Except I didn’t recall ever having someone make me coffee, and I never set a timer on the complicated barista-like machine. Stretching my body, feeling the delicious soreness from head to toe, I finally knew who was awake before me. The same man who had left me feeling every nerve ending, each joint and tendon,and all of my most sensitive spots, while forgetting the pain I’d endured the last few months.
Donovan Malachite.
He’d shown up at the bar and brought me home from the Onion. I had no idea he would be there, but I felt him as soon as he entered. Later, when he’d said my mom haddone enough, I experienced a wave of relief or understanding I’d never felt before.
Of course I’d quickly fallen into bed with him, and we’d made love. But was it love? Could it be?
For a fast second, I thought about calling Prim. She must be pacing, wondering what happened last night. Either that or she was in bed with my brother. The latter brought a frown to my face, but I decided it was the most likely.
I made a mental note to go see Bruno and clarify what was happening with them. Later, of course, because Donovan was still here, apparently brewing coffee. I started to swivel out of the sheets, looking forward to wrapping my arms around the man of my dreams and breathing him in. Maybe he would stay for a while? Or maybe he had to work? Several scenarios ran through my mind…until I heard voices in my kitchen.
A warm current hit my spine, and not the pleasurable kind. I worried someone was here for me to take away their pain, heating up my entire body. In a hot second I desperately missed the chills associated with Donovan. I took a long inhale, listening more intently, determining it was Donovan’s deep tone mixed with…my mother’s shrill voice.
I stood faster than I should have, my head feeling tipsy, and rushed to grab a robe, ignoring the urge to pee. The idea of the two of them discussing anything, let alone the reason for Donovan being at my place in the morning, made me sick to my stomach.
“You will do no such thing. Your mother warned you long ago, and I know you’re not one to listen to orders, but you two do not go together. I will not permit it.” Ezza was in the middle of the kitchen, staring Donovan down.
He stood there defiantly, shirtless, in a pair of boxer briefs, not even trying to hide what we’d done. “I am a grown man, and I will care for and adore who I choose. Your daughter is my priority, and clearly not yours,” he spoke back to my mother, and I refrained from gasping. No one stood their ground with Ezza. Not ever.
“You will not speak to me like that. My brother is the Minister, and you will bow down to power,” my mother ranted.
“Never again. I did your dirty work, and yourdaughter almost died,” he spewed back.
Typical Ezza, she ignored Donovan and turned her wrath to me. Instinctively I pulled my robe tighter as she glared at me with venom in her eyes.
“You will get yourself in line, Tulya, or your uncle will burn this household down to the ground. He will bring the torch and watch it disintegrate into smithereens, banishing you to a public apartment and a lifetime of nothingness. No more riches, young lady. We are a family of rulers, and not women who chase after men who are wrong for them. We grow and finesse our powers. We do not diminish our capabilities.” She spoke from the back of her throat, each word coming out deeper than the one before.
I couldn’t help the fire licking at the base of my spine when she mentioned the torch. It was reserved for the worst offenders. The elaborate candelabra sporting a flame sat in the corner of the Minister’s office and was regarded as the most wicked tool in all of Rubia. It was the equivalent of a hanging in early America. It was the one power no one wanted to fall victim to.
“To suit who? Who do you cultivate your powers for?” Donovan piped up and asked, back to staring my mother down.“No, don’t answer. Let me guess. You? Who else? Rubia is going to be around with or without the advanced powers. Why can’t we live our lives how we want? Even more, why do you act like such a fucking elitist? The torch—you have to be kidding me! For falling in love.” He continued to poke and prod my mother in a way I’d never witnessed anyone do.
My head pinged between the two of them. I couldn’t bring myself to utter a word. I knew I’d eventually meet Ezza’s wrath, and while I appreciated Donovan sticking up for me, a small part of my mind knew he was making it worse.
“It is our legacy, Donovan Malachite. The advanced powers. You know better than to question it, you fool. Both you and your brother will fall in line, or should I remind you of your own elitist roots? Your daddy built an empire based on elitism, and thankfully he had the brains to back it. But I’m starting to worry about you, my dear boy… Buying a hotel outright against your daddy’s wishes, with his money, leads me to question your own intelligence.”
“We will not fall in line, as you say. We’ve done enough of that,” Donovan growled back, his fists balled at his side. “And don’t you ever question my intelligence. I know exactly what I’m doing, and I’m my own goddamn man, for the record.”
I’d cocooned myself deep in thought, wondering how I’d forgotten about the torch and burning houses down. There hadn’t been one since I was little; I didn’t even know why the Minister did it back then. It had seemed random, if I recalled.
“Tsk, tsk. You will fall in line,” my mother threatened.
That was when she turned and started to walk away, then stopped and waited a beat or two before facing back to us. She rolled her hands together, creating a swirling image of my cottage on fire, my screams echoing out from the imaginary glass ball forecasting the worst.
“Then that is the future,” she noted.
I couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed. I’d never seen my mother use this power before. There were rumors she had extra abilities she’d honed over the years, but this…
“See, when we use our strengths and grow them, doing good for our people, we are gifted enhanced advances. My brother will see that you are stripped of yours and destroyed.”
When she turned away this time, she didn’t say a word, only strode right out of my house, leaving me there still speechless.
I couldn’t move. My feet stayed planted on the floor, my eyes centered on the door—
“Tulya, don’t worry,” I heard whispered in my ear. I felt Donovan running his palms down my arms over the sleeves of my robe.
“I have to. We can’t, you know?”
“We can,” his lips said along my neck. He placed kisses all along the path from my clavicle to my cheek, coming to face me. “It’s going to work,” he said to me before his lips met mine.
