Alright, friends. Here is the next installment. The next chapter is frustrating me because Neferet is so dang *itchy. I will have it up as soon as I feel like it's just right. As always... Read and review please. I'll try to not make you guys wait so long, but my other story **needless plug** "New Blood" has me working hard and it's really funny (to me) so I have a pretty good time writing it.
I clutch the steering wheel with such ferocity my knuckles glow white. Stark's head is lying against the blanket shielding him from the sun's evening decent. He hasn't breathed a syllable to me since I mentioned Erik and Heath. What did I expect him to say? How did I expect him to react to my inability to share a plan with him? There is no reason that he should have followed me obediently to the car, hopped in excitedly, patting his knees in enthusiasm. So why did his spiky silence surprise me?
I bite my lip and reach for my soda, keeping my eyes planted firmly on the road and foot hovering near the floor of my car. I can't quite put my fingers around the can. I fumble for a few seconds until fingers press a cold can into my hand then drop before I can recognize the gesture.
"Thank you." I breathe around my can.
Stark shrugs and continues pretending to look out of the window covered by a blanket.
Sure, go ahead and ignore me. It would probably make this a whole hell of a lot easier. But I can't help myself; I'm a glutton for the wrong decisions. "When did you write that?"
He turns to me as I steal a glance at him. His face is hard, annoyed. Instead of offering words he just raises his eyebrows incredulously. Obviously, I am going to have to pull out specifics.
"When did you write that poem, Stark?" I try to set the can back in the cup holder but I can't seem to drive and feel my way for the cup holder. His hands are back around mine for seconds and then, just as quickly they are gone. My skin tingles from his light touch, yearning, grasping for more. My skin cells know his, calling out to my warrior. I ignore their symphony and turn my face to his quickly, urging his answer with my glance.
He exhales rudely and shrugs. "When I was sleeping, I guess. I kind of woke up and had it in my head. I wrote it down because I figured it was important."
"I think it is."
"Well, if you think it's important. Then I am quite sure it is." He spits out the last bit and continues his vigil of looking through the blanket.
"I would like for you to not think about it when we get to BA."
His face twitches as if this alarms him and then smoothes quickly into his usual jerky mask. I can feel his thoughts storming, but I don't press. I simply press the pedal more firmly to the floor, praying that no cops feel the need to use their radars this evening.
"I know it's not because you don't trust me." His voice breaks the silence so ferociously; it is as if he has brought twilight with his words.
Across the horizon the sun slowly descends so that the trees and hills and clouds are bathed in such a rosy sheen that it is as if the night is a falling blanket, so stark and so different from the ground below. I realize that this is how Stark is in my life. One minute I am living a rosy dream, comfortable yet stale. The next, he breaks the silence and douses me in dark, but it is warm and mysterious. I want to cling to this, wrap my arms around it and breathe it in, but I know if I do so, if I stop now I will be living forever in this time. The time between night and day, and it is not meant to be lived in. It is meant to be short, to be sweet, and to be quick. Sunsets are beautiful, but if they were for always they would lose their luster and we would think of them like the afternoon sun. We would tire and run over them like they were just another part of the day. The part we run past on our way home from work, no noticing the breathtaking view sprawling out before us.
I steal another look at Stark; he's waiting for me to answer, to agree and to explain my plan. I can't do that—not any of it. His eyes burn with something so deep I can't quite place an emotion to his stare.
Anger?
Hurt?
Jealousy?
Yearning?
This is a multiple-choice question that has multiple answers.
Suddenly I am pulling over to the side of the road and ramming the car into park. It seems like I am out of the car faster than it took me to park it. The flat landscape around me mirrors my feelings. It looks as if it leads forever to nothing except the fiery end of the road. I know I must look crazy to Stark as I run my fingers through my long black hair, pulling it from my eyes and staring directly into the sunset. My eyes water and sputter curses at me in contempt but I can't tear my eyes away. I don't want to let the violet hour end. It's beautiful and it could be the last time I stare into it.
I'm not afraid of dying.
I'm afraid of ceasing to live this life. Because if I cease to live this life I know Stark will lose himself. He'll give over completely to his shadows. This is not a choice I am willing to make and yet here I am, standing in a field with nothing but this narrow road to the only choice. I would rather a cliff or a precipice—I would jump. Easy. This is harder; there is no way for me to leave because there is literally no other choice.
"You should blink."
Had I not been blinking? I will my eyes to close and fire burns behind them. I reach my fingers and rub them vigorously. This seems to quench the flame slightly. I unwillingly turn away from the sunset and look at Stark. His skin is sizzling.
"James Stark! What are you doing out of the car?" I rush toward him but he moves quickly from my reach. He too is staring at the sunset like an awed statue. He has removed his sunglasses and wisps of steam are floating off of him like he has just stepped out of a sauna into a subzero climate. "Stark, " I whisper and rest my hand on his steaming forearm. "We need to get you back into the car, quickly."
My soft voice seems to have awakened him. He nods once but does not move. I run back and grab the blanket that has been jammed into the window. I throw it over his head and cover all of his skin that was showing. He does not turn his head but keeps his eyes on the sun.
"Do you think it's real when they say staring into the sun can make you go blind?" He is on the ground now, sitting cross-legged like a little Cherokee boy.
I sit down beside him and shove his sunglasses over his eyes and pull his face to look at mine. "Yes, especially for red vampyres." His skin is still burning under my touch. Grabbing my water bottle I pour it over his blanket and press it to his skin. Haze explodes from cold quilt as I press it to his skin. In the shade of my car, I press the blanket to his face and skin softly as he murmurs in agitation. "Well, what do you expect? You stood out in the sun for a while!"
"Only a few seconds. And it was a sunset, that's not the same as day-sun."
"Sure, but it's still burning hot, idiot."
He shrugs and smirks as my fingers continue pressing the nearly dry blanket to his burned cheek. Silently, he intertwines his fingers through mine and presses them to his lips.
I should stop this. End it now, for time is running away from me, to the end of the road where my destiny now lies. But I've always been selfish and divertible. I press my lips to his enflamed skin and he moans in delight.
Suddenly, Stark is sitting up and staring back at the sunset. I turn his head with my hand sharply in agitation. He grins like a maniac but shakes his head. "We don't have time Z. And man, do I wish I wasn't so damn noble." He presses his face to mine and kisses me with more passion, force, anger, jealousy, and tension humanly possible. Which I guess would make since, because he's not human. "Let's get to it." He pulls me to my feet and grabs the keys hanging from my fingers. His eyebrows are arched above his sunglasses and his grin widens. "It's almost nightfall, shall we make this asshole bleed?"
"Kalona is immortal." I retort swinging the door open to the passenger side. I hate driving shotgun in my own car.
He makes a sound and mutters, "Oh, but I wasn't talking about him." Stark makes the engine growl in a way I thought wasn't even possible for her little bug heart and we are flying across the pavement.