Flames of Fate

Do You Trust Me?

[Author's Note: Hey, guys. So, here's chapter four! I haven't started chapter five yet, and I go back to work tomorrow, so it will probably be a few days before it's up...luckily four is long, so it may tide you over for a little bit! As always, thanks for reading it, and please let me know what you think. Dedicated to my friend Gilbert, because he's ever-supportive of my writing and because he was ever-so-anxious for the romance to begin.]

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                “Do you trust me?” he asked, offering me his hand.

                I snorted. “No,” I said, making a face, in case my scoffing hadn’t been clear enough.

                “Can you at least pretend to?” he inquired, looking at me earnestly, his hand still outstretched, waiting to be taken.

                His eyes bored into me, registering every nuance: every flicker, every movement, and every fleeting expression. I swallowed, unable to tear my eyes away from him for fear of seeming a coward.  I took a deep breath and held it in my lungs, exhaling all at once as I nodded.

                “I can pretend,” I said, taking his hand.

                The crowd around us cheered. I had all but forgotten that they were there, but I smiled at them sheepishly as they patted the pair of us on the backs and shouted bawdy suggestions as we walked toward the exit.

                When we were almost there, he pulled me down a side hall and took a set of keys out of his pocket. He unlocked and opened the door, pulling me inside after him. He only let go of my hand to pick up the two helmets sitting on massive carved mahogany desk that dominated the room.

                “What’s this for?” I asked when he handed me one.

                “For you to wear,” he said, arching his eyebrow.

                “Well, obviously, but…”

                “I brought my motorcycle tonight, so the helmets are kind of important to our safety.”

                “We don’t need them,” I said, certain. I wasn’t fated to die tonight, and neither was he. His aura told me so.

                “You never know. Better safe than sorry.”

                I know, I thought, but said nothing. It isn’t like I could explain just exactly how I knew without sounding like a complete lunatic, so I didn’t bother.

                “Where are we going?” I asked, curious, as he took me hand again and led me out of the room, closing the door behind us.

                “You’ll find out when we get there. You’re pretending to trust me, remember?”

                “Alright, fine,” I reply as he pulls me out into the night air.

                His motorcycle turns out to be a customized Harley Davidson Street King that astounds me. It is a glorious confection of chrome, merlot, and gunmetal gray, and it takes my breath away.

                He puts on his helmet and throws one of his splendidly long legs over the bike. As I go to climb on behind him, he shakes his head and says “Uh uh.”

                “What?” I asked, perplexed. “Don’t tell me I have to make a virgin sacrifice before I can climb aboard.”

                He snorts. “No, you just have to put on your helmet.”