Page 2 of Morning's Light

The space needed the romance of the flame to hide its rough edges. The mattress sat on the floor without frame or box spring, and a single dresser purchased from a chain store sat smashed in a corner along with a bookshelf made from makeshift wooden beams and cinderblocks.

Israel, almost thirty, still lived like a college freshman while he clung to his youth. Somewhere along the line, he hadn’t accepted his age or the responsibility of adulthood. Shied from it like a horse from bit and bridle.

At first, she’d found his lackadaisical attitude endearing. His charm appealed to her on multiple levels, her desire to live a carefree life, a return to her own childhood and those good old days and reckless nights she remembered. They’d been brought together a year ago by their respective mothers. And much to those mothers’ mutual chagrin, the relationship never progressed past one night of pleasure a week. It suited both Israel and Aisanna well enough, leaving both free to do whatever else they pleased.

Aisanna rolled with the tide, enjoyed the time they had and never expected more. She didn’t want more, really. She was content with the arrangement and appreciated when Israel not only understood, but didn’t push her for anything more.

But why didn’t the man own a washer and dryer? It would sure beat the weekly trips to do his laundry at the laundromat. She did not understand why she kept coming back.

Until Israel shifted and bestowed her with a spectacular view of his body.

Yup, that was why. Damn. He enchanted her, drew her closer with an off-kilter charisma and a killer six-pack of abs.

Aisanna enjoyed his magnetism, sense of humor, and devil-may-care attitude. She just wished he would grow up a little.

“We can have so much fun if you stay,” Israel insisted. His foot ticked forward to rub along her leg in a continuous motion.

After another moment of hesitation, she dropped the sheet, baring her breasts for his scrutiny. “What the hell? I’ll stay. Why be your own boss if you can’t go in a few hours late?”

“There you go.”

She threw caution to the wind and let Israel kiss her.

The candle flames across the room grew when his tongue parried hers, tasting and nibbling. As his arousal heightened, they reached toward the ceiling. It was the way of a fire elemental.

In a world of magic, where power passed down through gender lines, Israel inherited his father’s prowess for controlling flame. For feeling the blaze of fire inside of him and expressing it in physical form.

Aisanna ignored the sparks flicking up the walls and along the lines of wallpaper. She fell to her back as Israel covered her with his body. His lips seared a path over her skin even as he failed to ignite the fire in her heart. She let herself burn without regret.

**

She managed to get to work the next morning with little fanfare. Her shoulders bent with fatigue and she pushed her old car forward on a hope and a prayer. She’d missed her last appointment with the dealer, gone over her oil change by at least a couple thousand miles. It slipped her mind. There were always more important scheduling issues. Which pushed maintenance of her car—which she had nicknamed Baby—into the corner and kept it there.

Still, she crooned to it, feeling as though she’d overtaxed herself. Damn, she shouldn’t have let Israel talk her into an all-nighter. She was too old for it. If not in body, then certainly in mind.

Her knees shook and her legs were sore. Somewhere along the line, she’d lost herself in the haze of lovemaking and overstayed her welcome into the wee hours of the morning.

One of the things she tried never to do.

They were the stuff of teen years, or the first few semesters of college when one became bloated with one’s own self-importance.

Aisanna was not nearly as limber as she used to be.

“Girl, you are stupid. Ignoring the limits of your aging body. You aren’t twenty-one anymore. You can’t stay up all night and expect to make it in to work without some kind of issue. A headache being number one.” She chastised herself, inching along in the throes of mid-morning commuter traffic.

A glance in the mirror had her stomach roiling. Her reflection showed each imperfection, and she hastily smoothed a stray hair out of her face. Did a double take to make sure it wasn’t gray.

She had no boyfriend and no man waiting at home. Instead, she focused on her job and enjoyed a single night a week with Israel. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d chosen casual intimacy over a real relationship, deciding to wash her hands of the institution. In the past three years, she’d had two men she saw informally. Not including Israel. Well, four, but it didn’t seem necessary to count the one night stand she’d had when she went to visit a friend on the West Coast.

It wasn’t as though she’d spilled candle wax on him on purpose.

Aisanna flicked on the blinker and made her way through the lanes toward the right exit. There, traffic thinned, and she took the streets at a steady pace.

Chicago was her playground on the lake. She’d lived within the confines of the city limits all her life. The only time she’d bothered leaving was for college. Then, finding Florida not one bit to her liking, she’d packed up her bags and moved back home.

If it were any other day of the week, of the month, she would have gladly called her extra staff away from their other duties and set them in the shop in her place. This was one day she had to handle without help, sadly.

Blinking, she managed to tear her gaze away from the mirror and turn into the side street leading to the space behind the shop. The car sputtered when she parked and turned the key, dying a slow horrible death. Yeah, she would definitely need to get on that oil change before she faced grimmer consequences.

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