Inextinguishable Love: Firefighter and Interracial Romance

by Kathleen Bunker

  He had gone down to the galley to mix up some mimosas. He left her lounging topless in the warm sunshine. He had to pause to gaze at those lovely rosy areoles encircling her chocolate nipples. Pulling the cork from the wine bottle, their image stayed with him. As he worked, the ship shifted a little in an odd way; it was as though the aft had risen slightly and then settled. He wasn’t sure where that had come from. The ship swayed a little and he felt a small tingling sensation like static electricity all over his skin. He figured he knew where that had come from. He smiled and danced up on deck and Mia was gone.

  He looked about, but she was nowhere to be seen on deck. He scanned the water, but saw nothing. He called to her, but there was no answer. He called below. Nothing. He shrugged and sat by her lounge chair, set her drink down, sipped his own and waited. She was no doubt in the ladies’ room. He slid the brim of his cap over his eyes, settled back, soaking in the rays and feeling the ocean roll slowly beneath him.

  “Oh this is yummy,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he said smiling.

  He thought that he heard something odd about her voice. He reached out to pat her hand.

  “I haven’t had real champagne in ages,” she said.

  Her words suddenly had a distinct British ring. He stroked her hand, thinking that she was joking with him. He moved his fingertips to glide up that silken arm – and he froze the moment he touched the cuff of a coat. He pulled up his cap, turned and stared. The woman jerked back her hand.

  “Really, Mr. Winsted,” she said. “I mean we hardly know one another.”

  She was most assuredly not Mia. The woman in the lounge was a full head and shoulders shorter. Her long hair was a rusty, strawberry blonde. Her face was small and round, and with a slightly upturned nose she had an almost elfin quality. She wore a long lavender coat, sort of a cross between a driver’s and a frock-coat with many pockets and purple piping along the bottom hem and at the cuffed sleeves. She had on a white silk shirt with a ruffled ascot. Her matching jeans blended into her slender, fit legs and she had on little chestnut colored knee-high boots with straps and buckles.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” she said. “My name is Frederica Ramona-Lynda Delarosa. But you can just call me Fred, everyone else does. We’re the Essex Delarosa’s, not those others. And you are?”

  “Fred?”

  “No silly, that’s me.”

  “Mia?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Where?”

  “Oh. I sent her back to Port Villa. She’s at your hotel, poolside. I’m afraid that I couldn’t find her top. She’s going to be a bit embarrassed, but she’ll get over it.”

  “Mia.”

  “You haven’t been listening.”

  Half in shock and half in a daze, Scott stood and backed away from the strange woman. He dashed to the bathroom, but Mia wasn’t there. There was no sign of her. He stood stunned a moment. But he had not gotten where he was in the world by being indecisive in moments of crisis. His first thought was pirates. He grabbed his rifle and flew onto the deck.

  “Okay lady,” he said aiming right between her eyes. “If you don’t tell me what you’ve done with Mia right now – “

  “I told you. I sent her back to Port Villa. I can do that. I’m a witch, you know.”

  Her smile galled him. He kept his cool. He focused.

  “Okay then,” he said. “Bring her back now witch or you’re going to be shark bait.”

  But even as he spoke an enormous great-white breached the water and slammed its head across the fantail. The ship upended. Scott lost his footing and began sliding toward gaping jaws. His feet skittering frantically, he aimed the weapon, but even as he did the witch yanked at the barrel.

  “That’s my sister!” she cried.

  *****

  The gun-barrel flew high and the shot went wide. Scott wrestled with the girl, but even as he did, the yacht suddenly righted itself. In the sudden motion the girl and the rifle tumbled away. His heart still racing Scott braced himself and looked aft. The behemoth was gone. Instead there a woman leaning on the transom, her head resting on her crossed arms. She was smiling.

  She had a sculpted face with thin lips and piercing brown eyes. Her raven hair flowed behind her like gossamer, and to Scott she was almost a vision. For indeed it was as if he were seeing things through a sort of focused haze; the woman’s face clear and bright while everything around her seemed fuzzy.

  “Rikki!”

  The voice felt so far away.

  “Hello Fred,” the enchanting woman said, and as she spoke it was as though his soul sparkled. “Give me a hand, please?”

  Frederica got to her feet. She fused with her coat, kicked the weapon out of sight and went to help. She took the woman’s hand and as she lifted herself, blue water clung and wrapped her naked body, and for just a brief instant Scott saw that graceful form.

  Her breasts were firm, and yet supple, and as the water cascaded away, a glimmering pale blue halter fashioned off one shoulder and caressed the lovely breasts. Her ribs and slender waist were the color of cream blushed with a hint of strawberry. She raised a perfect leg onto the deck and it was as if the sheening water gathered into a long silken glowing azure skirt that trailed wisps of sea-foam.

  And as she climbed aboard she had eyes only for Scott.

  “You scared the hell out of me,” Frederica said “And him.”

  “And who is him?” she asked with the voice of a siren.

  “We were just getting to introductions.”

  Both women looked at him, and Scott had the feeling that it was a privilege to speak to the stunning nymph.

  “Scott,” he said as if in a dream. “Scott Winsted.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you Scott Winsted,” the vision said gracing him. “I am Erica Laylanna Ariadne Delarosa.”

  “Charmed,” he managed.

  “Ya think?” Frederica said.

  “Well I am so sorry,” Erica said. “Defense mechanism. I mean he was going to shoot me.”

  “Well your entrance was a tad over the top. Why the hell did you morph into a shark?”

  “Some of us are not as good at teleportation as you seem to always be.”

  “That’s because I studied,” Frederica said. “But why a shark?”

  “Not just a shark, little sister, a great-white. They happen to be very fast. Lucky I was in the neighborhood when Uncle Jon contacted me.”

  “You’re kidding? Uncle Jon sent you? You’re my help?”

  “No darling, you are my help.”

  “Look…”— “

  “No. You look what I have.”

  Scott had heard the two as if from a distance, but from that distance he was enraptured by Erica’s beauty. He watched dreamily as the woman handed Frederica a sliver necklace with a glowing opal at the end. Frederica’s eyes gazed at the thing.

  “That’s auntie Emm’s,” the woman breathed.

  “It’s mine now,” Erica said smiling, and beneath that smile Scott melted. “I suggest that you make good use of it and find our course.”

  “It’s not my ship.”

  “Oh, I am sure that Scott Winsted will let us use it for a while,” Erica crooned. Her eyes electrified him. “Won’t you Scott? I would be ever so grateful.”

  “Uh,” he managed. “Sure.”

  “How sweet,” she said smiling. “Now run along little sister, play with your new boat. Scott Winsted and I need to have a little chat.”

  “It’s a ship,” Frederica said.

  “Whatever.” The goddess took Scotts hand. “Show me your boat Scottie?”

  She took his hand and led him to the master bedroom below. He floated behind her, trails of sea-foam drifting in her wake. And as those streams of scented foam floated by, he watched in awe as her costume melted away. And when she sank nude onto his satin sheets, she seemed more than alive. It was as if every inch of her glistened and invited his touch, and he was filled with a desire that wa
s far more than lust or passion; it was a need as urgent as life itself.

  He found himself naked in her arms. Her warmth seemed to fuse with him, and her shimmer wrapped and enveloped him exciting every fiber of a nerve-ending on his body. She caressed the back of his neck. Her delicate fingers were softer than a child’s. With her other hand, she stroked his back and his muscles rippled. He found his fingers lost in her raven tresses weaving through the essence of night. Her yielding breasts lit a fire to his desire. And as her velvety soft thighs swathed his own, he suddenly felt himself as a crass and ungainly mortal in the presence of the divine.

  But then her lips brushed his own and the delicate feeling sent wave of wonder through his heart and soul. And when she kissed him, it was as if she had not just forgiven his earthly existence, but also compelled him to join her yearnings.

  Her heavenly body writhed beneath him, urging him to please her, and if he had ever wanted anyone in his entire life it was to please her. That childlike hand took him. He was full and throbbing to the point of pain. But when she parted her thighs and led him home, he was plunged beyond paradise. With her touch he found the strength of Hercules, and he drove them both into wails and cries of eternal ecstasy.

  On the bridge, Frederica scanned the controls. They were simple enough. She held the opal in her palm. She stroked it with her ring finger. Colors began to emerge. They swirled and pulsed. She hovered over the little red veins and the others faded. She coaxed the ruby layer and the stone warmed.

  “Let’s go find your sisters,” she said softly.

  She smiled and settled the necklace between her breasts. She steered the craft to follow the warmth of the gem, trying to ignore the wailing from below.

  ****

  It was after midnight when Erica strode onto the bridge wrapped in a silk robe and carrying a cup of coffee.

  “Where’re we headed?” she asked.

  “A small island called Mataso,” Fred answered.

  “What’s there?”

  “Turtles mostly. Hopefully a pomegranate. How’s our host?”

  “Oh little sis, you’re so funny,” she laughed. “When I charm a man, he stays charmed.”

  “Then why is he pointing a pistol at us?”

  “Because I couldn’t find my rifle,” he said, standing behind the two.

  “It’s in the life-vest closet,” Fred said.

  “Scottie?” Erica said demurely. “Scottie baby please put that silly thing down. You’re frightening me.”

  “So?”

  “Scottie, honey when I get frightened I tend to act rashly.”

  He leveled the gun and aimed between her eyes.

  “Or not,” she said. “Oh what do you want?”

  “Mia,” he said, “Bring her back now.”

  “Mia,” Erica said. “Mia Elverelli?”

  “I want her back.”

  “Well that explains everything,” Erica said throwing her hands in the air. “Jeeze Fred, you sure know how to pick ‘em. That Witch.”

  “Rikki!”

  “Well she is a witch.”

  They heard the pistol cock. Fred turned slowly, instinctively holding her hands up.

  “Let me explain?” she said timidly.

  To her surprise and relief, he did. Fred told of her quest, weaving images in his mind as she spoke. Rikki tried to embellish, but he made it clear that he wasn’t interested in anything that she had to say. When Fred had finished the man looked doubtful.

  “So,” he mulled. “You kidnap my girlfriend and hijack my ship because you want spring back. What is so important about spring?”

  “Oh,” Fred said with a shrug. “Other than the fact that it’s pretty, it does serve some functions. Like initiating the growing season for the entire northern hemisphere. Stuff like that.”

  “And,” Rikki added. “I understand that Ms. Elverelli loves her pesto with fresh pine nuts and basil.”

  “I am not talking to you,” Scott snapped.

  “Why are you angry at me?” she asked. “A few hours ago-” – “

  “You used me!”

  “I seduced you.”

  “It was a trick!”

  “It was a fu— “

  “Enough!” Fred cried.

  Her voice was a command and they both obeyed. She curled her fingers and then opened them in a waving motion. Scott felt something warm and wormy in his hand. He yelped, jumped back and dropped the snake that was once his pistol. He looked at the woman astonished. Erica started to laugh, but with a gesture from Fred the man was silenced. Fred walked right up to him. She peered deep into his eyes. Scott felt his blood slush to ice.

  “I’m sorry,” Frederica said. “Truly I am.”

  She held his gaze and he couldn’t move. Then it was as though some strange soft light came from her eyes and began to burrow and creep into him. He felt as though he were being searched, and then the searching paused at his heart, caressed, and then pulled away. And as her light emerged from his eyes, it drew with it a sort of grey mist. He stared as she rolled the smoky stuff between her palms.

  And then she opened her hands and he saw that the vapors had formed a sphere and in that sphere, he saw the face of Mia. The ice in his veins melted and as his heart throbbed again he reached for the shifting mist, but it was caught by no wind he could feel and bit by bit it scattered into the night air. He grasped at the nothing floating away. And then from the depth of his soul, he groaned with an anguish such as he had never known.

  “I am so very, very sorry Scott.”

  But he barely heard the words as he stumbled back and then collapsed to his knees.

  He had known heartbreak before, but nothing like this. It was as if a part of his very being, part of his essence as vanished and the gaping hole that it had left began to fill with loss and sorrow and pain. But with that bitter emptiness came the understanding that he had been deceived by Mia. With his own eyes, he had seen the hex she had place on him exorcised, and with his own eyes he had seen that spell for what it was; airy nothing.

  And then he did something that he once vowed that he would never, ever do – he wept.

  Frederica’s heart broke. When first she met the man, she thought him an arrogant brat. Then when Erica had charmed him so easily she thought him a fool. Now, listening to his pitiful sobs, she could only see him as frightened and hurt little boy. She thought to chant some sort of easing on him, but then she thought that the boy had been manipulated enough by sorcery. She had to leave him alone.

  It was almost an hour before he stopped sobbing. In that time, she looked to her navigation and let the opal guide her. Erica had gone below. Fred watched the radar. There was a blip on intercept. No doubt a coincidence, but she altered her course a few degrees. Not a half hour later, the blip changed course too. She throttled ahead to three-quarters and altered course again. That seemed to do it.

  She thought about the witch Mia and wondered why the woman would want to toy with Scott. She didn’t need money. She didn’t need notoriety. She couldn’t think of any possible reason—

  “Why?” Scott said. He stood beside her. He was shaken but he was calm. “Why would Mia do that to me?”

  “I don’t know,” Fred said. “I don’t know the woman. Because she could? Who can say?”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” he sighed. Where are we headed?”

  “Mataso,” she said, hearing the word ‘we’.

  “You think that’s where your gemstone is?”

  “I do.”

  “Looks like we’re gonna have company,” he said pointing to the radar.

  “Shit!”

  *****

  “Get Rikki up here,” she said as she steered and throttled.

  She had been heading to the island’s southern harbor. She thought to sail due west and then north to try and hide in the island’s shadow, but the other blip started to steam fast. Whoever they were, they were no coincidence, and they weren’t shy about it.

  “What is it?” Rikk
i asked as she reached the bridge.

  “I don’t know,” Fred said. “That thing has been dogging us all night.”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t know!”

  “Easy enough to find out,” Scott said.

  He keyed something into the nav-pad and beneath the blip lines of info appeared.

  KPN – Najin –AK-630

  “What does that mean?” Erica asked.

  “Wizards.” Scott said shaking his head and pulling out his phone. “You really should come into the twenty-first century . . . let’s see, Janes Ships . . . ah, here we – holy shit.”

  “What?”

  “KPN,” he said. “Korean People’s Navy. That’s a bloody North Korean frigate.”

  “You’re crazy,” Erica laughed. “Korea is like thousands of miles away. Why would they have a boat way out here?”

  “Four thousand miles to be precise,” he said working his phone. “And a Soviet frigate is not a boat.”

  “I still say you’re crazy.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Fred sang. “What matters is that they are there, and we are out-gunned.”

  “And it’s coming right at us,” Erica sang back.

  “Well,” Scott said. “You’re supposed to be witches. Can’t you just send them away like you did Mia?”

  “Mia,” Fred replied. “Is all of a hundred and twenty pounds. That boat’s a little bit bigger.”

  “It’s a ship,” Erica corrected.

  “Well do something!”

  “I suggest that we run,” Erica said. “I can make this baby fly.”

  “Wait,” Fred said. “We’re so close. You guys run. I’m going to search the island.”

  “How you gonna get there?” Scott asked. The two witches looked at him. “Oh, right. But can this little thing outrun a combat ship?”

  “Watch me, darling,” Erica said taking the wheel.