THE FIRE SAGA

FLAME 69 - DECISION

His eyes narrow. "You can't choose for me."

"You can't choose for me, either."

He smirks. "Did I say I'm choosing this for you?"

"You don't strike me as rueful of your Sumair fate."

He shrugs. "I'm not."

"You don't even know if this will work or how dangerous it is," I begin my counterattack. "You're just quitting cold turkey?"

"I'm aware of how dangerous it is, and yes, every day is one day closer to getting this out of my system. Every day is a chance at another. And okay, maybe it won't work, though I'm inclined to think it will."

"What makes you think that?" I fume. "Look at Connor! What does he have to show for repetitive suffering? He's about a year older than he was fifty years ago and has an open-ended ticket for the berserk bus. There's no getting off that bus once you're on it, Derry."

"For one thing, my telepathy has decreased in strength."

"No kidding." I scoff. "Your head's all foggy, else you wouldn't be suggesting this."

He engages his ant army. They aren't fire ants now, just hammerless carpenter ants. How long will it take before it all stops? Before he's powerless?

"It's only been a week. Brody said he can go months without fueling."

"Brody isn't a Fire Sumair." He frowns. "It's different for us. We burn through energy faster when there's ample supply."

I lift a brow. "Who was supplying you before I came along?"

"We have a Water Sumair beta blocker that decelerates expenditure. Unfortunately, Matthew's dam broke the first time I drew your power."

"He can stop the withdrawal symptoms?"

"No, he can't stop them." He sighs. "He slows down our need. What we have lasts for longer periods. It's not a perfect science, but it's helped us exponentially."

"Sounds like a swell guy to have on tap."

"Very." Derry reaches for my hands again. I begrudgingly allow the contact. "We'll be making a tiny detour once we've introduced you to Ryan's friends in the Amazon. Barry needs Matthew's help. To be honest, so do I."

"He's in South America, too?"

He nods.

"Why don't you pack him up and bring him here?"

"He's morally obligated to remain where he is."

"Morally obligated?"

"Most of us have a magnetic moral compass, Sweetheart." He kisses me on the cheek. "We've had years to decide where we want north to be."

"Where do you want north to be?"

"My magnetic north is you."

I don't like the idea of being magnetic north any more than I like the idea of being a hope beacon. It's a faulty parallel, anyway. I can't even get two of the closest people in my life to take my energy without a fight. Fail army of one.

"Why does Matthew get to help when I can't?"

Yes, I'm being ridiculous, borderline petty. I should appreciate that someone can make Derry's cravings more tolerable, but I want to be that someone. I want to care for him the way he's cared for me.

His thumbs caress my knuckles. "You're already helping me."

I stare at his hands. Each touch brings welcome waves of heat, and I crave the flame that erupts even over the smallest tactile gestures. Our cravings are not alike. "I'm not doing enough," I whisper.

"Why am I getting a full night's sleep? I should be convulsive at this point. Definitely physically exhausted. Maybe on the verge of mental collapse. I'm not, am I?"

I wince. He knows I've been sneaking. "Sorry." My smile is sheepish. "I just wanted to help."

"I know." Soft lips press to my forehead. He seems content to kiss me everywhere except my lips. "That's another reason I believe this can work."

"You think you can fight it?"

"Sometimes, it's tougher than others. Like when I want to do this." His lips hover over mine. I breathe in his sweet scent, impatiently waiting for the connection he's deprived me of all day. Will he bridge the gap or pull away? Ugh. He's taking too long, so I lean in. The fire from my knuckles shoots straight to my mouth, cranking the grill from low smoker to high sear.

Regrets? I have some. The cost of his restraint is gut-wrenching pain, and not in the typical boy desiring release sort of way. Physical contact drives his need. He's suffering, twinning Sisyphus hard in an uphill battle against his desire to feed from the energy I'm all too willing to release. In fact, I'm on the verge of shoving it down his throat without consent just to make the pain stop.

I peel his vice-grip hands off my arms. Unethical or not, when the time comes to force augmentation—it is coming—I won't feel guilty for saving his life. As he sits silently battling his fire fuel demons, I offer him a reprieve, if not energy, a prescribed burn clearing away the need associated with his dependence.

After sweating profusely for a few minutes, his stuttering heart rate steadies. He blows out a shaky breath, planting a proprietary smile meant to detract from how awkward things just got. I kiss his nose before standing up and brushing off my jeans.

He grimaces. "Should we discuss that?"

"Discuss what?" I stare blanks. Purposeful avoidance is our safest exit route. "We'd better hurry. Barry doesn't like it when we're late."

"Forever in a rush."

"Fire's a pushy element."

He's firm on his decision, as I'm firm on mine. Hard truth time. As annoyed as I am, it's his decision. Not mine. I'll let him continue the struggle despite doubting it'll work. I won't deny him his choice, but if it comes down to necessary retreat or dying in the line of fire, I'll keep him alive. He's my life. I'll protect him at all costs, from enemies, himself, and especially from his need for me, however short or long that life ends up being. I won't feel guilty for it. Not for one hot minute.