Faith In Cinnamon. [HOLD]

Among the notable things about fire is that it also requires oxygen to burn - exactly like its enemy, life.  Thereby are life and flames so often compared.  ~Otto Weininger

I am not surprised when school is cancelled.

I tell my father I will be spending the break with my mother, so he could go ahead and go visit his parents for the holidays. I told my mother I was spending it with my father.

They hate each other so they refused to call each other and confirm the arrangement.
Exactly what I planned.

Dad leaves after dinner and Damian and I watch a movie like we orridginally planned to, before he let it slip that he’s the spawn of satan.

He has his arm drapped over me. I hardly see what’s on the screen. I wonder how long the fall of love is. It took moments to fall into it, will it last years, forever, an endless fall?

When the credits start, I look over at him. He smiles. “You own a bathing suit. Go put it on.”

I eye him suspicisouly. “It’s almost midnight.”

“You own a hot tub.”

“It’s broken.”

“Please.”

Of course.

My father, the purity lord, bought my swimwear. It’s one piece, with connecting skirt. Although if he’d had it his way, it’d be a turtle neck as well.

I try and tug the skirt off with no success. I don’t know why he even forced me into a one piece. It’s not like I went swimming with the church or friends.

I look in my full length mirror, and notice the ring of gold around my eyes was more dominant that normal. It took my mind off of the stupid skirt.

“Damian?” I called around the living room, and then stepped out onto the deck. “Damian?” I whisper again, already freezing in the wind.

“Darling?” He steps out from the shadow of the house to the right of me.

His pale chest looking even whiter in the moon light, and his eyes more maroon in the night. The muscles on his abs stretched and symmetrical, and very distracting.  “Wow.” Slips from my mouth, as he takes another long stride towards me.

He smiles up the right side of his face again. “You look uncomfortable. Here.”

He raised his arm, and flicked his middle and pointer finger. The skirt flew off behind me, and the area covering my stomach vanished in a small gust of wind. My rebellious naval ring loose in the breeze. The main reason I didn’t totally object to the one piece. My father would have a stroke if he saw.

“Telekensis?” I ask.
“Hm.” He smiles. “I like the new add on.” Damian says, taking another stride towards me, reaching out, and tracing the piercing with his pointer finger.

“Thanks.” I bite my tongue to try and contain the monstrous smile across my cheeks. My face is now burning up despite the cold November breeze surrounding us on my back porch balcony.

“Feel less awkward?” He stands up, and I realize he’s about six feet. Just a little shorter than my dad.

Six foot left wing. Six feet tall. Six foot right wing. 666.

“Sure,” although I am completely melting inside. Staring at his chiseled attributes making me more self cautious than I thought I would have been.

“Excellent. For you are tempting the lord of temptation. Come.”

When the word lord slipped from his lips, my spine went ridged, and my whole body itched in a pleasant, exciting way.  I enjoyed hearing of his power, of his title, of his love for me despite the power.

He slips his fingers into the spaces between mine and squeezes. I immediately become much warmer and much more aware of his skin on mine. He steps up to the hot tub my mother invested in when she still lived here. He places a leg in, and the water starts to steam, magically working again.

“You’re telekinesis can fix broken hot tubs?” I ask as he places another leg in, and turns to lower me in.

“It could, but that’s not necessary. I have a natural redolence of heat.”

“So I’ve noticed.” I let him take me into the hot tub, and the warmth of the water makes all my muscles relax. He sits down and makes me sit right up next to him. The water sparkling in the moon light a lot like his skin.

He lifted his left arm from the water and brushes his fingers through his hair, revealing his horns for a brief moment and the embossed birthmark on his wrist, reminding me who he is, making my skin crawl enthusiastically, and then brought his hand back into mine.