BlindHeat

by Nara Malone

  “I shouldn’t trust you,” she said, half to herself. “I know I shouldn’t.” He looked like a shadowy demon in the dark, his pale-silver eyes beyond human. “But I do,” she said at last.

  “Excellent. Now look into my eyes for a moment. Focus there while you breathe. Imagine them as black pools ringed with silver, like water in the moonlight. Do you see?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice going soft, echoing his moody chant.

  “Breathe in the silver light, slowly, and as you do imagine it flowing down your spine, like quicksilver filling a tube, filling a little more with each breath.”

  He waited. On her fourth breath he said, “You see?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Close your eyes now. The silver glows brighter as you breathe, like you’re lit from within.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl. Now let’s take it a step further. The particles that make up the light spin and dance, hum with energy. Watch how they spin faster when you breathe in, slow as you breathe out.”

  She saw exactly what he described, as if the light was made up of thousands of glittering specks, she watched them spin and swirl.

  “It’s like glitter in a tube of liquid,” she said. “I breathe in and it shakes them up, out and they settle, sink lower in the tube.” She peeked up at him.

  His pleased smile made her feel as if she turned into swirling spirals of glitter, dancing at his command.

  “Good girl,” he said. “Now keep those eyes closed. See the light. Breathe the light. Become the light. Your skin is your connection to the world. It can see, feel, hear, taste. Right now it can tell you the exact places where moonlight touches.”

  Allie’s lashes fluttered.

  “No peeking. Prove this to yourself. Take a deep breath, hold it. Let the energy of your breath reach to your skin, notice how each cell responds. Now, hold the breath inside, and hold your right hand above your right breast. There are three stripes of light across your skin. Let the energy in your fingers guide you. Feel the humming with them and place one fingertip in the center of each stripe.”

  Allie did, and it was probably the power of suggestion but she felt the humming intensely in some places and not in others. Was aware of a milky taste on the back of her tongue. She pressed fingertips to the places where the humming was most intense, all five fingers rather than the three he’d requested.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Each finger rested in the exact center of a moonlit stripe. Five stripes instead of the three he’d led her to expect.

  “This is just the beginning of what you can do, sweetheart.”

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t take her eyes away. “How?” The light, fluttery feeling kicked up in her stomach again.

  “Breathe,” he said gently. “Take yourself back to center.”

  She tried. Dropping her hand to her lap, she drew a breath, told herself this was nothing special, nothing scary. Stage tricks.

  On cue he said, “This next part is a trick. I don’t want to launch into a distracting chemistry lesson now, so we’ll keep the explanation of how I do this for later. I’m warning you because it’s frightening if you aren’t expecting it. Ready?”

  Allie nodded.

  “Hold this for me.” He drew one hand from behind his back and put a slender white candle in her hand. Allie didn’t see the box he’d held earlier and assumed it was on the bed behind his back. She wrapped both hands, one above the other, around the candle.

  “Inhale. Good. Exhale. Inhale one more time. Hold it.” He withdrew the other hand, brought it between them. Marcus opened his fingers with a flicking motion and a small ball of fire appeared in his hand. The sudden release of her breath extinguished the flame.

  “Um. You were supposed to hold that breath, sweetheart.”

  “How did—?”

  He cupped her face with both his hands, kissed her to silence and sat back. “Let’s try this again.”

  He said it was a trick. But even so, how did fire sit in his palm without burning?

  “Allie, are you concentrating?” His hand was behind his back.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Breathe deep. Hold it.”

  He brought his hand out. Light flared. His other hand came around to guard the flame, cradled it in a way that while she could see the top of the flame she couldn’t see the area where flame should meet skin.

  “Now, breathe normally, exhaling gently. That’s perfect. Light the candle from the flame.”

  The wick caught with a soft flare and the trembling in her hands carried to the flame, making it quiver. Wax went liquid with the heat, a slow trickle.

  Inside her, heat built and went liquid as if he’d lit her at the same time they lit the candle. He folded his hands together and the cupped flame vanished. Then he took the candle from her. Wax trickled down over his fingers, but he seemed unaware, unhurt.

  “Look at my eyes, sweetheart.” He held the candle at arm’s length. “Do you see the reflection of the flame?”

  “Yes.”

  “Adjust my arm’s position until you see it reflected in the center of my iris.”

  She did.

  “Now watch the flame there. Good, that’s it. Just relax and breathe.”

  Between her legs desire burned inside, quivered and flared like the flame she watched, sent liquid trickling down her thighs. The scent of her need rose, mingled with the scent of melting wax.

  “Now close your eyes and tell me what you see.”

  “I see the flame floating in an inky pool.”

  “Perfect. Now breathe in and watch the flame rise.”

  She obeyed, shifting her knees underneath her as she did, pressing thighs together. It felt as if she were going to melt with the rising heat.

  “Watch it. Watch it dance in the darkness. There’s a halo around it. It grows and shrinks with your breath, a rise and fall like the swell and fall of a wave, like the ocean, like a sound. Can you hear it?”

  “Yesss.” Her sigh flowed with the sound. The aura around the flame changed from white to blue, to purple and back down through the color sequence with each breath. Each color had a tonal quality that rose and fell like notes going up and down a scale. The waves—light and sound—rippled through her being, expanding outward, the way rings formed around raindrops striking a puddle.

  “Open your eyes into mine, Allie.” She did, saw twin flames, one flickering at the center of each pupil. A stinging sensation swept over her skin where fingers of light licked her. The burning hunger in her pussy consumed her. She needed something inside her. His cock. His tongue. His fingers. Her fingers. Something she could use to fuck away the burn.

  “Pay attention, Allie. Use your breath to maintain control.”

  The flame in his eyes rose and fell with her breath. Impossible. The candle was to her left, held just above and behind her shoulder. Her breathing wouldn’t stir it.

  “It’s not real,” she said out loud to reassure herself. She wanted to look back at the source of light but was unable to tear her gaze from the magnetic pull of Marcus’ eyes.

  “Don’t resist the fire, Allie. Embrace it.” His voice flowed over her skin like cool water, trickled down her spine. Fingers of light and heat licked at her body, coiled in her core.

  “It burns,” she whimpered. “I can’t.”

  “Like can’t burn like. Be the light. Be the heat. Be the flame.”

  The air around her crackled. She felt more like the candle, melting into the air. Liquid trickled over her ankles, her pussy weeping with need. She wanted to be a flame, licking Marcus’ cock, drizzling him with molten desire.

  “Touch yourself.”

  How could he be so calm? Unmoved?

  He was moving the candle, she could sense light changing, but saw through a red haze. He aimed light like a laser to ignite new sensation. He looked like a dark-haired demon wreathed in flame, his skin painted in rose and gold. Not real, she knew, mind games running away with her, but she c
raved going into that fire with him wrapped around her. Her fingers moved toward the hotspots he created.

  She pinched her nipples, like she might pinch out the flame on a taper, and it worked until she released the pressure and the burn flared again. She pinched hard, only letting go when the pressure was more intense than the burn. Another hotspot flared to life centered over her clit.

  “Not fair,” she whimpered.

  “You’re in charge. You control everything that happens with your awareness.”

  She was aware of him. A man who called fire out of the air. A man who had her ready to beg him to put out the one he’d kindled between her legs.

  “I’m a flame, Marcus. Consumed by you. On fire.”

  “You want to come?” he asked.

  “You have to fuck me.”

  “Touch yourself. Slide your fingers inside that sweet pussy and take what you crave.”

  “No I want you to fuck me,” she cried, not caring if every neighbor heard. “Fuck me where it burns,” she sobbed. “Make me come by fucking this burn away.”

  Heat flared so bright in her clit that she had to press fingers against it, her eyes snapping open as she did.

  “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice going husky. “You’re going to make yourself come for me, sweetheart.”

  He steadied her and guided her to the bed, onto her back with her hips just over the edge. He pushed her thighs apart, but instead of settling his body over hers, he knelt, holding the candle high above her, as he urged her to rub her pussy.

  “Fight fire with fire,” he said.

  Then he tipped the candle so that liquid wax splashed her nipple. A velvet rain that landed with a soft plop and a sting—tightened pulling at the sensitive skin as it cooled. She thrust her fingers inside herself, moaning. More wax drizzled, coating the other nipple. The humming sensation took over, erupted into tremors, shaking her. Her head whipped from side to side and a mewing sound bubbled up in her throat, ripped free in an animal cry.

  She watched as if from outside herself as he pushed her fingers away, inserted the base of the candle and fucked her with it, the flame dancing wildly above his fingers.

  She should be afraid.

  She should want him to stop.

  She wanted more, deeper.

  Her pussy clenched around the slick length of the wax when he pulled out, quivered when he slid it back in. She was writhing in the grip of something both terrifying and beautiful. The boundaries between what she was and wasn’t, between her and everything else receded, threatened to vanish altogether.

  “Let go,” he said. “Don’t fight it. Breathe deep and let go when you exhale.”

  When she exhaled the candle went out and the orgasm snapped the last thread of self-control. All that remained was the sound of his voice, commanding, “You’re the flame now. Melt the candle with your fire.”

  She saw, thought she saw, the wax go liquid in his hand before she turned to mist, a glittering cloud rising up into a dark void.

  “Shh.” He kissed her lips, smoothed her hair. “I’ve got you now. You’re okay.”

  “Marcus? I’m sorry, I can’t think. I blacked out in the middle of things.”

  “Later. None of that’s important. We’ll talk later. Sleep now.”

  He’d vowed there’d be no sex between them tonight. A wriggling naked female in his arms was not making it easier to keep that promise. But the memory of what had just happened to the candle reinforced his decision not to go further.

  He put a hand to the side of her head, keeping his voice calm, sleepy sounding. “Sweetheart, lay your head down. Be still with me a minute. I just want to hold you.” She looked confused. He bumped her nose with his, pressed lips to hers and set the softest of purrs resonating through their bodies.

  Tension eased from her muscles and she snuggled in for a cuddle. He moved from touching her temple, to stroking his fingers lightly down her spine, sending a mental stream of soothing images, the two of them curled by a fire, a sheet of stars above them, the babble of a creek nearby.

  She finally gave in and slid into a deep sleep. Marcus wished he could find the comfort of sleep, escape the swirl of thoughts chasing each other around in his head. He’d never felt so disconcerted.

  Well after midnight, he slipped carefully from her arms and into his clothes. He sat at her desk, writing out instructions for her between pauses to watch her sleep. She wouldn’t follow them. That wasn’t important. She would read them, carry them in her thoughts all day. Knowing what he wanted of her would make her want it herself in the end, would make her ready for the next step. Now he just needed prepare himself.

  Chapter Five

  Allie hooked one bag over her shoulder and pulled a rolling travel bag behind her down the sidewalk. The wheels of her bag clacked over cracks with a sound reminiscent of a train going over tracks. Just above the haze of streetlights, starlight was fading into the silver of a predawn sky. It made her think of small blue flames winking out.

  “Don’t even go there,” she said out loud. Her mind went there anyway, to the fuzzy bits she could remember. And her memory, not trustworthy at her most alert, was a jumbled mess when it came to last night. She was supposed to make something disappear, but she thought she’d disappeared. Or maybe the world had disappeared. She recalled floating in darkness, the sensation of being lighter than air and so perfectly at peace. And then a building panic when she couldn’t wake up. Marcus had called her name, over and over, louder each time, and the world had reshaped itself around the sound of his voice.

  She walked faster, as if that could take her away from needing the sweetness of being curled in his arms. Or craving the soft purr that traveled from his body to hers, lulling her to sleep. The guy was a potent drug. Not that she’d had any drugs, but she recognized addictive qualities when she felt them. A craving for his presence burned in her blood like fever. Even now the ache to hear his voice, just one more time, was almost too intense to endure. And sex that could do that to you should probably be illegal.

  She was grateful he was gone when she woke. Glad she was alone to face hardened wax drippings on the sheets and a letter of handwritten instructions for her day on the desk.

  Escape was the first coherent thought she could conjure. The only task that made sense.

  She breathed the cool morning air and told herself a fresh start would be a good thing, and would keep Eddie off her trail too. Greyville’s bus station was a bench in front of the drugstore. Allie went inside and purchased her ticket at the prescription counter in the back. She checked one bag at the counter and kept the smaller shoulder bag with her.

  Then there was nothing to do but wait. She killed some time walking up and down the aisles, looking at vitamins and toothpaste and magazines. Finally she went outside to wait. She’d thought she’d be the only one from town leaving that morning, but a big guy with rumpled dark hair and an unusually bushy beard joined her in the wait. He leaned against a lamp post next to the bench, a duffle at his feet. He was a giant. Allie was certain she didn’t know him. She never had trouble identifying bearded men. She wished she could make a law requiring all men to have beards.

  It made her wonder if she should have delayed her exit plan a little longer, learned more from Marcus before fleeing. But she’d known when she woke up that morning, bits of wax still clinging to her skin, the apartment smelling like candles, that she couldn’t stay. Her ache for Marcus scared her enough that she had even considered going back to Eddie, return to the safe bubble of isolation he maintained around her.

  When Eddie sounded like a good option, it was time to find more options.

  The big guy left his lamp post and settled on the bench beside Allie. “Looks like a good day for a bus ride,” he said.

  “Mmm.” Allie scooted a little farther away and dug in her bag for her cell phone. She wondered what constituted good bus-riding weather. She wasn’t going to ask. She’d pretend to read while she waited, hoping to cut off any fur
ther attempt at conversation.

  “Where you headed?”

  “North,” she said, pulling out her phone.

  “I’m headed anywhere but here,” he said.

  She slid a glance his way. He was staring at her, intent. She couldn’t think of a good response, and turned her attention back to her phone with a shrug.

  “Don’t seem to do much good though…”

  She tapped the screen and it lit. “What doesn’t?”

  “Movin’. Seems like every time I move, I just pick up more problems.”

  Allie bent her head, tapped a newspaper app. He wasn’t taking the hint.

  “Last place I was, it was women. Not that there weren’t any, but not the right kind—if you know what I mean. Now, they’re the right kind, but not right for me.”

  “Hmm,” Allie said, scrolling through the list of articles.

  “There’s one, she wants me to help take care of all her kids. Seven of them. All girls.”

  “Really?” Allie didn’t have to fake the surprise in her voice. The guy didn’t look like the sort you’d be dragging home to take on a family.

  “Another one wants me to give her a job where I work, but she doesn’t know how to do anything. And then there’s my boss, not a woman, but loves rescuing females in trouble and he makes their trouble my trouble.”

  “Well it sounds like you have your hands full.”

  “Yeah. I think most guys in my place would do the same thing.”

  “Mmm.”

  “But I can’t help thinking it doesn’t ever change. I move to a new place. It’s like the same problems all over again. They just show up wearing different dresses.”

  That stalled her. She could see her own pattern, trying to dodge a man who had too much of a hold on her. A man who scared her. Replacing him with the same thing.

  The bus pulled up. The big guy grabbed his bag, waved Allie ahead.

  She picked up her bag and boarded.

  * * * * *

  Coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup, leaving a burning track across his knuckles. The mental control that allowed him to hold his skin impervious to molten wax couldn’t shield the simple scald of diner coffee. Marcus put down the cup, his hand still shaking, but not from the burn. He dabbed at the mess on the table with a wad of napkins, letting the burn linger on his fingers, any distraction from his internal inferno was welcome.