When the Smoke Clears (Interracial Firefighter Romance) (8 page)

For some reason, I couldn’t put my pen to paper unless it only showed beautiful white space. For me, every space between a word and sentence was just as important as what was being said. Quirks like that drove my editors crazy, but gained me respect from the fans. They always understood what I was trying to do. They always embraced the experience.

Mama Ganga circled me as I sat in the sand in a half-lotus position. The notebook laid on my leg. I gripped the pen and breathed in and out.

“Writer’s block is about desperation and failure.” With each slow step, she lowered her voice into a soothing tone. “It means that some emotion has crippled the author’s mind. The thing they had passion for is gone. Today, we light the spark. We bring the fire back. We make your heart and soul hot inside. We condition your mind never to want to douse that blaze. We pray for the inferno. Who hurt you, Kassie?”

There was a time when I would’ve blurted out my ex’s name. But, after a year of walking inside of myself, I knew the truth. I said the words aloud, “I hurt me.”

Mama Ganga stopped walking and gave me a curious look. “And how did you do that?”

“I allowed myself to stay in a harmful relationship. Maybe he caused the pain in the beginning and knocked me down with his words, but I never got up from the ground. I stayed down in the dirt and let him kick me some more.”

“Why?”

“Because I was afraid.”

“Of what?” She returned to moving around me in a circle, never increasing her pace. “What were you afraid of?”

“Being alone.”

“Then, that’s what your heroine is afraid of. She doesn’t want to be alone. Start writing about her. But, remember, this isn’t your story. It’s hers. And you need to use the water.” Mama Ganga pointed out to the ocean. “You need to use all of the nature around you and let it seep into your spirit and feed your creativity. Put the ocean in the story for today.”

Anxiety crawled all through my insides, but still I gripped the pen tight. “Okay.”

“Put the fear in there. Explore it. How scared is your heroine of being alone? How bad is she in need of love? What crazy things would she do, not to be alone? How does that deal with the ocean? And will this fear be explored in a contemporary setting or will you get adventurous and build a fantasy world?”

Mama Ganga spoke some more, but within those seconds, my own desperation drummed inside of me. My fingers itched to get it all out. I didn’t have the same feelings I used to for romance, but fear was something I could definitely write about. Even in this time of separation, I worried that I might die alone. I’d been thinking about it, constantly. With each day, I thought it would be fine never to love again. Other days, I could barely swallow down that possible reality.

I didn’t want to be the crazy lady down the street with all the cats.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ve got something to write about.”

My pen’s tip hit the paper, and words spilled out of me.

A story came, and I wrote. . .

On the dark beach, the full moon glowed on Luna’s brown skin. She ingested the power. It surged through her veins and vibrated throughout her body. Her nipples tingled and the stars twinkled. She yearned to be as free as the gems in the black sky.

“Hear my prayers!” Luna raised her hands in the air, and yelled to the ocean, “Come to me!”

A cool wind whipped her gown from side to side. Sheer red fabric danced to the song of waves crashing and beach grass swaying, barely concealing her body. If someone shined a light on her, they’d witness her lush skin, the darkness of her nipples, and the swell of her breasts through the fabric. They’d see the hungry flower of flesh between her legs and the way it ached and craved to be touched.

“Connect with me! Mother Earth, bring me my soul mate.” Back and forth, she moved her body in the desperate rhythm that pounded in her heart. Energy emanated inside of Luna, throbbing and pulsating between her thighs. “I dance under the power of your moon. I use your influence—the ocean, my ancestor’s dirt, fire, and the night air. Make love to my soul!”

On the ground, a circle surrounded her, made from a mixture of blood and cemetery dirt. She’d spent two months, cutting her flesh, piercing her veins, and waiting patiently as blood drops fell into a crystal jar. Two months of preserving the fluid with fierce determination. Two months of scars and sores on her arms, fingers, and legs. Two months of preparing herself for the One.

“May the blood bind my wishes to you.”

This spell has to work. I will find my soul mate tonight. Then, I won’t die alone.

Luna had retrieved the cemetery dirt from around her grandparent’s grave, drawing on her ancestral essence to strengthen the spell. Her family buried their loved ones differently than others. After bathing the body in holy water, they prayed over the dead for six days while it lay on sacred ground covered in roses and herbs. Chanting came next. On the seventh day, the ancestor’s vessel went into the ground, unclothed, and wrapped in a quilt of flowers, twine, and leaves, sewn together by the family. This ritual made their personal cemetery potent.

Come to me, my love.

“May all the four elements help me!” She bent over, lifted the jug of ocean, and poured every salty drop onto the line of her ring. The water merged with her blood and ancestral soil. Instead of washing away or separating, flames rose all around until a circle of fire outlined her swaying form.

“Yes! I feel the energy.” Luna twisted her hips and twirled around with the wind, turning the heel of her foot with each motion and finding the link between her soul and the power that flowed all around her. “Bring him to me. Show me my soul mate!”

Her arousal rose in the air and overpowered the salty fragrance of the sea. The gown dissolved into the breeze. A warm rosy glow bathed her brown body.

Then suddenly, dark groans traveled outside of the circle.

“Lover?” Luna shivered and whipped her head in that direction.

Several red eyes stared back. Their gazes were slanted shapes of fire. She counted eight pairs of eyes.

Are they demons?

Luna squinted to get a better look at them, but her circle’s flames rose high into a protective wall. She couldn’t see how they looked, but was certain of one thing. Nothing human stood outside of her circle, just black bodies formed into men, but full of evil.

She didn’t scream or curse them to go away. As long as they didn’t bother her, she wouldn’t mess with them.

All I care about is my soul mate.

In the end, wasn’t she a beast, like them, in some way? Didn’t they both have claws and fangs that others only saw at the worst times? Didn’t they do their best to hide the monsters that lived inside of them?

“Bring me my soul mate!” Luna returned to her chants. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, but she continued with the dance, never showing them her fear. “Show me the one who’s to claim me.”

A deep voice roared above the growls. “I am to claim you!”

A tall creature towered over the others. All black and solid muscle.

“No.” Her body stiffened as she studied him more. “The devil has become more creative. You’re not a man. You’re a demon.”

“Is that all I am?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

He looked like a man, but he wasn’t. His fragrance wafted all around her—this mixture of cloves and cinnamon, smoldering sex and the darkest evil. Only wicked spirits could’ve shaped him. He was too perfect. Too sculpted. Too much of more than she could ever dream of. He had a gorgeous mouth and possessed a lovely body.

But, there were other things that the dark lord could not hide.

“The devil made you.” Luna pointed at the evidence. Huge silver horns stuck out of the creature’s head. He was larger than any man or beast she’d seen, bigger than the kings and princes she daydreamed about. His eyes burned red like the others, but this time when their gazes met, he set a fire right inside of her.

A dark growl left his lovely lips. “I am your soul mate.”

Luna couldn’t hide her reaction. A thrill ran though her flesh. No one ever tried to claim her, not human nor demon. All ignored her, pretended she wasn’t worth more than a glance.

He licked his black lips. “You are to be mine.”

She almost smiled, but then, fear overcame her.

No. Focus.

“You’re not my soul mate.” She backed away further into the center of the circle. “You’re a demon.”

The flames’ light flickered on his dark skin. “Demons can’t be soul mates?”

“Demons don’t have souls.”

“And neither do you.” He sniffed the air. “You’ve scared your soul away. Now you’re empty. I can fill you, little witch. You’re so ripe and ready.”

“Get away, before my love shows up and kills you.”

His chuckle rumbled along my skin. “No one is coming, but me. Let your walls down and I will show you pleasure. Nothing will matter.”

“No.”

“You’re starving for more. Let me feed you.” He trailed his fingers down the rows of muscle on his waist and continued to move them down.

She couldn’t help herself. Luna’s mouth watered. Her heart boomed louder in her ears. She followed his hands as he gripped his length and whispered, “Let me feed you, little witch.”

Mama Ganga clapped behind me. “Okay. We’re done for today!”

“What?!” I jumped out of my story. “Hey. I’m not done. I’m trying to get to the good stuff.”

Mama Ganga snorted and stumbled away with her cane. “If I remember correctly, you have a child.”

I checked my watch and cursed. “Shit. I have to pick up Rich in twenty minutes. How many hours passed by?”

“Several did.”

“I can’t believe it.” My stomach grumbled. “I have to eat too.”

“Yes. Your passion is returning.”

I held the notebook close to me. “I hope so.”

“No, not you hope so. Say it with confidence. Say it loud and with pride.”

“My passion has returned.”

“Say it again.”

“My passion has returned.”

“One more time and scream it to the sky!”

I grinned. “My passion has returned!”

“Good. Enjoy your weekend. Try to write some more tonight. You have the weekend off. On Monday we see each other again, for the next level.”

“What is the next level?” I headed to my car.

Silently, she made her way to her convertible.

“Hey!” I yelled. “You’re not going to answer?”

She huffed and opened the door.

“Wait a minute. Don’t you stay here?” I pointed to the house.

“No way. I just figured this would be a nice place to park.”

“Oh, God. We were trespassing.”

“You’re such a scared one.” She laughed, got in the car, and sped off.

Chapter 6

Lorenzo

T
hat
evening, I left the station with Rich’s volunteer form in my back pocket along with Kassie’s number on it.

I’m turning into a stalker.

Cool air hit my face. The moon hung in the sky and the stars glittered brightly and hopeful.

I should call her. What’s the worst that could happen?

Rockstar pulled up for his shift, booming R&B. He was a cool black dude that I’d trained with ten years ago. Through the many things we’d experienced on jobs, our friendship had developed into family status. We spent holidays together and whenever we were both off, we popped open some beers and lay back on the beach.

His mother had named him Rodney, but at the station, we called him
Rockstar
. He dressed like one—star-studded boots and ragged jeans, shiny shirts opened at the top and glittery shades. On dull shifts, he always had a guitar in his hands, strumming some new melody and writing down hard-hitting lyrics. He knew how to play many instruments, and for each one he was skilled with, he’d gotten it tattooed on his arms. They crowded the skin—tubas and drums, pianos and even a few violins.

Always singing and performing for us, every now and then he would take a gig at a kid’s birthday party or small shotgun wedding.

Once, I’d asked Rockstar why he didn’t just put all of his energy into his music. I thought he hit the notes well, and every now and then, I couldn’t stop myself from sitting down and listening to his songs. Rockstar’s response shocked me and he earned more of my respect. He said that he loved music, but firefighting was his passion, the fire inside him that he could never put out.

It was the first time I had words for how I felt.

“Lou!” Rockstar carried his guitar case in one hand and a small bag in the other. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” I said. “We had a job on Siesta Key today. You remember the Grooving Alligator night club?”

“Yeah.” Rockstar grimaced. “People still go there?”

“Yep. The place was packed too, but no one was too badly injured.” I slung my bag on my back.

Rockstar looked behind me. “Hey, Merck. What’s up?”

“Tough night and a bullshit shift.” Frowning, Merck passed me as he headed to his car strolling by like a goddamn model. Although a cowboy at heart, he kept his red hair in a Mohawk. Like the rest of us, he spent his free days on the beach, but he never got a tan, just a lot of sunburn. Merck glared at us. “I hate when it’s tourist season. Tonight was a rough one.”