What the Heart Wants

Into the Fire - 7

SASHA

The drive had been long and excruciating. Mostly the tension of not knowing how to handle the awaiting situation. Wait, when had her life become a situation? Well, she might as well rip the band-aid off and get started.

She could simply go spend the night in her own apartment and deal with all of this mess tomorrow with a fresh head and clear… clear what? Conscience? Mind?

Bryan would undoubtedly find out about it, and it would make what had to be done so much more complicated.

Right now, all she needed was a good night's sleep; although in this blinding rain that matched her internal musings… sleep was the furthest thing from her mind.

Her mind's eye could still see the haunting figure of the Wolf King standing drenched in a wild rainstorm awaiting her return, lamenting her absence.

Picking up her new cell, she hit speed dial ‘1’.

“Bryan, “ Sasha exhales, relieved, “ hey, I finally got them to give me another phone.”

“Hey baby girl, how far out are you?” he listened intently to the mundane details of her seemingly never-ending road trip. “So you should be here this afternoon, great. I can’t wait to see you.” He pipes out excitedly.

It had been a long couple of weeks, starting with the weird non-fight after a morning love-making session…only Sasha could turn something so perfect into this.

“I’m anxious to see you too, Bry. I have missed you, “ she said as much as she could safely without lying.

“I’ll see you soon Sasha. I love you,” he finished, awaiting her reply until the line toned out without it. Perplexed, Bryan held the phone for a few dazed seconds… then dropped it on its hook.

Shrugging off an uneasy feeling, he continued to make plans for the return of his future wife. Oh, how he had missed having her around the apartment keeping life interesting, keeping him on his toes whether he was rising or falling. His Sasha was a spitfire in every sense of the word, her hair and eyes should be the color of flame and smoke respectively, he chuckled aloud.

He and Sasha were always one short step from a flash fire one way or another. He couldn’t say he had fallen in love with her sweet spirit or her gentle demeanor, it was her high passion that had drawn and excited him. Like a moth to a flame, he had to always make sure he didn’t end up scorched; for there were times (much like now) when Sasha’s flame burned unbridled and very close to out of control.

But even in his experience with her, that could even be fun, for she was plagued by a stern conscience that made for the best comforting and cosseting once she determined she had injured him. Oh, indeed, how he loved being wounded by his scarlet banshee. Her sweet repentance was almost more than any mortal man could bare, or deserved.

And she was all his, he mused, moving with carefree grace and swift agility through their apartment, readying things for her imminent arrival later that afternoon. He was a lucky devil to be about the bind such a woman to him for a lifetime. As if on queue, lightening flashed and thunder boomed so loud he shivered at the ferocity of the sudden turbulence. Ignoring the ill-timed omens, his thoughts turned back to his errant fiancé.

The rain would delay her arrival.

She would always prove an interesting challenge. He could be sure of that, and he counted himself exceedingly lucky that she was such a sight to behold.

To lay eyes on her was pure torture to realize that you couldn’t possess her. Her extraordinary beauty bewitched and taunted men to do all manner of foolish antics to try and gain her attention, affection or favor. Most of which only served to annoy her. His mistress was not shallow, a more steady and secure woman he had yet to meet.

But those silver eyes could bring even the most devout and stalwart men to second guess their prior vows of love and fealty. Plump lips the color of ripe berries incite a man to linger on thoughts if the color of other lips and private places matched those tones. And he knew those intimacies, was blessed enough to be able to testify to the truth that she was rosy all over. His olive-skinned angel, not fine boned but bold and angular with almond-slanted eyes and elvyn qualities that lend her an other-worldly look.

Foreign was too tame a word to describe her remarkable looks. Exquisite, too pale to totally encompass how truly lovely on so many levels she was. Bryan liked to believe it was the poet in him that she loved. In truth he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Never really could quite figure out what it was about him that had drawn her to him. He was no charmer, could never get his mouth to say the things his mind could come up with. Never truly knew the right thing to say.

He wasn’t suave or debonair, with a calm assurance of his own attributes, he could write volumes listing all the things he was not that she deserved. Qualities he secretly prayed she was abhorrent (immune, ignorant) to so that she wouldn’t see them in someone else. He was a quiet, unassuming nice guy who neither exuded confidence or arrogance.

Bryan had taken stock long ago & realized that some of the qualities he most admired would never be his & had worked on others to make that okay with himself. He knew he was no adonis, but he did workout frequently to accentuate the positive attributes of his features. His broad shoulders & small waste lent his squat frame a few extra inches of height, nicely lengthening his muscular legs.

His blue eyes lent his face a comforting presence to offset his hawkish aquiline nose, that was to fine & straight for a masculine creature. His shock of dark brown hair was so straight & curl-less, he found it easiest to keep it cut in the current military fashion or long & pulled back.

When he smiled as he was doing now, thinking of the woman he would soon marry, all of his face lit & took on an endearing boyish quality that made him almost appear to be of illegal age. Almost. If it wasn’t for that finely honed body, that he was constantly trying to perfect to equate other shortcomings.

If he continued to fantasize this way he wouldn’t be ready when she did finally show up. What time was it anyway? He’d better shower so he could be ready.

The apartment building loomed larger than life, effectively blocking most of the sideways rainstorm from disrupting her vigil. Sasha paced, scowling each time the doorman swung the door open in anticipation of her turning his direction to enter and not bypass… yet again. After a few minutes, his ready smile and half-hearted attempts to greet her had faded to unmasked animosity for not allowing him to do his job.

On this pass, she just continued down the block, not bothering to glance back at the door man's open-mouthed, confused gape. She couldn’t figure out what to say, what to do. In all her driving it had sounded so simple, to just go in and explain that they needed to step back, to slow down.

Tell him that she would be staying at her own place again, although she had done little but pay the bills and check the mail there for well over a year. Explain that she needed some time to herself, which was true but not what she wanted.

Since she first looked at him, all she had wanted was to be in Clint’s arms with him inside her body. It was like a fever. She wiped her brow of imaginary perspiration to find her hand wet.

It had started to rain again, actually pour… complete with lightning and rumbling thunder. The next crash physically shook her from her stupor, reminding her she was soaked, standing dumbfounded and exposed.

She ducked into the coffee bistro on the corner from Bryan’s apartment. How easily and quickly in her mind it reverted back to his place, his space. She stood in the doorway vacantly staring out into the storm… a storm that mirrored her internal chaos and torment.

So distracted she didn’t even see the approaching customers smile of recognition.

“Sasha,” he queried. Waving his hand before her face.

“Sasha, woo-hoo… are you alright?”, he asked, his jovial smile slipping to a concerned quirk.

“Bryan, what are you doing here?” she asked, coming out of her trance, adding a genuine frown of discontentment.

“Looking for you,” he replied, side stepping to enter the doorway, as she stood unmoving directly in the center of the exit/entrance. “The doorman called, he said you might need me…” he trailed off as he noted her palor with obvious confusion. It was more than lack of color, it was the tormented look of her eyes, the visual turmoil he could see there.

He grabbed her shoulder and searched her face, then crushed her to him tightly. For some inexplicable reason, his pulse quickened in panic. As he rocked her, her sobs broke over him like great crashing waves, her tears flowed freely from what seemed a bottomless well. After half an hour her tears mostly dried to moans & incoherent murmurs… most of the patrons lost interest and returned their attention to their own affairs, satisfied the worst of the episode was now over. Just a few curious stares still lingered every so often to the couple standing entangled just inside the door.

Gently pushing against him, Sasha tried in vain to restore some order to her hair, her face, her clothes.

“I’m sorry, I just felt overwhelmed.” Sasha said surveying him shyly from beneath lowered lashes. “I’m happy to see you, Bryan.” She stated flatly.

“You could have fooled me,” he half laughed nervously, “care to tell me what’s going on with you?” he asked.

“Not here. Let’s go to your place, we can talk there.” She said pushing past him & marching determinedly out into the rain without so much as waiting to see if he followed.

She had to end this. She couldn’t be around him, she couldn’t tell him… she couldn’t NOT tell him, everything. He had a right to know that both of their lives had changed and there was no guarantee that they could go back. Hell, she wasn’t sure what the hell was going to happen next. This next was now impossible and she and Clint had never come up for air long enough to think about their next. Sure, they’d said forever… but there was no mention of next. Next was before Forever.

Hellfire and Damnation. She marched faster, oblivious to the rain pelting her.

He stood there for a moment. Your place, she’d said, my place… when did it become my(his) place again? He asked himself. He should have known this was coming, he was not ready for this, he damn well wasn’t ready, he thought as he lumbered out into the rain trailing behind her.

The short walk that should have taken only moments, stretched into a mile as he struggled to gain control of his runaway thoughts. Lots of things might be said about Brian Morrison, but dummy would never be one of them. Bryan felt as if he could actually feel the executioner waiting for him to take those last fateful steps onto the scaffolding. Emanating from beneath his black hood, Bryan could feel the waves of frustration & impatience rolling in his direction. Why the very posture was designed to notify him that he would get no mercy today?

Even those smoky gray eyes were beginning to smolder with the embers of a fire carefully banked, yet quickly gaining strength to mutiny. Ruthless gray eyes, he only knew one person with eyes such as these. Sasha’s crossed arms & tapping toe weren’t enough to inform him she had lost patience with his lack of progress. Huffing, she burst back out into the torrent, grabbed a fistful of his shirt & hauled him under the awning as the doorman struggled to control the telling dimple quivering in his lower jawline. He carefully averted his gaze, cleared his throat while tipping his head and giving Sasha a wide berth. He couldn’t help but break rank & lock gazes with a confused Bryan being pulled across the marble floor of the lobby.

Unnoticed by all was the new tenant, carefully observing the exchange through vividly amused emerald eyes.

“Okay, where’s the fire?” Bryan said, returning from the bathroom with a huge towel. He could feel how tense she was as he approached.

Why was she so wary of him? “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” he stated as he began to pull off her overcoat and work the buttons of her blouse.

“Bryan, stop that!” she growled, slapping his hands away, “ I can damn well dry myself,” she spun towards the bathroom and slammed the door in frustration.

Bracing both hands on the sink, she stared into the mirror, disgusted and confused by what she saw. Gone was the liberated, sensual woman she had been for the last 48 hours; like a broken spell she could only see who she had allowed herself to become these years apart from Clint. She mustn’t think of him, not yet. Even her thoughts of him would betray her, yet who was she now? Without him, she could just go back to her life with Bryan as it was before. He didn’t even have to know.

How long could her affair with Clint last anyway? He wasn’t really made for forever. All they had ever had was mindless passion, animal magnetism. Heat. And everyone knew you couldn’t base a lasting relationship on such things.

Who ever said Clint wanted more than he had gotten?

She’d never heard him mention longevity, had she?

What was she thinking?

You didn’t get to make forever with a man like Clint, he just wasn’t the type.

Could she really risk the real stability & possible happiness she’d found on a long-denied dream? Drawing in a shaky breath, she raked her fingers through her hair… well she may as well ride it out. She exhaled and turned on the shower, quickly discarding her waterlogged clothing. She stepped into the cold spray.

The cold water washed over her frayed nerves, clearing her head. She would postpone the wedding until she could get Clint out of her system or until they became bored with each other. Then, she could successfully give Bryan her whole heart. Wait when had her heart come into this? Nevertheless, when this thing with Clint was over she would still have Bryan and could move on without reservations.

When the shower quieted, Bryan resolved he would sit & wait patiently to hear whatever explanation had created such chaos in his young fiancé.

Suddenly, standing brazenly before him… there she was. It was like a total transformation, gone was the wild-eyed spitfire on the edge of some precipice… this woman he did not knew well. Before him in all her God-given glory stood the insatiable elvyn nymph; such unapologetic wanton desire was unmistakable.

Her arousal was a palpable thing, he could taste it, smell it, and yet she still had such an air of innocence about her, he could never quite bring himself to do the things to her that she inspired in him.

Sasha simply wanted to be screwed. Without opening her mouth… she didn’t know how better to convey that message than to just stand there and wear her desire, and nothing else. The tension was playing on her nerves… if he didn’t make a move soon, well she didn’t quite know what to do.

This shouldn’t be so hard to accomplish. She felt her blush creeping down over her breast & began to fidget. Maybe she wasn’t as alluring as she’d been told, his reaction didn’t say irresistible. He was dumbfounded.