Chapter 4 Jasmine #2
Without thought, my darkness begins to unravel, tight vines of shadow slipping out from beneath my skin, curling around me like ink. I step closer to Kacey, as close as I can, just as he begins to walk towards us.
He’s a giant of a man. A wide, muscular chest, bulky arms, thick legs. Kacey may be taller than me, slightly curvier, but she’s small, tiny in comparison to this powerful being whose every step sparks embers on the ground.
How is this her bond? Her equal?
I glance sideways at Kacey, watching her eyes getting wider and wider with every step, like she’s trying to take all of him in at once.
“I’m here,” I murmur, watching the dragon stop about two feet away, giving her plenty of space. “What do you want to do?”
She doesn’t speak. None of us move. The temperature rises and… we’re at a standstill.
The dragon’s close enough now that rather than feel, I can see the nervous tension filling his huge body. He clasps his hands, eyes flickering over Kacey’s frame, unsure where to look.
But he’s not just nervous, no. He’s… terrified.
This mammoth man is afraid of… Kacey.
Any tension I had melts away, and when his fiery eyes flash to mine, there’s a plea there, a silent request. I don’t owe him anything, nothing, I don’t even know him.
But…
I look to Kacey.
“Come on,” I say gently, letting a single tendril nudge her shoulder, causing her eyes to snap to mine. I offer her a soft smile. “Be brave, K. Take a breath, let go, and be brave with me.”
I step forwards first, just a bit, then tilt my head encouragingly, asking her to trust me—come with me.
Surprisingly, it’s Mr Bear who moves first, filling the space between us. Kacey looks at him, at me, but says nothing.
Then she moves.
I’m hyper-aware, painfully alert, that he isn’t here. In this realm. But I somehow know he’s watching from the dark instead.
Is he doing this for me? The hiding. Or for himself? Like a coward. So he doesn’t have to see me, doesn’t have to feel me.
But I don’t have time to dwell upon those thoughts, not when it only takes a few steps to meet the dragon.
We stop in front of him, and I try to give what I hope is a reassuring smile as I wait for them to say something. Do something. But they don’t.
I look between them, waiting and… waiting and…
Okay, this is awkward.
A long, awkward silence that I’m sure I’m making worse by just standing here with this stupid smile.
“Hi,” I say, and both their gazes dart to me. “Okay then… so, you know our names.” I point at the dragon’s chest. “Maybe we could start with yours?” I let the question linger, staring up at the dragon who opens his mouth—
“Amon.”
My head snaps to Kacey, hard, because that name left her lips. She’s staring up at him, pale blue eyes wide and locked on Amon.
The temperature soars, there’s a soft crackling, something is… burning, and there’s flames…
“Shit,” I hiss, rushing to the sudden small fire that’s erupting on the planting table beside us.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, that was an accident. Let me...” Amon utters in a deep rasp filled with panic.
Footsteps quickly follow me, one heavy, one light. Then a watering can appears in the hands of a ghostly creature. I grab it, dousing the flames and watching them sputter out.
I wipe my brow, clearing the trickle of sweat as I turn back. “It happens,” I say with a forced smile and shrug, trying for casualness as I place the watering can down. Then freeze.
Because Kacey is next to the dragon.
Right beside him.
Beside the big, huge dragon who accidentally creates fires.
The gigantic, powerful being who can’t stop staring at Kacey like he wants to touch her.
I step a little closer, eyeing the tiny space between them. If he even thinks about it I’ll—
“My control has been… slipping, lately,” Amon murmurs, distracting my murderous thoughts and casting a wary glance at his large hands.
“Join the club,” I mutter, making him look up. I give a tight-lipped smile. “Happens to the best of us.”
He tries to return the expression, then looks back to Kacey.
All this time, she’s been staring at the scorched patch of wood where specks of embers still glow.
I’m trying my best to be cordial and polite, only because I can feel how he feels. He’s all warmth and light and nervous apprehension that makes this gargantuan man seem so… small.
Seem like… Kacey.
“Doesn’t it, K?” My fake smile twitches into a little unhinged as I stare at her, nudging her with a thin tendril.
When she looks at me, I widen my eyes. Do something, say something. Anything.
She slowly turns to him, tilting her head up and up until she’s staring directly into the eyes of the dragon who towers beside her and says—
“I once paralysed the entire canteen.”
My mouth drops open.
Oh no. No.
But it’s too late.
“I really didn’t mean to, like you, I swear,” she adds, but the blurting has only just begun.
“I mean, I kinda did, but only because there were so many people and they kept looking at me, and they were saying things, lots of mean things, and I just got so scared that my ghosts came out and—” I close my eyes, I can’t watch.
“Well, if you’re not used to seeing the dead it can either make you go a little crazy, or the fear paralyses you.
And I guess no one was expecting hundreds of ghosts to just suddenly burst into the canteen and… ” Kacey slowly, painfully, trails off.
I peek a look at Amon with one eye shut, then unclench my jaw.
And feel it.
One overwhelming, burning, soothing emotion.
Awe.
He’s in awe of her.
He can’t stop looking, drinking her in, memorising her features.
Kacey offers a tiny, crooked smile. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.”
“Keep talking, please,” Amon says softly, urgently, so desperately. “I like hearing your voice.”
Kacey’s cheeks redden immediately. She tucks imaginary loose strands behind her ears while he tracks every movement like he’ll never get enough, like he can’t bear to miss a second.
My goddesses. This is it. This is really it.
He’s her bond.
“Well, I—I… I…” She’s speechless.
Amon has made Kacey speechless.
That only confirms it.
I can’t help the smug smile spreading across my face. But then she turns to me, her eyes wide as they dart down quickly to her side.
I spot it straight away—the pinky. Sticking out and shaking from the effort like she’s trying to scream it through her finger.
Softly shaking my head, still chuckling, I say, “So, I’m gonna head back over there.” I jab a thumb over my shoulder, pointing to the entry room where the main planters are. “And I think you two should stay here and talk, maybe feed the animals?”
Kacey looks horrified. Appalled. I know exactly what she’s thinking: That was the signal, I gave the signal!
But I’m already walking backwards, away from them. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
I settle at the nearest planter a few feet away, grabbing a sapling and begin to re-pot it. But my eyes don’t leave them, watching the awkwardness slowly eat away at Kacey.
But Amon doesn’t feel awkward. No. Not at all.
Shifters always feel so fiercely, their emotions are potent, and it’s clear he’s content to stand there in silence, just watching her. He could stand there for hours, days, weeks, standing right there—even if she never spoke again.
But of course, she does, because Kacey can’t help herself.
I hear her muttering about the phoenixes before she rushes off. And Amon, devotedly, follows.
I watch until they vanish from view, ensuring I stay locked into Amon’s emotions for everyone’s safety. Just in case.
But now, without them, I have no distraction.
I’m no longer able to avoid the cool caress seeping from the corner of the room. I know, sooner or later—if not today, tomorrow—I’ll have to face him.
I sigh, letting my eyes close, just for a second. Just to let myself enjoy the icy chill without pretending to hate it.
Then I glance at the shadows. “Are you coming out?”
I’m fiddling with the compost bag when he emerges.
There.
The same word, the same voice, just like the first time, at The Inferno. But now that dark voice echoes through me, pleads with me.
But I refuse.
He’s there. There.
I know he is. But I won’t look at him. I can’t.
His presence instantly strips any remaining heat from the air, bringing the temperature back to a comfortable coolness, sending a soft chill skittering across my skin.
But I don’t look at him. I won’t.
I shake out the soil as a way to hide the shiver he’s created, gently pressing my fingertips into the fresh earth, methodically moving onto the next pot. All the while, my gaze stays down.
“I’ll say this and after that, we won’t need to speak again,” I say to the tiny plant, knowing he’s listening.
I’d prepared this speech. Ever since I agreed to come with Kacey today, I carefully curated what I would say to him, the lines so well-rehearsed from my sleepless night they should fall effortlessly.
“I’m doing this for Kacey. That’s it. I don’t want to talk. So, in the meantime, I’d appreciate it if we just ignored each other.”
The silence is… unbearable. Truly deafening. And the ache thrums with vengeance.
I wince, going slightly off-script to fill the quiet. “If it’s easier, you can stay in the Dark Realm.”
Then I pick up my newly potted plant and turn away from him, walking to the furthest planting table, because I need to take it to this one. Because that’s just where it needs to go.
Because I… I can’t be near him for another second.
But… he’s just there.
The ache doubles, triples, so fresh and sharp. I grip the edge of the table so hard the soil in my pot spills over.
Don’t look.
Don’t let him see the tremble in my hands.
Don’t let him hear the pained gasp I can’t contain.
Don’t let him near enough to feel.
But he doesn’t say a word. He lingers for a second, and then... gone.
He’s gone.
No!
No.
No…
I can’t stop the tear that falls, so I simply let it be.