THE FIRE SAGA

FLAME 63 - DISSENSION

A vibrating body jolts me awake. Derry's arms are wrapped around me like a vice. While I needed his comfort before, it's my turn to give him mine.

My shifting makes him clasp me tighter, and his teeth chatter in my ear. He isn't cold. He's shivering from something else. Withdrawal. How much energy does a Sumair need? Brody mentioned it being months between feedings, but Derry hasn't gone over forty-eight hours. Has he built up a tolerance? Is having it readily available driving his need? If that's the case, refusing to augment from me has been harder than he's let on.

My initial thought is to utilize his unconscious state to share my energy, yet he's made it clear he doesn't want me to offer him that relief. Going against his wishes isn't a great way to transition into a considerate girlfriend. Thankfully, augmentation isn't the only relief trick in my arsenal. I place my hands on his trembling cheeks. They're sweat slick from his suffering. The craving is eating at him, chewing carelessly through his reserve.

As with Connor, I gently urge away the suffocating strain of his addiction. I can't entirely remove the need, so I subdue it, stopping before my fire fuel locks onto its chosen target. The pain reduction allows him to fall deeper into sleep. His breathing evens out, the convulsing stops, and he looks every inch the angel I fell asleep next to. Brushing an unruly bronze strand from his face, I roll on my back to stare at the ceiling. Our relationship is a beautiful disaster I'm not sure how to prevent.

The only way there's any long-term hope for us is for me to transition, and I can't agree to that for obviously life-threatening reasons. Talk about some heavy guilt to haul for eternity. Yoked upper back, Bro. Don't even get me started on my core. He won't want me to carry that. Neither will he want to be tethered to an eighty-year-old woman if I somehow keep from imploding.

What if I could cure his addiction? The way the cards are stacking up, I doubt there will ever be a vacancy in Hotel-de-food-source, but what if he doesn't want to live a human life? He doesn't strike me as particularly bothered by his Sumair status.

I'm relieved he isn't awake to hear my conflicted thoughts. He needs to come to his own conclusions without my meddling. I refuse to be the sole proprietor of his fate. That's too much pressure.

His soft snores aren't helping me get back to sleep, and I don't have the heart to wake him when he's resting so peacefully. I can't stay in bed, not with the fire circling the drain, gaining strength the longer I lay here. I'm experiencing a sort of withdrawal of my own. I need to run.

I slip from the bed, grabbing suitable running gear on my way out. Downstairs, my father is asleep in the recliner, shivering. I take an afghan and cover him.

"I'll fix this for you, Dad. I promise."

I sprint from the driveway, taking the course coming second nature to me. The midnight air helps ease the stifling heat. My movement is the only sound, as if the world has stopped. I should hear animals complaining about my property intrusion during a time allotted to them, but I'm granted unsettling silence.

Reaching the top of Halfway Hill, I run in place, testing my legs and deciding they'll be good without the midway cooldown. I need to get back before Derry issues an EMBER alert.

"What are you doing here?" I recognize her Pine and Ginger scent before her snarly voice. Does she think I've invaded her private sanctuary? Guess Molly missed the memo I previously staked a claim on this hilltop.

My tone is equally curt. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes narrow on me. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

The dimly lit sky creates menacing shadows on her fierce face.

"Shouldn't you be, too?"

"This is the only time we get to be free of security detail. You should be asleep."