Page 42 of Mated in Flames

Luciana

As the hours pass into the afternoon, I sigh and set aside my father’s journal, closing my eyes as I process what I’ve just read.

I’ve tried my hardest not to look too deeply into my father’s personal life. I didn’t want to know why he left me on my own following my mother’s death. I was only a teenager, and being left behind was still a memory that I would rather not think about, especially when I only had a simple letter explaining that he couldn’t stay any longer.

Everything in my life had happened because of that moment, and it had all led back to here. And now I’m reading the words that he left for me, and it tells a story that I never knew.

My mother was a psychic on the run when she and my father first met and fell in love. He offered her sanctuary, the chance to be a normal human. When I was born, it was immediately evident that, should they be cultivated, I could also have the talent of a psychic, though I may have had to try harder due to being half human.

But that knowledge terrified both my parents. They did everything in their power to prevent me from ever knowing of my heritage, unwilling to drag me into a world that would see me killed. It worked right until I was a teenager, when a Hunter that my mother had known in her youth finally tracked her down and killed her.

My father was well known as her husband, and he knew that just the knowledge that I was a psychic’s child would endanger me. So he fled to Australia, leaving a false trail for Hunters to find.

When his death grew closer, a death that my mother had long ago predicted, he threw himself into creating his journal for me. Every page is so full of regret that I can barely breathe.

Why did I never know any of this? I understand that my parents wanted to protect me. But the result was that I grew up with no answers. I had no idea why my mother had been killed. I didn’t know why my father had disappeared, and I had no idea why he had bought me a plane ticket to set me up in Brazil, my mother’s home country and where I had originally been born. The lack of any answers in my life had driven me into Doctors Without Borders, where I was able to risk my life and live a high stakes game. The only stability I had in that time was David, and even that disappeared on me. I was falling from the rails long before I received my inheritance.

Part of me is angry. This explanation finally gives me the answers I’ve sought, but it’s never going to be enough for everything I’ve suffered.

Another part of me is sad. So much happened to both my parents, and it’s upsetting to realise that they were in much the same position as Warwick and Dane. Only, their story didn’t have a happy ending. How many other people in the world, who had suddenly lost family and friends, were unaware of what had happened to them because they lived in this world?

But, mostly, I just feel tired. I don’t want to think about the revelations. I don’t want to think about the fact that my recently dormant psychic blood is now screaming for attention. And I don’t want to think of my father’s regret.

I just don’t want to think.

As if on cue, I hear a knock on the door. I force myself to my feet, grimacing as I look at the time. It’s later than I thought it would be, and I haven’t even thought of preparing dinner for Warwick and I. With a sigh, I trudge to the front door and open it.

“Hey,” Warwick says, the smile on his face falling as he takes a look at me. “Is everything okay?”

“I was just reading my father’s journal,” I say with a shrug. “It wasn’t an easy read. Sorry, I haven’t got anything for us to eat yet.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Warwick says instantly, and holds up a basket I hadn’t realised he was holding. “Dane decided to bake to keep his mind off everything, and he sent me over with some muffins. It might not be healthy, but we can have these. I don’t feel particularly hungry.”

“Neither do I,” I say with some relief. “Come on, we’ll take these to the living room.”

We decide to sprawl on the couch and turn the television on, a movie playing softly in the background. I have no idea what it is, as I slowly munch on a muffin, too focused on how tired I am and everything that has come to light.

But I certainly feel it when Warwick’s hand finds its way to my thigh and slowly slides up to my hip.

Suddenly, I’m not tired anymore. My spine straightens and my breath catches as Warwick pauses and then continues to slide his hand up. His blunt nail drags on the material of my shorts, teasing the hem before he circles my hip. Then he slowly traces his fingers up my spine.

The movie and my half-eaten muffin are completely forgotten. Shivers run up and down my body. Suddenly, I know what I want more than anything right now.

I want Warwick.

As he reaches my neck and starts playing with my hair, I snap and pull away so I can swerve around to face him, shifting onto my knees. The bastard doesn’t even have the modesty to look caught. He just grins at me, his eyes gleaming as though he had expected this from the start.

It doesn’t matter. Obviously we both need this. I lean in and crash our lips together.

It’s nothing like the soft kiss we shared this morning. This is hard and fast and dirty, and I know that every pent-up emotion we’ve had all day is being poured into it, our tongues tangling as they explore and map each other’s mouths. Before I know it, I’m straddling Warwick’s hips, sitting on his lap, and I can feel his swiftly growing interest through his pants as his hands fall to my hips and grip tightly.

Then, suddenly, Warwick pulls away, drawing a keening sound from me.

“Are you sure?” he pants. “A lot has happened today…”

I’m not in the mood for some misguided attempt at chivalry. I grind my body down on his hips and he cuts off with a gasp.

“Shut up and touch me,” I demand.

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