(Blood and Bone, #2) Sin and Swoon(15)

I don’t feel particularly comfortable going, but I just shrug and walk inside, closing the door behind me. It’s dark, but even so I can tell the home is magnificent. It’s not a chalet or a family cottage—it’s remarkable. The foyer is large, opening right up into the massive great room. A river-rock fireplace climbs the wall to the left, and the kitchen is to the right.

I drop my bag and stumble in, stunned at the beautiful house. It flickers in my mind, contrasting with the stone walls of a building I’m not sure I’ve ever seen. It’s a barren place with children running and playing, making up for the lack of joy in the air.

But this, it’s something completely different. It’s like a whole other world, and I don’t know how to be in it.

A vision of my childhood bounds into my brain. My house is nothing like this. There’s warmth in my house, surrounded by clutter, and my mom shouting at me to bring her the thing she’s looking for. And yet, the place with the stone walls and running children feels like home for a second too.

Walking into the living room I reach to flick on a lamp, but the moon surprises me, rising above the mountains. It’s so large and bright that I stay my hand and watch it fill up the room.

It’s cold and silver, a perfect moon for the dark night. As it crests the hill across the valley from me it lights up the small valley. All of the hills fill with shadows, crevices I imagine are dark places someone could hide. Or places where something could lurk.

I shiver, lost in the captivating brilliance of the cold moon, realizing I’m cold too. The fireplace on the wall is a wood-burning one, and even though I don’t know how to start it, I walk to it, dropping to my knees in front of it. And then, as if the silver light of the moon gives me knowledge I can’t possibly have, I light the fire. I make a teepee of sticks, and stuff the paper I’ve rolled up under it, lighting and watching as the soft sparks lick at the paper and then build into orange flames. Immediately I feel the heat from it, realizing how cold the room actually is. I leave the glass doors open as the fire increases, giving off a slight scent of the smoke coming from the hardwood crackling inside the fireplace.

I turn and walk into the kitchen, leaning on the large, pale-marble island. There are pictures on the fridge of small kids and Christmas cards, but when I blink they vanish, leaving behind only a steel refrigerator. The Christmas cards and pictures and old coupons are on my mom’s fridge, but I don’t know what made me think of that. Except maybe because the house is so cold in some ways, and yet homey in others. It’s staged to be inviting and warm, but it lacks life. It is missing people.

That doesn’t take away from the beauty under the silver moon.

“She can build a fire—who knew?”

I turn, smiling as I see his lips curling up into a grin. He’s a bit out of breath, and he looks like he’s been running or working at something hard.

“Do you like it?” He tilts his head, staring deeply into my eyes.

I nod slowly, realizing this might be the first time for us. We may actually make love.

The mischief in his eyes tells me we won’t be kissing and admiring purity rings much longer, that tonight I might be in for something I have never had before. Sex with an adult is amazing—in my head. I don’t know how it’ll be in real life, but my expectations are quite high. Teenage boys are not great at it. I have experienced that a few times and have never come away feeling like I understand the greatness that is sex.

He crosses the room, lifting his hands to my face, cupping and lifting to a nearly impossible angle. He kisses my forehead and stares out the window over top. “I want your permission to make—love—to you.”

I gulp as an involuntary twitch between my legs jolts through me. I nod, not saying it aloud.

“Say it.”

“I give you my permission.” My voice shakes but it isn’t nerves, it’s excitement. And about bloody time.

“You give me permission to ravage you in every way I know how?”

I nod again, not even sure what the fuck I am agreeing to. Don’t cuss! I reprimand myself.

He lowers his gaze and mouth, crashing it upon mine. The feeling of his lips engulfing mine is unexpected. He kisses like he might actually devour me, and I don’t know if I like it or if I think it’s weirdly fetish-like. His saliva coats my lips, greasing the way for our kiss. I’m not sold on the way he kisses. I’m not sold on anything as he lifts me into the air and carries me into the dark. I have a terrible feeling he is taking me into the dark in more than literal ways.

Gently I am placed on the bed, gently my shoes are removed, and gently my hands are kissed.