Page 25 of Embers of Fate
Brittany, France.
Ablur of memories flies past my mind as I meander through the mansion, our summer house, each room evoking a flicker of emotion, a fleeting glimpse of the warmth and nurturing times I spent here with my parents. I remember walking along the beach, the salty breeze whipping through my hair. I remember sitting by the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa on chilly evenings, the glow of the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. But the details escape me, the moments fading like wisps of smoke, as if they belong to someone else’s life.
It’s been so long, my mother and father’s features have all but faded. If not for a few framed photographs scattered in these rooms, I would have no recollection of my their faces whatsoever.
The air is cool, the rooms desolate despite Bram’s extensive renovations. He’s stripped down the wallpaper, painted the walls, torn out the original floors and replaced them with modern hardwood. The changes are so drastic, it’s like stepping into an entirely different place, one devoid of the comforting familiarity of my childhood. I can’t even fathom the amount of money he’s poured into this project, but I suppose it’s better than him throwing it away on booze and parties, as he so often does.
November hits hard, and not just because of the wintry weather. Thirteen years ago, my parents died in this very house—a gas leak in the kitchen that wiped out the entire eastern wing. It was a miracle Bram and I survived, as well as my baby sister Clarissa, but the loss still aches like a fresh wound, the anniversary a painful reminder of all that we’ve lost.
I didn’t even think about the significance of the date when I offered to bring Sam here, but now, as I stand in the foyer, I start to question the wisdom of my decision. But then I see her standing in the doorway, radiant in casual jeans and a cozy black sweater, her long tartan overcoat and cashmere scarf dangling from her arm. She’s holding a small suitcase, and the sight of her chases away all my doubts and fears.
“Sam...!” I breathe, relief and joy washing over me as I dart to her side and pull her into my arms. My lips find hers, sealing them in a slow, fiery kiss that sets my soul ablaze. I feel her knees buckle against mine, and I can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth, elated by her response. This was absolutely the right decision. I’ve longed to spend time alone with her, to have the freedom to be together without the weight of our families’ expectations and prejudices bearing down on us.
Lazily, I part from her, my hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You made it,” I whisper, my voice rough with emotion.
“Gods,” she sighs, her eyes wide with surprise. “What a welcome...!” She steps back, heading towards the doorway, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “I’m just gonna step outside and walk in again, okay?”
I beam like a fool, but I don’t care. She makes me feel like the happiest, luckiest man alive, and I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.
“No need,” I murmur, taking her hand in mine and dragging her suitcase inside with the other. “We have the entire weekend ahead of us.”
“Goodness...” Her eyes fly open, pleasure and anticipation dancing in their depths. “That we do.”
“I was just going to start a fire. Want to come?” I suggest, beckoning her towards the living room.
Sam follows me, dropping onto the first sofa she sees with a contented sigh. While she rests, I crouch before the fireplace, laying kindling and logs with practiced ease. “This will burn beautifully,” I mumble, my mind already lost in the mesmerizing dance of the flames.
“You seem to know what you’re doing,” she teases, rubbing her hands together for warmth.
I tear a newspaper into strips, carefully tucking them beneath the kindling. “I like fire,” I tell her, throwing a playful glance over my shoulder. There’s something about the primal power of the flames that calls to me, that soothes the restless ache in my soul.
I strike a match and toss it into the hearth, watching as the first tongues of fire lick at the logs, quickly growing into a roaring blaze. The heat washes over me, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth that spreads through my chest at the sight of Sam, curled up on the sofa, watching me with soft eyes.
But as I stare into the flickering flames, something shifts inside me, a primal pull that I’ve never felt before. The fire seems to call to me, whispering secrets in a language that I don’t understand, but that resonates deep within my soul. I find myself leaning closer, my eyes fixed on the dancing tongues of orange and red, the crackling of the logs fading into the background.
It’s as if the world has fallen away, leaving nothing but the fire and the strange, insistent tugging in my chest. I feel a rush of power, of something ancient and wild stirring in my blood, and for a moment, I swear I can feel the heat of the flames on my skin, as if they’re a part of me.
I don’t know how long I sit there, transfixed by the flames, but gradually, I become aware of a voice calling my name,
“Nik?” she asks, a hint of concern in her voice. “Are you okay?”
Her gentle words pull me from my reverie, and I shift to face her, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of her beauty, more compelling than any flame.
“Yeah,” I breathe, my voice rough with emotion.
“It’s your birthday tomorrow,” she says softly.
“Yeah...” I answer, and I blink in surprise before doing a double-take. “How do you know?”
The corner of her lips curls in a sly smile. “You think you’re the only one with a computer?” she replies, shrugging her shoulders.
“Huh...” I utter, pushing myself to my feet and crossing to the sofa. “So, you’ve been looking me up?” My tone is deliberately enticing, my eyebrow raised in a silent challenge.
“Yeah,” she says, mirroring my usual straight answers. “No wife. No kids... You’re good.”
I snicker, sinking down beside her, our thighs brushing. It feels right, being here with her, the ease and honesty between us a balm to my battered soul. We wear no masks, pretend to be nothing other than what we are. And it works, this delicate balance we’ve found.
“I thought you would’ve had plans for your birthday,” she continues, smoothing her hands over her toned thighs, the gesture sending a shiver down my spine.
