Page 4 of Weave the Dark, Weave the Light
Maybe he understood, because he whispered into Ari’s ear, “Most certainly.”
“Good.” Jonathan’s neck was right there. If they turned, they could press their lips to Jonathan’s skin. “I want to taste you.”
This close, his laugh was like the rumble of distant thunder. “It’s written into your every move.”
Jonathan smelled of winter, rose, and the press of thorns. “I don’t know anything about you.” And he knew nothing of them. Oh, but they wanted that. Wanted to turn Jonathan inside out. Wanted to inhale his element as if it were air.
“You have my name, and you know what I am. The rest that you long for? You can find out.”
“At what price?” There was always one with beings like this.
“I’ve told you.” Johnathan straightened, but remained a breath apart. “Though I should ask you. What do you want, Ari Zydik? What price must I pay to knowyou?”
I don’t know.But it was the word “control” that slipped from their lips. Both were true.
Jonathan’s eyes glittered like the lights on the river. “That’s quite the price.”
Their laugh scratched across the empty park. “I know.” Too much to ask.
A breeze teased the edges of Jonathan’s hair, and he was as still and heavy as the hours before dawn. Ari held their breath.
Finally, Jonathan’s lips curled up. “Take your taste,” he murmured. “I’ll consider your price.”
They pressed their lips to Jonathan’s neck, licking the skin there, and tasted mint and peril.
In the next moment, Jonathan closed his gloved hand around Ari’s throat. Not hard, and not for long. Then he was walking around the silent, yawing fountain. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ari.”
They could’ve followed, but heat rooted Ari to the ground. They watched Jonathan, who wasn’t human at all, climb a set of stairs, walk past the Christmas tree, and across the moonlit lawn until he vanished.
Even then, Jonathan burned bright in Ari’s mind and soul. They stood for a time, then collected their skate bag and trudged from the park, full of energy, lust, and trepidation.
It was a very long bus ride home.
2
Morning came waythe fuck too early, pulling Ari from dreams of lips, light, and thrusting. Their phone chirped with birdsongs and soft music, and it took three tries to grab the damn thing and shut it off. They stared at slivers of morning stretched across the ceiling, still achingly hard, their heart beating against their ribs and the phantom taste of Jonathan lingering in their mouth.
What remained of the dream drifted away faster than they could pull it back. Only the hollow ache in their soul, the memory of Jonathan, and their stiff dick remained. They’d never been good at lucid dreaming nor at remembering their dreams.
“There’s too much fire in you,” Chole had said. She wove air and earth and practically lived in her dreams. The spells she’d given Ari hadn’t helped. Strange that their inability would stem from fire, since Matty wove fire, but he’d never had issues remembering his dreams. None of their circle did, but Ari.
Another reminder of how, even in the middle of their circle, they were alone. “I want to belong,” they’d told Theo before Samhain, when they’d both been working on their spells.
Theo had peered back if they’d grown three heads. “But you do.”
They’d not mentioned that again, to anyone.
Last night, they’d tasted a star.
Fuck. Ari struggled out of their heavy nest of blankets. They still hummed with the energy they’d sipped from Jonathan, even after casting last night. Scattered about were sigils drawn on pages and crystals holding fire and light. Still, Ari’s blood burned and sparked, and Jonathan’s strange blue eyes, pale hair, and golden skin lingered in their thoughts. His scent clung to their nostrils.
Weave me a spell.
Wasn’t so simple. When they’d returned home, they’d lit incense, cleared the space, and focused on setting down spell after spell while Jonathan’s element was fresh inside them. Protection. Empowerment. One for sparking creativity. Even a love potion. Everything had turned flat, as spells had before. Yes, there was energy in the sigils and crystals but notintent, not power. The spells would never work as they should. Ari’d have to bleed the magic out of them later.
They had no idea what Jonathan wanted. Hell, they weren’t sure what they wanted.
A connection. Understanding.
