Burning for You (Blackwater)

by Lila Veen

  The best part about Halloween is not being yourself, but whomever you choose to be for the evening. But you only get one night to do it, so whatever you decide to do, you must do without regret.

  That is how I find myself pulling Ash away from the throng of people packed in the ballroom at Normandy, away from the music and any other eyes that might be on us. I have a feeling we’re being watched. “Where are you taking me?” he asks behind me.

  “Away,” I tell him, tightening my hold on his hand and snaking through the crowd. We come out of the ballroom and we’re in a narrow hallway, with about three feet of space between the walls. I push him up against one wall and stretch up to press my lips against his throat. He responds quickly by pulling my face up to his to kiss me, twisting his hand in my hair. His other hand wraps around my waist, pulling my body against his. The pressure of his lips on mine and his tongue exploring my mouth cause the feeling inside of me to stir deep in my belly, making my legs shake. I rely on Ash to support me, knowing if he were to let go, I would collapse from the pleasure. His tongue probes deeper into my mouth, tasting me. I receive him with a moan, and I feel his body throbbing against my own. I push away from him, then, just as suddenly as I instigated the kiss, leaning against the opposite wall to catch my breath.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks me, looking flushed. I can tell he’s breathing as hard as I am.

  “Nothing,” I say. My lips curl into a smile. “I’ve wanted you to do that for a while. Now that it’s out of the way, you can introduce me to your mother or something.”

  He looks amused. “My mother? You’re kidding.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I figured we could release a bit of the tension in the air first, though.”

  He approaches me and I shrink back against the wall, hot yet just slightly terrified from the look he’s giving me. His dark hair tumbles over his brow and his black eyes glitter tempestuously. “You must be mistaken,” he purrs pressing his hips against mine, letting me feel how hard he is. “Nothing has been released. Yet.”

  “Not yet,” I whisper. “Please.” Something in my voice lets Ash know I mean what I say, and he nods, ducking down to press his forehead against mine. His hands come up to cup my face and he tilts my head to the side to brush his lips against my neck. His touch ignites me, making my skin burn.

  “Okay,” he says. “But don’t make me wait too long. I’m not sure how much I can control myself with you. When I lose control, Leah, things happen.”

  “I know,” I say, thinking of the chandelier and Michael. “Come,” I say, linking my arm through his. “Let’s grab a drink and dance with me. Pretend you want to spend time with me publically or something.”

  “I want to spend every moment with you, Miss Holt,” he says, smiling. “First, one more kiss?” he asks me. I nod, and he slams me against the wall, knocking the wind out of me for a moment, but breathing the life back into me by plunging his tongue back into my mouth and pulling my leg up around his waist. His hand slides up from my thigh and cups my ass under his palm, his fingertips grazing just under my panty line. I feel a surge of wetness between my legs where his hardness is pressed against me.

  “Oh god,” I moan when we break away. “We’ll never make it.”

  Ash laughs and gives my thigh a quick squeeze and steps back from me. I pull my dress down and adjust my stocking and garters as well as I can without a mirror. Then I return to his side. We walk down the hallway a bit, back toward the noise. Immediately we are accosted with drinks and more hors d’oeurves, which I heartily shove into my mouth. I think I might need the nourishment for later, considering the way Ash is holding me possessively against him.

  As all clichés go, the band slows down to play a soft song. Ash pulls me tightly against him and sways along with me to the music. I sigh and lean into him, letting his tall body support my own. Then I start to laugh. “What’s so funny?” he asks me.

  “Maybe it’s the wine talking,” I say, tilting my head back to look up at him. “But I feel like I’m in love with you.” We are silent as the words resonate between us, both of us realizing the impact and severity. “I don’t even know anything about you.”

  “My favorite color is red,” he says, looking down at me with that tumble of hair in his eyes. “I’m a Leo and I hate long walks on the beach because I don’t like sand in my shoes.”

  “I’m a Leo too,” I say. “And you could take your shoes off, you know.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to?” he suggests, making me smile. “What do you want to know? Ask me anything.”

  “Anything?” I echo. Ash nods. “Okay, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-six,” he replies.

  “Damn, younger than me? That won’t do.”

  “Is there a rule that says I have to be older than you?” he asks me. “I don’t recall that one.”

  I shake my head. “No, I guess not. Men do age more gracefully than women do.”

  He shrugs. “I’ll buy you plastic surgery for our anniversary.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet,” I reply, both flattered and frightened by the way he’s talking as though he knows we’ll grow old together. Neither one of us has the insight of a water elemental to make that call, but as catalysts, we can probably assume as much. He swings us around and theatrically dips me in his arms. I laugh, actually enjoying myself for the first time in years. Michael and I never connected like this. I never believed in love at first sight, or fate, or anything remotely sentimental or romantic. I figured people were compatible if they both had jobs and could pay their share of the rent. I’m finding out how wrong I was. “So what do you do?”

  “Do?” Ash says, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean do you work?” I ask. “Do you have a job?”

  Ash grins. “No, of course not. I’m the young, rich playboy who just runs around doing whatever he wants.”

  I step back, aghast. “You’re kidding.”

  He shrugs. “Sort of.” He steps forward to grab and pull me close again. “I help to manage the vineyards, but it’s not exactly a full time job.”

  “I see.”

  “Why does that seem to bother you?” he asks me. I guess I’m not hiding my feelings too well.

  “I-I’m not sure,” I say, honestly. “I’ve always had to work. Even in high school, my parents always made me get a job if I wanted spending money. Not like they couldn’t afford to just give it to me, but they refused it. Nothing was ever handed to me. When I left Blackwater, at least I knew what work meant, which helped me…” I trail off, realizing that my work ethic and upbringing had everything to do with my parents not wanting me to stay in Blackwater. It’s all too clear now.

  Ash puts his finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at me. “You’re going to meet my mother tonight, and I want you to understand something about her. I’m her last child, her baby, and she will let you know it. Some people would say I’m the favorite, and I know I am. That sounds conceited, and it is. I’m a very conceited person.”

  I snort, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, I’m getting that impression.”

  “Hey,” he says, “I’m not lazy or an asshole. I’m sorry if you got that impression. I need to prove that much to you, I can tell.”

  “You don’t need to prove anything,” I tell him, leaning against him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he says. “So what else do you want to know?”

  “What have you told Erika about me?” I ask. “Is she here tonight?”

  “She’s here somewhere, I’m sure,” he replies. “As for what I’ve told her about you, she knows what you are to me. What could I possibly need to tell her?”

  “Your catalyst,” I say softly. “Does Erika have a catalyst?”

  Ash shrugs. “Supposedly everyone does. She hasn’t found hers, though. Neither had I, which made us a good couple while it lasted.”

  I pull back. “I feel like I’ve intruded on something, but I don’t want to think of you
and anyone as a couple when you’re with me.”

  “Aren’t you the one that’s married?” he asks suddenly. The horror hits me that I’m the one who’s been playing with fire this whole time. I whirl away from him and start to storm off, feeling tears burning in my eyes. He catches up with me quickly, though, and pulls me back toward him by wrapping his arms around my waist.

  “Let go of me!” I say, causing the people around us to back away and leave space.

  He pulls me against him, hard, practically knocking the wind out of me. My back is pressed against his chest and I can feel his heart pounding against my back. “Leah, stop it. You can’t expect me to be sorry about anything I did before I found you, just like I don’t expect you to be sorry for marrying someone else before you knew me. We’re both flawed. We’re both at fault. Can we just accept that and move on?” I sigh against his chest and nod, feeling the tears run down my cheeks. He’s absolutely right. He wipes my face with his hands and I feel his lips against the back of my head. “We don’t live in the past, Leah. We live for now. Let me enjoy now with you.” His hands move down my shoulders and squeeze my wrists gently. I cross my arms over my stomach, enjoying the protective feel of his own arms over mine. I nod and sink against him, wondering why I’m so emotional tonight with Ash. It must be the wine. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks me.

  “I’m fine,” I say, turning around to face him. I show him a smile to prove it. “Feed me something, though. I think I’m getting drunk.”

  He smiles and stops a passing waiter and lifts the entire tray out of his hands, placing it between us. “Eat,” he commands, and I do. I shove one small pastry after another in my mouth until there is nothing left. “You’ll want to be sober with me tonight. No passing out on me.”

  “No,” I agree. I feel so much better it’s ridiculous. “So introduce me to your mother now.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Why are you so reluctant?”

  “I’m not reluctant,” he says, but I don’t believe him. “Follow me. She’s over there.” He hands the tray to another passing waiter, who slips the empty tray under another one full of fresh hors d'oeuvres.

  I can’t believe I didn’t notice her before, I think as Ash leads me up to his mother. Lisette Lavanne stands to the side of the crowd in the ballroom, a flute of champagne in her left hand. She is talking to a pretty blonde woman who looks to be a few years older than me wearing a gauzy purple genie costume. Lisette doesn’t appear to look as though she’s wearing a costume, but I’m guessing she doesn’t often wear French renaissance ball gowns that Marie Antoinette would have envied. Her mask matches the silver and teal of her gown perfectly, etched with aquamarines and diamonds dripping down one side of her face. Her black hair is swept up high on the crown of her head and cascades down her neck in large ringlets. Ash approaches her with me at his side and takes her silver gloved hand in his own, pressing her hand to his forehead. “Maman,” he says, putting her arm down.

  “My Ash,” Lisette purrs. She strokes his cheek with the back of her hand lovingly, and Ash turns into her touch slightly. Then she turns to me. “You are Leah Holt,” she says in a soft yet commanding voice. “Lisette Lavanne,” she says, offering her hand. I place it on my forehead respectfully. “How lovely it is to have you here at Normandy.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “It’s a wonderful party.”

  “Leah, this is my sister-in-law, Annalise,” Ash continues, introducing me to the blonde in the genie costume. She is very petite and about average height, with an amethest mask framing her large brown eyes.

  “Nice to meet you Leah,” she says. “Welcome to Normandy.” Something in her voice sounds ominous, or sarcastic, I can’t tell which, but I choose to ignore it and smile.

  “Leah, how is your mother?” Lisette asks me. “Well, I hope?”

  “She’s alright,” I say, not wanting to outright lie. “I think it’s been hard on her since my dad left, and I’ve only just been back to see how she’s coping. Though it’s been almost fifteen years.” Why am I spilling everything to this woman I’ve only just met? It’s as though I can’t stop talking. “She subsists entirely on frozen food and Diet Coke.”

  Annalise bursts in laughter, and Lisette simply nods. “Tell your mother I do miss her coming around. I know it’s been hard for her since Jared left, but she must not isolate herself from her people.”

  I nod. “I agree that leaving the house more often would do my mother a lot of good. I’ll let her know you asked about her.”

  Lisette smiles and then turns to Ash, fussing a bit with his black mask and pushing his hair out of his eyes with a gloved hand. She leans over to whisper something to Ash, making him bend his height down to accommodate her. He pulls back and looks at her and nods. Then he takes my arm. “It was nice meeting you, Leah,” Lisette tells me.

  “Very nice meeting you,” I agree. “And you as well, Annalise,” I add.

  Ash turns me away and walks with me, heading away from his mother. “What did your mother say to you?” I want to know.

  “She told me to leave the party now before Erika causes a scene,” he mutters. “I guess she is very, very drunk.”

  I am silent as I ponder this. Lisette sensed a scene and saved me from it, to which I should be grateful, but now Erika is back on my mind, something I’m not at all comfortable with. “Where is she?” I ask as we’re almost out of the ballroom. “Where is Erika?”

  “Looking for me?” I hear a voice say behind me. I whirl around and am face to face with Erika. She is dressed in a sequined yellow belly dancer costume, her lower face covered in gauzy gold and her eyes hidden by a gold and ruby mask. Still, it’s unmistakably her, from her voice and her size and the way she fills out the half top. “Of course you shouldn’t be doing that. You two would finally want to be alone, I’d think. Why waste your time with me?”

  “Erika,” Ash says in a tone that indicates he’s warning her. She ignores him and continues. I notice the man standing with her is remarkably sexy. He’s probably a foot taller than she is, with close cropped and tightly curled hair and very chiseled facial features. His skin is a soft caramel, like hers which he is revealing practically all of in his Indian chief costume with a feathered mask to match his elaborate headdress. I can’t resist lowering my eyes to his loincloth, which shows that he is definitely packing a punch, so to speak.

  “Ash, don’t even start with me,” she says. “Your mother already cornered me and warned me not to talk to you, and now you’ve started it.”

  “Hey,” the man standing with her says, putting his hands commandingly on her shoulders. “Don’t do this, Rika.”

  “Don’t Rika me, Zane,” she says shoving his hands away. “You’re ready to bail on me too, I know it. Fuck off.” She whirls away and storms off, leaving Ash, Zane and me standing and looking awkwardly bewildered.

  “Sorry Ash,” Zane says. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

  “I do,” I say softly. Zane looks at me and smiles.

  “Girl, your name might as well be Helen of Troy, for all the wars you’re about to start in this house,” he says. I can’t help but laugh. “I’m Zane Martin, Erika’s brother.”

  “Leah Holt,” I say. “But I think we both already knew that.”

  “We did,” he says. “Listen, don’t let her ruin your night,” he says to both Ash and me. “She’s gonna get over it. She can’t do anything about it. I’ll slip her something and she’ll forget, and maybe charm some other Lavanne brother that’s not spoken for.”

  “Just make sure you two don’t go after the same one,” Ash says, knocking at Zane’s shoulder playfully with his fist. Zane laughs.

  “Touche, Lavanne,” he says. “You two enjoy each other.”

  “The same one?” I whisper as we finally seem to be able to exit the ballroom. “What the hell?”

  “Zane gets around,” Ash explains with grin.

  Chapter 12

  Ash’s room is mostly gre
y. Once I’m in there, I forget that I’m in Normandy. The room is huge, almost like a generously sized studio apartment, with a sofa and television set, a small refrigerator with a makeshift bar on top, and an attached bathroom. Black and white photographs adorn the walls. “You could hide out here for a week and have everything you need,” I tell him.

  “Don’t think I haven’t,” he replies, opening the fridge. “Do you want a beer? It’s all I have in terms of soft liquor. Or I could have more wine or champagne sent up from downstairs. Or something harder?”

  “Beer sounds great, actually,” I say, taking the bottle from him and twisting off the top. My mind once again reminds me that I know almost nothing about Ash. How am I already standing here in the middle of his room after only speaking with him a few times? I had known Michael for years before we’d ever officially dated. But look at how well that turned out. “Seeing you in your own environment tells me a lot more about you than I already know.”

  “I suppose it would,” he says. “The house isn’t mine, but this room is.”

  “Did you choose these photos?” I ask him. I survey one of a barren tree standing against a bleak horizon. “They’re beautiful.”

  “I took them,” he says, standing behind me. His free hand strokes my bare arm.

  “Took them from where?” I wonder. He laughs. “Oh, you don’t mean you stole them. You mean you took the picture? Like, with a camera?”

  He laughs. “Of course that’s what I meant. Photography is one of my hobbies.”

  “Oh yeah?” I turn to face him, resting my arms on his shoulders and attempting to lace my fingers behind his neck. He’s too tall, and my hands don’t meet. “What other hobbies do you have?”

  “You, now that you’re here,” he replies, grinning.

  I groan and roll my eyes theatrically. “That was horribly cheesy.”

  “I know,” he says, pulling me close to him again and kissing me with lips that are cold from the chilled bottle of beer. “I feel like I can let my guard down with you.” He takes his beer and finishes it in one large swig then sets down the empty bottle on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He pulls me down to sit next to him. “I feel like a teenager with you,” he says.