Touch of Flame

Ravina remained in his arms and allowed him to warm her. She was liking it more than she should and his scent was getting familiar. How was it possible? She blamed the wine again.

“What do I smell like to you?” She asked.

She felt him shift and then freeze. She had wanted to torture him with her scent and now he was holding her so close. What was he feeling?

“You smell like blossoms. Sweet, floral, and feminine.” The way he said it made her melt slowly.

“That doesn’t sound like me,” she said.

“The scent of someone is never wrong.”

She remained quiet and again became aware of their bodies. His thighs were distracting and she was really fighting the urge to cover them. It was too much, especially since she sat between them. She shifted feeling too warm all of a sudden and heard him suck in a deep breath.

“Um…” she tried to remove his arm. “I am warm now.”

He dropped the arm she tried to remove but the other one, the one around her waist remained. She looked around as if looking for an escape and saw another temple up the mountain.

Malachi followed her gaze. “That is where we get our tattoos.” He explained.

She remembered seeing some having tattoos. “How do you get them?”

“Do you want to go up and see?” He asked._.

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She nodded.

He rose from his seat and then helped her up. The chilly wind made her shiver but the exercise on their way up kept her warm. The path up the mountain was dark and she struggled to see where she was stepping.

Malachi took her hand and guided her all the up. It wasn’t a thousand stairs like Chanan’s temple which she was grateful for.

Malachi swiped the door open and she saw complete darkness inside. He went inside, disappearing into the darkness, but she didn’t follow him in until she saw some light.

Two candles were burning as she stepped inside and he was lighting a few more. Just like the other temple, this one’s walls were full of paintings as well. But instead of lands, it was skies. Sunrise, sunset, blue skies with birds and butterflies.

“No one is here?” She said.

“No. This one has no priest. You came here to pray alone and get some tattoos and then you leave. Everyone cleans after themselves and there are those who come here to clean regularly.”

She nodded.

“Do you want to get a tattoo?” He asked.

“I don’t know how.”

“I will do it for you.”

“Can you?”

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

She wanted to say no but since she was here, she might as well try it. Learn their culture and tradition.

“Alright,” she said.

They seem to always have those mats and hard rectangular pillows in the temples. He lay out one and motioned for her to use it. Ravina sat down.

Malachi went to the cabinet against the wall where three pots with locks on stood. He opened the cabinet and pulled out a bowl and a wooden stick. Ravina watched what he was doing, curiously. He opened one of the pots and put some dark powder in the bowl. He then took water from the other pot and then mixed them.

“What is that?” She asked.

“The tattoo.” He said and then came to sit beside her. She looked at the dark mixture in the bowl. “So where do you want it?” He asked.

“I… I don’t know. Where do females have it?”

“Usually on the back or the waist.”

Her whole back was bare and she was hiding it with her hair, but her stomach felt wrong as well. Why did she agree to this?

“Just lie down,” he told noticing her hesitance. “It will take a while.” He adjusted the pillow for her and hesitantly she lay down on her back. So it would be the waist?

In her nervousness, she noticed that the ceiling was also painted. It was the night sky. The Moon and the stars.

“Is there anything specific you would like me to make?” He asked her, getting her attention back.

“No,” she breathed, shyly removing her hands from her waist.

His gaze fell on her waist and she became conscious of her body. She fought hard not to cover herself. Back home, dressing like this would be like being naked. The only reason she could dress like this was that every other woman here was dressed like that. But it was still new and uncomfortable to her.

Her breath stilled when he began to paint on the left side of her belly button. He was using the stick to draw on her skin. Heat flushed her cheeks and she was unable to hold in her breath.

“What are you painting?” She asked.

“It will be a surprise,” he told her, without tearing his gaze from her stomach.

He continued to draw on her skin, tickling her sometimes while she tried to keep her breath and heartbeat steady.

“Are you good at drawing?” She asked to keep herself occupied.

“I don’t want to brag,” he said.

“I thought it was your thing.”

He smiled and she noticed she had an obsession with his teeth.

“What else can you do?” She wondered.

He could carve, draw, play the flute. He was artistic.

“A lot, but I have lived a long time.”

Indeed.

He was moving upward.

“What are you doing?” She tried to look but he quickly grabbed her shoulder and held her down.

“Don’t move. It has to dry first or you will ruin it.”

Dry? She remained still.

“I will draw here now,” he said touching right where her top ended, right below her chest. She stiffened.

“It is fine. I don’t want more.” She said.

“It will look strange. I need to finish,” he told her.

Lord! Why did she agree to this?

She let him continue and this time she couldn’t speak anymore. But he wasn’t even touching her.

“Is it done yet?” She asked.

“You are impatient when I am doing the work,” he teased.

“I hope you are not drawing something to make fun of me.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers and his lips curved on one side. “It is too late now.”