His voice was thunder, just as I remembered it – low, smooth, powerful – dangerous. At the sound of it, something in me clicked and that absolute clarity became reality. Still, that tunnel vision remained – my focus was entirely on him.

I hadn't expected this, but I should have known better, considering this was where we had first met all those years ago – perhaps I had ignored the possibility, refused the idea of seeing him again. Dammit, I had just wanted to see the poinciana tree. Now, here he was. And this time I knew who he was, and I knew what he was capable of. I shook myself and remembered he had asked a question.

"We, uh, we – Mum and me – just moved here. To make a new start after… well, you know."

I cringed at myself, lowering my head to rub my neck awkwardly. He didn't move. With an expression like stone, eyes dark beneath his brow, it was clear that he was not glad to hear this; not glad to see me. To be fair, I wasn't particularly thrilled to see him either.

"It's not my fault," I told him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. "My mum wants to save the birds."

I saw his expression change, and his large form shifted, chin tilting upward as he scowled.

"I meant," he snapped, "what are you doing here now, tonight – in the cemetery, alone."

I swallowed hard at the anxious lump in my throat and wet my suddenly dry lips. My eyes lowered to the ground, brow furrowed as I tried to gather my thoughts – and in the short moment between looking away from him to the ground, and again raising my head, he had somehow managed to close much of the distance between us – I hadn't even heard him move, no footsteps, no breaths, no rustling of his clothes. He wasn't so close that I could reach out and touch him, but close enough that I had to raise my chin to look at his face. He was so tall, his shoulders so wide. I had no doubt that he could pick me up with ease and take me wherever he pleased – and I would not be able to do a thing to stop him. I shivered and took an involuntary backward step, jaw tightening and frown deepening.

I shouldn't have come here.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I had supposed, had hoped, seemingly foolishly, that after all this time he had perhaps managed to 'forgive and forget', as my dad insisted all should. But the cold steel of his eyes told otherwise – once there had been warmth, flecks of blue amongst the light grey, but that was a long time ago, in another life.

"I was just…"

He was here. We were talking. He was angry to see me, and I didn't know what I felt. What did I want to say to him? I wracked my brain, and I remembered that night; that room, the fireplace, the cup of tea. I remembered what he did to me, and I remembered what I did to him. Despite everything he had said and done, I'd always felt bad about it. Well, new beginnings right?

I took a deep breath, holding his stare. "I just wanted to say that what I did when I… you know. It wasn't personal. I am sorry that it happened," I apologised, earnestly, rubbing my neck. I felt my heart fluttering nervously in my chest. "So, yeah. I'm sorry. And I uh, I hope there's no hard feelings."

"No hard feelings," he repeated, coldly. His body radiated anger; eyes like ice.

I blinked, taken aback. Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say.

"Of course. I understand – no hard feelings," he sneered.

I took another step back. "Yeah," I said, slowly. "Is there something else you wanted me to say?"

"There's nothing to say – you made your decision and acted upon it; damn the consequences."

"Consequences?" I spluttered. "What are you talking about?"

His jaw tightened; eyes hard – it was clear he didn't intend to elaborate. It was clear then that the consequences were suffered by him. But did he mean that he suffered them because of me? What were they, and who enforced them? Though I was naturally curious, I didn't feel any empathy for him. He had done what he had done and if there were consequences for it, then he had only himself to blame. So I didn't press the topic further; if he didn't want to tell then I didn't want to ask.

My arms uncrossed as I gestured helplessly. "What did you expect me to do?" I asked.

"I expected you to honour your word," he growled, fists tight at his sides.

"My word," I scoffed, agitation overtaking anxiety. "It was a promise made under duress."

"Duress?" His body rippled, face contorting with outrage, "You were never in danger."

"You kidnapped me!"

"You chose me!" he said, stepping toward me. "You promised you would stay!"

He towered above me, now close enough to touch and to feel the heat of his body. His grey eyes burned with bright intensity, glare unwavering.

"Well," I huffed. My heart spiked with healthy fear, but still I carried on. "I'm sorry if it's such a surprise to you that I would rather break a promise to the man who kidnapped me than risk being trapped with him forever."

"Trapped?" he cried, angered and bewildered. "You speak as if I intended to hold you as my prisoner."

"A gilded cage is still a cage."

His nostrils flared and he took another step toward me, and then we were stood so close that to move any further would have us touching. Our eyes burned into one another, faces flushed and chests heaving with anger. I should have been terrified, should have submitted to his anger, had tried to escape him, but it hadn't crossed my mind. This close to him now, I could see the lines on his face, the stubble on his jaw, and the flecks of silver-blue in his grey eyes. Unbidden, my expression softened though my brow remained furrowed.

His own expression was unchanged, and in his face I could see all too clearly that he hated me. It was undoubtedly expected, and I shouldn't have minded it in the least. I tried very hard to ignore the way my chest clenched at the thought of it; that I was hated by him. How absolutely ridiculous. I reminded myself that I didn't know him. I didn't know him and he didn't know me and we each had absolutely no reason to trust or like one another. I threw my memories of what he had done to me, and what he had done to other people, into the forefront of my mind. I didn't know this man. I didn't trust this man. And he had proved himself both untrustworthy and incredibly dangerous on every occasion I had ever met him. I swallowed hard but forced myself to keep his stare, and after some time, he proved the one to break it. Shaking his head, he gazed angrily around. The wind had picked up, and the smell of rain began to fill the air – the thunder was close now, and I could see the bright flashes of lightning bursting from the dark oncoming clouds.

"You should leave."

That was my moment to turn tail and go; to fetch my bike and race back home, and never again enter the cemetery gates. But at the time, this thought never crossed my mind. I stood my ground with a huff which drew his attention once more. Before either of us could say more, his eyes fell to my chest, and he jerked and suddenly became entirely still.

Confused, I looked down and saw that my necklace had slipped from the neck of my dress.

My stomach clenched anxiously as I reached up to grasp the stone, which shone with the same grey as his eyes, hiding it from view. The night held its breath.

"You still have it," he gasped.

His voice no longer rumbled and growled but had become in the way he had spoken to me when I was young, and when I was dead.

"Yeah. I still have it," I said.

There suddenly seemed no anger left in him as he stood before me with mouth agape, shoulders loose and grey eyes wide and searching my own.

"Why?"

Because it was proof that what had happened wasn't a dream. It was proof that he was real. It was proof that my parents and my friends and the doctors were all wrong and that I wasn't crazy. And because I had loved that rock from the moment he had given it to me.

"You told me that it would protect me from evil – I thought that was a good enough reason to hold onto it."

As he continued to stare, my heart began to fall. He had given me this stone as a gift after I had given that promise. I hadn't thought to leave it behind when I fled – I hadn't any time to. So, for this and all other reasons, I had kept it. But now he stood appearing aghast at the sight of it hung about my neck, and I soon came to the conclusion that it was very likely that he might demand its return. Reluctantly; hesitantly, with fist grasping tight, I asked, "Do you want it back?"

It nearly killed me to ask. But the time had come, I told myself – a new start. So, with mouth downturned, and brow furrowed deep, I pulled the chain over my head, not caring as it tangled in my long hair – I tugged it loose, knot of hair and all. Then I held it out to him, abjectly miserable as my neck and chest immediately felt awkward and bare in its absence.

"Here," I grunted. "Take it. It's yours." I shook my head, "You should never have given it to me in the first place."

In an instant, a wave came over him; his body tensing, shoulders rippling, and lips peeling back as he bared his teeth like a wild thing. Darkness seemed to encompass him, curling around him in snaking tendrils that blew like mist into the warm night air. Snarling in fury, eyes burning hatefully, he snatched the stone from my outstretched hand. I flinched away, stumbling back a step as if burned, eyes wide in shock as he loomed over me, more terrifying than anyone I had ever known.

"I gave you this," he hissed, shaking the necklace in my face, "to protect you when I could not. I gave it because it was meant for you." He shook his head at me, disgusted. "But since you clearly don't want it –"

I couldn't help but step forward with a horrified cry as he suddenly turned and in a swift, powerful movement, threw the necklace as far as he could. It sailed through the night sky. I couldn't see just how far it had gone but I stared in its direction, devastated. His voice rumbled dangerously, the sound unsettling my bones, constricting my heart, roiling my stomach. I heard my rapid heartbeat in my ears, felt the tears swimming in my eyes.

"Leave, Pierce," he commanded, darkly. "Do not come here again."

And I would have, most eagerly. Then my eyes caught sight on the arm he had just used to toss my necklace far into the darkness, - where it was hopeless to think that I might ever find it – and saw upon his skin the ugly line of a pale-pink puckered scar, winding up his forearm to just above the crease of his elbow. Through the tears and the heartbreak of my loss, I heard myself ask in a shaky voice; thoughtlessly, inappropriately and completely unbidden, "What happened to your arm?"

He blinked, "What?"

"Your arm." I nodded to it, hugging myself as I looked up at him. "Who did that?" I asked. "Was that a consequence?"

His eyes softened, though his dark expression was unchanged, shoulders tight, his entire form seeming ready to pounce forward and tear me apart.

"Don't," he warned, voice biting. There was something dark behind his cold grey eyes.

"Don't what?"

"I am no bird."

The wind blew between us, sending scarlet flowers dancing through the air and skipping across the smooth path and soft grass.

"I am sorry. Really," I told him, heart wrenching in my chest. "I'm sorry that whoever hurt you did it because I left." I shook my head, face the picture of remorse. "I never meant for any of this to happen," I said. "What you did to the jeweller, and with the teacher… I don't know how… I suppose you were trying to help but…" I winced. There wasn't an easy way to describe what he had done, nor the absolute shitshow caused by his interference during the incident at Westport Academy for Girls. "It was my fault. I'm sorry."

"Hmph. And now you're here," he rumbled lowly. "A new start."

"Exactly," I told him, "And I think it would be a good idea for this to be a new start for both of us."

I wasn't expecting the way his breath caught quietly in his chest and how he tensed, standing tall. He searched my face, and I saw a flash of something light in the darkness of his gaze. I crossed my arms tightly, stomach clenching anxiously. I didn't trust him.

"If you stay away from me," I said, voice clear and firm, "I promise to stay away from you."

Thunder roared overhead with such ferocity that I started – it had sounded as if were directly above the cemetery, which was impossible because I could see the clouds still in the not so far distance.

But the fright of the thunder was nothing compared the fear that shot through me at the change that overcome him. Face contorting viciously, lips peeling back from his teeth and eyes flame, I almost expected him to roar and snarl and pick me up and throw me as far as he had my necklace. I stumbled back but in an instant his hand shot out and snatched hold of my arm, his large hands encircling it in a tight grip, and sharply tugged me to him, making me gasp.

He touched me without a thought, without hesitation – he had no qualms about putting his hands on me, to pull me closer, to hold me still – whether I liked it or not. We were nearly chest to chest, I could feel his hot breath on my face and the hand holding my arm felt like fire on my skin, sending sparks of heat throughout my flesh. I shivered in his powerful grasp.

"Why should I believe a word you say?" he sneered. "A liar is a liar is a liar."

I trembled, captured by the intensity of his eyes and the raw masculine power of his body above me, holding me – clearly wanting to hurt and maim and rend – and yet proving that with his strength came an absolute will not to submit to those violent urges. Not this time. Not with me.

"I am not under duress," I whispered, a torrent of emotion swirling within me, the vortex quickening the longer his hand was wrapped around my arm. "So, a promise is a promise…" I told him, "Whether you like it or not."

I saw his nostrils flare as he searched my face a long moment more. "Fine," he snarled. Then, with his expression set, he tightened his hold and without the slightest effort he pulled me round and physically dragged me along the path to the cemetery gates.

"Hey!" I protested. "Let me go!"

John didn't slow pace nor glance over his shoulder at my words.

"Goddammit! Seriously, let go - you're hurting me!"

His hand threw itself from my arm as if it had stung him, and he whipped around in the same moment, eyes searching my face. I stepped out of his reach, rubbing my arm. We stood before the tall cemetery gates which were still held closed with the heavy chain and lock.

"What is wrong with you?" I cried. With body electrified with adrenaline, blood pumping in my ears and chest clenching with what I realised were very likely oncoming tears. "You don't get to just grab me like that – who do you think you are?" I demanded, heart pounding hard against my sternum. "None of this is my fault," I cried. "I died. And you tricked me. I saw a chance to not be dead anymore and I took it. And yes, I broke a promise I made to you to do it. But I am not the bad guy here, and you have no right to treat me like I am."

"I saved you," he told me, apparently honestly believing it. I shook my head in furious wonder.

"You used me – or at least intended to."

I hissed a breath, amazed at the shit-show that was my life.

"You took me from that beach," I cried, "you made me miss the boat – and it was all very convenient that you failed to mention what that would mean for me. You took me to that place and refused to help me, refused to let me go. Honestly, why am I the one apologising? I only did what I had to, to get away. If there's anyone here who should be saying sorry it's you."

I wasn't surprised by his stony silence. It was so painfully clear – he didn't regret a thing. But when I looked at him, his eyes were so terribly, heart-achingly sad. I wanted to hate him for it. How dare he not apologise? How dare he not feel remorse? How dare he do such a horrible thing? And it was all too clear to us both that if we could have a do-ever, he would do the exact same thing.

"Christ," I laughed humourlessly to myself, resentment tainting my voice. "I should have stayed in that line."

A hand on my shoulder and John had grabbed me again now to turn me to face him. "Do not say that," he snapped, silver eyes alight. "Ever."

I shook his hand off me, stepping back. "Don't touch me," I told him, voice hard. "You've no right. Do not touch me."

We stared at one another for a long moment. I felt like I'd fallen apart, my pieces scattered amongst the poinciana flowers swirling around our feet. He, meanwhile, looked fearsome, tall, regal and as cold and hard as stone.

Staring into his strange and familiar face, all at once exhaustion suddenly crashed down upon me. I just wanted this to be over. "There's nothing more to say," I told him. "You stay away from me. I'll stay away from you."

Face contorting, he stepped away. The space between us was tangible.

"Your wish is my command," he told me with a deep voice like poison molasses.

A huge bolt of lightning lit up the clouds, and then a crack of thunder, so loud I thought the sky was splitting into two shook the very ground and filled my chest. John took several calculated steps away, and I watched him in confusion until I saw the gates just behind me. In the same instant John had raised his leg, I jumped away with a cry. And then an explosion – his foot struck the tall, solid gates, hard, and the metal lock gave a loud scream before it shattered; the chain snapped and the broken ringlets tinkled across the bitumen. The gates themselves flung open wide, and the force of his kick had them crumple in the centre where the lock had held them.

I gaped in astonishment – horror – fear – as they creaked to a standstill, bent over halfway as if collapsing upon itself, one appeared to have a failing hinge – it leaned further and further over until it fell with a mighty metallic clatter that made me jump. Bits of metal were littered across the entranceway to the graveyard, the sound of grating metal screeched from the still standing gate as it swung on an angle. My heart pounded in my chest as I held my arm where he had been holding me only moments before.

He had destroyed the gates.

I stared at the unsalvageable mess of metal, and then looked at the man responsible. He didn't look at me.

"Get out."

I blinked, stunned. "You just –"

"Get out," he commanded, voice dark and cold. There would be no more talking. He still hadn't looked at me. "Get out and do not come back."

The moon disappeared behind the storm clouds. Lightning lit the sky, and thunder cracked violently above, and I felt the static in the air. The storm had arrived.

I stared at him a moment more. He gazed fixedly ahead, looking like he was made of stone – perfectly still. He wasn't going to look at me again. I got the message. I moved toward the chaotic mess he had created with a single sharp kick, and then with shoulders tight, I looked at him over my shoulder.

"Goodbye, John."

And then I carefully moved through the ruins of the cemetery gates, hurried across to the path by the cemetery fence where I had left my bike, swung myself up and sped away as fast as my legs could pedal.