1. You Belong to Me

A Chapter by Jordan Warren

"Do you have idea how stunning you are? I've had the most difficult time not looking at you, I must say." He leaned over the dirty table, his long arm seemed to reach for me own - though I highly doubt it was, in fact, doing this. His red hair hung in curls, long, past his broad shoulders, and he face was dusted with freckles.

I love freckles, I thought to myself as I watched the clusters disappear beneath his deep brown turtle neck shirt.

He was smiling openly at me, waiting patiently for me to finish taking stock of this strange man before I replied. I don't know, not even now, how he knew what I was doing, but he simply did. It was a common thing with him - he read everyone around him as if they were open books, perhaps they were.

"Thank you, thank you." My voice was hushed, almost as if the words were too shy to leave my lips. He seemed to hear, though, and continued speaking. His rough voice did nothing to the smooth and supple meaning of his words, as he was well practiced in wooing.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you here. I was alone, and I see you are as well, and to return to my place at the bar would certainly be the greatest heartbreak I have ever experienced. My name is Ildi, Ildi Jarason. What might your name be, I wonder?" Ildi cocked his head slightly to the right, never taking his eyes off me.

"Finn-Finndis. My name is Finndis." Blood rushed to my cheeks, and yet I still could not look away from him. My heart hammered against my rib cage, fighting desperately to escape, to run. Every instinct that had not fallen victim to his charm and ease of speech screamed at me to turn and run the other way.

Maybe I should have run, perhaps that would have spared me a great deal of pain that would come from knowing Ildi. But, that being said, I cannot bring myself to regret allowing him to sit in my threadbare booth that night. Nor can I manage any bit of disdain regarding the vast collection of memories I have of time spent with him.

Shards, bits and flashes of days and nights are held tightly in my heart. Some memories are a deep blackness, obsidian recollections laced with veins of brief light. Others a bright and multi-colored segments, fire opals with too many hues and shades to count, each more beautiful than the last. The final days were smooth and pale moonstone, cold when seen from a distance, but beneath them breathed a complex web of emotions that were carefully masked and hidden away.

The beginning, though, was cataclysmic, splitting my life into periods of Before and After, as seems so common in these situations. I have no illusions of being the first so effected by him, but that does not diminish the value of that time. It mattered once, and so it would always matter - it is really that simple.

I gestured, with a shaking hand, to the empty seat across from where I sat, "Please, feel free. I would enjoy your company very much..."

Idri slid gracefully beneath the table before I could finish my sentence, his smile growing wider be the moment. His teeth are almost pointed, animal-like. The thought was brushed aside quickly, as he inquired eagerly about what I did for a living.

The conversation flowed easily for a time; basic questions surrounding subjects that I could answer without truly thinking. This was the only time he would ever ask me anything I felt comfortable or safe answering, though I did not know it then.

As the minutes flew by, he would lean further and further over the table, but never invading my personal space. It was simply meant to communicate a deep interest in what I was saying, without interrupting me, or de-railing my train of thought.

However, when I finished explaining the mundane facts of my career, a silence grew between us. It wasn't one born of awkwardness, or a feeling of being uneasy, not at all.

We were simply studying the other person, letting our eyes wander over the details of their person, taking note of what we found. He scanned me slowly, and I did the same, until I came to his hands which lay on the table, palms facing upward. His nails were long, for a man, but carefully groomed; on each finger, he wore rings of various styles and colors. His fingers were long and thin, but elegant in the way they were sculpted - musician's hands.

On his left palm, he had a single freckle, which drew my attention almost instantly. Without thinking, I reached and touched it gently. The contact sent a shiver down my spine, and my heart sputtered pathetically. Run, run if you know what's good for you.

But Idri's skin was warm, a lovely contrast to my own cool touch. The warmth from his hand seemed to bleed into my arm, it burrowed deep in my solar plexus and proceeded to hum there. I chanced a glance at him through my ash-colored hair, his eyes were locked on me, pupils blown wide.

Idri slowly turned his hand, taking hold of the tips of my chilly fingers and brought my palm to his thin lips.

"It is a most singular joy to meet you, Finndis. I am forever changed by it." His whispered these words, and then fell onto my skin, and became a part of me, for better or for worse.

With Ildi time didn't exist, and if it did, it did not travel in a linear manner. He seemed to manipulated it through will alone; nights spent in a tangle of limbs seems to last forever. Lapses between meetings with each other flew by, which confused me greatly. I expected time to crawl when I was away from him, and to speed by when we were near one another. But, like so many things about being with him, it didn't follow any set rules.

That first night, of course, set the precedent for this.

We shared the booth for a little over two hours, talking, laughing and every now and then, our feet would touch and we would not pull away. He held my hand tightly in his own, keeping me warm even when the AC started to malfunction. Seconds crawled by slower and slower, until all time seemed to freeze, leaving us untouched. We were suspended in our own universe, a heaven of our own making that began to form that night.

My mind knew him as a stranger, a smooth-talking unknown with a crooked smirk that promised a world of sins, but my soul knew him as a spirit likened to my own. It was as if his presence was something I had been missing without even being aware of it.

The aching that I had known all of my life, the sense that I would always be alone had vanished suddenly, leaving me feeling weightless.

When we finally stood and left the bar, he walked slowly, his body turned toward me, and his hand never far from my own. We entered into the cold night, and he glanced up at the sky, grinning ear to ear.

"How lovely! I do love the cold, don't you, Finndis? So full of life, yet so peaceful." His voice was playful, almost childlike in the way he spoke.

He spun in circles, arms outstretched, right there in the parking lot. His red hair fell into his eyes as he moved, and a look of utter bliss colored his features.

There was something so beautiful about him, in that moment. Maybe it was his pure joy in something as simple as a cold night, the way he delighted in it, danced in it. Perhaps it was what I realized while watching bask - Ildri had done what so many could not, he had retained his innocence, at least in some form.

I studied him closely for a moment or two, before he ceased spinning and returned to my side, freckled cheeks flushed a pale red. His eyes were shinning brightly, he seemed to be glowing, despite the frigid wind that blew.

"I dearly wish we did not need to part ways, Finndis. But you must be busy with a full day tomorrow, and I would not keep you from your work." Ildi murmmered, our fingers brushing together.

I tucked my thin hair behind one ear, "Well, I don't actually have to work tomorrow, so..."

I rolled my eyes at my lack of coherent speech; normally I was much more articulate, more bold and engaging. But around him, my words got tied in knots on my tongue, my thoughts could not find a sense of order even if I were held at gunpoint.

He abruptly stopped walking, grasping my hand tightly in his own, causing a shock to shoot through me.

"Is that so? Wonderful! In that case, would you like to come to my home?" He leaned closer to me then, bending his knees slightly as he did so. He was at least two inches taller than myself, which made him very tall indeed.

With his free hand, he touched my cheek, which was no doubt pinched by the cold as much as his. At the moment his fingers touched my cheek, my lungs seemed unable to take in air, and I was no longer aware of anything but the feeling of his skin.

He spoke so softly then, as if it was only meant for myself to hear, "If for no other reason than to get you ought of this cold."

I nodded, breathless, my mind over-run with the need to close the space between us. This is insane, you don't know him! You cannot go home with him, do not go home with him. Silencing my instincts came without effort; in that moment it did not matter what made sense and what did not. Social convention and my own reserve had no sway over us, we were a world unto ourselves. The only things that mattered were what we wanted in our deepest and most base selves.

Ildi had a gift of bringing out the animal in all he met; he chased away our controled parts and dragged out our primal urges. With Ildi, I wasn't tied down by how society dictated I act - if I wanted to go home with a stranger I'd known for less than four hours, I would.

I wanted nothing more than that, to follow him where ever he might lead - I suppose, looking back, this might have been the moment I had begun to fall in love with Ildi Jarason. He was like no one I had ever met, like nothing I had ever seen, and I knew as I gazed into his eyes, even then, that he was the most beautiful creature I had ever beheld.

Ildi gifted me with a small smile, gently stroking my cheekbone with his thumb. He made no move to step away from me, almost as if he was waiting to see what my next action would be.

Depending on my moods, I have loved and hated myself for what came next, both in equal measure.

I lifted my free hand to his shoulder, and turned my face slightly to the left, stretching onto the tips of my toes. Ildi dropped my hand, and, ever so tenderly - as if I were made of glass - he cupped my face in his hands and pressed his lips gently against my own.

To say that what I next experienced were something akin to fireworks would be a gross understatement. It was a savage feeling, jarring, but in the same turn a gentle thing, a delicate sense of homecoming. Our lips fit together in a way that I had not known was possible, and though the kiss was chaste, it left me with a longing that reched deeper than my bones.

As Ildi broke the kiss, I kept my eyes closed, knowing that when I opened them, I would be seeing the world completely anew.