Heph: Modern Descendants 3, page 6
The words surprised me. I’d never spoken in this manner before, but I suddenly felt frantic, as if she might walk away, and I would never know this feeling again. This burning, all-consuming need to be with her: to hold her, enter her, and fill her.
Her brow pinched.
“If you think you lost me, why didn’t you ever come find me?”
My hands dropped completely. I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know I missed her until she stood before me. Silence feel between us as she rejected my heartfelt words, rejected me.
“You know what? Don’t answer that question,” she exhaled. In an instant, she stepped around me and was gone, leaving me alone, where I’d been for too long.
phyre
The next few days, I avoided Heph. Guilt riddled me at what I’d said to him. I could not blame him for what had happened to me. It was not his fault. Things happened to me, beyond my control. Hestia told me a thousand times those weren’t my fault either. It wasn’t hard to ignore him. Hestia kept him busy with small repairs around the house, simple things we never got around to. I buried myself in the studio.
Hestia’s skill was fire. It’s what attracted all of us to her. She knew how to make it and manipulate it to produce beautiful things. Her latest creation included glass beads, although I learned glass designs of any type were a specialty. To the outside world, Hestia’s Home was a place for wayward women in need of support and a new path. For all intents-and-purposes, that was true, but it wasn’t a place you could find on a map, and it wasn’t a place filled with women. The seven of us were the full regime. Six vestal virgins and one leader queen, although not one of us was a virgin, the sacred label stripped forcibly from each of us, sacrificed by the desires of powerful, pathetic men.
Thinking of our history, I worked harder than normal at my station. I had a special-order bracelet I was working on. I stayed late in the studio and fired up early, but not so early that I would wake Heph and be alone with him, since his room was in the upper space of the barn. The extra-large red barn had been converted into six work stations, each equipped with tools for pyrotechnics, including flamethrowers and supplies for making glass beads and baubles. In the center of the open space, a large, open fire heated the room, and Hestia practiced the ancient art of glassblowing, a skill I had yet to master.
Today, Heph stood near her, manipulating precious metals to use for our bracelets. He’d entered the room without my awareness, but when I saw him in shorts, my breath hitched. A metal contraption protruded from his left leg, just below the knee, curving like something to be used as a weapon.
“You didn’t know?” Ember asked me, approaching my worktable as I stared. My head shook in response. How had I not noticed it when he was in the shower? Then again, my mind had been elsewhere on his body.
“It was an accident. He was rock climbing as a teen and fell. He should have died.” She shrugged as if I should understand. “Some of the girls say he cut his leg loose himself, as he was wedged between rocks. He could have bled to death. Others say he lay immobile for a week, until his father found him. Either way, it’s a sad tale. He got that scar on his forehead from the experience as well. The blow to the head alone should have killed him, but as you can see, he’s thick-skinned.” Heph was a survivor—a lone, rejected survivor—and my body felt pulled to his, wanting to comfort him, recognizing the strength within him so similar to me. A trickle of sweat absorbed on the back of his gray tee. I observed the thickness of his solid leg. The muscles of his biceps flexed as he worked with a long iron rod, angry and red over the hot coals of the center fire. Hestia and he were deep in conversation, but suddenly his head spun, and he caught me staring. His face looked harder behind the protective eyewear. His chin tipped upward like I was some rock star groupie, and he returned his attention to Hestia.
Clearly dismissed, my hands trembled as I turned away. My heart sputtered and clenched in my chest. I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. The room suddenly too warm. The thought of him dying suddenly overwhelmed me.
“Oh God,” I muttered as my fist pressed over my heart. “What have I done?”
“What’s wrong?” Ember asked, her arm coming over my shoulders.
“My heart,” I whimpered. A cold sweat broke out over my forehead. The arm supporting me quivered.
“Phyre?” The sweet sound of Hestia’s voice behind me almost undid me. She’d be so upset with me if I slept with her precious man-child. I’d never forgive myself, but at the moment, I couldn’t forgive myself for walking away from him, accusing him of things, as if it was his fault that he didn’t come to save me from myself.
“Phyre.” His rough voice behind me caused me to quiver more.
“I think she’s overheated. It’s exceptionally warm in here today.” Hestia spoke again.
“Air.” It was the only word I could choke out. I needed air, and I feared I’d never breathe again because Heph was that air. Only, oxygen fueled fire, and I was afraid. Instantly swept upward, I was cradled against his firm chest as he carried me outside. We hit the crisp, fall temperature, and my lungs opened. Not stopping, he continued to a fire circle between the barn and the house. He sat in an Adirondack chair, pulling me down on his lap. My head fell against his shoulder, and I faintly heard the beat of his heart. My eyes closed to the rhythm. My own heart opened. I’d had a panic attack. I breathed in deeply, inhaling the manly scent of Heph.
“I should get off of you,” I said, but my head was so heavy I didn’t have the strength to move it.
“Don’t go.” His arms tightened around me, and my cheek rubbed against his chest. His lips tenderly kissed my forehead. He kept them there, and I wondered what his mouth would feel like on other parts of my body, particularly my lips. It had been a long, long, long time since I’d kissed someone, and I didn’t think I’d ever feel the desire to do it again. But with Heph this close to me, the thought consumed me, like fire slowly creeping inside a wall, waiting for the opening to burst into a full flame.
“Feeling better yet?” The cooler air chilled me quickly, and I shivered in his lap. I looked up at him.
“Thank you.” The words hardly left my mouth when his lips brushed over mine. At first, he just held them there. The hair around his mouth tickling around mine. But then, he moved, infinitesimally, his lips parted, and mine followed. His mouth searched, and mine shadowed. Lips nipped with gentle sucks and long pulls before his tongue licked the seam and entered me with full invitation. His tongue was thick, like the rest of him, and I sucked it forth, twirling mine around his. Sitting up straighter, I felt the length of his excitement under me, and the spark that started with a kiss flamed to an inferno.
The kiss intensified quickly, building in swirls of tongue and rapid moment of lips. I couldn’t get enough of him, or he couldn’t get enough of me. Either way, his oxygen became mine, and the fire inside me blazed. My hands wrapped around his neck and I shifted in hopes to straddle him. My body screamed yes, while my mind said slow down. My long-ignored-core flickered and pulsed like a million candle flames in a ballroom, but my head said you’re going too fast. My lips didn’t listen. My center begged for friction, and the fire struck.
“Ow!” Heph hissed and pulled back, and I instantly removed my hands. His firm fingers caught my retreating wrists and turned to stare at the palms of my hands. Swollen, blackened and steaming, his eyes widened in wonder. The side of his neck, imprinted with one hand, blistered and reddened. I shifted quickly, struggling to get off his lap. He let my legs untangle from over his, but he continued to hold my wrists.
“What did you do?” His tone bit at first, until he looked at my face. Something in my eyes begged him to understand. “What did I do? Did I misunderstand? Did you not want me to kiss you?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” My voice was small, childish and scared.
“You…” He changed direction. “You burned me. But how? Why?” His eyes inspected my hand, and I curled my palm to hide it.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He forced my fingers to unfurl. The skin of my palm was no longer charred, but faded to a deep red. Blisters grew and subsided almost instantaneously. His eyes opened wider, staring at me with a storm of concern and confusion in his dark orbs.
“How…”
“I…I can’t explain. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, honestly.” I tugged back on my wrists, but he wouldn’t release me as I stood at his knees. He clenched harder. “I got carried away.”
“You got carried away?” He stood, slamming my hands downward, releasing my wrists and raising thick fingers to cover his steaming neck again. My hands ached, smoldering with the heat of what I’d done to him. My heart hurt worse. He spun for the house.
“Heph, I’m so sorry,” my voice whined, and a tear fell. The waterworks arrived too late to extinguish the fire. He didn’t address me, but his solid back facing me spoke volumes.
+ + +
I found Ember in the kitchen and asked for assistance, but I couldn’t avoid Hestia. Bandaging my hand, Ember knew it wouldn’t take long before it would heal itself. Applying the sacred ointment lessened the chance of scars and soothed the sting as the skin repaired. My concern lay with Heph’s neck. Ember’s eyes shifted between mine and my hand. Sympathy rested deep in her brown gaze as Hestia oversaw the bandaging process.
“What happened?” Hestia asked, her tone fiercer than I’d heard before, directed at me.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“He comforted you. He carried outside for some air. What caused you to react?”
My eyes shifted to Ember. I’d told her briefly the details before Hestia intruded. Heph kissed me; I burned him. Hestia didn’t seem to know, although she went to Heph’s aid first.
“I…I don’t know.” I lied. Although in some ways, I didn’t know the truth. The attraction to Heph was strong, so strong it overpowered me, and I didn’t know how to control it. Caught in the crossfire of wanting to give in, and being afraid this very thing would happen, I panicked, resulting in his scorched neck.
She sighed, bringing a hand to my shoulder and then rubbed down my arm. “I love you.” The words startled me from Hestia. It wasn’t something we said often, and words I’d rarely heard in my life outside of her home. “And I love him, like the son I never had.” She paused, her lips sucking inward before releasing out. Pressed tight, they were white.
“I don’t want to see either of you hurt. You’ve both been through enough pain.”
I nodded to agree, although I didn’t know enough about Heph to understand.
“I cannot understand what happened, but I need you to separate from him.”
“Because of Adara?” I instantly bit, before realizing that wasn’t what she meant. She simply didn’t want me to hurt him and she wanted me to use my inner strength to walk away from him when I felt out of control. I didn’t want to ever hurt anyone again, especially not Heph.
“Adara?” Hestia chuckled, shaking her head. “No, honey, no, because of Zeke.” Hestia’s hand slipped from my arm, and her eyes lowered.
“Who is Zeke?” I asked.
“My father.” Three sets of eyes looked to my left, where Heph stood, leaning against the doorjamb with a large gauze bandage over his neck. His lips tightened, similar to Hestia’s, and his eyes looked away.
“He’d kill me if anything happened to you,” Hestia’s tone tried to tease, but an edge poked through as she stared with concern at her adoptive son.
“I’d hurt him first before he could touch you. Besides this doesn’t concern you. My father has plans for me.” The words stated bitterly, Heph made a face like he wanted to rinse his mouth after speaking. He looked back at me, questioning hurt and wounded pride filling those chocolate eyes.
“You can’t go back yet,” Hestia warned. “No matter what decision you make, Zeke can wait.”
“But can I? How long do I wait before I get what I want?” His eyes never left mine, hard and penetrating, as if he bore the question into me, wanting an answer I could not give him.
“You aren’t ready.” Hestia’s firm tone surprised me again. Through their eyes, a private conversation ensued between Heph and her that had nothing to do with me. Turning my face away from them, feeling like the sheepish child that I was, I saw Adara on the other side of the kitchen. She mirrored Heph’s position, arms crossed, leaning against the jamb for the dining room. She glared in his direction. Maybe I misunderstood. He told me they hadn’t had sex. Could I believe him? Had he kissed me to make Adara jealous? The thought dissipated instantly. He didn’t seem like the type of man to play those games. I’d known men like that before. I was so confused, I felt like a teenager, despite my years. Twenty-five was surely enough time on this earth to understand men, so I did trust him, which surprised me.
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, addressing Adara. Ember’s hand rubbed my arm.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated to my knees, as a lone tear dropped to it. Hestia cupped my face and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes at the comfort.
A presence stood beside me while I sat on the kitchen counter. The warmth of Heph recognizable, a hand caressed up my back, and I squeezed my eyes tight. The tears spilled anyway, and I shook my head. His hand climbed higher, looping under my hair. I heard shuffling of feet but couldn’t open my eyes. I didn’t trust the waterfall of tears threatening to drown me. His fingers crawled upward, combing into my hair and massaging the base of my neck, as he had done before.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never try to hurt you.” Falling sideways, he tugged me against him, and the tears I tried to suppress fell in torrents.
heph
“Am I the only god without a gift?” I huffed as Hestia and I walked through the woods the following day. A modern descendant of ancient people, my skill seemed miniscule compared to the darkness of my cousin or the brilliance of my brother. I would not inherit kingdoms, as each of them would, if we were able to die. While worshipped in my own right, the populace with my skill grew smaller and smaller in the modern age. Metalwork was a dying art. I didn’t understand. “A thousand years old, and I don’t have any more skill than working with my hands, but the girl I’m falling for is a goddess with an evil gift.”
“Hephaestus,” she began. “We don’t select our gifts. They select us. Your gift is in your craft. It’s still just as important today.”
“I’m not going to inherit anything. I’m not Solis or Hades. My craft isn’t enough.”
“It’s plenty. As for falling for Phyre, I don’t think that’s wise.”
“I don’t think I have any more choice in that than in manifesting a gift. We don’t choose our gifts,” I reminded her. “We can’t just choose who we love, either. This isn’t Zeke and his command to marry someone.” I was tired of remembering Lovie. Thinking of her brought me doubt. Marrying a beautiful woman was meant to tame her and secure me. An ugly man like me would only be twice as insecure with such a creature as my wife. I’d always worry I wasn’t enough. It was a wasted relationship. She couldn’t fulfill me anymore than I could please her. I wanted my own choice, not an arranged marriage. I deserved my own choice. When I thought of Phyre, I worried in the same way. Maybe I was not good enough for her, either.
“Heph, I warned you she was fragile. You don’t understand her.”
“Then enlighten me,” I barked as we crunched down the path to the river at the edge of the property. The woods had turned all shades of yellow, orange and brown. The wind rustled through rapidly falling leaves.
“Hephaestus.”
“Enough with the secrecy.” I snapped, ready to lose my mind if I didn’t have answers for this girl who I wanted to touch, and I thought wanted to touch me, but couldn’t. Her fear held her back, and I wanted to help.
“She came to us a year ago, her hands blackened, her nails charred. She’d been attacked.”
“Attacked?” I belted. “Was she…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word. I felt sick. Vomit roiled in my stomach. Hestia continued, ignoring my question.
“She holds the power for fire, as all my girls do.”
I knew the gift of each girl. Flames could be manifested in any number of ways among them. I don’t know how I thought Phyre would be any different. Being at Hestia’s Home was selective. Only those with a gift would find their way here. Only those with the gift could stay.
“I’m still baffled as to how she found us. We don’t have a revolving door of women. I’ve only lost one: Adara and Ashin’s younger sister, Eshne. Emotionally healed, she prepared to risk the world again. The other girls wanted to stay. I won’t force anyone to do anything, including Phyre telling you her story before she’s ready.”
We broke through the woods to the roar of the river and a long strip of land cleared for archery practice. In the midst of the field stood Phyre, aiming and firing at a circular target several feet away from her. We walked closer, but her focus did not stray. She hit the target every time, occasionally catching the center.
“As for falling for her, I don’t want a repeat of Adara.” The comment stopped me.
“How did you know?” I faced Hestia with a solemn look on my face. I had betrayed her by sleeping with Adara and keeping it a secret, yet I should have known Hestia knew everything.
“There are no secrets here among the girls. I’m old, but not blind. I saw the affection between the two of you.”
“She didn’t love me.”
Hestia snorted, shook her head, and walked toward Phyre. I could have argued the truth, but I didn’t want to betray Adara’s trust. Adara had not loved me. Besides, I didn’t believe there were no secrets here. Adara’s desire to leave stood case-in-point. I guess Hestia didn’t know everything. My gaze followed Hestia toward Phyre.
