Chapter Eight
Miles
Breathing deeply, I center myself, letting the cool morning air quiet my mind.
As I breathe out, gray clouds puff out and I’m glad I’d thought to grab a sweater since the air is chilly.
I raise my hands over my head, opening up my chest and letting air fill my lungs, holding it for a moment.
Then I release all the tension in my core and back as I fall forward, letting my hands dangle down near my ankles.
I groan as my lower back stretches and pulls.
I hear my back door open and footsteps coming out of the house.
I look under my arm, finding Timalah sitting on my back steps, just watching me.
I smirk to myself as I let my hands drop onto the ground, making sure my feet are still planted, my ass up in the air.
The groan I hear makes my chest flutter.
This playfulness makes my stomach giddy as I give the tiniest shake of my ass.
I crawl my hands forward until my legs and groin are against my ground, my chest still raised up in the air. I wiggle my ass back and forth a little bit, getting the last of the kinks out. And if I’m putting on a little show, well, I’m sure Timalah doesn’t mind.
The looseness I feel from doing my morning yoga is a well needed breath of fresh air. Ever since Saphorica’s maturous trial, Timalah has been acting funny. I’m still not sure he knows he told me he loved me. It was telepathically and in the heat of the moment but he’d thought it. He loves me.
I can’t stop the little smile that plays at my lips as I slowly crawl my hands back up until my hands are around my ankles, my chest pressed against my upper thighs. Then I slowly bring my arms out to my sides as I uncurl myself, standing up straight with my shoulders back.
“You should really learn something other than that silly yoga, Miles. Yoga won’t help in a fight.”
There’s that weird voice again. One that’s hiding something big, something serious.
I wish he’d just tell me what’s going on but I don’t wanna push him.
This thing between us is so new, so delicate.
All I wanna do is shield it, like a flower in frost. Whatever’s going on, I have to trust he’ll tell me when the time is right.
Ever since the night Timalah showed up at my house and confessed how desperate he was for me, he’s been staying here. It’s been a few weeks and I’m happy. The other shoe is going to drop soon, I just know it, and I’m hoping whatever it is, we can handle it.
I let out a long sigh.
“Then why don’t you come over here and show me something,” I tell him, looking over my shoulder with a wink, concentrating on my breathing and stretching in order to keep that centered and loose feeling going.
Timalah’s brows wrinkle. He stands up, pulling a blade from his chest harness.
And what does it say about me that the action makes my cock twitch in my pants?
He tosses the blade into the air and I watch transfixed as it flips around before he’s catching the handle.
He does it again and this time catches the blade, offering the handle to me.
I gingerly take it, testing the weight of it.
It’s made for someone with hands like Timalah’s, not like mine.
I grip it tight, turning my back to Timalah and stabbing the air a few times.
I hold out my arm, the sharp edge pointed towards the ground.
I bring it over my head, taking a few joking stabs like a classic horror film I once saw, letting out a snort of amusement at my own antics.
“See?” I say, turning to Timalah. “No big deal.”
Timalah pinches the bridge of his nose, looking less impressed than I feel. I shrug, not really knowing what he wants from me.
“I was an EMT,” I point out. “I didn’t really need to know how to use a knife in my past life. I was the one patching up knife wounds not inflicting them.”
“Yes,” Timalah says carefully. “I understand. I wish to keep it that way. I want you coming out on top no matter what’s coming against you.”
“Then show me,” I tell him, turning forward once more and holding out the knife.
I suck in a sharp breath as Timalah steps into my space.
He’s pressed up against my back and the heat of him there makes my heart pick up speed.
Our height difference gives him the perfect advantage to help me with my posture.
He widens my stance and pushes me down so I’m crouched slightly.
His hands slide over my hips and then my belly.
“Your power comes from here, just like your silly yoga,” he whispers, his breath fanning over my ear and making me shiver.
“Okay,” I whisper back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The heat at my back is distracting but I do my best to focus.
Timalah’s left hand stays planted against my belly, his right sliding up the underside of my arm.
He changes the way I’m holding the knife, adjusting my grip.
Before I held it like I was going to poke someone with it, now I hold it with purpose.
“There you go, Dorshkah. Just like that,” he tells me and the praise washes over me.
I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from outright moaning.
Timalah’s left leg moves forward and I follow the motion.
He guides my hand across my body, showing me exactly how I could use the blade if I needed.
Then he brings my arm back. The way he’s moving me, guiding me; it’s like an intricate and intimate dance.
My breathing speeds up and so does his until he’s panting against my ear.
I feel more in sync with Timalah than I have since we had sex for the first time.
The way he’s pressed up against my back, the way his hands are lingering on my body, the way he’s whispering soft praises in my ear.
It’s in that moment I finally feel ready to say those three little words back to him, to tell him what he means to me, to tell him how much I love him.
I drop the knife, watching as the blade gets stuck in my lawn.
Timalah sucks in a sharp breath, his arms going around my chest and holding me against himself.
His mouth is hot as he kisses me behind my ear.
I close my eyes, just savoring the feeling, just for a bit longer.
I don’t wanna break this tension we’re building.
I wish I could stay in this little early morning bubble forever with Timalah at my back like this.
It’s Timalah who shatters the moment.
“I have something to tell you. And you aren’t going to like it.” I hear him clear his throat just barely over the ringing in my ears. Then he adds, “and I’m sorry.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat, not liking the sound of this at all. “Go on,” I whisper, my voice shaking. At the sound, Timalah’s arms tighten even more around me. Like he doesn’t want me to turn around, like he can’t handle saying whatever he has to say to my face.
“My maturous trial is today.” My body freezes up as the words sink in.
“What?” I yell, shoving Timalah’s arms away so I can face him. He looks down at the ground between us, not meeting my eyes. I feel my own prickle with unshed tears as the weight of what he’s just said slams into me with full force. “Today?”
He gives me a small nod before his eyes finally lift. The look he gives me steals my breath. He looks so lost in a way I’ve never seen before. Timalah is always so sure, but right now he looks anything but.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to think about it,” Timalah says, his voice growing hard.
His arms cross over his chest, his stance closing off.
It’s the opposite of what I want. “Our time together was good, Miles. The best,” he breathes, his voice cracking.
“Not matter what happens, I trust in the ancestors’ decision. ”
“And what about my decision, huh? Don’t I get a fucking say in this? I want you, Timalah. I want to be with you. But I’m not Layperry. I don’t believe the same things you do, damnit.”
Timalah’s cheeks turn almost purple as they heat up. I watch as some of the fire leaves him and I wanna yell and scream and fight. But just then, Ghenie is coming around to my backyard.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice achingly gentle, leaving me further off-balanced. It would be easy if he hated me, if they both did. But instead I can feel the way they care. I can tell how much Timalah wants to stay and love me. It’s not fair, not really. Because I’m not like them, I’m only human.
Timalah turns to leave but I step into his space, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. He freezes, looking down at me.
Lifting my hand, I cup his cheek, raising up on my toes in order to kiss him.
It’s a barely there press of our lips against each other before he’s turning away and walking towards Ghenie without looking back.
Ghenie nods his head to me before they’re both gone, leaving me all alone in my backyard.
A single tear falls down my cheek as sorrow and frustration well up inside of me. I let it bubble and bubble and bubble before I’m crying out, lifting my head up to the sky and screaming. With that out of my system, I look down at the ground where Timalah’s blade still stands.
I might be human, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love Timalah. I love him with every fiber of my being. And I know without a doubt, that he loves me too. I’m not Layperry but I’m willing to take a shot at the chance of being with Timalah. I’m willing to do what it takes for him, for us.
I lean down and pick the blade up, plucking it from the dirt. I hold it the same way Timalah taught me. Determination thrums just under my skin.
I know what I have to do.