Chapter 14
Phoenix
When their car has disappeared from view, leaving a trail of dust and sadness in its wake, Jake emerges out from the back. I turn with a sense of anxiety over Jess, ready to barrage him with questions about how she’s doing before I go and see for myself. As always with this girl, a level of caution must be exercised. She’s been through a lot; she’s been going through a lot since she turned eleven.
“Jess—” I begin but he cuts me off before I can even finish asking my first question.
“Passed out,” he replies, “exhausted and seriously confused.”
“Understandable,” I utter while staring at a stain on the scuffed floor.
“So, how’d it go today?” he asks as we begin walking over toward the bar, each grabbing a bottle from the fridge.
“Ok,” I reply and continue walking out back before he can question me any further on it. I might be feeling something for Jess, but I’m not about to become the bar’s Dear Dierdre anytime soon. I hear him chuckling to himself as I make my way to Lou’s room. Sure enough, when I pop my head inside of the room, I find Jess breathing steadily in her sleep. Her brow is furrowed, and her eyes are moving rapidly beneath her lids. She begins to emit whimpers of anguish, as though she is falling into a nightmare, so without further thought, I remove my boots and climb in behind her. At first, she moans and fidgets, but when I settle my arm around her tiny body and kiss the back of her head, she eventually rests more easily against me.
“I’m going to save you, Jess,” I whisper while stroking her hair, “but I need you to save me too.”
_____
Jessie, Present
I don’t wake again until it’s dark, pitch-black dark, and without the usual sounds coming from a crowded bar. If you had asked me a week ago if I would have believed myself to be listening out for the sounds of bikers drinking as a source of comfort, I think I would have passed out from the very thought. And yet, now they are missing, I feel anxious, and in desperate need of someone to be here to comfort me. I need Warren.
Still wearing the clothes that I had fallen asleep in, the same ones in which I had stood before my parents, I slip out of my room to try and find the one person who will make me feel safe. Initially, I head toward Warren’s room, but something stops me in my tracks. It’s the sound of someone strumming against an acoustic guitar. It has me frowning – perhaps the bar is still open? No, it can’t be. There’s no talking, no laughter, no one shouting for Jake to get his ‘ass into gear’.
This is way out of my comfort zone, the great unknown and unplanned, and yet, something is urging me to go out into that bar and find out who is playing such a moving piece of music. Whoever it is plays music as if it is their first language, fluent and with all the slang and nuances that only a native would know. Just before I reach the battered door with peeling paint that leads into the bar, whoever it is opens their mouth to sing. And like his playing, it’s beautifully imperfect, husky, and deep. There’s no frivolity in his voice, no meaningless scales or sounds to battle against the complexity of his playing. Each word is on purpose and with so much emotion, you can tell he is picturing the very person to whom the song is about.
He sings of time passing but still thinking of someone who was obviously extremely special to him. He sings of sometimes feeling like he can’t survive that day without her. He sings of so much pain and loss, that it makes me think of Stanley, my own childhood dragon, and myself. My innocence, my once-upon-a-time hopes and dreams, my family, all of them just as lost.
When I finally take the courage to walk out and face him, he’s already looking toward the door in anticipation. He doesn’t even falter in his performance, up on the makeshift stage with only an old chair and his guitar to keep him company. He doesn’t need anything else; his voice is enough to fill the entire room; it’s incredible. His body flexes as he strums against the strings, his everything being thrown into this one stretch of music. His eyes hold mine the whole time he plays, and it keeps me frozen in time, here in this room with him.
And then…then I forget. I forget that I was taken. I forget I lost my childhood. I forget that I feel terrified all the time. I forget I was never meant to live again.
By the time he plays his final note, I discover I am now standing right in front of the stage, staring up at him at the same time as he looks down on me. We both seem to be trying to make sense of something; something that doesn’t make the least bit of sense. Why would fate have two people who are both so damaged, be the other one’s savior?
“You play beautifully,” I eventually manage to voice when he continues looking at me for some sort of validation.
“My dad taught me,” he says, smiling sadly as he places the guitar on the floor to the side of him. It’s been well-used but looks like it could go on for decades to come. “You look better.”
“Thank you,” I reply with a shyness over my earlier break-down. “I kind of feel a little embarrassed about it.”
At first, he says nothing, just looks at me with his warm smile that has me shuffling awkwardly on my feet. But then he stands, wearing only a pair of jeans and a plain black tank top, and walks to the edge of the stage. His tattoos are on display and his boots have been removed. He slides off the edge and lands with a small thud; I suddenly feel nervous.
“Come here,” he says, crooking his finger and holding his other hand out for mine. When I give into him, when I move in so close he is able to pull me into his embrace, he gifts me with a small kiss on top of my head. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Were they angry with me?” I ask as his hands begin to move up and down my back.
“No,” he whispers, “but don’t even think about it, Jess.”
We stand like this for a few long moments, with me reaching around to hold him back because he needs this as much as I do. But comfort begins to turn into something else, something more carnal, the same need I remember having on the very first night we had met. It only intensifies when he begins to run his hands through my hair and his lips frequently find my head to press against. I eventually pull back to look at him, to face those intense eyes of his, and to feel his fingers pushing back my hair as he licks his lips when he glances at mine for the briefest of moments.
“I want to save you, Jess,” he whispers as he rests his forehead against mine, “but, God, I need you to save me too.”
“Kiss me,” I tell him as I grab hold of his shirt with my fists to pull him in, “kiss me, and never let me go!”
His hands reach for my cheeks right before he places his lips on top of mine and kisses me so intensely, that I feel as if I’m free-falling. As he parts my mouth to kiss me more deeply, his hands move around and down to my ass so he can lift me clean off the floor. Without any pause for thought or fear, I grip hold of his neck and wrap my legs tightly around him, with only my panties providing a barrier to my now pulsing core. He begins carrying me toward the living area, navigating the path to his bedroom without having to stop kissing me to see where he’s going. For some reason, his confidence in such a simple task thrills me; the thought that he can protect me even with his eyes closed.
When we reach his bed, I am placed ever so carefully onto the mattress while he stands before me, watching my shallow breathing while he undresses himself. He reveals even more of those tattoos, all of which are promising to protect me, hold me tight, and never let go.
“Show me,” I plead, “show me the phoenix.”
He looks at me with a trace of a smile before slowly turning to reveal the swirls of black ink flying up from the flames at the base of his spine. With every breath, it moves out of the flames, only to fall back into them again. I watch it for a while, mesmerized by its beauty, but also its despair. I push up onto my knees and shuffle toward him, pressing my fingers out to make contact so I can trace those lines, feel his heat, and soothe his burdens. He doesn’t flinch at my coldness like he did the last time, but his breathing becomes faster, shallower. As I trace further and further up his body, I notice him leaning into my touch, as if needing this contact perhaps even more so than I do.
“Will you give me more?” he asks. And I do.
I pull away my dress so only my panties remain and kneel up higher with my breasts skimming, then pressing against his warm back. My hands reach around him so he can take them and hold them tight, thus pulling me that much harder against him.
“Lie with me,” I whisper as I move my hands gradually down his abs and to the hem of his boxers where I push them down to reveal everything. He turns, gifting me with the sight of his hardness, then begins to move over the bed so his large, muscly body is caging me beneath him. I reach for his neck and pull his lips toward mine and kiss him with everything I have. His body soon molds against my own, with his erection resting against my panties that are so obviously drenched with my arousal for him.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips begin to explore the skin along my jaw, down my neck, and along my collarbone. “I will save you every time, Jess, I will destroy anyone who ever tries to hurt you again. I will be your phoenix.”
“And I am yours,” I moan as he takes my pert nipple into his mouth and sucks with such a pressure, I am writhing beneath his massive frame, still feeling like I need so much more.
As he moves down my body, I have to fight every natural urge to try and stop him, to trust him enough to have every piece of me. It’s different from last time; this time, I don’t feel like I need to prove something to myself; this time, I want to give it to him; this time, I want to show him he is safe with me too.
“You ok, Jess?” he asks just before he reaches my core, where I have an aching need for him to take me like he wants. When I moan my response, I feel his smile against my sensitive skin, just before his lips that had sung the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard, take me. As his tongue traces me all the way through my lips below, his hands gently pull my hips closer toward him, holding me still while I try to buck beneath his kissing. He brings me to the brink of everything, a point where it gets too much to bear alone.
“Come with me, Warren,” I gasp as I reach for his wrists, trying to pull him back up to me. It takes me a few tries to convince him to stop with his heavenly assault, but he eventually gives in to my pleas and moves up to kiss my other lips, the ones that give as much as he does to me. I taste everything on his tongue, which only has me grabbing for every part of him, clawing his scalp with my nails while his fingers stroke all the way down my body. “Give me everything, Warren, give me—”
“You never need to ask, Jess,” he pants between kissing me right before moving his hard length inside of me, slow at first, but as soon as I pull him in again, he moves with such an intensity, it almost burns. And I want it to burn; I want this to make me feel alive, to know he is the one fusing every part of me to him.
“Warren…” I gasp as he circles his hips and thrusts even deeper. He kisses me as if to swallow the moans I cannot control.
“You feeling me, Jess, you feeling alive yet?” he asks, even though his pace is making it hard for either of us to have enough breath.
“I feel you,” I pant just as he hits something within me, something so indescribable, I feel ready to burst, “all of you!”
“Good,” he smiles down as he thrusts, “cos I feel you too and it’s…incredible!”
Going against my need to hide away, to block out what is too much to bear, I let go while looking right into his eyes. I release noises of pleasure that would normally have me cringing in shame, but right now, with him looking right back at me, I find myself letting go of my fear.
“Jess!” he calls out as he releases a heat deep inside of me, my name upon his lips leaving a smile upon mine. He laughs a little before dropping his forehead onto mine, our sweat mixing together and with neither one of us caring. Our natural human flaws only make me feel more alive than ever.
“You’re still inside of me,” I whisper when he seems to settle on top of me, taking comfort from my body, and almost getting ready to sleep. “You comfy there?”
He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and nods against me while stroking down my hair. I can’t help but laugh at him, not just because of his dopey smile, but also over the fact that this feels so wonderfully normal. This is everything I’ve been craving, even though I wasn’t aware of it.
“Jess, I’m sorry, baby,” he says as he looks up at me with concern floating back inside of his eyes.
“No, don’t do that, Warren,” I beg, “don’t go back to looking at me like I’m one of your victims who you need to save. And please, please, don’t apologize for what we just did, or any part of it. You have no—"
“Jess, Jess, stop talking,” he laughs as he places a finger to my lips, “I’m sorry cos I didn’t…I mean I forgot to…shit, Jess, I didn’t wear anything.”
“Oh,” I reply at the same time as he pulls out of me and reveals the physical evidence of what he’s just said. “Oh!”
“I’m totally safe and everything, but…” He winces as he draws back, as if unable to even utter the word ‘pregnancy’.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, suddenly feeling awkward, “I’ve had a shot for the…er…other thing.”
“You have?” he says, finally rolling off to the side of me. He looks and sounds confused but still pulls me against his chest as he begins to stroke my hair in soothing motions. I haven’t felt this loved or this cherished since Jake and I used to seek comforting hugs from one another in that grey, cold, and dark basement. This is different though; this is a choice.
“You want to know why,” I observe rather than question, “it wasn’t so I could sleep with people without falling pregnant. It just makes me feel safe.”
“I don’t understand,” he simply says before placing another kiss on top of my head.
“Has Jake told you what made us finally run? What made us finally fight back?” I ask and he flinches. He knows this won’t be good.
“No,” he whispers as he starts stroking my hair again and pulls me in even tighter.
“The man who took us, Daddy, decided it was my eighteenth birthday, so he made us have a party of sorts.” As I begin rehashing a painful memory, one that brings a hard lump to my throat, I begin to fidget with his fingers that are intertwined with my own. “I was still only seventeen, but we didn’t say anything. There would be no point and would likely only piss him off; Jake and I had already come to the obvious conclusion that this man was beyond crazy.”
“Yes, I can see how you came to that conclusion,” he says sarcastically, and I smile for but a moment.
“Anyway, he brought us takeout, a birthday cake, and a carefully wrapped birthday present,” I tell him like I’m reading from a journal. “It was small, soft, and weighed as if there wasn’t anything in it at all. Jake and I immediately looked at one another with a shared expression of fear; it could be anything.”
“You sure you wanna do this, Jess?” he asks. “Cos I’m more than here for you if you do, but at the same time, you don’t have to.”
“I know,” I whisper and fall into silence. It feels like my throat has dried up and I no longer have a voice with which to speak.
“Tell me when you’re ready, Jess,” he says after a while of me not saying anything at all, “but for now, sleep. I’ve got you.”
“Mmm,” I mumble against his chest; I suddenly feel exhaustion taking over me. “Just so you know, you do.”
“Do?” he whispers.
“Make me feel alive,” I utter, and he releases a small, breathy laugh before kissing me.