The stars above the island weren't stars.
Not really.
They shimmered too close, too red, like embers suspended in the sky.
The villagers had lit dozens of torches, forming a wide circle in the clearing behind the temple. At the center, a bonfire towered like a flaming god, reaching high enough to kiss the darkness.
Drums pounded.
Low and slow.
Boom… boom… boom.
The rhythm didn't just echo in the clearing it took over my body. My chest. My throat. My thighs.
Everything inside me vibrated with that ancient pulse.
I stood near the edge of the circle, wrapped in a thin white cloth a market woman had pressed into my hands. It was translucent in the firelight. I hadn't realized that until I saw Milo staring. He looked away when our eyes met but not fast enough.
Lena had already joined the dancers. Her hips moved like water, fluid and glowing. Lucien was with her, shirtless now, carved like a god from Olympus, every line of him gleaming with sweat. She let him touch her waist.
The flames cracked louder.
"You okay?" Milo appeared beside me, his voice quiet. Protective.
"Are you?"
He didn't answer. Just watched the fire.
And then the elder raised a hand and everyone stopped.
"The fire reveals your heart," he intoned in the island tongue, translated by a young priestess beside him. "It shows what you hide. It burns away your fear. If you cannot write the truth… the island will write it for you."
The priestess stepped toward me.
"You've been chosen to speak."
My breath caught. "What?"
"Step into the firelight, storyteller."
Dozens of eyes turned to me. Some curious. Some jealous. Milo's… worried. Lena's… unreadable.
I stepped forward. The heat hit me like a wave.
And the moment I opened my mouth, it wasn't me speaking.
"There is a man I want to want me back.
But he's already spoken for.
And still…
He looks at me like he'd burn everything to touch me once."
I gasped. I hadn't planned to say that. I hadn't even thought it. But there it was.
The fire roared higher, like it approved.
Milo took a step forward. "Celine"
The crowd cheered, drowning him out.
Someone placed a bowl in my handshot, red liquid with gold dust. "Drink. Seal the words."
I drank.
And everything changed.
The music turned feverish.
Bodies pressed together. The air felt thick, hot, wet. Like desire had become scent, clinging to every inch of my skin.
Milo grabbed my wrist. "Come on. We need to talk."
He dragged me away from the fire, away from the noise, down a trail lined with flickering torches. We stopped under a fig tree, its leaves shimmering silver.
His breath was ragged.
"That thing you said back there…" he started, voice tight.
"It just came out," I said quickly. "I didn't mean"
He stepped closer.
"Yes, you did."
My back hit the tree.
His hand came up fingers against my jaw. Warm. Rough. Gentle.
"And I've been trying so hard not to want you," he said, voice barely above a growl. "Because Lena… because we're friends… because it's wrong. But this place… this fire… you"
I reached up and kissed him.
Hard.
Hot.
Desperate.
The fire wasn't behind us anymore.
It was inside me.