Chapter Thirty-Three #2
“And yet somehow I can’t seem to stay away,” I breathe gently into his ear.
He turns his head to face me with lust in his eyes. We connect, and for a moment, I don’t feel any pain. He licks his lips, and I realise we are doing this. I feel his strong grip thread through my auburn curls.
“My little stalker.”
He grabs the small of my back in one hand and cups the back of my head in the other.
I dip into the pillowy mattress as he gently lays me down onto my back.
He is so close to me I can feel his breath on mine.
I breathe him in. A moan escapes my mouth, and the butterflies swarm frantically in my stomach.
He tenderly presses his weight onto me, being careful not to trigger any of my pain points.
But in this moment, I don’t care; I just pull him in closer.
I look up and down at his lips. They look juicy and shine under the dim light, compelling me to taste them.
He’s in control, as he leans in and our lips meet.
With each kiss, a spark ignites between us, sending a rush of heat through my body.
Every nerve within me reacts. His kiss is passionate and urgent, filled with an intensity that takes my breath away.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as his hands roam around my neck, pressing me against him.
The world around me seems to fade, leaving only the warmth of his body on mine.
The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of sweetness and danger that makes my heart race.
His tongue pleads for entry, and I welcome it, my taste buds tingling with the heavenly taste of him.
We pause for breath, then he pulls me in even harder to resume our kissing match.
He releases and trails down my neck, pressing his lips against me with gentle kisses.
I moan and run my fingers through his dampened locks as I feel his hand slide up my top to rest on my breasts, giving them a light massage with every peck.
I’m so out of control, my hands roam around his body, itching for something to grab onto.
They make their way up his strong arms and follow his shoulder blades down to his back.
His smooth skin becomes littered with ridges, and my fingers trace each one before Ryder stiffens momentarily and backs away.
He tenses and retreats to the bottom of the bed.
I lie there perplexed and frustrated at his hot and cold actions, still hungry for the rest of the main course.
“Is something wrong?”
“You’re concussed… You’re not thinking straight.” His response is quick and to the point.
“Ryder. I’ve thought about kissing you every day since we met.”
I sit up and shuffle closer to him, reaching out to rub his back as a form of comfort.
I am stunned into silence, and my breath catches in my throat when I notice the ridges I felt are scars.
I see pain etched into his features. It’s not entirely obvious because he is too damn proud to be vulnerable.
I examine each silvery, raised mark, some bigger than others, scattered randomly around his back and ribcage.
“But that’s not why you stopped, is it?” I trace them again. “These scars, where are they from?”
He turns to face me, his eyes dark and stormy, fluctuating with a sense of vulnerability and defiance.
“It’s nothing,” he replies, but the slight tremor in his throat betrays him. He flinches from my touch and gets up, putting on his hoodie and stepping into some tracksuit bottoms.
“It’s clearly not nothing.”
My first instinct is to follow him, to wrap my arms around him and let him know that he can be vulnerable around me, but I know I am one step away from pushing him away, so I must tread carefully.
“But if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”
His hair is drying now. It no longer looks flat and ebbs with volume. He runs his fingers through it and stares into the distance like he is deep in thought.
“No one wanted the kid with the weird arm.” Are the only words that come out of his mouth. He is still not facing me and somehow looks more tense. “So, no one broke me out of the hell that I was living in.”
He takes a deep breath, and slowly his hoodie begins to rise up the length of his back. “This is why I ran away.”
His hoodie is now on the floor, and I can see his back in all of its blemished glory. I gasp, not being able to hide my disturbance.
“The orphanage did that to you?!” I ask, my face still clearly distressed. I feel a tennis ball-sized lump form in the back of my throat, but I cage the tears from clawing out my eyes.
“If you stepped out of line, you were punished.” He speaks as if he is sure of himself, but he cannot convince me that this is right. “No exceptions for the weird kid with anger issues.”
“That’s awful!” I’m angry that he was subjected to this torture and thinks it is okay. I tighten my gaze to try to find even a centimetre of untarnished skin, but on every inch there is a thick coat of trauma.
“You were just a child? You didn’t deserve that!”
His body becomes a little more relaxed, and he turns to face me, his scars now facing the far wall.
“I was an outcast…” He begins walking towards me again. He puts his hands in his pockets, and I feel the mattress of his bed dip slightly as he sits next to me. “The boy who shouldn’t have survived.”
His thick fingers run through his hair again, and he lets out a small sigh.
I can relate to him. My mismatched eyes always secured a target on my back, a reason to be picked on, but I was never abused.
Ryder’s harsh exterior is now starting to make sense — why he can never seem to let his guard down for too long, his warmth has been stripped away from him, robbed. Assholes.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” My eyes ember with concern as he studies my face, dissecting each freckle as if to judge if my consolations are genuine. “And thank you for telling me. I know it probably wasn’t easy for you.”
I place my warm palm on his shoulder and feel him relax a little more into my touch.
He sighs deeply, like he has been holding his breath for years and finally has the chance to let go.
If he needs a lifeboat, I will wait in the depths for him to hold on, no matter how rough the waves crash.
He was there for me when I needed him, and now I will repay the favour.
“Asha… stop.” He turns his head away. “I don’t want your pity.” He kisses his teeth and puts up his hard exterior again.
Gods this boy is frustrating.
“It made me a man. A fighter… It made me the person who was able to save you today.”
I don’t say much after this because I feel like there is nothing right I can say in this moment. “And now with my Gift no one can ever hurt me again.”
He smirks and brushes off his pain, but I can tell his trauma runs deep.
It is ironic that his biggest flaw became his most powerful weapon.
I slowly edge up on my knees and shuffle closer to him, admiring the black veins in his arm proudly.
They are beautiful, like lightning. The way each vein spiders up his arm, some overlapping and branching out towards his shoulder.
I can feel the immense strength and potential emanating through his skin; it makes me shiver.
The way he defeated Alex with such ease, the way he picked up River like he was a piece of fluff on the floor.
He is a fortress no one can escape. I don’t need to say anything.
I know he knows I understand. I trace my fingers over each dark vein and smile.
The sensation of his skin on mine only increases my hunger for him.
My stomach flutters again, but sadly, this moment is short-lived because he pushes me away.
“We need to make sure that nothing like that ever happens to you again.”
He takes to the floor and beckons me to fill the space in front of him. “Stand up.”
I study his face for a moment to work out whether he is serious or not. His eyes burn through me. Okay, he definitely means it. I wince as I stand, but push through the pain and walk over to him. My bare feet relax on the black carpeted rug in the centre of his room.
“Training starts now,” he says, and a surprised chuckle slips out of my mouth.
“You’re not serious. I’m not exactly in the best shape right now.” I use my hands to gesture up the length of my body, highlighting the areas where each bandage comforts a bruise or burn. He shakes his head.
“You don’t need to be in shape to wield your Gifts.”
He walks over to me and gently grabs my wrists so my arms are extended and my palms are facing upwards.
“If you can learn to master your Gifts at your weakest, when you are at your strongest, you’ll be truly unstoppable.”
He takes a few steps back from me, creating space between us. “Oriah said you have the ability to learn any power, right?”
I nod my head.
“Let’s start with mine. I know you have the Gift of foreshadowing somewhere in there.” He points to my chest, and I stare at him in confusion. “It’s why I couldn’t predict your moves that first night. Foreshadowing is harder to use on other foreshadowers.”
I think back to that night, the first time our paths tangled into one another. “But we won’t work on that now. I would prefer you to have a few less broken bones for that training.”
A chuckle escapes his lips, and I sarcastically give him a ‘Ha Ha’ in response.
He laughs and then turns serious, lifting his hands into the air.
He stills for a moment and clicks his fingers.
Ten shadow hawks take flight around the room.
My eyes struggle to keep up with the speed of their flying, and I can’t help but lose my balance a little.
I take a breath and regain my posture. “Try to conjure your own.” He clicks his fingers and they disappear.
“Are you crazy? I wouldn’t even know where to start!” I reply in disbelief. My lungs ache with every word, and I breathe deeper to try to numb the pain.
“Just relax.” He walks closer to me. “Shut your eyes.”
I do as he says. He grabs my hands and steadies them, rotating my wrists upwards again. My skin quivers at his touch. His hands are calloused and rough, but that just makes me crave his skin more.
“I need you to breathe with me.”
He takes a deep breath in and exhales, lifting my hands and placing them on his chest so I can feel every breath.
I sync my breathing to match his, the rising and lowering of his chest, the faint feeling of his heart thumping through his hard exterior.
My heart skips a beat as his eyes devour mine.
“Now you are in the rhythm of my body; my breaths are your breaths.” He continues without breaking eye contact. “Imagine we are one with each other.”
I nod my head as he backs away from me. I can’t imagine anyone else I would rather be one with.
“We are no longer touching, but we are still connected.”
I can feel his energy, my breath still in pace with his.
“Mirror me, Asha. Try to stay connected to me.”
He opens his palm and harnesses a small shadow.
It looks similar to my portal, but it is more transparent and moves like water.
I place my hand out and do my best to copy him.
I stare at the wall of shadows, trying to channel his energy.
My headache returns as I strain to source the depths of the power.
“Remember, Asha, this power draws from the Moon.”
He walks over to his window and pulls a handle downwards, adjusting the blinds to show a big, bright, silver moon.
“Everything you need is right there.” He points at it and walks back towards me, re-equipping himself with the shadow orb.
He returns to stand in front of me, and I feel a tingle run down my spine.
Funny, that’s exactly what Mr Herringford said about drawing light from the sun.
I gaze at the moon through the cracks in the blinds and find myself utterly lost in its beauty.
I’ve spent so long looking up at the stars that I never quite realised the brilliance of the moon.
The strength and power radiating from it are immense.
The pure white rays pour into the room, filling me up from head to toe.
I think I’m ready. I turn back to Ryder, watching him closely.
His stance, his face, even his eyes, and I map out his breathing again.
I feel different, but I don’t know how to explain it.
My eyes shut, and I attempt to block out the pain still eating at my body.
The image of the moon is still ripe in my mind.
I turn my palm over. A coolness travels over it like it has been dragged into the shade, making me shudder.
My eyes force open, and my jaw drops in disbelief as I watch a shadow, just like Ryder’s, floating fiercely on my palm. I’m doing it. I’m really doing it.
Dimples appear on Ryder’s face as he smiles proudly at me. “See? I knew you could do it!”
“I-I can’t believe it,” I say, dumbfounded by the shadow rippling in my hand.
I take a deep breath and reflect on all the stories I’ve been told about the Moonkind and their merciless Gifts…
And now I am conjuring one of them. I take a shaky breath and fixate on the shadow’s movements.
Reality hits me with a bang. I am both Sun and Moon.
I called Ryder dangerous, but let’s face it, I am too.
I force down a gulp as I slowly come to the realisation that for every Gift I possess etched in sunlight, another darker Gift lurks in the shadows waiting to attack. I am the one they warned me about.
Ryder snaps me out of my thoughts and reassuringly smiles in my direction.
“Let me show you something.”
He walks over to me and holds the back of my hand as if he is cupping my shadow as well.
Leaning in, he presses his forehead against mine; another shadow appears and ripples next to mine like a flame.
Ryder’s shadow. The shadows seem to repel each other like oil and water, never quite touching, which kind of makes them look like they are dancing.
“No two shadows are the same. They won’t mix no matter how hard you try.”
He smiles at them as they flicker and change around each other, never making contact.
I can’t help but watch their sombre dance.
They move just as the moon and sun share the sky; so close but never quite together.
Separated by their own orbits. I can’t stop myself from smiling, not at the shadows, but at Ryder’s pure fascination with them.
“Thank you for saving me,” I whisper, still mesmerised by the dance routine the shadows are putting on. Ryder’s eyes sparkle as he nods in response.
“Anytime.” He smirks, and we stare in comfortable silence with warm smiles on our faces until the sun begins to rise, time to go.