Ember X (4 page)

I slip my arm free and scoot back from the drunken idiot. “You were saying that you need to quit drinking.”

“Are you feeling okay, Em?” Raven asks, her voice laced with concern. “You look a little pale.”

“I always look pale,” I say, hugging my arms around myself. “And I have a
headache
.” Our code for
I’m having a death episode
.

“Oh, I get it.” She coils a strand of her hair around her finger and flutters her eyelashes as she conjures up a plan. “Oh! Okay, I got it.”

Goth boy looks back and forth between us. “Got what? Wait a minute? Are you two fighting over little old me?” He grins and I shake my head in irritation. “Don’t worry, ladies, there’s plenty of Laden love to go around.”

Raven’s hand falls from Laden’s chest and she pulls a face, no longer interested in him, but she puts on her game face. “Hey, why don’t you and I go dance.” She laces her fingers with his, and leans in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek and I wince. “I’m sorry for acting crazy.” She sways her hips as she leads Laden toward the dance floor. Before she vanishes into the crowd, she peeks over her shoulder and mouths:
I’ll get his keys
.

I lean against the wall, let my head fall back, and shut my eyes. “Breathe, Ember, breathe. You can’t stop death—it’s endless.”

“God, it’s like mating season in here,” a deep male voice enfolds around me and sends tingling vibrations quivering through my body.

I shudder and misstep, tripping over my feet, and stepping on the toe of his shoes. Actually, boots; black ones with little silver skulls on the buckles. I like his boots. My eyes progressively travel upward as I take him in; dark jeans, a plaid shirt over a black T-shirt and a skull necklace hooks around his neck. There’s a sequence of leather bands on his wrists and a metal loop ornaments his eyebrow. His inky black hair dangles in his slate eyes and hangs shaggily down over his ears.

His intense gaze tantalizes my skin as he takes me in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I shiver again at the sound of his sultry voice as it spills over my skin. “Sorry about your shoes.” I retreat backward, putting space between us. The last thing I want is to find out when this gorgeous guy dies. “Crowded rooms just make me a little uneasy.”

He laughs softly as he tosses his cup into the trash. “I know what you mean. All this,” he motions at the people grinding against one another, “is an excuse for them to dry hump each other in public.”

I almost smile at the similarity of our thoughts. “That’s a pretty good observation.”

He presses his lips together and then with a hesitant look, he leans over my shoulder, putting his lips next to my ear. I stiffen, worried he’ll touch me and this magical moment will end, but he’s careful, leaving a sliver of space between his lips and my ear. “Take those two for instance. I think they’ve got their own mating ritual going on. Although, I think it might be a one-sided mating ritual.” He angles his head to the side and looks at the crowd.

I follow his gaze to Raven dancing with Laden. She has one hand on his hip and the other on his back pocket. Laden moves all over the place, flailing his arms as he shuffles his feet, like he’s trying to break dance and disco at the same time. Raven captures my gaze and rolls her eyes.

“I think you’re right.” I turn and meet the beautiful stranger’s eyes. “It looks like she’s bored.”

He leans from my ear, his tongue slipping out to lick his lips and I notice a glint of metallic—dear God, he has a tongue ring. “Is she a friend of yours?”

I wonder if he’s attracted to her. Most guys are, which has never bothered me until now. Raven’s bold and flirty—everything I’m not—and I’ve accepted that. But this guy has my insides curving and cultivating with so much sweltering heat I’m nearly sweating.

“Her name’s Raven,” I tell him, assessing his face closely for his reaction.

“Like the poem?” He arches his pierced eyebrow.

“You know Edgar Allan Poe?” I ask, not expecting much because
The Raven
is one of Edgar Allan Poe’s more legendary poems.

“A little bit.” He stares at me like he’s trying to unravel a maze. “And what’s your name?”

“Ember.” I inch forward, holding my breath as a girl wobbles by, waving her finger, chewing out the air.

“Ember… I like it.” He inches closer and our bodies almost touch. I can feel the warmth radiating off him, like flames, and I can smell the scent of his alluring cologne. “‘And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor,’” he quotes a line from Poe’s The Raven.

“I thought you said you knew a little?” I ask, impressed.

He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “What can I say? I’m fascinated with the idea… love, death, and the insanity it brings.”

Growing uncomfortable with his mention of death, I scan the crowd for Raven. “Trust me, death isn’t that fascinating.” I’m slightly nervous that I can’t find Raven. I turn back to the mysterious stranger. “It was nice talking to you, but I need to…” I trail off at the animalistic look he’s giving me. “What?” I ask, not sure I want to know—not sure I can handle it. I never let myself get close to guys. What would be the point? I couldn’t kiss them—do anything with them—without seeing their death.

He shakes his head, his eyes locked on me. “It’s nothing… I was just wondering if you wanted to dance?”

I instantly shake my head. “No thanks. I don’t dance.”

He smiles, rubbing his lips together, and I’m mesmerized by the way his mouth moves. “That’s okay. I’ll lead.” He pauses, his eyes scrolling over my face, and then it travels downward over my body.

“I really can’t…” The way he’s looking at me is making it difficult to protest. “I just… I’m not a fan of getting touched…” I shake my head at my absurd response.

The corners of his lips tug upward. “Well, what if I promise not to touch you?” He arches an eyebrow at me as he backs toward the dance floor, maintaining my gaze.

The song switches to “Degausser” by
Brand New
and I find my feet taking on a life of their own, as Raven’s words echo through my head.
Have fun.
I move with him, raising my hands above my head to maneuver through the people, trying not to get touched by anyone.

He walks backward until he reaches the edge of the crowd, then he stops and waits for me to catch up. I’m grateful he chooses to keep a little bit of distance from the other people. Once I reach him however, I realize that I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t dance.

“Don’t laugh at me when I fall on my ass,” I joke. “Promise you won’t.”

His mouth teases to a grin. “Okay, I promise.” Then he puts his hands out like he’s going to touch me and I suck in a breath. But he stops right as he’s about to touch my hips, and inches close enough that I can feel the heat between us, the brush of his clothes, the feel of his breath; yet, he’s not touching me.

I exhale as he begins to rock his body, swaying to the rhythm, and I can’t help but shut my eyes, and move freely to the beat as well. My heart is throbbing in my chest as I lean just a little nearer so I can feel him, yet I can’t feel him. All over me, invisible tingles everywhere. I imagine his hands could be on my arms, my back, my hips, grabbing my breast, sliding between my thighs. I want to moan so God damn bad that I have to bite on my bottom lip to suppress it.

I sense him watching me so I crack my eyes open and then open them wider at the sight of his face, his lips parted, his eyes dark and lustful.

I don’t even know him, yet I feel like I’m going to combust from the nearness of him. When he moves closer, I stay put, bound to the floor by my yearning, even when he slants into me. I arch my back, and his chest follows the path of mine, his hands sliding around me, yet he still doesn’t touch me.

He tips his head forward and our lips are only inches away; his breath dusting my lips, my cheeks. The front of his shirt brushes my neckline and a moan does escape my lips.

As the music continues to pulsate, he lets out a deep moan too and the sound is erotic and causes me to tremble. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me and I consider letting him, wanting—needing to feel what those soft lips of his taste like.

“Ember,” he whispers and then shuts his eyes.

Licking my lips, I close my eyes, and wait for whatever’s going to happen next. I wait and wait and when I can’t take it any longer, I open my eyes.

He’s gone. Vanished into thin air. I stand back upright, scanning the crowd, but I can’t find him anywhere. “He didn’t even tell me his name,” I mutter, feeling like an idiot. Not only did I break all my rules by coming out here with him, but I practically orgasmed in front of him and he didn’t even touch me.

Shaking my head at myself and trying to breathe through the intoxicating feelings still pulsating through me, I search the mob of people for Raven.

I check up the stairway and then search the crowd, finally spotting the top of Raven’s pink head bobbing up and down in the middle it. A band is setting up their instruments at the front of the room—things are about to get hectic. Inhaling, I tuck in my shoulders and weave around the edge of the room, careful not to come into contact with anyone.

“Raven!” I holler over the music as her pink wig descends further into the crowd. I press my back against the wall and edge my way toward her, trying not to run into anyone.

Remy, a short girl with black hair and choppy bangs, stands up on a chair. “Alright, guys! Are you ready?” She motions her heavily inked arms at the band. “Give it up for Breaking Up Mayhem!”

The guitarist flares at the guitar strings and the singer shouts. “Is everyone ready?!”

Okay, time to bail, before things get out of—

The band begins to play a raging song and everyone goes wild. The house rocks and bottles rattle against the hardwood floor. Elbows and shoulders smack into me. Death courses through my veins.

“I can’t breathe.” I rush toward the door.
Blood. Pain. The silence of a heart… the shadow of trees… the blackened lake. Bones breaking. Someone can’t breathe. It hurts… there’s so much blood. A last breath is strangled away. A red “X” stains it all. An empty hourglass. Murder.
My body twitches. I seek the faces of the people nearby, but I can’t tell who the death omen belongs to. I trail my fingers along bodies.
Hospital bed. Old age. Broken heart. Sacrifice
. I can’t endure it any longer. I knock people out of my way as I run for the front door.

“Hey, watch it!” someone shouts.

I burst through the door, gasping for air. Two guys are drinking beer on the front porch and I shove them out of the way, ignoring their death omens, and sprint across the trashed front yard. I stop in the middle of the lawn, panting and dripping with sweat, vomit pressing at the back of my throat. The moon is a bright orb against the sky and the stars cut it like diamonds. The trees surrounding the cabin sway with the wind and kick up leaves across the grass.

I hunch over, brace my hands on my knees, and slow my breathing. “Get it together, Ember,” I whisper to myself. “Death is death, in any shape or form. You can’t stop it.” Inhaling, I collect myself together and head back to the log cabin, ready to find Raven and tell her it’s time to leave. Between the stranger bailing on me, and the death omens, I’ve had enough partying for one night.

Cars are lined bumper to bumper down the driveway, making it nearly impossible to get out, but a rusted black Cadillac drives around the line, the wheels moving onto the grass. As it passes me, I spot a bubblegum haired girl who winks her sapphire blue eye at me.

“Raven… What are you doing?” I wave at her and hurry toward the car. She knows better than to get into a car with some random guy, especially one I just had a death omen about. “Get out of the car!”

She blows me a kiss, and tips her head back laughing as the car speeds off, kicking up dirt and gravel.

“Dammit, Raven” I chase the car down the driveway and into the trees, following it all the way to the highway, where it vanishes into the night. I stare down the desolate road and tug my fingers through my hair, out of breath. “Shit.” I pull out my cell phone. “No signal.” I run back down the driveway to my car, a beat-up 1970s Dodge Challenger that’s wedged between a truck and a massive SUV. The car belonged to my dad. We were working on fixing it up, but then he disappeared. It’s been three years since it happened, but it still hurts to think about him, especially because I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.

I pat my pockets for the keys. “Where are they?” Trying not to panic, I retrace my steps, searching the ground for something shiny and metallic. “Come on. Come on. Where are they?”

“You lose somethin’, sweetheart?” a guy with greasy hair and a thick neck says from the top step of the front porch. He looks like a wannabe Danny Zuko, with his sideburns and leather jacket, except he has this strange black “X” tattoo crossing his eye.

I back down the stairs, shaking my head. “Nope, I’m good.”

He chugs the last of his drink, crushes his cup, and chucks it over the railing into the bushes. There’s a darkness in his eyes that unsettles me. “You sure?” he asks. “Because I could help you with whatever.”

“No thanks.” I keep walking backward, toward my car, without taking my eyes off him. “I got everything I need.”

“Hey, aren’t you that girl that killed her dad?” he asks as he slinks down the porch stairs.