Page 4 of Heron's Flame

Roses, thorns, ivy, and several skulls intertwined as they spread from her left shoulder to her wrist. On the right, a woman’s face surrounded by long waves of dark hair dripped blood, forming the wings of multiple butterflies. They flew above several tombstones, one with a date. Since the first day I noticed these, I wanted to ask her about them.

In my experience, ink was personal. I chose mine for specific reasons, and I had a strong feeling that the tattoos on Rebel’s right arm were symbolic to her. There was a story there, and I wanted to hear it.

Rebel picked up a dart. She paused before launching it, her hand poised to throw as her gaze cut across the room to mine.

I winked. Couldn’t fucking help it. Irritation and lust swept through her. When she didn’t turn away, my lips widened into a grin.Come to me, I called in my head. Not that she would.

Rebel appeared annoyed. Did I sense that? No. Her emotions seemed to become more inconsistent than usual, flipping so fastbetween them that I almost wasn’t sure which one she settled on. They nearly overwhelmed her, but one finally stood out above all the others: Yearning.

Fuck, baby. I’m right here.

She blinked several times, turning her head to focus on the game before pulling back her arm and releasing her dart, waiting until her arm extended in front of her to let go. A little snap of the wrist proved she knew plenty about the game. Her dart landed with precision—a perfect bullseye.

Rebel glanced back at me, a triumphant smile tugging at her lips.

I see you, Spark.

She bristled as I mouthed the words, no sound necessary to convey my meaning. Anger flared as she ignored me, finished the game, and headed outside with a beer.

I followed her. Of course, I fucking did. She knew I would. It wasn’t hard to predict.

Crows landed on the roof of The Roost as I entered the lot, hopping around and cawing as if to alert the world of my presence. It stopped being strange long ago, but I still wondered why they habitually felt the need to announce where I went.

Rebel’s delicate scent, a combination of orange zest and an earthy, woody, sweet perfume, alerted me to her location before I found her. She stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot as I rounded the corner of the building and nearly bumped into her.

“Love, if you wanted to get me alone, you could have followed me down the hall to my room.”

Did I know my words would ignite a fiery response? Hell yeah.

“Don’t call me that,” she spat.

I lifted my hands, slowly moving closer. “I’m just trying to figure out why you act like you don’t want me around, but then you lead me outside to a dark corner where we can have privacy.”

“That’s not,” she paused, sighed, and dropped her arms. “You’re not getting the message.”

“What message is that, darlin’?” Moving closer, I caged her in as she retreated, bumping into the exterior wall. I left her room to escape if she wanted, but Rebel didn’t duck under my arm or retreat. My palms rested against the stucco facade as I lowered my head, dropping close enough to whisper into her ear. “You say one thing, but you mean another. Your body is sending me signals, and I know what they mean, Little Spark.”

I swear she fucking growled. “You’re delusional. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I would if you dropped those walls and let me in.”

Her hand pressed against my chest. I thought she’d push me away. She didn’t. The warmth of her touch heated the material of my shirt and sank into my skin. Instant arousal pulsed through my groin.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” I asked, grazing my nose across her jawline, forcing myself not to kiss my way to her soft lips.

“You’re trying to seduce me.”

“Am I?” I asked with humor, backing away enough to stare into the azure color of her eyes. So fucking pretty.

“Heron.”

Goddamn. My name on her lips was sweet fucking torture.

“Tell me the problem so I can fix it,” I murmured, holding her gaze.

“You can’t fix what’s broken beyond repair.”

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