You Can Call me Mini

Chapter Ten: Control Your Demons Part 1

It wasn't the familiar scent of tea tree oil, or the comforting tingle of a hand holding her’s that tore Bryn from her dormancy. It was fire searing at her wrists. When the pain became too intense for her to bare, she found herself flying full force into reality, screaming.

The warm tingle that was once clasped tightly around her hand vanished. Whoever that hand belonged to jumped, flashing across the room in a blur. She didn't see it, but she could hear it, their feet rapid against the wooden floor.

In her panic she followed the figure. She shot to the opposite side of the room in less time than a bullet released from a gun.

Bryn slammed a hand over one of the cuffs on her wrist, desperate to remove it, but it singed the inside of her palm with a loud sizzle and pop.

"Ah!" She hissed at the way it charred her tender skin.

Bryn ripped her hand from the cuff and then squealed again when it reconnected with her wrists. Frantically, she swung both wrists adorned in thick iron cuffs at the only solid thing next to her. It was a brass knob attached to the old oak door of the oddly placed bedroom inside of Warm Springs Community Church. The brass crumpled against the iron cuff with a piercing cling!, splitting the wood beneath the handle and shattering it into large pieces.

"Bryn!"

She knew that voice, but Goddamn It, the pain was too great to care. Two large hands clasped over her wrists, slipping beneath the cuffs and releasing the touch of iron from her skin. She paused only briefly enough to look up at the figure. A pair of eyes as green as pine needles fret between her gaze.

Kyle.

Her chest was moving up and down as she panted. She could feel her eyes wide on him as she stared up in disbelief.

Suddenly, she remembered. Bryn remembered the dark haired girl named Baya. She remembered chanting the words that Baya said until finally, the dagger led by Baya’s hand came slashing at her throat. She died in the midst of Jamison shrieking. She was dead before she got to hear Baya fumbling, tears staining her face. ‘It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She's supposed to come back.’ The panic, the fear, the frustration, Bryn saw and felt it all as she left her body.

Life after death was jumbled, frightening. She had been lost for what felt like days, scrambling to find her way home. Just when she had seen enough of the hallucinations, ran from them in the sinister world that replicated her own, her disoriented mind created a beacon of hope in the form of Kyle.

Presently, Kyle’s grip on her tightened, unfazed by her defiance.

"Stop." He demanded. Tendrils of dark gold hair were falling over his forehead as it wrinkled with worry.  "I can help. Just give me a second to think."

Bryn's heart sunk into the pits of her stomach. She’d heard him say this before. Had he been there? Had it really been him who-

"Stop tugging Bryn, I need you to work with me here."

Bryn scowled, following his orders with a hint of defiance. If he had really joined her between heaven and home, she felt foolish for being so weak in front of him, for making him calm, yet again, another one of her panic attacks.

"Hold your wrists straight." He said. His wrinkle of worry formed into a crease of concentration. "I’m gonna pull these off."

When he pulled, the iron melted the skin at the backs of her hands, causing her to bite down a muffled cry. Bryn raced as far away from the cuffs as possible. This time that she ran, she recognized her inhuman speed. Bryn pressed her back into the far corner of the room. Her hands sprawled outward. She was so fast, so alert, so different from any way that she had ever felt before. 

She kept an eye on Kyle, who had impossibly grown in width since she had last seen him. His shoulders formed round peaks at either side of his clavicle. He was dressed darkly, from his T-shirt to his black vans. His tanned skin peeked out from under his T-shirt, and she could see each muscle flow into the next from under the short sleeves. He was beautiful.

"What are you doing here?"

Her words came out agitated. Maybe she was agitated. Hadn't he been the one who left her? And who did he think he was? Waltzing around, taunting her with his- his- sexiness.

Kyle halted; his expression torn. He pressed his mouth into a flat line. "I felt you die." He said in such a low tone that Bryn strained to hear him. She wrung a hand nervously around one of her burning wrists.

"You- you what? How?"

Kyle cast a guilty stare at the mark he had left on her. She could still feel the heat of his lips on her neck. Lust tormented her at the very thought of it. She flinched as the memory played itself out. The sting of his teeth piercing her skin was just as vivid as the day it happened. Out of embarrassment, she flung a hand across her chest and over the mark.

“You- you felt that?” She sputtered on.

Kyle didn't move to say yes or no, he didn't even nod. Instead, he grazed his fingers uneasily across his own neck, the back of his knuckles brushing across a long, thick welt that bridged from one side of his throat to the other. Wearily, Bryn stretched her own fingers from Kyle's bite to the painful slash created by Baya’s knife. it was still tender, raw and scabbed.

“Jeez.” Bryn’s mind was running in circles. “I didn't know that the -uh- claim was that much of a burden.”

“Burden?” Kyle repeated.

He paced toward her. The way his brows pushed together in dismay made her insides plummet. He had nice brows. They were thick and straight, only the slightest arch caused them to curve over top of his eye.

"Don’t say that, Bryn. I-" He reached affectionately for the hand she had on her neck.

She refused him, slipping her arm from his. He’s the one who left me. She had to remind herself. Kyle frowned; With another reach, he snatched her hand.

“I'm sorry. Ok?” He rushed.

Bryn flung her head to the side, dodging his eyes, but he moved into her line of vision quickly. His eyes found hers, and the look on his face was something that Bryn couldn't tear herself away from.

“I'm sorry I did this to you, that I've hurt you. I'm sorry that I keep fucking up. I'm sorry for everything.”

Slowly, he unwound his fingers from her blistered wrist, letting her free as he let out a nervous swallow.

“Kyle-” Bryn started, but she didn't know how to finish.

She stopped herself by clamping her lip between her teeth, prohibiting them from forming any more words.

“Don't.” He started.

“Don't what?”

“Don’t Feel like you have to forgive me.” He sounded so earnest. He'd always been that way, since the day she met him he took all the blame, all the responsibility. Kyle had the most humility of any man she’d ever met. “I don't want you to forgive me. I wouldn't deserve it.”

She wanted to touch him, comfort him. She could feel the desire in every part of her. Her throat swelled up, her chest sunk. And even though she was sure she was the only one who felt that ache, Kyle was the first to close the distance. His free hand went to her shoulder timidly, sliding over her collarbone and feathering the scar he’d given her.

When he touched her there, everything inside of her fluttered. She thudded into him, unable to take the separation any longer. Her hands went to his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt tightly as the sensation flit into her limbs. She melted against him, feeling warm in all the places that he was connected to her: Her chest, her cheek, her stomach, the center of her back where his hands splayed comfortingly across it. All of it was warm and refreshing. He tightened his grip, one of his hands moving to cup the back of her neck and the other slipping over the curve of her hip to pull her even closer.

She shuddered, relishing in this cocoon of Kyle. It felt right. It felt innocent. It was just a hug, but then again it said so much more. As if he understood the words she’d yet to tell him, and responded with this. An embrace that said: I miss you. I'm sorry. I care.

"I love you." She muffled softly, impulsively.

Abruptly, Kyle pulled away. The space between them a tormenting distance. All the warmth and love she had seen in him tensed.

"You can't.”

"What?" She swallowed. “What do you mean I can't? You know I love you. That’s not just going to disappear.."

She quickly reached for his hand again and he stepped away.

"I came here to help you find your way back. Not to confuse you."

I came here to help you find your way back. A mixture of feelings fleeted through her mind, but there was only one thing she could focus on.

"So it really was you? You found me." she paused. "You kissed me.

For the briefest second, Bryn could have sworn that he froze. "I-” He began to stammer, but he shook his head. “No, Jamison and I both tried to find you and we both failed. You made it on your own."

“Oh.” It was all she could manage to say. He was lying; she could tell. But why? Did he regret it?

“Bryn, I-” Kyle began, but Bryn’s despair turned to anger in a few short seconds.

“You what?” She drawled. “You know, If you’re so concerned about confusing me, than why are you still here, Kyle?”

She forced the words. They sounded emotionless as they left her mouth.

“I don't know.” He balled his fists as he answered.  "I want to be here. I should have been here long before now. It’s just- Everything I do is wrong. All I've done since I've become this- this monster is hurt you. I hate that you are claimed by me. I hate the way it sounds: like I own you and you have no say in the matter. I hate that even when I thought I was protecting you from myself, even when I was over a hundred miles away from you, I still managed to nearly kill you. If I wouldn't have claimed you, you would have come back from the ritual just like every other Fae.

“I didn't know what I was doing,” he swallowed. this time he wasn't as frantic. His voice wavered; full of remorse and weakness. “I didn't even know what I was."

At that he collapsed against the wall he had backed himself into, digging his hands into his tousled hair. The muscles from his forearms to his neck were taught, his body the most visible sign of his stress, as it always was.

"I know you’d never intend to hurt me." She couldn't muster up the anger anymore, not when she could see how destroyed he was inside. Bryn moved cautiously toward him. "I just don't understand this need to distance yourself from me. That's what I hate. I don't hate being claimed by you- or however you say it. I hate that you've forced us apart like this. It hurts me, it hurts me more than anything else."

He hesitated. He was so resilient, so set in what he believed was best. At his silence, Bryn added. “Just tell me why, Kyle. Why are you pushing me away?”

Kyle grimaced, angry that the point he was trying to make hadn't been received.

"Because I'm an Angel and you are Fae, Bryn.” He clipped. His words were simple, but somehow Bryn could not understand. How could he-

“You protect people and my kind feed off of them.” He pressed on, his voice strict. He was leaning into his words, pointing his fingers into his chest. “You save the world and my people destroy it. The heavens accept you and you become who you are; The heavens reject me, and I became this."

"An Angel?" She finally questioned. "But, Kyle, surely you’ve been mistaken-"

"An Angel." He confirmed. "Just face it, I'm no good for you."

It was impossible. She wanted to protest, but what would she say?

The door jiggled at the handle, causing splinters of wood to clatter to the floor and Bryn's attention to divert. The air was so tense that neither her nor Kyle jumped to help it open. When it opened, it took a kick from the other side. The swing was fierce, making its way to the wall and jittering against it.

"Is everything ok in here?" Jamison's figure stepped through the broken door, his tone accusing. He glanced from the splintered wood to Kyle.

Excerpt from:

Chapter Eight: Coming Of age (part 2)

Jamison let his eyes fall shut, flashing yet again, another smile. It was a rare feature to see Jamison smile like this. Unlike his brother, his smile was usually a smirk, full of deviousness and mystery. In this moment though, she could see the relation in their lips. His smile was like Ryder’s: genuine, heart warming.

Suddenly a loud crack echoed through the room. Bryn had never heard Jamison scream before, not like this. His heartwarming smiel vanished and his scream was deafening. Bellows of terror escaped from him and she found herself closing the gap between them, ripping at the blankets that covered him.

There was a momentary pause in snapping, and Jamison quickly sat up, sucking in a shallow breath of agony. He tried to wipe his injured face, as his hairline was beaded in the sweat of his pain.