Wild Things
The wild strawberries are ripening in my backyard, which always reminds me of that scene in Flame & Blade, the very first Meredith Hart novel.
I set F&B in the spring just so I could include that moment (well, and as an excuse to have a lot of rain… with demons).
And to celebrate, I’ll share that scene here…
“What took you so long?” Lyria demanded.
“Close your eyes,” I answered, with a grin. “And open your mouth.”
Her scowl deepened. “What, are we four years old now?”
“I have something for you. You’ll like it, I promise.”
She wiped a hand across her forehead and rolled her eyes. The rain picked up, hammering down the leaf-laden branches above us.
“Vethe—”
“Come on,” I said. “Trust me.”
Her hand dropped to the dagger in her belt. I took a step backward.
“Or, don’t,” I said. “And spend the rest of your life wondering what I was going to do.”
Lyria stomped her heel in the mud, a habit I strongly suspected she’d picked up from her donkey, Theo. “Oh, fine.”
After another enormous eye roll, followed by an expression of utmost disdain, Lyria closed her eyes. Her soft, full lips parted. My insides twisted with a strange, sharp, and almost pleasant rush of longing. I slipped my fingertips between her lips and placed the largest of the wild strawberries on her waiting tongue.
Her eyes opened, and her lips closed. I watched as she fought the smile tugging at the edges of her lips.
“Oh,” she finally said.
I opened my palm, revealing the handful of ruby fruits I’d hastily gathered from the hillside. A shadow crossed her face.
“Are those poisonous?”
I slipped one between my own lips. “Very.”
“Ha. Ha,” she said, carefully enunciating the syllables so I’d miss none of the sarcasm.
“They’re wild strawberries,” I offered.
She leaned closer, frowning. “Those are strawberries? They’re so tiny.”
“Wild strawberries. About a quarter of the size of the other kind, with ten times the flavor.”
Delicately, she took one from my hand. Her fingers brushed my skin, sending another current of energy through my body. She pressed the fruit between her lips and, for just a moment, I had a fierce desire to be a strawberry. Her mouth closed. She looked almost meditative as she chewed the tiny berry.
“Wow,” she finally said. “They’re good. Why are they so different?”
The scowl had vanished; now, she was looking at me with an expression of open friendliness that made my chest ache. It reminded me of when we’d shared the Mage Fire, or when she’d spread the liniment over my chest. The expression burned me, but I didn’t want to look away.
“Wild things are usually sweeter,” I said, my voice dropping. “Don’t you think?”
Click here for Flame & Blade
