54. Chapter Fifty-Four
Kyrielle might very well be banned from surprises going forward. Her honorable intention for tonight is appreciated, but nausea churns in my gut. So many people are here, ready to burn their proverbial shackles. I want to run in the opposite direction.
The one thing keeping me steady is her firm hold on my hand. Kyrielle undoubtedly can feel my sweaty palms, but I’m an inch from screaming in a state of panic.
When the sharing begins, the pit in my stomach deepens.
It’s one thing to know that every person around you holds a world you’ll never fully know or understand — it’s a whole other thing to listen as a mother of three discusses sexual assault by her husband.
Or the man who spoke of his vicious mother.
Some lost parents and grieve deeply, not unlike Fynn.
Others are here to share their aspirations.
There’s so many examples of bravery here. Everyone here has trudged through the muck, and tonight, they’re hoping they can continue forward with fewer burdens.
Something I’m desperate for.
An older female Elf, who can’t be less than fifty-five, speaks.
She looks around nervously as she says, “Hi, uh, yeah, my name is Haylei.” She lifts a paper mache gold star.
“Tonight, I wrote my father’s name on it.
” She looks at her star, her expression hardening.
“It’s crazy to be this age and still be haunted by the things he did.
But here I am, at retirement age, still hurting from things that happened when I was a teenager. ”
A tear slides down my face as one falls down hers. Haylei’s throat works a few times before she can say, “They never talk about how long trauma lasts. How those around you get tired of hearing about it, demanding that you ‘get over it’ when you try to talk about it.”
There’s a murmur of agreement around the crowd; my despair deepens. How can pain like this be so normalized that this many people understand what it means to be ignored? How, as a society, do we continue to let this happen?
Haylei chokes on a sob. Her neighbors whisper comforting words as they rub her back.
When she’s finally able to, she says, “I’m so tired.
I’m so tired of feeling this every single day, you know?
I’m tired of paying the price for his choices, while pretending everything is fine.
” Her voice fills with rage as she says, “I just want to be fucking free!”
She throws the star on the ground, glaring at it. People call out words of encouragement before quieting down.
Her words resonate deeper than expected. I’m also tired of feeling this way. Am I truly going to be the product of my trauma … forever? Will I be seventy-years-old, unable to share my life with others? Unable to express myself?
Nothing sounds worse. It would be a waste of a life. A waste of opportunity.
I will not waste my life.
The guide looks around. “Anyone else?”
An unfamiliar need to speak rumbles in my chest, crawling up my throat.
Like these teeth are ready to part and release the beast devouring my insides.
I don’t know if she can sense the indecision in me, but Kyrielle squeezes my hand.
My expression reflects how lost I feel. She nods in silent encouragement.
Up until this moment, I’ve spent my whole life locking bits of myself away for safekeeping. Slices of soul set aside like treasured objects. This world has taught me that if given half the chance, most people will hurt you.
But not Kyrielle.
Not Fynn.
Not Orliana.
Not Joulian.
Not Talia.
It’s taken years to find a real family that accepts me. Loves me. I want to be better, not just for myself, but for them too. They deserve the best version of myself, and right now, this is not it.
I’m tired of this version. I’m ready to be whoever I’m meant to be on the other side of things. While I have no idea who I am without this trauma, I’m ready to find out.
Heart screaming, pulse thundering, I step forward. “I’ll share.”
Kyrielle never lets go of my hand as hundreds of eyes look at me. The only sound is the snapping of burning wood from the pyre and a ringing in my ears. Where do I begin? What should I say? What is too much?
Feeling like a bumbling fool, I begin. “My name is Trinte. I’ve spent my entire life believing that something good is on the way.
Life kept trying to prove me otherwise, but there’s been a driving force inside that keeps me going.
After each heartbreak and betrayal, I rallied, thinking next time could be different. ”
So many faces flit through my mind, choking me up. The man next to me grabs my shoulder, while Kyrielle wraps both of her arms around mine. Tears blur my vision. “I was giving up. Sometimes, I wanted to be dead. Because what is the point of living a life only ever intended to be excruciating?”
Murmurs of agreement bolster my courage. I glance at Kyrielle, feeling so much love when she gives me an expression full of adoration and encouragement. Without her, I’d be dead. I know it as surely as knowing air fills my lungs. She saved my life.
To everyone else, I say, “But Fortuna gave me a gift. An unexpected one. And if I had died, then I wouldn’t have been around for it.
So tonight, I’m burning this dragon as a symbol of leaving the old version of me behind.
I don’t deserve to be him anymore. I deserve whoever my future self will turn into. ”
I step back, signalling that I’m done. The man squeezes my shoulder. I offer a thankful expression before focusing on Kyrielle. Her eyes shimmer with tears. When one falls, I wipe it away with my thumb. With a soft smile, I lick it off.
She laughs, releasing more tears. Then, this goddess-given Fire Sprite looks at me and says, “I love you, Trinte.”
I burst into tears because she’s my gift. This moment’s my gift. Everything going forward is my gift. Fortuna gave me struggles, but never extinguished my Fyre, all so I could be here with the love of my life.
Leaning down, I kiss Kyrielle with nothing but gratitude for her; for our future. When the kiss breaks, I whisper, “I love you, Kyrielle.”
When it’s time to burn the symbols of hurt, I do so with a lighter heart and soul. The energy around us shifts as others experience the same.
After it’s done, I look at Kyrielle. “Thank you. You were right.”
She preens. “Get used to it; happens more than you think.”
Encasing her in my arms, I say, “Do you want to go get a drink? I feel like one is necessary right now.”
“Heimlocks?”
“Heimlocks,” I confirm.
***
The nearest bar is a bit too swanky for my taste — and Heimlocks are double the cost somehow — but I’m just glad to be spending time with her. We’ve been here for a few minutes already, decompressing after an intense moment.
When we get home, I plan on asking her to stop moving slowly. Realizing what a gift she is makes me not want to hold back anymore. I’ve been the one holding the reins on this one — I’m ready to take a chance.
As she sips her beer, I watch the way her throat moves with each swallow. Her lips pressed against the glass. For the first time in my life, I want a mouth wrapped around my cock. My entire adulthood, I thought my father ruined it for me, but the way she licks her lips, I need it.
I want to give Kyrielle every part of myself I’ve refused to share with others.
She places the glass on the bar and turns her fireburst eyes on me. She does a double-take. “What is that look for?”
My lust must be plain on my face. I grin. “Just thinking of all the things I want that mouth to do.”
Her eyes flare with excitement. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That I desperately want to shove myself down your throat?”
Kyrielle’s gaze turns heated as she looks between my legs. I doubt my half-erection is visible, but that glance makes it worse. Eyes flicking back to mine, she says, “Yes?”
“Then you’d be correct.”
Her heat signature rises instantly. “Is this a bathroom kind of deal?”
I shake my head, eyeing her like she’s my next meal. “Absolutely not. I’m tired of moving slowly, and this deserves more than a bathroom.”
She raises a dark orange eyebrow. “Are you saying I wasn’t worth more months ago?”
“No, that is not what I’m saying,” I growl. Leaning in close, I whisper, “It means I need more space and time for all the things I’m going to do to you.”
She leans forward, our faces almost touching. “I’m going to gobble up that meat log.”
I jerk back, barking out a laugh as I ruffle her hair. “Only you would ruin a sexy moment with some weird joke.”
She waggles her eyebrows. “You won’t be saying that when—”
“Kyrielle?”
She freezes, blood draining from her face. I’m dismayed to see a large Gargoyle staring at her.
North.
Instantly, possessiveness roars from my Fyre.
Knowing he's probably the most recent person she slept with pisses me off.
My brain taunts me with the image of her riding him at the club; my tail flicks in fury.
His dark eyes scan me, taking in my body language, which is decidedly not friendly, then looks at her. Dismissing me.
“Where have you been?” he asks. “You’ve been ignoring my texts.”
Because she’s in my bed, I want to snarl. Kyrielle looks between us nervously, wings flicking with anxiety. “Um, yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“Busy?” North says flatly. “We’ve been dating for months and you’ve just been ‘busy?’”
Kyrielle shifts in her chair. “We weren’t dating North. We were …”
“Fucking?” he supplies, giving her a look of disgust.
They both look at me when a warning growl rumbles in my chest. While picking a fight with a Gargoyle isn’t on the agenda, I’d be willing to try. “Watch it.”
North looks away, dismissing me again, asking her, “You couldn’t give me the courtesy of informing you’ve moved on?”
“I was going to,” she says with a guilty expression. “I’ve been busy—”
“Fucking someone else?” he supplies in a cruel tone.
I stand, not willing to let anyone speak to her like that. “She’s made it clear she isn’t interested; take the loss and move on.”
He sneers. “Loss? That’s no loss.”
My hand is around his throat before he can shift into his impenetrable scora form, squeezing. Something crunches between my fingers. Kyrielle gasps, but says nothing.
Looking him square in the eye, I snarl, “You will never text her again. You’re not worthy of speaking to her right now. Get the fuck out of my sight before I decide Gargoyle would make a good dessert for a Dragon.”
Tossing him back, I’m satisfied to see him stumble. It’s not an easy feat, unbalancing a Gargoyle. His skin shifts to become impenetrable, but it’s too late.
Giving her one last furious glare, he stalks away. I’m impressed with his restraint.
“Thank you,” Kyrielle says quietly, bringing a hand to my arm.
I sit back down, struggling to control the raging jealousy and possessiveness. “It’s fine. No one is allowed to speak to you like that.”
She beckons me closer with a finger. Pulse still echoing in my ears, I lean in so she can whisper, “I’m going to suck the Hells out of your cock tonight.”
All the blood throbbing in my body shoots straight to between my legs. “Firefly, I’m going to fucking consume you.”
I pull out my wallet while she grabs her purse. Tossing too many corals on the bar top, I practically drag her outside. While I shift, I catch North standing outside the restaurant, watching her fly onto my head.
I curl my lip and take to the skies.
***
The Speed Dating Event
Peeling her underwear over her thighs, I tuck them into my pocket. She watches me with amusement, but I will not be giving those back. A memory for the future.
“Wider,” I command.
Kyrielle obeys instantly, widening her legs. Revealing the most perfect, pink pussy. Inhaling deeply, my brain goes blank, mad with hunger. Reaching for her hips, I scoot her forward. She inhales sharply, widening her legs further as I begin a slow journey to my goal.
Her breath hitches as I exhale hot breath on her center; her moan is nothing short of illicit when I stroke along her wet heat, savoring the flavor. Nails dig into my hair as she presses my face closer.
“Yes!”
My tongue strokes and sucks, acquainting with her subtle signals of pleasure. Her thighs shake when I thrust in a finger, then a second, enjoying the sound of her wetness.
She’s panting, jerking her hips forward.
The way she’s tightening around my fingers, I know she’s close.
Humming on her clit, I flick it lightly with the tip of my tongue.
Her breathing goes silent as she holds her breath.
I look up from between her legs to watch her body flush.
Right before she falls over the edge, I bring my other hand to her mouth, letting her scream into my palm.
It’s the sweetest sound, even when her teeth sink into the pads of my fingers.
I want to hear it for the rest of my days.