Shiny Demon

The Spark Before the Dark

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Seb woke with a pleasant weight sinking into his chest. The rest of him ached and complained after the bull riding and whiskey, but a smile stretched across his face as memories of previous evening surfaced. He would have assumed it had all been a dream, except Stevie was still in his arms.

The cool strands of her hair slipped through his fingers as his hands began to wake. He'd been cupping her head in his sleep. Her body began to stir at his touch, her hands sliding down his ribs as she pulled her head up to look at him. Her face was puffy from sleep and last night's tears. Worry shook through his mind like a waking dog. Now that the alcohol had worn off, would she throw her guard back up? Maybe roll away from him or get out of bed? But instead she shifted back so her head was laying on her own pillow, facing him, keeping her hand gently splayed over his chest. Her wide gray eyes soaked in the sight of him and he could see her mind waking up, the memories trickling into her consciousness. After a moment her face crinkled into a sleepy smile and she closed her eyes again.

The gentle flutter of her eyelids annihilated him. He could no longer deny how badly he wanted to be with her.

She drummed her fingers against his chest. "Good morning," she croaked, her eyes still closed.

"Morning," he answered. His body twitched with the energy of all of his urges. The urge to run his fingers over her full lips, to kiss her, to taste her... He slammed the lid down on the bubbling desire inside him and tried to just be thankful that her hand was still resting on his chest.

A sleepy groan rumbled in the back of her throat. The room was still an early morning blue, but he could make out her childlike expression. Her lips were slightly parted, her brows drawn ever-so-slightly upward. A lack of sneering cynicism that made his insides tremble.

They had known right away that getting romantically involved was a bad idea. They were both afraid of the pain they could inflict on one another. So they'd called a truce, and agreed to be friends. Would it be a violation of their treaty to try and push for something more now?

Possibly.

She'd told him before she wasn't capable of romantic love. Had she given him any reason to believe that had changed?

Maybe. He was certain an attraction was there. But it was the emotional intimacy that was the hard part, and they had that now. They could have it all. Together.

DING!

Somebody's phone rang out, sending a ripple of tension through the room. A thread of apprehension pulled at her features. Her eyes shifted away and she froze, bracing herself for the announcement.

Genevieve's voice filled the quiet room.

"We need to get dressed and go downstairs. There's someone here to meet us."

"I knew it," Iona yawned. "New Islanders."

A sour disappointment crept up his throat. He felt the urge to pull Stevie closer, lock her in place by his side before circumstances could pull them apart again. But she pulled herself away, sitting up with that inscrutable expression she used when she didn't want anyone to know how she was feeling. "The excitement never ends," she said dryly before climbing out of bed and heading toward the dressing room. She was only a few feet away, but the growing distance pained him like the futile ache of a phantom limb.

Everyone began to busy themselves at once, creating a jittery atmosphere as blankets were tossed aside, wardrobes were rifled through, and anxious chatter buzzed through the air.