Souls Unfractured (Hades Hangmen, #3)(51)

“No…” I hushed out.

“The church hurts people. They hold you down and hurt people. And then he told me he had to release the flames. He came every night to release the flames.”

Flame’s body turned rigid. “But nothing worked. The flames were still there. I’m still different. I don’t understand people. People don’t understand me.”

I took a deep breath, concentrating on his every word. Then, meeting my eyes, he said, “I know I’m different. I know I don’t see the world like everyone else does. But I want to see your world, Maddie. Even if it’s the only one I’ll ever understand.”

My heart beat faster as his dark eyes penetrated mine, and then we both stilled when we felt it.

My breathing increased with our gazes locked, and when I looked down, my hand was covering his. Gently lying on top, small against large. I worked on keeping calm, I tried desperately to not feel fear.

When I glanced up, Flame’s eyes were as wide as saucers and his head had begun to twitch. “Maddie,” he whispered, then blew out a sharp breath.

His eyes snapped to our joined hands, then up again.

“You feel warm,” I whispered, sensing heat radiating from his skin. My heart was pounding, but staring at our hands, I ghosted my little finger over his skin. Flame froze and groaned at the same time. But he did not move his hand.

“You are soft,” I added and flickered my eyes to his. Flame was already watching me. I swallowed back the nerves starting to take me hostage under his stare. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose.

I watched him, my heart sinking when I believed he would pull away. To my complete surprise, in a flash, his hand flipped over, his palm instantly meeting mine. I gasped at the feeling of unfamiliar warmth. But then Flame spread his fingers and threaded them through mine. His grip, at first was soft, then his fingers tightened on mine… and we simply breathed.

We stared.

But we breathed.

Enraptured by the sight, and overcome by such emotion, I stayed silent. But then Flame, said, “It’s like your picture.”

My eyes lifted to his and I swallowed. “It’s like my picture,” I whispered, feeling butterflies flood my insides. A feeling of hope took me over, and I squeezed our melded hands harder.

Flame did not react.

“I can breathe,” Flame said suddenly. My body surged with light. I could clearly see the disbelief in his stare.

“I can breathe,” he repeated again. And then I heard his quiet counting under his breath; eleven small, feather light squeezes of his hand in mine. I let him count, watching in fascination as a shocked breath escaped his lips on reaching number eleven.

Then his eyes widened and he rasped, “You’re not hurt… I… I didn’t hurt you…”

Needing to be closer, I shuffled nearer still, so close that our chests were almost touching. “I am not hurt,” I assured. Feeling my face flush with heat, I confessed, “In fact, I have not felt this… content… ever in my life.”

“Maddie,” Flame whispered, and my heart melted when his thumb awkwardly moved to brush over mine. The feeling of the rough pad of his thumb, stroking over my skin, sent shivers through my body.

Then I gasped in shock as I felt those shivers build between my legs. Dipping my head, I glanced down to see Flame’s free hand adjusting himself in his leather pants.

These feelings… these feelings were so new. I did not know what I should make of them. And all from one touch.

“Maddie,” Flame groaned, but the tone of his groan had changed. Gone was the pained groan. In its place was a low rasp. A groan of want.

“Flame,” I whispered in response. Then Flame licked along his bottom lip and my eyes focused on his mouth.

My head tipped forward, instinctively searching for what my heart was calling me to take. Flame’s breathing increased and he asked, “Maddie. What are you doing?”

“I… I want to know what your lips feel like,” I admitted quietly. Flame’s hand squeezed a bit tighter.

“I’ve never done that before,” he admitted. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” Then he closed his eyes and I saw his lips counting to eleven.

When he reached eleven, his eyes opened but the disbelief was still there. He inched back and scanned down my body, as though checking me for injuries.

“I am well, Flame,” I assured again and his head dropped, forehead touching mine. We both froze at the new contact, but neither of us moved away.

And then I moved my hand, still clutching his. Flame’s body was as tense as hard metal. But needing to touch his face, I ran the edge of my index finger along his bearded cheek. Flame’s large panicked eyes never strayed and his neck corded with veins.

When I had reached his jaw, I moved my finger back and repeated the action. I repeated it eleven times. On number eleven, when nothing had happened, Flame’s lips trembled.

“You’re not hurt,” he stated with a broken voice laced with relief.

“I am not hurt,” I confirmed with a whisper. Flame’s large bare chest rolled slightly to the side. With our hands still clasped, my chest pressed slightly against his, we froze.

We breathed.

We stared.

Lifting his free hand, Flame brought it to my cheek, hovering his palm just over my skin. I could see in his eyes that he so desperately wanted to touch my face. So taking my free hand, I brought it behind his and, gently touching the back of his hand, pressed his palm to my cheek.