Page 36 of Whispers of Fire

There it is, on the edge of the bathtub—a bottle of my favorite vanilla-scented shower gel. He must've spotted it the night he came to mend my hands. I can’t believe he took the time to notice this and to actually buy one for his place.

Did he know I would be coming here one day?

I let out a soft sigh as I pick up the bottle, feeling its comforting weight in my hands.

Or did he buy it for him…? To smell my scent whenever he wants to?

A strange primal urge in me wants him to have bought it for himself. So he could feel my scent even when I’m not around.

You’re crazy.

Turning toward the sink to grab a towel, I stare at myself in the mirror. Something has changed in my reflection. Barely noticeable but it does change. As if the veil of obedience was slowly slipping for my face, revealing a stronger version of me.

A braver one.

Touching the surface of the mirror with my finger, I wonder who this girl is. I thought a version of me died two years ago in the fire, taking away my voice with it and burying it under layers of fake smiles and silence. But perhaps I'm wrong, perhaps losing my voice was only the beginning of something more.

The old Rose would have never slipped out of her bed at night to sleep in a stranger's bed.

The old Rose would have never let a man touch her.

The old Rose would have stayed put, too scared of punishment.

But becoming the fiancée of our leader and discovering what a true connection feels like with Vox… just turns my world upside down. It’s making me question everything. As I remove my clothes slowly, I fold them on the counter, entering the shower and enjoying the hot water burning my flesh.

This act of transgression should make me feel embarrassed but I’m not.

If this is what freedom tastes like, then I want to savor every drop of it.

I'm standing naked in his shower. In his home. The thought of his tattooed body, wet and standing in the exact spot where I am now, sends a warm shiver through my stomach. Each drop of water cascading over my skin awakens a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.

The steam surrounds me, clouding my thoughts in a haze of desires. As I massage the vanilla-scented shower gel onto my skin, its fragrance wraps around me like his arms, easing away my uncertainties.

I recall our first meeting in the garden, trying to remember every inch of his tattooed skin, the intricate designs across his athletic muscles. I imagine his strong, veiny forearms pulling me close, and—

Shaking my head, I pull myself from my fantasy, pressing my hand against the wall as the water continues to fall around me.

This is wrong. I should never imagine those kinds of things.

What if my parents knew I was here? What would my community say? Could I live with myself then?

Turning the water off, I dry my skin with one of his cushy towels. I reach out and touch the fogged mirror, clearing it to meet my own gaze.

What do you really want?

-

Putting my nightgown back on and trying to do something with my wild thick hair, I sigh.

I wish I could have worn something more… pretty. Like a t-shirt and jeans, molding my body, not an ankle long brown shapeless dress made to hide my figure. When I see what girls my age wear in the street, I can’t help but envy them. It must be nice to wonder what you will wear every day and try to mix and match different patterns. And to be able to enhance your features, just enough to feel… feminine .

For the first time in my life, I want him to see this part of me. To look at me with desire and want, not just a weirdly dressed girl wearing the same brown clothes every single day. My dress looks more like a potato sac than anything else.

It’s not about the dress, Rose, he’s not like that and you know it.

He seems like a free man, riding his bike, coming home at strange hours, having a tidier home than most people I know. The kind of man that have women crawling at him everyday. And by my memory of the girl at his barbecue, he’s used to seeing women wear way less clothes than I am.

Why would a man like him desire a girl like me?

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