fingers as they curl around the fabric of my shirt, and I lift it up, exposing my stomach and then my breasts. When it’s off I drop it to the floor and lean back on my elbows. The gesture lifts my breasts and he looks at them with heat in his eyes.

  When we first started sleeping together I felt completely out of my league and inexperienced. Jace has helped me to become a lot more comfortable with myself in the last few weeks. I still have my moments where I feel silly and unsure, but thankfully they’re not as often as they were.

  “Are you going to just stand there and look at me?”

  He presses his finger to my lips. “Shh.”

  My eyes follow his finger as he trails it between my breasts. I shiver, craving the warmth of his body on mine.

  He runs his hands down my thighs and then steps away.

  “The rest.” His voice has taken on a husky edge and he presses a shaking hand to his lips.

  I oblige, and remove my sleep pants and underwear. He watches as the clothes drop to the floor and then he devours me slowly with his eyes.

  Fire.

  I am fire and he fans my flames. He makes me burn brighter, he doesn’t try to dull my spark.

  “Beautiful,” he murmurs, the words barely a sound but I can read his lips. “Lay down and spread your legs.”

  I oblige. A bit of that old fear creeps around the edges of my mind, but as he lowers and presses his lips to my sensitive flesh all my thoughts melt away.

  The table is cool beneath my back, and surprisingly not that uncomfortable.

  Jace swirls his tongue around my clit and I gasp, my hips arching up to meet his mouth.

  He grabs my hips and forces them back down, pulling his mouth away long enough to growl out one simple command. “No.”

  My chest rises and falls as I struggle to get enough air. I cup my breasts, my eyes flicking down to his sandy head between my legs. His fingers dig roughly into my thighs, so much so that it hurts, but I still don’t want him to lessen his grip. If he does I’m afraid I might float away.

  The stubble on his cheeks grazes my sensitive skin, and I shiver.

  He plunges two fingers into me while still sucking on my clit, and I cry out immediately as I orgasm. My whole body shakes, and when I finish, I feel loose and languid. I can barely keep my eyes open but I manage to do it and watch as he reaches behind him, hooking his thumbs into the back of his shirt and pulling it off. He tosses it behind him and makes quick work of his jeans.

  He steps back up to the table and loops his arms around my legs, pulling me to the edge of the table so I’m half hanging off and he’s supporting my weight.

  He plunges inside me in one hard thrust.

  “Oh, my God,” I cry out, reaching up so my fingers scratch his abs.

  He bends and captures my lips with his. He sucks on my bottom lip and lets it go with a pop. It feels slightly puffy and I’m sure it’ll stay that way most of the day—a constant reminder of this moment.

  A moment that will now play out in my mind every time I look at this table.

  He peppers kisses all along my neck and chest, paying special attention to my breasts.

  My fingers delve into his hair, tugging on the short strands. He hisses between his teeth and I smile in satisfaction.

  It causes him to retaliate by biting my shoulder. I yelp and he chuckles, soothing the bite with a lick of his tongue and then a tender kiss.

  He glances down, watching where we’re joined and I plead, “Fuck me harder.”

  His eyes jolt to mine, the green all but completely leeched from them. Instead, they’re twin, dark orbs, like he’s become some other creature all together.

  He holds my hips steady and obeys my command—which is a miracle, because normally he does the opposite of my pleas, but he must need this as much as I do.

  He fucks me desperately, like he’s about to lose me.

  I cry out as I come a second time and then he’s coming too, groaning as he finds his release. The desperate, almost pained sounds he makes are enough to make me orgasm again. Something about watching and hearing him lose control always turns me on.

  Our bodies are pressed together, damp with sweat. He rests his head on my chest, his ear pressed to the spot where my heart beats.

  “That was fucking amazing,” he says, his voice hoarse.

  “Yeah,” I say, lazily running my fingers through the longer strands of hair by his forehead. I can barely think, let alone form a sentence.

  Minutes pass and once we’ve both caught our breath he pulls away and helps me off the table.

  His eyes roam over me from head to toe, and I squeal when he sweeps me into his arms.

  “Jace,” I cry out, trying to wiggle out of his arms.

  “Shower,” he commands, so I stop fighting.

  “Just shower?” I raise a brow.

  He grins down at me, suddenly looking very boyish and much younger. “I’ll be a good boy.”

  “Mhmm,” I hum. “I’ve heard that one before.”

  He sets me down when we reach the bathroom and closes the door before turning on the shower.

  “In,” he commands.

  “You’re so bossy,” I grumble.

  “You fucking love it when I’m bossy,” he reasons. He has a point there.

  I step into the shower and he follows behind me.

  “I really do have to get to class,” I tell him.

  His arms wrap around me from the back, and I lean my head behind me onto his chest so I can look up at him. He bends and presses a tender kiss to my shoulder. I shiver, his tenderness surprising.

  “I know,” he murmurs against my skin.

  He washes me then, from head to toe, his touch light and almost sweet.

  When he finishes, he dries me, staring into my eyes the whole time.

  Have you ever felt like someone sees you? Really sees you? Not the you
that the world sees, but the stripped version? The real you? The chaos of your thoughts and the impurities of your heart? I think Jace can see right through me, to the darkness beneath that saturates my heart. That fact both terrifies and exhilarates me. It awakens something in me I long ago thought dormant. It reminds me that I’m alive and that the world keeps spinning even if we stand still.

  “Go get dressed,” he commands, kissing me tenderly, completely unaware of the storm of thoughts rolling through my mind.

  I nod once and scatter out of the bathroom, the tension popping like a pin into a balloon. I wonder if he noticed. I hope he was unaware but I see no way he didn’t feel it too.

  In the safety of my room, I close the door and lock it—better safe than sorry; I can’t trust myself when it comes to Jace.

  I dress quickly and look at the time. I do need to get to class, but I have some time to spare, so I grab my notebook and sit on the edge of my bed, writing furiously. I can’t get the words out of me fast enough.

  Dear Owen,

  It’s been too long since I wrote to you and for that I’m sorry. I promise it’s not because I forgot about you—nothing could ever make that a true statement because you’re always on my mind.

  I think about you every day. Mostly when I’m about to fall asleep.

  I think about the color of your eyes and the softness of your hair beneath my fingers.

  It breaks my heart that you can’t think of me in the same way.

  I’m a ghost to you.

  I don’t exist.

  That’s what hurts the most.

  Love,

  Nova

  I finish the letter, rip it out of my notebook, and fold it up, sticking it with the others where it will remain forever.

  ***

  I appraise my costume in the bathroom mirror.

  I turn side to side, checking every angle.

  I think I did a damn good job.

  My green hair is curled and fluffed so it’s a wild mess, while my face is covered in white makeup, with tattoos drawn onto my face and down my neck. My lips are a vibrant red and I’ve purposely smeared it around. My eyes are surrounded with a smoky gray color and I’ve slathered the mascara on. My outfit consist of purple pants, a white button down shirt with a green vest over top, and a long purple jacket.

  The Joker is hardly an original costume, but since I had the green hair already it seemed a natural fit.

  “Nova.” Jace bangs a fist against the door. “I need your help.”

  I reluctantly open the door and he gapes at me. “What do you need?” I ask.

  “Holy shit,” he mutters, “you look fucking amazing.”

  I look him up and down. “You’re not wearing a costume.”

  He makes a face of disgust. “I went to the costume store yesterday to get something but everything was stupid so I got the brilliant idea to paint my face to look like a skull—only I forgot that I can’t paint.” He points to his face and I can see evidence of paint left behind where he’s scrubbed it off. “Help me,” he pleads, holding the face-painting set out to me. “Have mercy on me, I beg of you.” He throws in pouty lips for good measure.

  I sigh and take the kit from him. “Come here.” I point to the closed toilet lid for him to sit down.

  He does as I say and I flip open the palette.

  “Thea is going to kill you for not wearing a real costume,” I warn him.

  “This is a real costume,” he argues.

  “I’m sure she won’t see it that way.” I laugh. “Now be quiet.”

  He mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

  I take my time mapping out how I want the skull to look and then I work on adding the colors more heavily to his skin, and then being sure to blend them so there’s no harsh lines.

  It takes me a good thirty minutes before I’m happy with the final product.

  I step back and assess him.

  He blinks up at me. “What’s the verdict?”

  “You make a hot skeleton. Though, when you’re as hot as you are I’m pretty sure you can pull off anything.”

  He laughs, placing his hands on my hips and tugging me close to him. He rests his hands on my ass and looks up at me. “You think I’m hot?”

  “You know you’re hot.”

  He grins. “That’s not what I said. You think I’m hot?” he repeats.

  I look away and mumble, “Yes.”

  He slides his hands up my waist. “I think you’re hot, so I guess we’re even.”

  He stands and the small bathroom now feels even smaller. I’m convinced the walls have moved closer together.

  “Confession,” he lowers his head so his lips graze my ear, “it’s going to be impossible for me to keep my hands off you tonight.”

  “Confession,” I say breathlessly, “I don’t want you to.”

  He grins at that. “Tonight?” he asks.

  I know what he’s asking. “Tonight,” I echo.

  Fear fills me at the thought of telling our friends, but I feel excited too. Our relationship is complicated and maybe a little weird, but it’s still real and shouldn’t be treated like a dirty little secret.

  Jace smiles and it fills me with happiness that he’s so okay with this. He was so hesitant in the beginning, but I think he senses it too, the rightness that him and I are together. We just … click.

  My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter and I grab it.

  Joel: Hey, I ended up not having to work. Think I’m still invited to the party?

  Me: Of course. You better have a costume though or Thea might hurt you.

  Joel: I have a costume.

  Me: What it is it?

  Joel: Tsk, tsk, Clarke. A man has to have some secrets.

  Me: That’s mean.

  Joel: That’s life.

  I type out the address and tell him I’ll see him there.

  I head into the apartment and find Jace changing into a black t-shirt. He’s decked out now in head to toe black and coupled with the face paint it’s an intimidating sight.

  “Joel’s coming to the party,” I inform him.

  He growls. “No.”

  “Will you stop with that?” I snap, slightly irritated. “He’s my friend.”

  “Yeah, your friend that has a dick. Do you know what guys with dicks do?” I raise a brow, knowing he’s going to tell me regardless of whether or not I want to know. “They fuck hot chicks.”

  “And I’m a hot chick?”

  He snaps his fingers together. “Exactly.”

  I shake my head. “You’re insane.”

  “I’m right,” he reasons. “Trust me, the guy has thought at least once about what you look like naked, but since I’m also a guy I’m going to say it’s safe to assume that it’s much more than once and more like a couple hundred times.”

  “Can we go?” I say, edging toward the door. “This conversation is giving me a migraine.”

  “Just stating the facts.” He grabs his leather jacket and shrugs into it.

  We take his truck to our friends’ house, and I’m shocked by the number of cars on the street. I mean, I know Thea said it was a party but I kind of expected it to only be us. Guess I was wrong.

  Jace has to park on the street about a block away and we walk from there.

  We reach the door and I hesitate, wondering if I should knock or just go in, but the problem is solved for me when the door swings open, revealing Thea.

  “Oh, thank God,” she breathes in relief. “People I know. Get in here.”

  Thea’s decked out in skin tight leather-looking black pants, a black off-the-shoulder fitted top, big poufy hair, with her lips colored a bright red.

  “Sandy from Grease?” I surmise, stepping into the house with Jace following me.

  She smiles and nods. “My Danny is around here somewhere. He wasn’t too thrilled about the couple’s costume thing but he has since warmed up to the idea and even sang his own rendition of “Greased Lightning”. It was glorious.”


  “I’m sorry we missed that.” Truly, I am. Xander singing a song from Grease? That had to be hilarious. “I hope you do a duet later.”

  She snorts. “Not likely but if I drink enough, it’s a possibility.” Her eyes flit over Jace. “Jacen Kensington,” she hisses his name over the music pumping through speakers in the family room to our right. “That is not a costume.”

  “I’m a skeleton.” He points at his face.

  “Unless that’s painted all over your body, then it’s not a fucking costume.” She glares at him. “You’re in regular clothes. This is blasphemy. The King of Halloween is rolling over in his grave.”

  “There’s no King of Halloween,” Jace retorts.

  Thea sticks her chin up haughtily. “If there was a King he’d be rolling over in his grave. You’re an insult to all Halloween loving people.”

  Jace shrugs. “I just never got into it.”

  Thea gapes at him. “Have you ever even seen Hocus Pocus?” He shakes his head. She clutches at her chest like an old lady would clutch her pearls. “Are you kidding me? I can’t believe I’m hearing this. This breaks my heart. You’re coming over and watching Hocus Pocus tomorrow, got it?”

  “Halloween is over tomorrow,” he grumbles.

  “Every day is Halloween where Hocus Pocus is concerned.”

  “I have to work,” he mumbles weakly.

  “You aren’t working all day, I’m not stupid.”

  He sighs. “Fine. Nova’s coming too, then.”

  “Hey,” I defend. “I have seen Hocus Pocus before.”

  “Yeah, but—” He wraps an arm around me. “Since you’re kind of my girlfriend now you owe it to me to be there for moral support.”

  Thea’s jaw drops. “What did you say?”

  I glare at Jace, semi-pissed that he let that bomb drop but also surprised that he went through with telling them. I thought we’d get here and he’d change his mind and decide tonight wasn’t the best time to say something. Suddenly, I wonder if I’m now the one holding back in the relationship more.

  “Nova and I are together,” he says.

  “Oh, my God,” she squeals, clapping her hands together. “This is amazing. I always thought you two had amazing chemistry. It’s about damn time. Come on.” She reaches for my hand. “We have to tell the others.”