Amaretto Flame (13 page)

“You had a--” My words trailed off as I
looked at him. He was gazing at me, and I felt that weird flip-flop
in my stomach again. My throat felt tight, too. I had to look away
to gather my thoughts. When I found my breath, I looked at him
again, but he turned and twisted a faucet that was connected to a
water hose.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“Well we can’t exactly stay muddy,” he
replied, his eyes twinkling.

I laughed. “Oh no,” I said, shaking my
head.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,
but you don’t want to meet him like that,” he said.

“Who?” I breathed, glancing at the house.

“You’ll see. He’s waiting for us inside.”

My face turned pink under the smears of mud
and I was embarrassed to think that someone might have seen us. I
took off the mud-soaked, collared, button-up shirt I had been
wearing and stood in my tank top and shorts, waiting for him to
spray me. The water was freezing cold and I screamed as soon as it
hit me. In a way it was like the The Drop or the four-wheeler. It
brought my attention to the outside of my body, where I couldn’t
focus so much on the inside. I screamed each time Jackson hit me
with the water, and he would erupt in laughter every single time. I
think he sprayed me several unnecessary times just to hear the
scream.

Next, I sprayed him and waited for his own
shout at the cold water. I was disappointed when he didn’t. Amused,
I wondered if he was holding it back just to look tough. He rubbed
his hands over his face as the mud rinsed away, tinting the water
that was dripping to the ground a grayish-brown. Then he ran his
hands through his hair, scrubbing it to remove the mud. When he put
his hands down, I sprayed his shoulders and arms but I couldn’t
take my eyes from his face. Water dripped from his nose and chin,
and his hair was standing up straight. His skin glittered with the
water droplets covering him. He was a sight.

Then he took off his shirt. I tried hard not
to move my eyes from his face. I tried really, really hard. The
muscles were defined under his tanned skin, and the curly hairs on
his chest were the same copper color as his hair. It trailed down
the middle of his flat stomach in a little river, disappearing into
the waist of his jeans.

I looked at the ground, my face turning red
with the direction my thoughts had been taking, and then I felt his
hands on my skin. “What’s this?”

His hand moved the strap of my tank top and
he ran his thumb over the scar near my collarbone. At the same time
that I realized what he was doing, he saw the two scars closer to
my heart. I slapped my hand over them, pulling away and shaking my
head.

“Nothing,” I said, resting my hand there as
if it were the most natural thing in the world, and grabbing my
collared shirt with the other hand. “So, who am I meeting?” I
asked.

“What? It’s
definitely
something or
you wouldn't be hiding it.” He moved forward and tugged at my
hand.

“It’s really nothing,” I repeated. I knew
that if I wanted to, I could be stronger than he was, but I was
also trying to maintain composure. Then I realized that I was only
making it more interesting to him by hiding it. So, I let him move
my hand away and get a good look at the scars.

“Are these…” He trailed off as he ran his
fingers over them

“Scars from a knife,” I replied, voice
lacking emotion.

“Someone stabbed you three times?” He pulled
back to look in my face, as if to see whether I were joking. I
couldn't speak for a long moment, and when I did, my voice was
thick.

“Ten. Someone stabbed me ten times.” I lifted
my arm to reveal the three other scars there, then lifted my shirt
up to show the others at the top of my stomach and then near my
hip. I watched his face as this information registered, and he
brushed his hand against the scars. I fought to refrain from
dropping my eyes to the ground, to keep from lowering my head in
shame. It was better for him to see this. Then he would realize
that I wasn’t so exciting, so likable. It was better for this to
happen sooner rather than later.

“Who did this?” His voice was barely above a
whisper. I dropped my shirt and crossed my arms.

“My mother.” The words came forced from my
mouth, and I raised my chin in defiance of all the disgust he too
must be feeling. “Lovely, aren’t they? You don’t have to drive me
home. I’ll walk.”

I turned without looking him in the face and
began to walk toward the jeep to retrieve my phone and the money
I’d stashed on the seat. He grabbed my arm from behind.

“Wait, Olivia.” He moved in front of me,
blocking my view of the jeep. “I don’t want you to leave.”

His face wasn’t showing any disgust, and his
amaretto eyes were on fire with some unexplained feeling. Then, he
leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

The tingling I’d felt earlier intensified
incredibly, and his lips were warm and soft. While they were
touching mine, I was blissfully stupid. I could only feel without
thinking, and it was amazing. When he pulled back slightly to look
at me, I couldn’t find my words. He brushed his fingers against my
cheek and then his face was transformed by a brilliant grin.

“So I guess that means you’ll stay,” he
murmured. “Come on. You still haven’t met my friend, and I’ll make
us something to eat. I’m starving. You probably want to get out of
those wet clothes anyway.”

He flicked his eyes down the length of my
body and I raised a cautionary eyebrow at him. He chuckled and put
his hands up innocently.

“Only to get back into dry ones, I mean,” he
said.

He gestured for me to follow him, and
together we approached the door of his house. The moment he opened
the door, I saw the friend he’d been speaking of. Bounding out of
the house was the most massive dog I’d ever seen. He was the color
of a sandy beach, his dark face giving the impression that he was
wearing a black mask. Wrinkles of skin gathered on his forehead and
dripped from the sides of his gigantic head. He jumped up, both
paws on Jackson’s chest, and stood just as tall as his master.

A giggle escaped me and I gasped at the sheer
size of the animal.

“Olivia, this is Zeus. Get down, Zeus,”
Jackson said with a playful smile. The big dog gave Jackson a look
as if wondering whether he were serious and then apparently
deciding that he had been, dropped back to the earth on his
tremendous paws. Then it was my turn for a greeting. He brushed
enthusiastically against my legs and nudged my hand with his head.
His back easily reached the top of my thigh and before I knew it, I
found myself kneeling down so I could get a better angle for
adoring him.

“He’s a horse,” I laughed. “He’s bigger than
me.”

“That’s not difficult,” Jackson joked,
earning a faux glare from me, “but yeah. He’s pretty large. He
likes you.”

Zeus nuzzled his gargantuan head into my
hair, earning another giggle. We’d never had animals in Eagleton
other than the wild rabbits and the occasional coyote or dear we’d
run across in the woods. After a few minutes, I reluctantly stopped
petting Zeus and followed Jackson inside. His house was cozy and
seemed to fit him. The couches were deep brown leather, and a few
different guitars stood on stands in the corner of his living room.
He disappeared for a moment and came back with an armful of
clothing and towels.

He directed me to the bathroom, and I shut
the door, checking twice to make sure it was locked. I’d planned on
only changing, but the shower was so tempting that I couldn’t
resist jumping in quickly. The hot water felt luxurious, and there
was something oddly thrilling about rubbing Jackson’s shampoo into
my hair. When I was out and dressed in sweat pants that pooled
around my body comfortably, I collected my wet and muddy clothes
from the bathroom floor.

Preparing to leave, I caught sight of myself
in the mirror and paused, a little shocked. There was a flush in my
cheeks and my eyes glittered. The gray color suddenly seeming
warmer, more open. My hair fell in shiny, damp black ribbons and
for the first time in my life, I appreciated what I saw. I still
didn’t look as beautiful as Sylvia or Ivanna, and certainly not as
beautiful as Paula, but there was something charming about my
appearance. I shook my head at myself and exited, finding Jackson
in the kitchen.

He’d made sandwiches, and the moment I saw
them I realized how hungry I was. He smiled and gestured for me to
sit at the table in the little kitchen. While Jackson took a few
moments to shower and change, I polished off the sandwich like a
champion. Zeus had been supplied with a humongous bowl of food,
which he inhaled, and then hoisted himself up onto the larger of
the couches to doze.

“So what do you usually do when you’re not
working?” I asked Jackson, after he’d finished eating.

“I spend a lot of time writing; music and
thoughts and other things. Sometimes Zeus and I go on hikes. I
don’t know. I just kind of do whatever I feel like doing at the
moment.” He looked reflective, his thick brows drawing together
over his eyes. The copper hair was once again standing straight up,
a beautiful messy look. I lowered my eyes when I realized I was
gazing at him.

“This is going to sound corny,” he said, “but
I have this strange feeling that you and I are a lot alike.”

I immediately looked back up at him. “What do
you mean?” Surely, he could at least sense on some deep level that
he and I were very different…that we almost didn’t even exist in
the same world. My free time was spent learning how to kill.

“I don’t know how to explain it. You’re
different. I find myself wanting to know every single thing about
you, but you seem so…closed. But there are rare moments when it’s
like the walls come down. I’m fascinated by it.”

I examined my hands to keep from looking at
him. Normally, this would have made me even more guarded. These
words would have made me feel more like a science experiment; more
like I didn’t belong. But he seemed to genuinely want to know me,
and it threw me. To say that I was in uncharted territory was
putting it mildly.

“Why did she want to hurt you? Your mother, I
mean?” Jackson asked quietly. He reached across the table and took
one of my hands in both of his. “You can trust me with your
secrets, Slayer.”

I inhaled deeply, not happy with the way our
conversation had suddenly turned. “My mother was sick. She thought
that I was evil, or that something bad was inside of me.” I had
expected to speak confidently, defiantly, but my voice came out low
and weak.

“Why would she think that?” Jackson’s voice
was nearly as low as mine.
I shrugged halfheartedly. “Because I was different, I guess. I
don’t know.”

Jackson looked at me for a long moment, and
then I was pulled to my feet and we were kissing again. Something
made me want to back up, to think about this and his motive for
kissing me, but again I found myself unable to focus. His hand
traced a line on the back of my neck, and then his fingers curled
into my hair, as if he were holding me to him. This kiss was more
demanding, and I rode a wave of thrill and fear.

When Jackson did pull back, he pressed his
lips again to mine once and then twice. “I like your kind of
different,” he said, gifting me with another of his brilliant
grins. Surprisingly, I found myself smiling in return.

A little later, when Jackson took me home, he
walked me through the gate and onto the porch. “I want to see you
again tomorrow,” he said, putting a hand against my chin. I’d
become accustomed to the tingling now, but was still extremely
curious about it.

“I don’t know,” I said automatically. My head
was spinning from today.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he replied, and then with a smile, he
turned to leave. I watched him pull away from the curb before I
went inside with a grin on my face. I was walking on air. As I
moved toward the laundry room with the bag of muddy clothes, I felt
excited and happy in every cell of my body. Part of me wanted to
break out into random song and another part wanted to crawl in bed
and relive every single moment of today. I’d never dreamed that my
first kiss would come from a human, or that it would be so intense.
I spun around the doorway to the kitchen, still grinning.

“Olivia!” The voice was wound with tension
and the sudden appearance of someone in the kitchen startled me. My
hand shot out involuntarily, and the rug in the kitchen came
sliding toward me with a sudden fury. The man standing on it went
sprawling backward, arms flung out to try and catch his balance. He
wasn’t successful, and at the same time he landed on a heap in the
kitchen floor, I realized who it was.

“Max!” I shouted, my heart sprinting like a
kicked horse. The bag dropped from my hand and I rushed forward to
help him up. “Great Goddess, Max. You scared me!” I made sure he
was okay and then I punched him in the arm, probably a little
harder than I should have. He was strong, though, and if it really
hurt him, he didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting here all day
for you. I went to the bar where Everett said you work, but you
weren’t there.” He helped me straighten the rug back out and then I
sat at the kitchen table, trying to gather myself.

“I was off today,” I said in an irritated
voice. “What happened? Why are you here?”

“Two reasons,” Max said, pulling the other
chair around closer to me and straddling it. “I’m breaking my coven
bonds by telling you this, but Lillian’s oracle has figured out
what the Venator are searching for.”

I sat straight up, a chill running down my
spine. “What?” I breathed.
“Everett. Or at least, that’s what we all assume.” Max put a hand
on my shoulder as the blood drained from my face.