Heph: Modern Descendants 3, page 2
“We each have a talent,” she told me. “A gift. Your journey in life is to discover it. Then nurture it and never let it go.”
I didn’t believe her at first. I’d come a long way since then, with all gratitude due to Hestia.
“And Heph, as long as you are here, you work as well.” Hestia smacked his chest playfully and the crooked smile he gave her sent my center beating like a brass drum. Heph turned those giant swirls of chocolatey goo on me, and I heated further. Certain my skin was a bright pink, I turned and stomped toward the kitchen.
The true kitchen was off this smaller entrance space, housing a rectangular table and space for work. Breakfast and lunch were served here. Dinner was mandatory, served in the more formal dining room on the opposite side of the main kitchen. I started setting the table with a clatter and a clank of silverware and plates, my thoughts racing with questions about Adara and Heph. I set one platter down so hard it spun.
“What’s gotten into you?” Ember asked me, entering the dining room in search of a large serving plate in the sideboard cabinet. Another sister through Hestia’s Home, her vibrant orange, curlicue hair hung over her brown eyes and she swiped back the rippling bangs.
“Nothing,” I barked, setting a second plate down with a flimsy spin and watching it sputter like a dime.
“Huh. Well, did you see who’s here?” The remaining plates vibrated in my hand.
“I don’t know who you are talking about,” I lied.
“Come here.” She motioned for me to set down the last of the dishes and follow her. For some reason, I felt like a woman walking through flames. Somehow, I knew who she meant, even though I didn’t know him. Entering the hardly used, front living room, I noticed a gathering of my sisters between two windows. Not sisters by blood, but by location and history, the women giggled and sighed around the large, eight-mullioned windows. We stood in unison with only single names, unique-colored hair, and large eyes on a delicious man.
“Isn’t he lovely?” Flame, a pixie of a girl with bright blonde hair streaked with light blue framing her face, sighed.
“Mmm…mmm…mmm…” hummed Seraphine, her arms crossed over her chest as she admired the view through the window. Her head tilted, highlighting her signature bangs, too long and jet black with bright blue streaks, hiding her eyes.
“Are you ready for him, Adara?” Adara brushed back her stick-straight, charcoal locks, letting them cascade off her shoulders like a seductive sketch. Her dark eyes were alight; I’d never seen her so piqued.
“He isn’t here for me.” Her voice trembled with sorrow and hope. She wanted the specimen outside the window, and inside me my blood boiled. I didn’t like the feeling. I recognized the sensation, but I would never take such jealousy out on my sisters. I loved these women, and they loved me.
Ember hadn’t commented, and I felt her eyes weighing on me. I refused to look at her as my eyes remained attracted to the bonfire of a man throwing off heat as he swung an ax and chopped wood near the studio barn. His back arched, his muscles carved, he lifted his arms and lowered them with a sickening thwack on the log before him. His muscular back rippled and rolled as he struggled only briefly in removing the ax for a second hammering.
“Good gods above, what are we staring at?” Ashin stood behind me, a giggle in her voice. I didn’t have to turn around to see Adara’s true sister. She was just as beautiful as the elder version of her, with a gray-black cast to her long locks.
“Him.” My voice quaked; I couldn’t draw my eyes from the giant of a man standing in the middle of the yard, shirtless, sweating, and splitting wood.
“He came back,” she whispered behind me. “For you.” Ashin turned to her sister, and my heart ached unquestionably at the thought. A familiarity with him burned deep inside me, calling out for me to recognize him. But I didn’t and I couldn’t. Men were not for me, no matter how appealing the one before me. I recalled the scar on his forehead. The gash next to it. As much as he piqued my interest, I would not be the cause of another mark on him.
“What happened?” Hestia’s infamous question, sprang to my mind in regards to Heph. It was a question that haunted all of us here. What happened to bring us here, to a home for women ranging in age from eighteen to twenty-eight. Huddling and giggling as we ogled a man out the window, one would never imagine the horrors of our pasts.
“All right, ladies, I think we’ve had our fill.” Ember clapped her hands like a mother hen, and Flame giggled.
“Can you ever have your fill of a man like that?” Seraphine breathed, stepping back from the window. Her eyes met Adara’s and a silent conversation ensued. I couldn’t pull my eyes from his back, and I hated that I wanted to rub my hands over that broad expanse. I sensed each girl exiting the space, and yet I remained. The smell of dinner wafted into the room, but thoughts of Heph tempted my senses, moistening my mouth for something more delicious.
“What about you Phyre? Could you get your fill of him?” Ember’s question startled me, her eyes on me instead of the showcase outside.
“You know I stay away from men.” My voice softened. “I wouldn’t know how to please one like him.” I turned to face her probing dark eyes. “Plus, I’d only end up hurting him.” My voice lowered. Even if I could handle a man’s touch, which I didn’t think I could, I’d only hurt him with mine. She nodded somberly smoothing a sympathetic hand down my arm.
“You never know, honey. That was a long time ago.” Pausing a beat, she added, “With a man like that…” Seeing the pain in my features, she softened her tone. “Don’t fret, Phyre. It could happen.”
I nodded, but my head seemed drawn back to the window. My eyes narrowed as I stared.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she added, and I tipped my chin to acknowledge what she said, but I watched the muscular display before me. My heart raced at the exertion of his body. He moved like a machine, smooth and structured. One wrist was covered in a band of thick leather. The delicious thought of him removing that band and snapping it at me sparked my imagination, and rejuvenated the heavy beat between my thighs. As if he heard my thoughts, he stopped working, his head held high like an animal, listening for a barely perceptible sound. He twisted his neck left to right and then swung at the waist to face the house. I leapt behind the curtain, hoping he didn’t catch me. Risking a peek around the velvety fabric, I saw him standing with his hands on his hips, chest heaving, facing the house. His skin was mouthwatering smooth, golden tan and unmarked, glistening with sweat in the dim glow of evening. My lower abdomen fluttered like a candle flame in the wind, and heat spread through my body, warming my insides. My hands balled into fists, as I shook off the desire to climb such a structure as him.
heph
Phyre was the newest addition to Hestia’s gaggle of women, and the most irresistible of them all, I could admit. Adara and Ashin had been the first to arrive, wandering aimlessly through the woods. A third sister accompanied them, but had returned to civilization. Seraphine arrived one day, telling Hestia she heard the home could help her. Startled at the possibility, Hestia offered Seraphine refuge. Ember followed shortly after that. They found Flame, only roughly sixteen at the time, battered, broken, but not beaten. She did not accept defeat. Flickering back to life, she earned her name. This new one, though, I couldn’t get a read on. I didn’t understand women.
Surprisingly, I surrounded myself with them. The daughters of Hestia’s Home were different; they understood me. Hestia understood me, and that’s all that mattered. A surrogate mother, she recognized in me things I hardly saw in myself. She showed me patience and kindness when others did not. She provided me with a gift when I felt I had none. She didn’t allow men to stay for extended periods at her home, but she welcomed my visits every few years.
At the moment, time stood still as I sensed her staring at me. Phyre. The name didn’t fit the stature of her body. Little spark seemed more appropriate, as she prickled over my skin when she looked at me. They had all been there, gawking at my body through the window. I couldn’t help but hear their giggling. At times, it was hard to remember they weren’t laughing at me. I was a big man, with a limp, and a scar, and a misshaped nose. But it was more than all of them watching. It was the fact that she watched me. She wasn’t fast enough to slip behind the curtain, and I noticed her fingers wrapped around the curtain’s edge, imagining them holding onto me. Her presence lingered where she thought I couldn’t see her. Her hair wouldn’t let her fade into the background, and I envisioned it teeming down, curtaining me as she rode over me. That vibrant color made my mouth water. She’d taste like wine, I decided, and I wanted to get drunk on her. In some ways, I already was, and I racked my slow brain to recall how I knew her. The hint of her lingered deep in the recesses of my heavy head and meager mind. I wasn’t bright. Not enough, anyway. In fact, that’s part of the reason my mother rejected me. That, and the bitterness necessary to spite my father, but I refused to let thoughts of them cloud my attempts to recognize the girl.
I needed the energy release exerted in breaking down the logs before I could sit at a table of women, chattering and giggling, and eyes wandering. But more than that was the problem of Adara. She’d be wondering what happened to me. Why I didn’t return like I promised. Why I didn’t take her with me like I vowed. Hestia would remind me I owed her girls nothing. They were here to get healthy and whole on their own. The thought concerned me. What had happened to my little spark to draw her to Hestia’s hearth? What danger frightened her and what evil lurked inside her refusing to allow her to see she was beautiful?
“Dinner,” Hestia called from the side door.
“I need to shower,” I yelled back as I swiped my flannel and thin Henley from the leaf-covered lawn.
“Too late.”
“I stink,” I laughed, low.
“We’ll survive. I’ve smelt worse.” Her blue eyes glittered under a mop of white-blonde hair. If Persephone, my sister’s best friend, could grow old, she’d look like her aunt one day. Regal, stately, although dressed in jeans and a flannel like a mini-lumberjack-wannabe.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she offered as I slipped my long-sleeved Henley over my head before I reached the door. Her tone softened, as did her eyes, which searched me for the reason behind my surprise visit. She hadn’t overreacted at my unannounced entrance. She welcomed me like she always did and then instantly sensed I was here only because I needed her comfort. The warmth of her home to remind me I was loved despite all the rejection I’d received.
“Can I help?” I asked the orange-haired Ember as she plated large pieces of chicken onto a serving dish.
“Could you carry that, please?”
The women here could fend for themselves after Hestia repaired them. One pleasure I took in their skill was their culinary expertise.
“Smells delicious.”
“Mmmm…so are you,” Seraphine said as she entered the swing door to the kitchen. I blushed deep almost dropping the tray. Her flirting undid me and she knew she flustered me. I didn’t understand flirtation. I went in for the kill, dove deep, and then walked away. Words were not my strength. I’d tried them and failed. Subtle expressions and touches not my thing, either. I didn’t have a thing when it came to women. I entered, released, and withdrew.
“Seraphine,” Hestia mocked with false concern. The matronly ruler of this stead understood Seraphine’s teasing nature. I didn’t intend to act on any flirtations. I’d already built a little fire in that direction when it came to Adara. A fire I needed to extinguish.
“He knows I’m teasing. I set you a spot next to Adara.” She winked. Secrets ran deep among these women, but spilled like an overflowing cup between them. I didn’t need to know their pasts to understand their pain, but years of sisterhood lessened their hurt and built a new wall of protection for one another. Seraphine would remind me often of my history with Adara, if I refused to address it. Avoidance was easier for me. Silence was better. The truth could cut deep.
I followed the women into the long dining room. The table set like a Thanksgiving feast despite the mid-week, September evening. I loved the lavish display, but the aroma tempted me to eclipse it. My mouth watered at the flavors seeping into the air, and then my eyes caught hers. A new desire for taste filled me, and I hungered like I’d never eaten before.
“Heph, sit here.” Seraphine tapped on the back of a chair near the head of the table to the right of Hestia and next to Adara. I pulled out Adara’s chair, and she sat. All eyes were on me. I hadn’t had time to properly greet each of the women, yet they accepted me back into the fold. Questions fired at me before I took my seat.
“Heph, how are you?”
“What’s new?”
“How’s Solis?” A question asked with a raised tone of interest.
“Where have you been?”
The last one seemed to suck the air out of the inquisition and the table fell awkwardly quiet. The little spark half way down the table didn’t seem to mind the chatter. She only swung her head left to right in wonder.
“Okay. Enough of the firing squad. Let the man eat and then we can chat.” Hestia set her hands together for grace.
“Fathers of the sky and mothers of this earth, thank you for the bounty provided at this table. Thank you for the heat of home, the love of family, and the life of fire. We eat in gratitude this day with the return of our prodigal son.” Her eyes shifted to me and she winked. “Amen.”
A muttering of amens coursed around the table, and the clatter of spoons in bowls and trays passed refilled the room.
As I turned to offer Adara mashed potatoes, a silent thank you crossed her pretty mouth. Those lips once brushed mine, and she was sweet. But I sensed Phyre’s lips would be sweeter. Adara’s dark eyes dropped as our hands touched when the dish passed to her. Yes, the flames of love marked me, once upon a time, but no spark remained. Love was a circle, not a one-sided line, and Adara had never crossed that line. She was only a marking on a compass in my search for something I had yet to find. My true north still awaited me. On that note, compelling laughter that crackled like a campfire, sending out sparks and lighting the darkness, drew my attention to the end of the table where a cherry-colored head was thrown back in delight.
“Did you have safe travels getting here?” Seraphine kicked me under the table, and my attention turned to her at the question. To her surprise, she hit my metal leg, and only the vibration rippled up to the flesh part of me.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes didn’t look at me as she stabbed food with her fork.
“Someone shot at my tire.” I dangled a roll in my hand, keeping my eyes forward but feeling the weight of sea glass eyes down the way. A brush against my thigh, and I noted Adara’s hand rested there. I shifted my leg, releasing her touch before the inquisitive firing squad began again.
“What?”
“No!”
“Are you okay?”
The overwhelmed gasps and questions of concern were fired at me.
“It was an ar…” My eyes locked on Phyre, but a subtle shake of my huntress’ head, and I let the word fall. My brow pinched wondering why she didn’t want the truth said. Her head began to hang and her eyes focused on her plate.
“It was nothing,” I deflected. “I’m fine. Actually, I think it might have been some wayward kids playing.” I didn’t want Phyre to feel bad about what she’d done. I only teased her hoping to draw her into conversation. The solemn look on her face proved I had the opposite effect.
“It’s late in the season for camping,” Hestia spoke. “I haven’t noticed any random tents in the area.” Like a mother goose, she protected her goslings with a daily sweep of the trees. Rogue campers were warned they were set up on private property and were gently escorted to the main road.
“Oh, well, maybe it just sounded like a shot.”
“Hunters?” Flame’s voice hitched, and a hand covered her quivering lip. At eighteen, she had a tiny frame of delicate bones, making her appear even younger. The horrified expression on her face made her eyes look wider as they filled with liquid.
“No,” I tried to back-pedal. “It just sounded like it.” The lie dug me deeper, but the grateful look on Phyre’s face kept me digging.
“We’ll check it out in the morning,” Hestia gave the girls a reassuring look while she patted my hand. “For now, we’re thankful you are safe.”
My head hung at the false truth. I didn’t wish to frighten them. No hunters walked here. No campers trailed the land. No past could find them. My eyes shifted to Phyre, sad that hers dropped. She was so confident as she held her bow and arrow earlier, but suddenly seemed self-conscious. Avoiding me, she twirled her fork over her plate without touching any food. Dinner discussion resumed, and I ate, letting the renewed chatter comfort me as my thoughts wandered. Phyre didn’t want to admit it was her, even to ease the minds of her sisters, and I wouldn’t expose what she’d done: no harm, no foul. But curiosity ate at me. What was her story?
Dinner concluded after a final course of apple pie. Full to discomfort and suddenly sleepy, the stench of me caught up to my senses. Standing abruptly, I thanked Hestia for dinner and began to clear my place.
“Leave it,” she fussed. “Tonight, you’re our guest. Tomorrow, you have kitchen duty,” she teased and her blue eyes lit up when she looked at me. I loved this woman for her motherly ways. She did her best with me, considering I wasn’t her son. She actually had no children of her own. The girls were her family, blood not defining them.
“I need a shower,” I reminded her.
“I wondered what that smell was,” Seraphine joked across the table. I shook my head, and my eyes fell to Adara. Thoughts of a shower reminded me of her curvy body pressed against mine. It wasn’t supposed to happen. They were off limits to me, but somehow, she’d found her way to my room over a year ago. I no longer wished to remember. I didn’t want to entertain Adara again. I’d already sent her the wrong message. I suffered the pain of mixed signals myself from her. Then Lovie. Callie. So many mistakes.
