The Chronicles of Ashzaria

The Zirconia of Ashzar

                 Rain pounded against the windshield of Mira's red Ford Escort making it impossible for her to see the road. She'd gotten her license a week prior and was still nervous about driving, so it was stupid for her to be doing so on a rainy night; she knew that much. She'd left home to grab a doughnut, the idea of confection covering sticky raspberry gel over overwhelmed her until she had no other choice but the drive a few minutes downtown and grab one. And it was right as she was putting the piece of glazed goodness to her chapped lips, her right foot came down hard on the brake and she jerked the wheel nearly causing her sixteenth birthday gift to swerve into a rusty pick-up parallel parked against the curb. 

                 The dark figure stood motionless, but not Mira. There was no way she'd let the irresponsible loser who'd not only caused her a world of panic, but was, in her mind, the soul reason maroon-colored gel stained her light-blue, silk blouse. After all, it fit her well, hugging her curves with precision, melting into her olive complexion.

                The door slammed behind her as she yelled through the rain, "Are you insane?" The figure didn't respond and she huffed. "What do you think you're doing out here? It's late, she lectured to the unresponsive person. "You're in all black! How was I supposed to see you?"

               "Then give me a ride home," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. She realized it was a he when he'd pulled his black hood back to reveal thick hair that seemed dark, although Mira wasn't sure because it was soaked by the rain.

             She shivered, trying to ignore his handsome features. "No, I don't know you."

             Not a second passed before his warm hand grabbed her own chilled one and she didn't have a chance to protest the interlocking of their fingers. He was already pulling her across the street and into a coffee shop that dared stay open at eight 'o clock on a rainy Monday evening.

             "My car," she asserted, shocked by the forward gesture.

            "No one will care. They can drive around," he argued as his salt-gray eyes burned into hers. They were fire. She should be freaked, but Mira had never felt the type of passion-driven heat radiating from anyone like she had with the stranger.

            Sparks danced inside the silver and she had to divert her own coffee-brown eyes to the cashier, who waited with growing impatience for their order. "I'll take hot tea, please," Mira requested and pulled a few dollars from her pocket. 

            "I don't want anything," the stranger added and handed the cashier money before Mira was able.

             Once she had the tea, she followed him to a corner table after taking a nervous glance out the window to ensure her new car was still where she'd left it. The guy's hair was drying, it was sandy brown with flashes of blond. Certainly, more interesting than her straight, monotonous black hair. Noticing this, caused her to push her locks behind her back.

             "Forgive me, name's Saros," he introduced himself, immediately offering his hand to Mira.

             She held hers out to shake, but jumped when he took it to his lips and the burning returned to the bottom of her stomach causing her insides to unthread as it twisted through her body. "I- I'm--"

              "Amiralina. I know." His chilling eyes glistened brighter than they had earlier.

              "No, just Mira," she corrected. "It's not short for anything." Coffeeton, Kansas was a small community that prided itself on a specific level of intimacy among the residents. Logic insisted she should be one-hundred percent positive she'd never met Saros. Intuition told her otherwise.