Ignite (Phoenix Chronicles Book 1)

Chapter 12: Eric and Abigail

Eric crept through town after curfew, heart hammering in his chest. If he were to be caught...no, the consequences were too terrible to consider, especially after everything that happened in Treywick.

Then why are you taking the risk? Go back!

Eric quelled the voice of reason as he reached her home and stared up at the balcony. She'd asked for him to come back after everyone was asleep so they could speak in private. After her father burst through the door earlier that evening, insisting their less than a minute had been enough and escorting Eric out, he knew this would be the only way.

His mind had been buzzing ever since he'd returned to base, the feeling of her bare hand against his cheek and the overwhelming sensations brought with them pulsing through his core. He had to know what it meant--what she meant by all of it.

With years of training under his belt and experience from earlier that evening, Eric scaled the side of the home. Once on the balcony, he hesitated at the door. Was this really something he wanted to do? Swallowing hard, he raised his fist and knocked softly.

Abigail pulled the balcony door open, stepping back to allow him entry. As he stepped inside, the ludicrousness of his decision hit him in full force. What if her father came to check on her after her earlier ordeal? Or a servant heard their voices? What would happen if he were found?

He realized she watched him, both standing awkwardly a few paces apart. Abigail no longer wore either glove, her hands and arms completely uncovered. Strange, he'd never thought much about the dainty beauty in a woman's slender fingers, but watching Abigail brush her hair back away from her face captivated him.

"You came back," she said, her voice quiet, but not in a whisper. "I didn't think you would."

Why wouldn't I? Does she wish I hadn't? Eric shifted his weight onto his heels, leaning back toward the closed balcony door. "Shall I go?"

"No." She took a step forward, her hand reached out. Eric instinctively avoided her touch, and she dropped her hand, her cheeks flushing. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to explain, but - I also didn't want to be alone."

Eric nodded. The likelihood of Brutus escaping from the base and returning to the scene of his crime hovered somewhere just above zero, but after what she'd been through, Eric couldn't blame Abigail for fearing the worst.

"You don't have to be alone ever again if you don't want to."

She lifted her gaze, eyes wide, and Eric wondered at the intensity in his tone. He'd only meant to suggest she could have a guard at her home, but now that he'd said it out loud, he couldn't think of anyone but himself watching over her.

"I hoped we could talk." Abigail gestured to the sitting area, not moving close enough to touch him. Part of him wished she would. He wanted to feel it again, even if he didn't believe it was what she claimed.

Love.

He sat down in the chair, his back rigid as clasped his hands in his lap. Abigail sat in the opposite chair, her brow furrowing as she considered him.

"You're not one for comfort, are you?" she asked, her stature graceful but relaxed in her floral armchair.

Eric frowned. "This is how I always sit. What is it you wish to discuss?"

Abigail nodded, her gaze darting around the room - anywhere but at him. "Um, well. I thought you might...might want to know more about what I said right before my father walked in."

Heart spluttering, Eric clenched his jaw. "You said I'd never experienced love." Or something like that. "You were wrong."

"Was I?"