My Maddie (Hades Hangmen 8)

I closed my eyes, realization sweeping through me like a torrent. Isaiah… it was all related to Isaiah. Every breakdown, every fear he had emanated from his baby brother, who had died so tragically in his arms. Flame’s cruel poppa blamed the flames and the evilness as the cause. Such sadness washed over me I knew I would not be able to hold back the sadness. In the forest, he had called Asher, ‘Isaiah’. Believed Isaiah had come back to him. For what reason, I did not know.

“Maddie?” Flame’s hoarse and panicked voice cut into my reverie. I opened my eyes. My vision was blurred by falling tears. Flame spotted them too. His hands had been on my waist. He pulled them back as though they were the reason for my pain.

Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead against his. It was unfair that a man as pure as Flame was so tortured. It was unfair that he had to wake each morning, believing those he loved would be hurt by his hand. And it was unfair that his baby brother had died in his arms, with Flame crying out in vain for help. Flame had watched his brother’s breathing change until it expired on the eleventh exhale. And he sat with Isaiah. Flame had been left in the cellar as his baby brother slowly turned cold, then to be ripped from his arms and discarded like garbage, no grave or marker, no opportunity for Flame to say his goodbyes.

“I love you,” I whispered through my tightening throat. I cupped both of Flame’s cheeks. “You are a good man, baby. You are my universe. You are my light and my reason for living. Do you understand this, Flame?” I met Flame’s eyes. His gaze lowered, taking my hopeful heart with it.

“I’m evil. The flames…” he trailed off.

“What if the flames are not evil, but brilliant bursts of light? Light that brings good to those you love?” Flame’s eyes focused on the bath water. What if your poppa and the church were both wrong? What if the flames were not devil-cursed, but instead were beacons of good awarded to you by God? Reassurance that you are not damned, but instead blessed. Blessed, because you have endured too much. Blessed and deserving of a happy life after the evil thrust upon you as an innocent child, corrupted by men.”

I gripped Flame’s cheeks harder, needing, begging him to understand. His eyes still did not meet mine. My heart raced in fear of my words not having any effect. “Baby…” I whispered, looking at the wounds and many scars on his skin. “What if the flames are keeping back the darkness? What if they are not meant to be extinguished, but fueled?” I was exhausted. But I had to fight… I had to fight to save the man I adored.

Flame lifted his head. His cheeks were red, his eyes swollen and bloodshot from all the tears shed. “I was told I was evil,” was all he said. But in his tone, I caught a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe I was right. That maybe he believed he might not damned after all.

“Evil is the absence of goodness. Flame, love of my life. You are filled with goodness. You shine so brightly with goodness.”

Flame’s gaze shifted. He blinked, his tears falling away. There was no expression on his face. But I knew my husband. I knew by the reflection in his eyes that something I said had gotten through. Flame was fixated with flames, with the fire he believed would never leave his blood.

Rider told me it would be hard to free Flame from this obsession. It was part of what made him different. But what if I could change Flame’s belief about the flames in his blood? What if he could be persuaded they were a force for good, not of evil? “If you are fire, Flame, then I stared into the fire and my eyes found you. You were the answer to my prayers all along. You took the pain of my past, and with your touch and love, you incinerated the bad and filled me with joy, such happiness, that some days I can hardly believe you are mine.”

“Maddie…” He was lost for words. But now there was hope. When he had awoken, there was none. Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips to his. Flame groaned when I did so, his hands tentatively holding me, as though he were afraid to believe he would not hurt me. I moved my knees forward, over his thighs until our chests touched. Flame gasped into my mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut. As we kissed, delicately and softly, I felt his length harden beneath me. I pulled back my head. Flame stared up into my eyes. “Maddie,” he whispered, my name a prayer on his lips. “My Maddie…”

“My Flame,” I replied and smoothed the back of my hand down his cheek. Flame groaned at my words. I shifted and began to lower down onto his length. Flame’s black eyes burned into my green stare as he filled me. Tears filled my eyes as we joined, as his arms wrapped around me and he held me close. Relief and joy battled for supremacy at being this intimate with Flame again. At having him touch me, need me, be with me. Shivers broke out along my skin. I kissed Flame. I kissed him and moved my hand to his chest, over his heart. Flame jerked when I stilled my hand over the place he believed housed the flames. I had to show him I was unafraid. “Light,” I whispered into his ear as I moved up and down, pleasure building inside. “Flickers of light, casting out the dark.”

“Maddie,” Flame said, his voice shaking at my words. “I…I… need you.”

Tears streamed down my face. If this was to be our lives, falling and building each other back up, then I would take it. I would choose it a thousand times over a lifetime with no Flame. “I need you, too,” I said and let my forehead fall to his. We were silent but for our fast breathing as I moved up and down, Flame’s hands held me tighter with every second we were joined.

“Maddie,” Flame moaned low. I felt his legs beginning to shake. His hands trembled on my waist. “You are not evil, baby,” I gasped as pleasure began to build in my body, stealing my breath. “You are mine. We shall never be apart. I promise you, Flame. I will never lose you and you will never lose me.”

“Maddie,” Flame whispered, and his head tucked into my neck. Flame jerked beneath me, and I felt his heat spill inside me. I followed him over the edge, pressing as close to him as I could. Like this, we were one. No end or beginning. An infinity. Eternal flames burning together.

Flame held me close, refusing to let go. I felt his fingernails dig into my back. How tightly he held me. He needed me. He needed me to hold him. When I felt his tears on my skin, I ran my hand through his hair. “Shh, baby,” I whispered. Flame stayed exactly where he was. I ran my fingers up and down his back as the water began to cool.

I saw the fire beyond the bathroom door and was transported back to the last time we were here, in this fragile place, fighting hard to live like other people do so easily. “This little light of mine…” I began to sing. Flame made a low sound in his throat, and I closed my eyes, letting him hold me close, letting him gain strength from our embrace. And so I sang. I sang to my husband. I sang to our unborn child. I sang until my voice grew hoarse and the fire in the living room died down.

When I stopped, Flame pulled back his head, his eyes so tired and worn. He met my eyes… and there his gaze stayed. It filled me with faith, faith that he was coming back to me. That my Flame was coming home, where he was safe… where he belonged. Flame’s cheeks were pale, redness ringed his eyes, and he spoke barely loud enough to hear. “Why didn’t he love me?”

I did not think it was possible for my heart to break for Flame more than it already had a thousand times over. But it did. It broke harder and more powerfully than ever before. He stared at me so earnestly, waiting for me to respond, as if I held the answer. I did not. But I saw the despair in his eyes, felt the need to know the answer to this question by how tightly he held onto me. I looked down and saw the tapestry of scars that littered his skin—old and new wounds, all caused by one person. One wicked soul who, instead of loving his son, tortured his innocent soul until it was torn into shreds and cast into the wind. “I do not know,” I eventually said, meeting Flame’s desperate stare. Flame’s chest deflated. I held his face in my hands. “I love you, Flame. I love you each day and I wonder how anyone could not.” I smiled. “Because you are so very easy to adore.”

His hand moved to my cheek, and his thumb ran along my bottom lip. “I like it when you smile.” I tr

ied to smile more widely, but the sadness in his heartbreaking question stole it from my lips.

“Your poppa was not a good man, Flame. I believe he was not meant to love. I believe this because you are impossible not to love.” I kissed his cheek. “AK, Viking, Asher… they all love you so very much.”

“Asher doesn’t,” Flame said. “He told me I am like Poppa.” I drew back a fraction like I had been struck by lightning. Then I thought of Asher. Of how scared he was at seeing Flame so broken, in the woods.

“Asher is in pain too. He is in so much pain, that he does not mean what he says at times.” I knew that would be difficult for Flame to comprehend. He did not know what it was to lie. He only ever spoke the truth. “And Flame,” I said, moving my hand over my stomach. This time, Flame followed my gaze. “Our baby loves you too. Our baby moves when you are near.” I tried to not show my hurt when Flame averted his eyes, when he pulled his hand from mine. I was convinced it was so I could not guide his palm to my stomach and feel the bump. I closed my eyes and drew in deep breaths. When I opened my eyes, I said, “I need us to go somewhere,” I combed through Flame’s hair with my hand. “When you are strong again. When you have rested, I need us to go somewhere.”

Flame nodded, not even questioning where. I smiled at him and saw his lips part at the sight. “Come. Let us go back to bed,” I said, and rose from the bath. I wrapped a towel around Flame and guided him back to our bed. When we were dry, we lay back down. I laid my head on his pillow and gripped his hand.

Flame’s eyes drifted shut, but I could not sleep. Everything. Everything stemmed from Isaiah. Flame never had closure. He never got to mourn the baby brother he so tragically lost. Never got to move on from that tragedy and look forward to his future. As our baby moved inside me, I knew what I had to do. I just prayed it would work. I was not naïve. I knew we had a long road back to where we used to be. But this had to be done. It would hurt him, though I was not sure how much. But after pain came healing, of this I was sure.

Maybe then Flame could embrace the miracle we had made together. Against the odds, when we both feared we would never have anyone to love, we found each other. And soon, our child would arrive. Already I carried a love for our baby that I could never have dreamed. Leaning into my bedside table drawer, I brought out a picture I had sketched long ago… one of Flame and I… us holding a baby. An illustrated prayer, representing a heaven that waited for us to embrace.

So, we would travel down a dark road to bring us into the light. I would try to show my husband the way, hands clasped, the flames in his blood illuminating our path.

Chapter Eleven

Maddie

A few days later…

I smoothed down Flame’s newly repaired cut. AK had taken his torn and sullied cut from the woods and had the Hangmen seamstress fix it. It was clean and free of blood—from both his skin and his captor’s blood. I had dressed and cleaned Flame’s wounds. They were healing fast. Now Flame was awake, there was no way he would allow Rider to touch him. Rider had checked in on Flame via my phone, but it had just been Flame and me the past few days. It was what Flame needed—silence, time alone with his thoughts, and the need to feel safe.

I kissed his chest when his cut was in place. Flame jerked back at my caress. A small hiss left his lips as my lips made contact with his skin. He took hold of my hand with urgency, and my heart fell. The past few days had not been what I had expected. I assumed I would have had to war with Flame over why he should not cut his skin—that I would have had to stop him hurting himself, to rid him of the flames. But it had not happened. On the contrary, it had been the complete opposite. Flame had been quiet, and he had scarcely left the bed except to eat. He had rarely spoken, just stared off into space, clearly lost in his thoughts. And I had been right beside him. He held my hand the entire time. ‘Held’ did the action little justice. He had clutched onto my hand very tightly, as though he could not physically let go. His fingers were iron clasped around mine.

At no time did he let me out of his sight. He tracked my every movement. Flame kissed me, he stroked my hair, like I was the most precious thing in his world. We had not made love again. And he would not acknowledge our baby or my bump. My husband was numb. This dormant state scared me more than him cutting his arms or changing moods. I was unskilled dealing with this passive behavior. I knew how to calm the flames. But the flames seemed to have diminished, and in their place a void had burrowed into Flame’s heart—a bottomless pit that I could not reach. I had racked my brain about what to do. Flame’s silence yelled to me that he was in pain. Not cured, rather trapped in an agony beyond the flames and perceived demons in his blood. His soul was imprisoned in a cell without windows or doors. Bars as thick as columns that Flame could not or did not want to break through.

This morning, while Flame slept, I called AK and told him what we must do. The final task that I believed could perhaps free Flame from the burdens that gripped him in waves of sadness, that kept him from reaching happiness. The horrors of my past weighed heavily on my mind. Nonetheless, I was equipped with the strength to find joy in the life I had now. Flame was that strength.

Flame adored me, of that I had no doubt. But his brain worked differently to my own. I had to lead Flame to his redemption, to the fountain where he could wash in the waters of self-forgiveness. Or in his case, to the heavy door that shut out any chance of him moving on. I would take him to that door. And I prayed that he would walk through it and close it behind us. He was the only one who could. I believed he had the strength to do so.

I heard movement outside of the cabin and I guessed it was AK getting prepared for our journey. I stood on my tiptoes and smoothed Flame’s black hair back from his eyes. Styled like this, no harsh hairstyle or hands leaden with blades, he appeared younger. Or that could have been the way his shoulders were slouched, all confidence diminished. “It is a long journey,” I said and Flame slowly met my eyes. I had not told him to where we traveled. I did not want to worry him or cause him pain. Of course, I knew it would cause him pain—untold pain. But I also believed this had to be done.

Just like when we had fallen in love, Flame had to confront his poppa in order for us to be able to live as one. Now he had to delve deeper inside his heart and soul, into the darkness he kept siphoned off. He had to reach the parts of him that he had locked away and tried to forget. These parts were not so easily forgotten—there his ‘demons’ resided, the demons he claimed lived in his blood. They were not demons, I knew, but echoes from his past that he tried and failed to silence. Yet they would not ever be silenced until he met them head on. Until he forgave himself for things that were out of his control. Maybe then, I would get my Flame back. Maybe then, I would get my husband back. Maybe then, he could become the father I knew he could be.

My heart clenched in my chest. My plan had to work. It had to. I would not accept any other alternative. Flame gripped my hand as though he could sense my inner fears. His fingers trembled around mine. It brought a lump to my throat and a quick stinging to my eyes. I did not want to see Flame go through any more pain. But to be free of his burdens, such pain had to be endured. Blood had to be cleansed to heal an infected wound. “Are you ready?” I asked quietly, a quivering voice betraying my trepidation.

Flame nodded once, trusting with everything he held dear that I would not hurt him. In this moment, I hated myself. Because here I was, leading him straight into the fire. But as always, I would be beside him. Together we would burn and, in the very depths of the inferno, we would be reborn.

I led Flame to the door. Before we stepped outside, I turned to him. “AK and Viking will be coming with us.” Flame’s nostrils flared, but not in anger. His face did not show any expression. But I could tell by the way he pulled me closer, as though I were a human shield, it was in fear. As though he would prefer to stay in our cabin, just him and me, no one else near. I kissed the back of his hand and I saw the hairs on his arms stand up at the touch

. Flame had always been my shield. Now, I would be his. I would be the protector for both of us in this battle, while he was wounded. And I intended to save him. I would bring him home, changed for the better.

I opened the door. The warm Austin sun shined down on the clearing defined by the three cabins. I closed my eyes as the bright rays bathed my face. The bright light filled me with—hope, determination, and the belief that this would work. It must work. Viking jumped up from the chair he was sitting in outside his cabin. Flame held my hand so tightly it hurt when his friend moved. I faced Flame and ran my hand over his chest. “Everything will be okay, baby. I promise. No one will hurt you. We all love you.”

“Flame!” Viking called from behind me. I guided Flame out into the communal clearing. Viking stopped before us. “Flame. You doing good, brother? Been fucking worried about you, man.” Viking smiled, waiting for Flame’s response. His smile fell when Flame stared at the ground and he gave no answer, no indication that he had even heard him. I watched confusion wash over Viking’s face. He looked to me. I gave him a sad smile. Flame was not yet the man we knew, a shell of his former self. But he would be whole again soon.

He will be soon…

“Flame.” AK approached us from his cabin. He had spoken quietly, just enough to let Flame hear his voice, but delicately enough that Flame was not surprised. AK was more careful with his approach. I studied Flame’s best friend as he came closer. I saw the moment he noticed Flame’s sunken shoulders, with his hand wrapped tightly around mine. Flame showed no expression on his face, which masked his feelings. AK’s feelings, however, could not be concealed. He looked to me as Flame focused on the ground. I was not sure Flame was even listening to any of this. I believed he had simply placed himself at an emotional distance from his friends.