AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My head falls against the bark as I watch him watching me. We’re only a few feet apart, facing one another. “Tell me about yourself, Ren.”
His gaze drops to his hands, darkening.
I reach out and touch his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.“Not about the thing that haunts you. Tell me the good.”
His fingers snake down his leg, trailing over my hand until he covers it completely. “The good?” he asks, his expression turning thoughtful.
I nod. “The good.”
He watches me, silently thinking. “I… I remember my family, our home.”
Family. Home.Both things I can relate to. “Tell me about them.”
“We weren’t rich, but we lived well in the city. My father built our home with his own hands, and once he finished, he built a stand outside where he and my mother sold goods.” His eyes burn brighter, as if lost in the memories of his past.
“Goods?”
His free hand strokes over the smooth line of his jaw. “Tinctures, handmade toys, clothing and jewelry. Anything my parents could craft, they sold. Our neighbors bought from us, and we would visit their stands, buying whatever we couldn’t make ourselves.”
“Did you help make things?” Art, creation; the act of weaving something from nothing is a skill I hold dear to my heart. Perhaps Ren and I are more alike than I thought.
A line appears between his brows as he squints. “Yes, I think so.” His lip twitches, forming half a smile. “I can remember my mother creating paints for the carvings I made. Some were simple toys, but my favorite things to make were items our neighbors needed. Chalices, brushes, tools. Knowing they would use my work for years made the process magical.”
“Did you stay with your parents until the plague swept your people? Or…” I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “Or did you create a family of your own?” The thought of Ren as a father, alover, burns my chest. I’m not sure why, but I can’t wrap my head around the image of him so tightly bonded to another. Is it cruel for me to feel this way? Perhaps so, but I am not immune to humanities faults.
His gaze turns heated, searing mine. “There was no mate for me before-” He pauses, his teeth clacking shut.
I cock my head. “Before?”
His thumb circles over the top of my hand as he stares at me. Finally, he continues. “Just before.”
Darkness creeps into our quiet bubble, distracting me from our conversation. Something wiggles beneath the sole of my foot, but it’s so dark I can’t make out what creature is creating the disturbance. Leaning forward, I scrape the ground with one arm, pulling sticks and leaves to my side.
“What are you doing?” Ren asks.
I’m facing away from him, my head bent low as I position the leaves and twigs into a teepee formation. I’ve tried and failed to create fire the last few weeks, but there’s always another night to try again.
The Neanderthals created flames. Surely I can do the same.
A scrap of moistureless bark is my base, and I use dried, ground leaves as the starter. Using one of the larger sticks as a friction tool, I roll it between my palms. My hands are still soft, and the action causes them to redden quickly, but I can be determined when I want to be.
“Thea?”
I glance over my shoulder, hands still rubbing over the wood. “Fire.” I breathe, my movements vibrating my voice. “I’m trying to make a fire.”
Ren’s face smooths with understanding. He scoots around to the other side of my makeshift fire starter, his eyes aglow as he offers me his hand. “May I?”
I’m already breathless, my hands burning from the roughness of the textured bark. I nod, tossing the stick at him like it’s burned me. In reality, the wood is as cold as it was when I began.
Living is hard.
But apparently not when you’re friends with an invader. Ren’s hands move over the twig so fast they’ve become nothing more than a blur of pale color under the cloak of darkness. Within seconds, wisps of smoke rise like a snake taking flight. Brightness blooms beneath Ren’s fingertips, lighting the bark and leaves with a burst of flames.
I clap my hands, involuntarily squealing with delight. Upon impulse, I reach toward the flickering blaze of orange, my fingers scraping over the embers. “Ouch!” I flinch backward, my sore finger flexing as I shake it through the air, trying to cool the burn.
Ren tosses the flame onto my pile of sticks, his wide eyes focused on my wound. I shove my sore finger into my mouth, sucking on the burn. His gaze follows my finger to my lips, his mouth parted.
“Are you okay?”
