Stars gleamed sharp and crisp, the moon a slice from new. I stayed connected to the night sky. Or maybe the night stayed connected to me. My breathing became slow and laborious, the inhale a deep, guttural gasp, the exhale slow and heavy, as if intending to fog a pane of glass. The cool, malty taste of night's magic slicked my mouth, and the lower world melted away, filling my vision with the moon and stars.
Shadows cascaded out of my skin, as if I became the cliff edge of a black waterfall, too much for my small frame to contain. The magic rolled along the ground, absorbing into Delano, the night, the Earth, coaxing me to join. It was sweet. And taunting. And persuasive. Come to me. Explore me. I'll make you happier and stronger than you ever believed, it whispered seductively. Delano clutched me to his chest, his arms my parachute, letting me enjoy these sensations as I floated over immediate death.
I crumpled to my knees. Delano crumpled with me; I toppled into his lap.
"Very good," he murmured. He curled his fingers between mine, brought our hands down, brushed our fingertips beneath the hem of my shirt. Tingles shot through my stomach, launching flares along my nerves. I clasped his hand against my core.
Come to me. Come to me. Come to me. These words repeated inside my bones. Was it night's magic or Delano's? My heart hammered as our student-mentor relationship morphed. The classroom became a tightrope, my magic too many shots of moonshine. Delano slid his fingers across my throat, his calluses carrying tree bark and chisels and sparkling granite. I craved them all over me.
"Trust me," he whispered. "Enjoy it."
Take another shot, he might as well've said. Get plastered and pull me into your bed.
Del's doing this on purpose, I thought. He's seducing me into the darkshine. A low-flying aircraft droned, its red light blinking. I clenched Delano's thigh. My back squirmed against his chest, and I didn't know if my groin pulsed for him or from the magic. I focused on soft mounds of dirt where some critter burrowed. It's not Delano you'll regret in the morning, I reminded myself. You'll wake in the darkshine, a stranger you'll be married to forever.
Delano's hand slid up my thigh. "I won't let it steal you."
I needed to resist. I yearned to obey. I wanted to float to the sky, dark and inviting, a place to lose myself, reconstruct, grow. A reverse birth, a return to the womb, an agonizing and destructive labor. Payment seemed miniscule. Pain. Suffering. A complete destruction of self. I don't like myself, anyway, I reasoned. It's such a tiny loss.
The night felt familiar and welcoming and right. I gazed at the stars, my birthright … but then the reality of its commitment rammed me like a bull. He's manipulating you, idiot! Was this thought mine or my mother's or Sam's? The night pulsed and whispered, begging me to hear its secrets, pleading for me to surrender so it could surrender to me. A perfect relationship of give and take, equal power, equal control.
No equality exists here. It's a trick. Stop, now! He wants to trap you. He—
Sound's frequencies wavered, and a soft voice emerged beneath the night's luring. It was faint and garbled, a lover whispering temptations beside a babbling brook. Its syllables induced the swelling sensation of gratitude, a whispered thank you for the lives of frogs, the gnaw of worry for an oil-stained soil, and an intense desire to set the trees ablaze.
The Earth's voice.
"I hear it!" I gasped. A slow and steady hum, deeper than the magic on my skin, more distant than the light which might as well have been switched off forever. A tiny thump amid a whoosh, the heartbeat of the night, the life force of half the world. My hammering heart sputtered, trying to match its pace. Trying to become its pace. The taste of lavender filled my mouth, enough to burn my sinuses. I'm possessing too much night magic; I am being absorbed. Yet I wanted to float to this nebulous darkness, curl into its womb. Moths fluttered over me like a halo. Delano hugged me as if we'd absorb together into this nocturnal abyss. Starlight swelled in my vision. Yes! Yes! I wanted—
"Stop!"
My eyesight snapped into focus. The overtaking sky faded, replaced with tree trunks, shrubbery, rocks, as crisp as a photograph in blues and grays.
Delano crawled away so we sat facing each other. "You'll enter the darkshine if you draw more magic." His eyes glistened, repressing tears. "And I don't think you want that."
I felt drunk and seduced and desperate. I craved the darkshine. I craved Delano. I craved an orgy of flesh and magic and reckless desire. I groaned, rubbing my face. "Yeah, I need to stop." Delano steadied me as I stood, his touch making me shudder. My veins were electrical wires, amps surging, the voltage maxed out. Blue sparks crackled along my veins like an overloaded system, additional stimuli threatening to blow out my nerves with arcing energy and molten lines.
"Sooo. I'll take my kiss now."
I wheeled on Delano, my mouth agape. He smirked.
Oh you tricky, tricky darkling.
Delano slid in close. My heart thumped. He tilted his head, his teeth flashing white when he smiled. "Unless you are the kind of woman who reneges on her promises."
Magic coiled around him. It weaseled into me, purring and licking, as strong as night itself. The power I knew awaited in touching him made me tremble. "Never."
Delano smiled, our noses nearly touching. "Prove it," he said, then backed away several steps.
I scowled, hands on my hips. "Seriously?"
He grinned deviously, his finger beckoning me closer. "You owe me. So come pay up."
"You're such an ass!"
Delano pressed a hand against his chest, fluttering his eyelashes. Who? Me?
"This is so unfair!" I then lectured him on every reason why in a minute-long snit.
"I'm waaait-iiiing," he said, pretending to check a watch. "Unless you are uncomfortable. I won't hold you to this. It's your choice."
I huffed, brimming with magic capable of earthquakes and hurricanes, tsunamis and storms. Delano surrendered himself to me, smirking his annoyingly sexy smirk, daring me to take what I desired from him. Or what I didn't. Control rested in my grasp. Power surged at my fingertips, but as I stepped toward him I might as well have been leashed and crawling. I didn't dominate him or this situation. I didn't dominate anything. In presenting me with options, I needed to surrender to myself, needed to trust myself to make a choice and live with the consequences. Delano gave me the power of the night, yet managed to strip me down, naked and vulnerable.
What do I want? My brain and my body refused to agree. The magic's opinion didn't help, either.
"You can refuse," Delano said.
Yes, my brain said.
No, my body responded.
Come to me. Come to me. Come to me, night's magic intervened.
Shadows snapped around us, striking like reins. "I keep my promises," I grumbled, and stepped to him. I rested a hand on his hip, tried to pull him closer. He stood as strong as onyx, refusing to give an inch. My breathing felt strained and painful inside my chest, fear trying to restrict the deep breath night's magic induced. I tentatively slid my fingers into Delano's damp hair, stroked his temple. We stood, my heart pounding as I brushed the flattened ridge of his changeling ear. Delano's thin, sickle eyes drifted along my jawline, my neck, my lips, but otherwise he remained still. I sighed, then pressed my mouth against his and overloaded the system.
Arctic lightning shot through me. His mouth was soft and gentle, a complete and total surrender, but the night punched through us, snapped our bodies together. I'm holding too much night magic, I realized. His magic latched onto mine; mine latched onto his, my body betraying my brain. Adrenaline flooded my arms and legs. I tried wrangling in my magic, but there was so much. Too much. A tug of war ensued, me and the night vying for domination, a back and forth of cracking whips. The night was winning, tugging at Delano as if trying to syphon him into me, to form us into a dynamo.
The night is merging me with him. I broke away from the intensity.
"You promised a minute." Delano's stare was so carnal I sucked a tight breath. He clen
ched my hair, thrust me against a tree. His tongue opened my mouth and I returned the intrusion, tasting ice and feeling heat, every nerve awakened and screaming along my skin. My toes curled in fallen needles. Electricity surged my veins, melting the lines. My fingers clenched his moist hair; his cold, wet chest pressed against mine. He held me tight against him, and when I pulled away for breath, his lips found my throat, never abandoning my flesh. I faced a zillion stars and a sliver, blood moon, staring through the silhouette of fir branches as if his darkling eyes were everywhere, drinking my body. He lifted my rear; my legs wrapped around his waist. He was hard, and eager, and if he pushed I'd let him take me with his body, his magic, let him seduce me into his world. I'd let him do anything he desired.
Delano nipped my earlobe before pulling away. Magic puddled beneath me. I lowered my feet, gripping the tree's bark. The bones in my legs had melted.
"Minute's up." He kissed my wrist, then turned to head home. "Lessons are done for tonight."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I dragged bare feet along bricks, carrying a bundle of clothing and rubbing my eye. The bathroom was a small mined out space at the far end of the living quarters. Water came from an underground stream and a series of small cisterns; drainage was a deep fissure. Day magic heated the shower with little issue, but today the cold water felt tepid. Last night purred inside my chest like a content kitten. I smiled as water slid down my body, hugging myself to prevent that feeling from ever escaping.
I scrubbed and rinsed and dried and dressed, brushed my teeth at the pedestal sink. I panicked when I realized I'd forgotten to buy more tampons, then smiled when I spotted a new box beside the incinerator toilet, a steel box which functioned via propane, flame, and paper inserts. Delano couldn't look me in the eye when he'd explained how the toilet worked, but after several weeks it became my new normal. Now, my Ohio life felt silly. Why had I been obsessively attached to television and flush toilets? Why did I illuminate an entire room to read a book, when a flashlight sufficed?
My mouth tasted of malt and lavender, like a Portland microbrew. My night vision allowed effortless movement throughout the mineshaft, but I clicked on the lights out of habit. The glow stretched toward me, a weaker entity to my wielded darkness. My eyes rolled behind closed lids. I shouldn't hold so much night magic. It's too dangerous, I told myself, as tingles jittered from my scalp to my groin. My body swayed to a silent melody. Even in jeans and a T-shirt the mineshaft felt warm.
The mineshaft also felt different.
I set a tea kettle to boil and gazed at the kitchen's stone walls, the clay tiled shelves, the mismatched dishes, the colorful braided rug cushioning my feet. Nearly five months ago I arrived as a houseguest, an outsider in Delano's world, unable to see in the dark. Now, my lotions intermixed with his aftershaves, our shoes sat together near the entryway, we drug our clothing to the laundromat in one collected heap, dirty underwear and socks mingling. My purse sat on the table, now with two chairs instead of one, and, unspoken, his mug with the colorful cockatoo became mine. When did that happen? It was as if a vine had crept along the mineshaft, branching Miriam-shaped leaves into empty spaces.
The magic pulsing inside me amplified the effect. The mineshaft's depth repelled the darkshine, but the energies felt confining and concentrated. Not stifling, though. Dark magic down here felt like drifting circles on an eddy, waiting until the sun set and the waters shot you into the rest of the stream. The eddy felt stronger than ever, entangling me in a pocket of comfort. It was a feeling of belonging and security, a feeling of home which joined me to the night, to Earth and the mine, to Delano. I closed my eyes and felt his energy—a calm vibration, denser than the rest. I wondered if Delano felt me, too. I wondered if it made him feel differently about his—
our?
—space.
I rubbed my eye, yawning, and scooped coffee into the French press. Last night I pushed too hard; I needed to spend all day intaking light. I groaned. Leveling the energies would be grueling. But then I remembered frogs and ponds and a darkling's cold kiss. A smile tugged my lips. It's worth it.
I hummed as I poured boiling water into the press and waited for the coffee to brew. The connection between me and Delano was now undeniable. The intensity of our kiss made sex with Sam seem like a peck on the cheek, and I suspected it was a smidgeon compared with the darkshine's potential. But was our affection because of magic or because of us?
I poured myself a mug of coffee, then wandered into the living room.
Another nightmare must've woken him. Delano lay on the love seat beneath the framed dogwood leaf, my cardigan over the backrest. He slept supine, the armrest propping his head, a science-fiction novel toppled to his side. My coffee steamed as I watched his bare chest rise and fall. He had the sculpted body of a dancer, lean muscle hiding grace in its strength. The strung lights reflected white in his corvine hair—now long enough to brush his shoulders—like moonbeams in a midnight sky.
I felt a stirring sensation in my mind, as if my
[truth]
subconscious was trying to break free of my
[programming]
reality. I sipped my coffee, the cockatoo mug warm and heavy, and
[ogled]
studied him.
I never met an unattractive faerie. Some had features as soft and rounded as rose petals, others the sharp characteristics of cliffs and pinecones. But all had an organic beauty, nature manifested in bodily form, as if they sprouted from the soil to embrace the sun. Still, Delano stood out somehow. An orchid amid the daisies.
Does the darkshine cause that? I wondered. Faeries had sun-kissed skin and an inner glow, as if their hearts were beating embers. Delano's skin, however, was fair and smooth without pallidness, like the inside of oyster shells or polished moonstone. He glowed internally as if he'd devoured the stars.
He's been moon-kissed, I thought with admiration, feeling a twinge of envy. Despite knowing his changeling past and having caressed his flogging scars, I suspected his beauty had somehow privileged his life. Yet I couldn't imagine Delano as a faerie. He owned the night.
Or does the night own him?
Delano sighed, shifted more to his side. Darkness leaked out of me in thin tendrils, but watching him swelled my chest with a light intense enough to kindle a flame. I fought magic's
[my]
urge to
[kiss him, bite him, lick him, rub him]
curl beside him, slide my fingers through his chest's subtle hair, and hold onto him for centuries. No longer as apprentice and mentor, but something more. Except what was that more? The darkshine? No. I wasn't ready for an eternal marriage. But would Delano want a relationship without the darkshine? Maybe. Hope flickered and impossibilities started to crumble. Relationships free from abuse and turmoil exist. The profoundness of that revelation startled me. Finding it profound made me feel sad and hollow.
An idea struck me. I tiptoed to his room, set my mug on his desk, and slipped the iPhone out of his leather backpack. The screen refused to unlock beneath my cold fingers, so I grabbed the stylus, too, then tiptoed to the living room. I knelt on the floor, adjusting the phone's screen.
"What are you doing?" Delano mumbled, his eyes closed.
I snapped a photo. "Being a creep and taking your picture."
One eye slitted. "Why?"
"Because I don't have any." I leaned for a better angle, hiding my reddening face behind my hair. "Too weird?"
Delano yawned. "Naw. I like your weird." He propped himself on his elbow, his hair mussed. I snapped another picture. "But you're next."
"Ugh. I look like crap." I stood and returned the iPhone and stylus to the backpack, then flung it over my shoulder. I squeaked when Delano materialized in front of me—bare-chested with a five o'clock shadow—and denied myself the insane urge to grab his waistband and yank him closer.
"You do not look like crap," he said. "Stop repeating lies of awful people."
"Yeah, yeah." I swallowed
my lust and tried to step around him. He side-stepped, blocking my path.
"You're beautiful," he said.
I snorted and went to step around him the other way. He blocked my path.
"You're beautiful," he repeated.
Blood thrummed in my ears. I forced a casual smile. "Flatterer."
His eyes narrowed. "You're beautiful." I shook my head, my smile fading. He refused to leave my path. My hands slid behind me, feeling for a corner not there. Delano snatched my forearms, his eyes intent on mine. I tensed beneath his tender grasp, remembering our first meeting in the woods, when I believed he was evil and cruel and trying to deceive me.
"You're beautiful."
The air thinned in my lungs. My heart pounded. Delano's compliment screeched like brakes on rain-slick roads. My shoulders curled, bracing for the impact. He's mocking you, my mother sneered. I could almost hear her wicker chair creak. You are scrawny and ugly and your breath stinks. No one thinks you're beautiful.
I flinched when Delano lovingly brushed the hair from my face. "You're beautiful."
Tires squealed inside my mind. Thoughts raced, scrutinizing every possibility the impact might take. An insult? A manipulation? A forced promise? Compliments were never complete sentences; a second part always loomed. You're beautiful … but stupid. You're beautiful … now blow me. You're beautiful … so do what I want. Light glinted off the jelly jar displaying Sam's car keys on Delano's desk. Water pipped in the dark. Stupid girl, fooling yourself. You're too contaminated with brain viruses and past abuses. You're a burden, too damaged for anybody.
The vein in Delano's neck fluttered. He cupped my chin, made me stare into his approaching new-moon eyes. "You're beautiful," he said firmly, as if nothing remained to say.
My eyes burned and my fists shook, for I hated him. I hated him for this entrapment, hated his cruelty for dragging this out. Come on, you bastard! Give me the insult, give me the strike. Laugh at me. Mock me. Use and manipulate me. Just end the suspense! My car spun out of control. Anxiety clawed my chest and clenched my throat, his compliment a guardrail flying toward me at sixty miles an hour.
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