Chapter 2
The Wildfire Thorn
I’m cold.
Or so people call me.
They say I’m a block of ice. They say I’m frozen.
That I’m feelingless, emotionless.
That beneath my chest there’s a heart that doesn’t beat.
It’s because I want them to think that. It’s because there are things inside of me I don’t want anyone to see. Things I don’t want myself to see. So I keep them hidden, buried under six feet of ice. Like people bury their dead.
But that’s not the point.
The point is that I’d much rather be home, smoking my one cigarette of the day in peace while losing myself in the pages of a book. Only for an hour, though. No more.
That’s why my plan was to get in and get out. Show my face enough that they know I was here but mostly stay in the shadows, undisturbed and undiscovered. Much like those things inside of me. Besides, I’m the assistant coach. My team is in attendance; my players are here. So being here is more or less my job and I take my job seriously. Even though I’m not a fan of it.
I’m not a fan of soccer, not like these people here.
Never was. Never will be.
Which suits me just fine.
But anyway.
What I hadn’t planned on was her.
I hadn’t planned on being discovered by her.
Being seen by her.
You’re as hot as wildfire…
No one ever sees me, which again suits me just fine. I want it that way. So I’m not sure how an eighteen-year-old could. How was it that she saw me, found me in the dark?
How was it that I found her interesting?
Her reckless advances. Her endless chatter. How was it that the more unpredictable and whimsical and wilder she became, the more I couldn’t make myself leave?
Maybe because I’m none of those things and she’s the polar opposite of me.
And maybe that’s why I was so harsh with her.
Because I don’t want to find people interesting. I don’t want to be intrigued.
I’ve heard about her, of course. She’s the boss’s daughter; this party’s in her honor. People know who she is. Not to mention, there are rumors. I’ve heard how Mr. Holmes is disapproving of her. And how he needs to be because she’s out of control. She ruins men, lays waste to their careers with her seductive beauty.
A real-life Lolita.
Mr. Holmes has had to fire two junior coaches ever since he bought the team two years ago. He’s had to fire three security guys, trade in a player, all because they were found in various compromising positions with her. Personally, I’ve never put much stock into rumors and considered her none of my business.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight, for some reason, she seems like my business.
Tonight, I’m watching.
Her.
With him.
Dancing.
I’m watching her with him, laughing. With abandon, without a care in the world. Without a care that I’m only a few feet away.
A ticking time bomb is only a few feet away.
A bomb that’s going to explode at any moment.
Any moment, I’m going to march across the dance floor, grab my brother’s collar, and beat that smile off his face. I’m going to break his legs into pieces, one by one, so dancing is a distant memory for him. I’m going to rip her from his arms and steal her away. I’m going to start a fight with my brother because I saw her first.
Which isn’t good.
Me feeling like this—angry, agitated, jealous—is not good. Her making me feel this way is not good at all.
It’s very fucking bad.
It’s downright dangerous.
She’s dangerous.
So much so that I need to step away. I need to contain myself. I need to contain this fire inside of me. These things I don’t want anyone to see. I need to go back to the shadows where I belong, remain undiscovered and hidden.
Which is what I do.
I leave the party, determined not to give a single thought to Isadora Agni Holmes.
The girl in a white dress and fake wings.
With enough fire to melt the fucking Arctic.
With enough fire to melt even me.