Madeline Sheehan - The Soul Mate

I watched her press her tiny, devoid of curves body up against his in an obvious sexual invitation. For a moment I fantasized that he would tell her exactly where she could shove her “been around the block and then some” ass, even though I knew he wouldn’t. He never did.

As I continued to stare, I was growing more and more jealous by the second. According to Becki, Gerik and Onyx had been an on and off item since Gerik was 17. Now at twenty-nine, their twelve year relationship made our couple of months look like chump change.

I knew I didn’t have any right to feel as I did, I didn’t have any sort of real claim on Gerik. I had made that perfectly clear to him time and time again refusing to make any real commitment to him. It wasn’t for his lack of trying. I just couldn’t seem to wrap my head around what was really between us.

But watching him with her, seeing the hunger in his eyes heighten as her actions grew bolder, stirred something ugly inside of me. I had never been outwardly jealous of my two sisters, but being an averagely pretty girl in a family of supermodels will give you a complex whether you want one or not.

Both of my sisters had taken after our father: Greek born with black hair, dark brown eyes and flawless olive skin. With their slender sleek frames and legs that went on for miles, both men and boys alike had gone out of their way to stare at them.

I suppose I was an odd mix between both my father and my mother, a 5’2” second generation Irish spitfire with blue eyes, flaming red hair, and a pale freckled body with curves that rivaled Betty Boop’s. Then there were my eyes. Not one person in either side of my family had bright green eyes.

“Ah, Trin. Looking most miserable this afternoon.”

Xan Deleanu.

The guy loved getting under everyone’s skin. I was starting to think it was his mission in life. He was frustrating, annoying and downright arrogant.

Shirtless, wearing only a pair of weathered green cargos and work boots, he was covered head to toe in chunks of mud and bits of wood. A pair of goggles sat atop his mound of waist length dreads currently tied up in a thick knot.

Xan wasn’t classically good looking, or quite as muscular as Gerik was. His body was built more like a boxer, more meat, less definition, but raw strength all the same. He had beautiful, dark bronze skin and sharp exotic features that gave his face a hardness he used to advantage: his bad boy image.

“When did you get back?” I asked him. Last I’d known, he and a few others had gone on a supply raid a few weeks ago.

“This morning.” Xan’s dark gaze looked back to where Gerik and Onyx were huddled close and he smirked at me. I shifted uncomfortably, wanting to avoid his merciless teasing.

“How was it out there?” I asked, curious about the state of the world.

“Worse. A god damn ghost town full of Skin Eaters.

“Skin Eaters?”

He shrugged. “Gotta call em’ something, right? But, you don’t wanna hear the gory details.”

He was wrong; I did want to hear them. I wanted to hear everything about the outside world. I’d been in camp since the very beginning of the disaster, with my ear glued to a radio until the batteries had run out. After that, I’d begun bombarding the raiding teams for as much information as possible. But he interrupted me before I could push.

“Next time we go for a raid, can I get you something? Maybe some Midol? Or I could just offer my own services. It’s so obvious what your needing, Trin.”

It was my turn to smirk. “Xan the fact that you even know what Midol is makes me happy enough. I’m feeling better already.”

His grin turned upside down and he scowled at me. “I have a mamă you know.”

I nodded knowingly. “Uh huh, I’m sure that’s why.”

Xan pulled a black t-shirt from his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his face. Next, he pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear and a lighter from another pocket. He took a long drag, blew the smoke out slowly and then pointed the cigarette at my chest.

“You’d be a worthy sparing opponent Trin…if only you didn’t have those pesky boobs distracting me all the time.”

I didn’t answer him. I was momentarily fascinated by a bead of sweat running down his chest, I watched it hit his rippled abdomen and dissipate into his skin.

Xan snapped his fingers in front of my face as the corners of his lips began to curve. “You with me fată?”

I glanced up at his face, embarrassed. This morning’s encounter with Gerik had left me feeling quite unsatisfied. I could only hope Xan hadn’t noticed what was wrong with me.

“You know he’s only using her to take the edge off. They’ve been doing that dance since we were kids. I don’t really understand what the hell is up with you and Gerik and I don’t really care. But if you want me to take that lush little body of yours for a ride…”

My head snapped up. Xan was grinning at me.

“It’s not like it would be a chore, Trin. Not with those sweet curves of yours and that long black hair …damn fată, how many times could I wrap that ponytail of yours around my hand? Five, six maybe?”

He snapped his teeth at me and I felt my entire body flush.

Bastard.

Xan caught my fist long before it connected with his stomach. Not that my punches would have done him much damage anyway.

“You know where to find me…”

He released my fist with a wink and headed toward his motorcycles, his movements hard and predatory. Whereas Gerik reminded me of a large cat, his movement’s fluid and graceful despite of his size, Xan was more like a bear. He would never waste time stalking his prey, he’d barrel right into it, his jaw wide open, without thinking twice about it.

He was reckless in a way no one else in camp was. Not only was Xan an adrenaline junkie but there was a chip on his shoulder that was dug in deep. It made him cocky, hot-headed and downright mean at times. I believe it had a lot to do with the fact that he’d been born without magic in a clan of Gypsies that held magic in such high regard. He had a Gaje father, some biker that his mother Drina had some whirlwind love affair with. His father hadn’t been allowed to join the clan and Drina hadn’t wanted to leave.

Like the rest of clan, he too followed the carnival circuit. Xan had performed dangerous show stunts riding his bikes, but unlike the rest of the clan, he’d developed outside relationships with the Gaje world. He’d grown extremely good at refurbishing old motorcycles and selling them, amassing in quite a lot of connections outside of his Roma life. Some thought he might have even preferred life outside the clan. Or so Becki had said.

The smell of cooking meat and steaming vegetables finally tempted my empty stomach enough to bring me meandering over to the food tent. Becki and her mother Jaelle were dishing out stew so I helped myself to a large bowl.

“Saw Gerik.” Becki pursed her full red lips and winked at me. Becki and I weren’t just roommates; she was the closest thing I’d ever had to a best friend. She was only two years older than me, and had befriended me instantly upon my arrival. We shared a common interest in a lot of things, especially our hatred of all things Onyx. Hell that made us soul mates in my opinion.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I screwed up but-”

“Bah!” Jaelle jumped backwards causing her enormous breasts to bounce as she spattered stew all over herself. “Too hot!”

Taking a helping of stew herself, Becki threw an arm around me. “Taking a break, mami.”

Outside, we leaned against the back of a truck. She didn’t say a word. That was what I loved about Becki, she wasn’t chatty and annoying. She didn’t push. She was just there when I needed her and let me come to her in my own time.