Page 14 of Secrets and S'mores
“We’ll get a report soon enough,” Slate reassures her. “I’m sure it’s going fine.”
Slate removes his marshmallow from the flames and pinches it between two graham crackers, sliding the stick out with a smooth movement. The marshmallow oozes out the side and he has to rotate it and take a bite to keep from making a mess.
Ah, so that’s a s’more - a marshmallow sandwich. It’s got to be overly sweet. I’ve only had marshmallows a handful of times in my life and never these giant ones.I stare as he takes another bite and chocolate peeks between the layers.
“Ember,” Onyx says sharply, breaking my concentration.
“What?” I say, my attention snagging on a ball of flames at the end of the stick I’m holding. My marshmallow is on fire. Crap!
“What do I do?” I yelp, all dignity forgotten.
“Blow on it,” Hazel coaches. Her words aren’t absorbed. Waving my metal stick wildly, I attempt to extinguish the flaming marshmallow with zero success. The flames trail behind it like a burning ribbon.
“Woah, watch it,” Onyx warns. He crouches beside me, grasping my wrist in one hand while the other extracts the marshmallow from my grip. His skin is hot against mine and he envelops my entire wrist.
My mind replays a flash of memory. His hand effortlessly holding both of my wrists above my head. My back against the cold, rough wall. His stubble against my throat. Sharp teeth against skin.
With a small shake, I clear my head in time to see Onyx bring the flaming confection toward his face. His lips part and he blows out the flames, leaving a blackened blob.
“Geez, Ember, were you trying to burn the shit out of it?” he murmurs. Maybe it’s his deep voice, or the feel of his hand still holding my wrist, but my body is suddenly on alert. My skin feels overly sensitive as his body heat rolls across me. Even under the charred marshmallow and woodsmoke, I can smell his citrus and bakery scent.
“Maybe that’s how I like my marshmallows,” I say lamely.
With his lips quirked into a half-smile, he grabs my graham crackers and chocolate stack and assembles my s’more. The blackened outer layer cracks and the melted interior oozes through.
“Black like your soul,” he teases, offering me the dessert I ruined.
My nose wrinkles as I scowl at him. “I’ve never cooked a marshmallow like this before,” I admit quietly. Hazel and Slate are distracted with their own private murmurings, giving me a false sense of privacy.
“Don’t tell me you make s’mores in the fucking microwave,” Onyx quips.
“No microwave for me,” I say, hoping he’ll drop it. A beat of silence hangs between us, his navy eyes unwavering. A choking sensation tightens my throat as he raises a single eyebrow and smirks.
“You’ve never had s'mores before, have you?” Onyx finally asks.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I growl, my cheeks flushing under his stare.
Hands raised to pacify me, he backs away until he settles beside his brother.
Cedar still won’t look at me, but I have a feeling he clinically analyzed my entire interaction with Onyx. More judgment. Fucking fantastic.
The burned s’mores sits in my palm. I ignore it, instead watching Hazel devour hers like it’s a transcendental experience. Slate wipes a smudge of chocolate from her lip and licks it off his thumb. It would be cutewith anyone else, but seeing my half-brother do that is gross.
“Perfect,” Onyx says, lifting his own marshmallow from the flames. It’s smoldering. His full mouth curves as he blows out the flames and assembles a s’more that rivals my own.
I can’t help my wince as he lifts the s’more to his lips and takes a bite. His eyes close and he lets out a soft moan. When his eyes spring open, they connect with mine. “I like mine burned too,” he says. I would assume he’s mocking me, but he proceeds to eat the entire thing.
Frowning down at the cooling s’more in my hand, I weigh how embarrassing it would be to try it and then realize he was trying to trick me. But no one else watches either of us. With a sigh, I raise it to my mouth and take a small bite.
The charred flavor gives way to the sugary marshmallow. Bitter dark chocolate cuts the sweetness, tempered by the nutty graham cracker. It’s divine.
I try to slow my bites to regain some of my dignity, but the dessert is delicious and I can’t help but eat every crumb and then lick the sticky marshmallow off my fingers.
Onyx stares at the flames, but his smirk says,I told you so.
Hazel lets out a contented hum and snaps off a piece of chocolate to eat on its own. “That’s better. I’ve needed a sugar fix all day.”
“Was patrol really that bad?” Onyx teases.
