When the Smoke Clears (Interracial Firefighter Romance) (19 page)

“Your mind is the creator of your reality. If I am not yours, then it will be true.” The demon touched the flames, again. Less sparks appeared. Still, he jerked back in annoyance. “But, if you believe that I am your soul mate, then it will be true.”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “How?”

“Because, only you can control your destiny.”

“Lies.”

The demon’s laughter filled the air. The flamed wall lowered a few inches, and instead of its fiery blue blaze, signaling the highest temperatures, the glow ran orange with lines of gold. Worry rushed into her heart.

Luna paused from her dancing. “What’s happening to my shield?”

“It is weakening, my little witch.”

“Shut up. I wasn’t talking to you.”

His laughter rippled through the air and then his deep voice flooded her ears. “You are mine. I can feel your hunger more than before. Your scent suffocates me in the most beautiful ways.”

He stroked himself some more. Dark fingers slipped down his huge length and stopped at the mushroomed tip, so thick Luna’s thighs slicked with arousal. All worry over the flames stopped.

“You’re so beautiful.” She stood there, entranced in his hands’ movements. “Why does the devil tempt me so? Why hasn’t my soul mate come?”

“Because I am him,” Groaning, he twirled his fingers around the tip. Silver liquid spurted out. A small amount, but enough to make Luna lean toward the flames closer to get a better look.

“Yes, little witch.” He smeared the silver all over his cock. “Do you see one of the things that I have to offer you?”

Need flowed through her so strong it was like the Mother’s wind had gotten through her circle and tried to blow her away. Tendrils of black smoke radiated from his naked, muscular body. His magic thickened the air. None of that mattered. In her head, she wondered, over and over, how the silver liquid tasted.

“Ancestors, help me,” she whispered.

An invisible pressure weighed down on her shoulders. She fanned at this foreign energy that had gotten inside of her circle.

“No!” Her legs went weak. She crashed to the ground.

The demon moaned, “Yes.”

Luna lay on the sand defeated. The air was no longer a sweet, cool breeze. It had shifted into a heavy, warm mist that smelled just like the demon. His fragrance soared all around her—this mixture of cloves and cinnamon, smoldering sex and the darkest evil.

“Your wall is almost gone.” The demon prowled around the circle some more. “There is no one, but me outside of your shields. Our desires have both rocked Mother Nature’s powers as well as your families’ magic. Our union will bring balance where others would cause discord.”

Another dark groan left him. He stalked around the fire circle as the walls lowered a foot. Smoke danced in twisting wisps at the top. His eyes glowed hot red as moonlight bathed his horns.

“You will be mine, little witch.”

Tears fell from Luna’s eyes and her body spasmed with need. “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t. You’re too ripe and I’m too hungry. Would you tell a starving child to not pick the fruit from the tree?”

“Eve picked the apple. Now look at our world.”

“Eve sought the truth. Who’s to say Eden was as lovely as our world? Who’s to say she did not enjoy life on the outside. She bore children. She loved. She’s known for all of history. Who’s to say that all evil is wrong and hurtful? And who’s to say all good is right and pleasurable? Let me taste you, little witch.”

Conquered, Luna stayed on the ground and rolled to her back. Even that tiny movement was difficult. Desire boomed between her thighs. It pulsated deep within her wet folds. She spread her legs open and screamed out in agony.

How many times had she touched herself, just to get rid of the ache that would never leave? Each time she came, her body would gain peace for a few minutes, and then the hunger would return, and she’d sit by her window and daydream about the one who would save her.

“Where are you?” Lust blinded her, but still she called out to her soul mate. Surely, he would appear soon and save her. “Hurry to me!”

And then, the flames went out. Her strong wall that had been high and burning transformed into tiny wisps of smoke. The line in the sand that had represented her circle, cleared away into nothing. It was like she’d never spilled her own blood or scattered the dead’s ashes on the beach.

Everything left.

Including the blaze of the fire.

Now only darkness and the moonlight remained.

And also,

the red glow of the Demon’s eyes,

as he stepped toward her.

“Come to me, little witch.”

Chapter 12

Lorenzo

S
unday
afternoon, I eyed my daughter, Hope, in the mirror.

“And this makeup is going to come off me?” I asked.

“Yes, Daddy.” She giggled. “It’s not permanent marker. You’re so silly.”

Brown kinky curls bobbed around her head as she grabbed some purple shade of lipstick and grinned. “Now, let’s try this. JaNiya Stone says this color is the must-buy for fall.”

“Oh, God.” I set the mirror down and returned to watching my game. “And who’s JaNiya Stone?”

Annoyance laded Hope’s voice as she smeared the disgusting stuff on my lips. “Daddy, stop moving. JaNiya Stone is the coolest person ever. She has the largest following on her beauty channel on YouTube.”

Glancing in the small mirror again, I grumbled in annoyance. “I really don’t think this color goes with my eyes.”

“You’re so funny.” Hope giggled and finished assaulting my face.

Gold shimmering powder coated my eyes. Turquoise outlined the edges. My cheeks held a plum glow. While clip on zebra earrings hung from my ears. Now, I had purple lips. If the guys could see me now, they’d have some fun with this.

“Faith?” Hope yelled over her shoulder. “Could you get all of the wigs, too?”

“Faith!” I laughed. “If you love your daddy, you’ll pretend like you can’t find those wigs!”

Faith’s laughter rang from the back of the house. “I’ll do my best, Lou!”

She was the only one that called me
Lou
in the family. She’d watched me struggle all those years with studying for the position. At times, she helped me out, holding the index cards with her little hands and yelling out questions. When I finally made the rank, we all celebrated and she cried so much, hugging me longer than she ever had.

From that day on, she called me Lou. It never hurt that she didn’t say Dad. If anything, I loved it more.

Faith put the lipstick down and rummaged through more of her make-up box. “Where’s that eyeliner?”

“I don’t need lines on my eyes.” I grabbed the bowl of popcorn. “If anything, I could use something to take away that shine on my forehead.”

“JaNiya Stone says that—”

“Your father is the greatest man alive.”

Ignoring me, Hope stared at my face and shook her head. “No, this is all wrong. I have to start again.”

I frowned and muttered, “Yay. We’re starting all over.”

Hope yelled out again, Faith, I need a wash cloth and a razor.”

I shook my head. “She does not need a razor!”

Hope had the nerve to pout. “Let me arch your eyebrows.”

“I have my limits, little girl.”

She sulked in annoyance and returned to her make-up box.

Really? Sometimes, I think I’ve spoiled you. This is the third time you’ve restarted.

But in the end, none of that mattered to me, as long as my football games played in the living room all day. With only one television in the house and only a small bit of time to spend with my girls, Daddy always had to multi-task. On most Sundays, they held a beauty spa day on me and I sat on my ass, shoveling delicious crap into my mouth while bulky men slammed into each other.

I’m blessed.

Hope yelled over her shoulder, “Faith, did you find that gold scarf in my drawer, too?”

A light voice sounded from the back. “No! I did find that green and polka dot one.”

I shook my head. “That clearly is going to clash with my eyes.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Hope huffed. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Fine.” Setting the bowl to the side, I grabbed another one and popped some chips into my mouth. “I just don’t think anyone is respecting the beauty of my eyes.”

“Maybe, I’ll go with a lighter color, when I start over.” She analyzed the various eye shadows in her box and then held one up to my face every few seconds. “Interesting.”

Tampa Bay had finally scored. Maybe there would be some life to this game after all. The crowd in the stadium roared. Their cheers filled the house.

“Yes! Interesting.” I punched the air in front of me.

Hope shook her head. “Could I get a henna kit, when you get paid again? I would love to do your arms.”

“That’s the black stuff women put on their hands?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

“I’m studying the patterns and I can’t wait to take a bunch of pictures and send them to Mom.”

Guilt swelled in my chest. “Sounds good. I bet she would love that.”

The game went to commercial and I slumped back to allow for more make up abuse.

Always the artist, Hope had to paint everything, including me. When she was a toddler, she drew on the walls. Even my car displayed stick figure drawings of princesses among a happy family. As she got older, she had stacks of sketch boards crowding her closet. Everyone knew she loved to sketch and so my sisters and I kept her flooded with book supplies. Now at twelve, she buzzed with infinite possibilities. She didn’t have one path set in her mind, yet. One week she dreamed about being a painter. The next, she discussed becoming a high-end chef. Another month, she hoped to sculpt amazing works. By the end of the month, she was convinced she’d illustrate comics.

None of it mattered to me. I only wanted her to be happy and satisfied in life. Wherever her destiny lay, I only wanted to help her get there.

Someone knocked at the door. I checked my watch. “Rockstar is early. I thought he wasn’t coming over until the Packers played the Seahawks, later tonight.”

“Goodie, he’ll get to see your new look.” Faith clapped.

“Yay.” I rose from the couch.

“Oh, my God!” Faith shrieked from the back. “Rockstar is here? I have to change. Oh, my God.”

I eyed Hope. “What’s up with her?”

Hope giggled. “I don’t know, Daddy.”

The door boomed again. That was odd. It wasn’t like Rockstar to keep on banging. Usually, he knocked once and then, waited for me to open up.

He must still be hung over.

“Oh, my god!” Faith screeched again as she rushed into the bathroom. More giggles came from Faith.

Freaking girls. I’ll never understand them. Since when is Hope acting crazy about her Uncle Rockstar coming over?

Women were a mystery. Little girls were a box of nuclear puzzles that boggled their father’s minds and made them frantic to keep them young.

Still trying to figure out what was going on with Faith, I checked out the shadow on the other end of the door’s foggy glass and realized that whoever stood there, couldn’t be Rockstar. The person was too short and tiny for the big man.

My stomach knotted into worry.

Please, say it’s not her.

But in my heart, I knew it was.

Cicely.

I hurried to open the door, rushed onto the porch, and slammed it behind me. “What are you doing here?”

A funky smell reeked from Cicely as she crossed her arms over her chest. She appeared worse than she ever had before. Drugged and disheveled, she scratched her arms constantly and would barely let me get a good look at them. Her tiny shirt and stained jeans hung from her ragged bones. Today, she wore no shoes and hadn’t even tried to wipe the white stuff off her face. Since Rockstar told me she was over there, I’d avoided driving near that area, especially with the girls. None of us was ready to deal with her or the new horror that she’d become.

But now, she stood at my door and I had to deal with it all.

She glanced at the shut door and frowned. “How are the girls?”

“How are you?” I wanted to hug her. She looked so weak and damaged like she hadn’t experienced any sense of humanity in some time.

A tear fell from her eyes. She wiped them away fast. “I’m doing like I always do.”

A weak smile spread on her dirty face as she stared at the door again. “Which one of the girls put the make up on you?”

I swallowed down my sadness. The only way Cicely knew the girls was through me. In between the money exchanges and the times, she begged for things, I tried to give her as much information as I could about our daughters, hoping that one day she’d change just to know more about them.

“Let me guess.” Cicely sniffed. “It was Hope right? You said she’s the artist.”

“Yes, Hope started the spa treatment. If it deals with adding color to something, then she’s the ring leader.”