Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)

The wind whipped around me, but it wasn’t the welcoming sensation I had felt on the tops of buildings or up in the trees. This time, the wind moved through me as it bid me farewell. The night sky watched me as I fell, the twinkling eyes of each star shining, as if to say “I’m sorry.” I reached for them in frantic desperation, wishing they could reach out and stop me from the impact that awaited me.

Far too soon, I collided with the asphalt street. The alleyway filled with a resounding crack as my back snapped under the impact. As my body broke, a fire spread through me, burning me from the inside. It seeped and shuddered through me, consuming every part of me. I could feel its burning pain eat away at the nerves and muscles of my legs, igniting my hip bones. My body protested against the pain as my head added its own agony to the fold, the fire spreading into a resounding tension that shattered my skull into a million broken fragments, causing black spots and blobs to dominate my vision.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. My mouth opened wider as it strained against the agony that consumed me. The rest of my body stayed still, even though my insides felt like they were writhing, twitching and contorting with the pain. My mouth continued to open in a silent scream as my vision began to fade in and out of blackness.

I could feel my body giving out, and sadly, I didn’t mind the thought. The warmth I had felt before, the warmth that reminded me so much of Ryland, continued to move through me, the warm feeling intensifying into a numbing sensation that spread through my body like water. Although I could still feel the pain—the burning agony—I didn’t care so much anymore.

Something around my neck pulled me, and I felt my body being dragged across the uneven gravel of the alley, my limp frame shaking and rattling against the ground. My shirt ripped and tore against the rough stones, pieces falling away to reveal skin that I was sure was getting scratched and cut against the sharp gravel.

My vision faded in again as I was dragged into the shelter behind a large dumpster. Something heavy crashed against my feet, the weight twisting my body at an odd angle that I was happy I couldn’t feel. I looked around, desperate to see who or what had pulled me into the shadows, but found nothing.

My vision kept threatening to fade out again, but I fought it, desperate to see what was going on around me. The sweet-and-sour smell of garbage filled my nostrils and gave me something else to focus on in the effort to stay conscious.

The steady sound of footsteps on crunching gravel filled the alley, the thudding of heavy feet running along the broken surface of the asphalt vibrating in my head. I listened as the steps got louder, the angry voices that accompanied them becoming real. My head swam with sound and the vibration that I could not ignore; the agony within my head swelling with the new pain. My vision, and now my hearing, continued to fade as I fought against the blackness that was trying so hard to take me.

“He is going to pay for this!”

“…already is, mostly dead anyway…”

“If only… dead… get his car…”

Their voices faded in and out so fast, I could barely make out what the angry men were saying. I watched as two pair of shoes ran past the dumpster, the vibrations beginning to lessen as they moved away from me. My heart relaxed a bit at their departure.

Although they hadn’t found me, I was still dying behind a dumpster.

I lay amongst the garbage for who knows how long, my body unable to move, my vision and hearing blacking in and out frequently. I knew I only had a matter of minutes left; I could feel everything giving out in an undeniable finality.

Suddenly, the weight on my feet lifted and I heard a sigh of relief behind me. I couldn’t turn to see who it was, but I felt my insides tighten in stress and fear.

The dumpster that lay beside me moved to the other side of the alley, the heavy box making very little noise. I heard the soft crunching of feet move closer to me before carefully torn jeans kneeled down in front of me and a soft hand came to rest on my cheek. My vision gave way as I felt the person’s warm hands move underneath my limp body and lift me to a hard chest.

“Don’t worry, Siln?,” a heavily accented voice said. “I’ve got you.”

Ilyan had found me.





Sixteen


I could have sworn I was flying. I could feel the wind whip through my hair, the calm sensation of rising and falling evident as we moved. I could very well have been running, although being held while someone else ran tended to be a jostling experience. What I felt now was smooth and calming, like a gentle rocking.

The wind on my hair ceased as the rocking motion stopped and I felt a subtle drop as Ilyan sat down, lowering me onto his lap. I could feel the slight pressure of his folded legs under my body as he laid me against them. I felt as if my body had been attached to someone else’s, and I was only getting brief explanations of what I should be feeling.

“Come back to me now, Siln?,” Ilyan crooned, his hand smoothing my hair. “I need you to see me.”