Page 30 of Whispers of Fire

“Feelin’ better?” he asks with a breathy voice. It’s too dark to write in my notebook and show it to him, but I can still see his face with the reflection of the moon. Gathering all the courage I can find, I furrow my brows and swallow hard. Making a small, almost appreciable moan in response.

His body freezes for a second, surprised to actually hear me.

When my vocal chords got damaged two years ago, I lost all ability to speak, but if I push myself enough, which is extremely painful, I can manage to make extremely small sounds that you can only hear in complete silence.

For him, I overcome the pain, wanting to offer him a piece of me that I don’t give to others.

His response is immediate, his grip tightening around me as if to reassure me that he's there. His arm pulls me tighter to his chest until I can feel his heartbeat against mine, his lips pressed against my forehead.

Can a person become your safe place?

I can’t help but think that he feels like coming home at the end of a long day. The way he keeps putting his lips on my forehead makes me want to stay here forever.

Silence surrounds us in the depth of the night, making me cling to his chest even more.

I don’t want to be alone tonight. I wish I could be at his place.

But that’s crazy.

Why would he want that?

And how could I allow myself such a behavior? I’m supposed to be a good lamb who follows the rules.

Removing my face from the crook of his neck, I lift my eyes to his as if they could give me the answers I’m desperately looking for.

“Is it true, you’re gonna get married?” His voice breaks as he says the last word- married. I can sense the tension in his body, the subtle shift in his demeanor as if he was trying to hold back something.

What can I tell him? Yes, I’ve been chosen by my sixty-year-old spiritual leader and I must fulfill my duty despite gagging at the idea of it?

He looks in my eyes with so much intensity, a shiver shakes my body. Tears build in my eyes and threaten to spill when he cups my cheek with one of his rough hands.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says as if my eyes had given him the answer he was looking for. He exhales, keeping his voice low enough so we won’t be heard.

“You ever want to leave, to escape, to hide, you call me.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. I lean into his touch, my heart skipping a beat at his words.

“You need me, Angel, for any reason, I'll be there in a heartbeat,” he says like a promise, his tone as heavy as if he was taking a vow.

As tears trickle down my cheeks, I feel Vox's thumb brush them away, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring me to the present moment. I wish I could tell him how lost I am, but somehow he doesn’t seem to need me to write it down; he just senses it.

"C’mon, you need to rest," he says, kissing my forehead again. He lifts himself from the bed, making me ache for the loss of his closeness and sits on the chair next to my bed.

"I'll stay here tonight, watchin’ over ya. If you have another nightmare, I'll be right here.

Why would he ever want to do that?

The sight of him sitting next to me with his black clothes and veiny hands resting on his thighs makes my heart pump harder.

Instead of keeping myself awake with questions, I choose to embrace him being here, with me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but I sure will enjoy every single minute I can spend in his presence.

With a small nod, I lie down again and let him pull the covers over me.

Could this moment last forever?

I drift into sleep surprisingly fast, knowing he’s there, in arm’s reach.

For tonight at least, I am not alone.

Chapter 8

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