Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
His heart.
My husband’s heart was broken. His father shattered it years ago and now I knew it had not fully healed. According to Rider, it may never fully heal. There was always the danger that Flame might break again. I knew that to be true. Flame had broken when Isaiah died. He had broken when he had seen a child almost killed… and this recent decent began when I told him I was pregnant.
I closed my eyes, realization sweeping through me like a torrent. Isaiah… it was all related to Isaiah. Every breakdown, every fear he had emanated from his baby brother, who had died so tragically in his arms. Flame’s cruel poppa blamed the flames and the evilness as the cause. Such sadness washed over me I knew I would not be able to hold back the sadness. In the forest, he had called Asher, ‘Isaiah’. Believed Isaiah had come back to him. For what reason, I did not know.
“Maddie?” Flame’s hoarse and panicked voice cut into my reverie. I opened my eyes. My vision was blurred by falling tears. Flame spotted them too. His hands had been on my waist. He pulled them back as though they were the reason for my pain.
Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead against his. It was unfair that a man as pure as Flame was so tortured. It was unfair that he had to wake each morning, believing those he loved would be hurt by his hand. And it was unfair that his baby brother had died in his arms, with Flame crying out in vain for help. Flame had watched his brother’s breathing change until it expired on the eleventh exhale. And he sat with Isaiah. Flame had been left in the cellar as his baby brother slowly turned cold, then to be ripped from his arms and discarded like garbage, no grave or marker, no opportunity for Flame to say his goodbyes.
“I love you,” I whispered through my tightening throat. I cupped both of Flame’s cheeks. “You are a good man, baby. You are my universe. You are my light and my reason for living. Do you understand this, Flame?” I met Flame’s eyes. His gaze lowered, taking my hopeful heart with it.
“I’m evil. The flames…” he trailed off.
“What if the flames are not evil, but brilliant bursts of light? Light that brings good to those you love?” Flame’s eyes focused on the bath water. What if your poppa and the church were both wrong? What if the flames were not devil-cursed, but instead were beacons of good awarded to you by God? Reassurance that you are not damned, but instead blessed. Blessed, because you have endured too much. Blessed and deserving of a happy life after the evil thrust upon you as an innocent child, corrupted by men.”
I gripped Flame’s cheeks harder, needing, begging him to understand. His eyes still did not meet mine. My heart raced in fear of my words not having any effect. “Baby…” I whispered, looking at the wounds and many scars on his skin. “What if the flames are keeping back the darkness? What if they are not meant to be extinguished, but fueled?” I was exhausted. But I had to fight… I had to fight to save the man I adored.
Flame lifted his head. His cheeks were red, his eyes swollen and bloodshot from all the tears shed. “I was told I was evil,” was all he said. But in his tone, I caught a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe I was right. That maybe he believed he might not damned after all.
“Evil is the absence of goodness. Flame, love of my life. You are filled with goodness. You shine so brightly with goodness.”
Flame’s gaze shifted. He blinked, his tears falling away. There was no expression on his face. But I knew my husband. I knew by the reflection in his eyes that something I said had gotten through. Flame was fixated with flames, with the fire he believed would never leave his blood.
Rider told me it would be hard to free Flame from this obsession. It was part of what made him different. But what if I could change Flame’s belief about the flames in his blood? What if he could be persuaded they were a force for good, not of evil? “If you are fire, Flame, then I stared into the fire and my eyes found you. You were the answer to my prayers all along. You took the pain of my past, and with your touch and love, you incinerated the bad and filled me with joy, such happiness, that some days I can hardly believe you are mine.”
“Maddie…” He was lost for words. But now there was hope. When he had awoken, there was none. Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips to his. Flame groaned when I did so, his hands tentatively holding me, as though he were afraid to believe he would not hurt me. I moved my knees forward, over his thighs until our chests touched. Flame gasped into my mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut. As we kissed, delicately and softly, I felt his length harden beneath me. I pulled back my head. Flame stared up into my eyes. “Maddie,” he whispered, my name a prayer on his lips. “My Maddie…”