A New Acquaintance

[Rissa M]

Somewhere far away from RhyDin ...

Marissa (the Younger)

“Hullo! Is anybody home?”

I hear a decidedly male voice call from somewhere nearby, and I think maybe if I just hide here, crouched down by the rose bushes, he’ll go away.

“Hullo! Kirin? Are you there?”

The man calls again, and I wince and sigh inwardly. My mother is not here, and I do not really feel like meeting people today – especially one of her neighbors who will invariably want to ask me questions. I crouch down a little lower, stupidly grabbing hold of a branch to steady myself, and feel a sharp pain where a thorn has pierced my finger.

“Hullo! Kirin! Cait sent me over for some honey, and she’ll have my hide if I come back empty-handed!”

“Who in blazes …” I mutter to myself, before sucking a drop of blood from my finger. The taste of it is coppery, sweet, and familiar, and it sparks a hunger deep inside my core. But no … I will not – cannot – surrender to that part of myself. Not with someone so close they might see.

I can smell him now – the humanity of him – flesh and blood and sweat. The maleness of him. But I have taken a solemn oath to never taste the flesh of a mortal, and I will not break that oath now, no matter how annoyed I feel at this unexpected intrusion.

“Damn it,” he mutters. “She has to be here somewhere.” He is starting up the walkway now, toward the porch, and I will not be able to hide much longer.

I steel my nerves, take a deep break, and rise from my crouch in the garden. “Kirin is not here,” I tell him, betraying my presence.

He blinks in surprise, and we stand there for a moment, as if facing off. As I look him over, he seems to do the same, a crooked smile appearing on his face, causing his cheeks to dimple in a way that is far too boyish for my liking. He is tall and slim – not skinny, but not overly muscled either – with eyes the color of chocolate and unruly, wheat-colored curls that look like they haven’t seen a comb in at least a few days. He is not unpleasant to look it – quite the contrary, in fact – which only makes me more wary.

“Hullo.” He repeats his greeting, this time in a more sensible volume, as I am standing right in front of him. “And you are?” he asks, as if he is somehow entitled to an answer.

“I am not Kirin,” I reply, brushing the dirt from my hands off on my skirts, the puncture wound no longer dripping blood – already healed. And I am not inviting you inside, I think to myself, standing my ground.

“I can see that,” he says, that grin spreading across his face so that even his eyes are smiling. The nerve of him.

“So you may as well be on your way, as Kirin is not here, and I do not know when she will be back,” I continue, as stubborn as he is cheeky.

“I only came here for some honey. My sister – Cait – she’s making honey cakes, and well … There isn’t much point without honey.”

I hear his stomach growl from only a few feet away and can’t help but roll my eyes at his explanation, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead, he holds up a basket, as if it’s a peace offering. “I have eggs to trade. You do have honey, don’t you?” he asks, eyebrows lifting, as if in challenge.

I sigh again. I suppose his sister wouldn’t have sent him here, if she hadn’t bartered for honey in the past, and what would Kirin say if I was unfriendly to her neighbors? It's not his fault I'm feeling irritable, after all. Full moons tend to do that to me sometimes, whether it's daylight or not.

“Very well,” I reply. “Come with me,” I say as a I turn on a booted heel and start toward the house. Honey, indeed. If he wants honey so badly, maybe he should say please.

“Oh, I’d love to,” he says from behind me, and I grit my teeth in annoyance. I can hear the flirtation in his voice, and it only adds to my irritation. If that’s how he’s going to be, maybe I’ll put a little vinegar in his honey. See how he likes that.

“Wait here,” I say, turning on my heel again to face him as I reach the front door. I hold up my hand to stop him, but he walks right into it, my fingers splayed against his chest. And then something strange happens. When I touch him, I feel a shock go through me, like I’ve stuck my fingers in an electrical socket, but instead of pulling away, I can only stand there stunned.

He seems to feel something, too, but instead of jerking away, he takes hold of my hand and stands there with a look on his face that tells me he is just as stunned as I am. We both look at each other for what seems like an eternity, but in reality is only a moment, before I tug my hand away and rub it against my skirts. I have a strange feeling he has learned more about me in that single instant than I have ever told anyone in my entire life.

And then, as quickly as it started, it’s over. The spell is broken.

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking more than a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I can see I’m bothering you. I’ll look for honey elsewhere.”

It’s my turn to blink in confusion. “No, it’s …” I fumble for words. Whatever I was feeling before – the tension, the irritation – it’s gone. “I, um – Just wait here. I’ll be right back.” I turn as quickly as I can, step into the house, and shut the door behind me.

Who in blazes is he, and what the hell just happened here?

(TBC)