Perseus Burk’s perspective of the accidental first kiss with Rosemary Thorn

Hello my lovelies! I decided to write an alternate point-of-view scene from Burk and Rosemary's first kiss (the accidental one in Combustible Magic). I might share this with my newsletter subscribers in a few weeks, but for now, you get to read it first! As always, let me know what you think in the comments below or in messages (you can message me here, via Facebook, Instagram or through my website. Feel free to let me know if there are errors too. Happy weekend and blessed be xx

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Perseus Burk stood apart from the throng of Myrtlewood townspeople, his gaze fixed upon the darkening sky above. The safety of night was drawing in, a cloak of darkness descending upon the town, and with it, a sense of foreboding that seemed to seep into the very air.

A bright red flash caught the corner of his eye, a stark contrast to the encroaching gloom. Flames erupted spontaneously from the centre of the town circle, but it was no ordinary blaze; it danced with an otherworldly fervour, casting a bewitching glow that pulsed with life.

He felt the pulse of the fiery magic as it began to weave through the crowd, its tendrils of power stirring a sense of excitement within the townspeople that resonated through the very ground beneath their feet. It was a wild, untamed energy that beckoned to something long-buried within him, a call to revel in the abandon of magic. The air was thick with it, a heady scent that promised exhilaration and danger in equal measure.

From his vantage point, his eyes sought her out—the woman who had haunted his mind since their very first meeting—Rosemary Thorn. She wasn’t among those gathered outside, no, but he found her. Her face visible through the window of the tea shop, her eyes wide with alarm.

He noticed the protective tilt of her body towards her daughter, Athena. Despite her frequent states of befuddled confusion, there was a strength in Rosemary, a fierce determination that Perseus Burk had come to both admire and respect.

As the flames flared higher, painting the night with wild strokes of red and orange, Perseus felt the magic in the air, a tangible force that tugged at his senses. It had been centuries since he had felt such a pull, a call to revel in the chaos of untamed power. The villagers were enthralled by the magic of the fire; it was a fiery enchantment that made the heart race and the spirit soar.

But Perseus was no mere mortal to be swayed by its seductive dance. He watched, his ancient eyes seeing more than the spectacle before him, understanding the peril it posed.

Rosemary, too, was powerful enough to withstand the fire’s seduction.

She burst from the tea shop, her determination etched in every line of her body.

Perseus felt an urge to step forward, to join her in her quest to quell the magical flames. But he held back, shrouded in the anonymity that had always been his shield.

The scene of chaos unfolded before him, and at its centre was Rosemary.

He watched as Rosemary grappled with the obstinate fire hydrant, full of determination amidst the playful energy that swirled in the air, her every movement defying the chaos that sought to engulf the town.

He felt an unfamiliar tug at the edges of his composure, a desire to step forward and lend his strength to her cause.

His eyes were fixed on Rosemary as she wrestled with the fire hydrant, her determination as clear as the bright flames illuminating the square. When the hydrant finally relented with a clunk and a gurgle, releasing a torrent that drenched her but failed to reach the fire, he heard her muttered commendation to the inanimate object.

The fire burned brighter, and the only thing he could think about way getting Rosemary to safety.

It was then, with the danger escalating, that his concern overcame his restraint.

"Rosemary! Get out of there!" he called out, his voice laced with a blend of urgency and an ancient calm that usually commanded attention.

His warning prompted an immediate reaction, but not the one he had anticipated.

Rosemary spun, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and something fiercer, and suddenly Perseus found himself right in the midst of the chaos he'd sought to quell.

"You get out of here!" she yelled, turning to face him. The intensity in her eyes told him he was the last person she wished to see, resonating with a dissonance he rarely experienced.

"Rosemary?" he queried, his voice low, seeking to understand her turmoil.

Her grimace was a blow, her words a mix of personal conflict and a plea for him to depart.

"It’s bad enough having to sort out my own dramas involving you,” she grumbled. “Let alone you actually being here in person."

Her statement hung between them in the rising tension.

"What are you talking about?" he pressed, but she was already dismissing him, asserting her control over the situation. Yet, as she spoke, her eyes betrayed a different kind of hunger, one that he found compelling.

The moment shifted, and suddenly her hands were on him, clutching at his shirt collar, igniting a cascade of sensations he'd long forgotten.

"Rosemary, what do you think you’re doing?" he managed.

She silenced him with action, pulling him closer, her lips meeting his own in a way he was entirely unprepared to resist.

The kiss was as shocking as a thunderclap in a clear sky, and it struck Perseus Burk with brutal force.

For a moment, he was no longer the observer, the eternal outsider to human follies and affections. He was part of the scene, as entangled in the web of sudden, fiery passion as any man of flesh and blood could be.

Rosemary's lips were a soft counterpoint to the hard lines of his existence. The warmth of her, the vital pulse of her heart against his chest, was a siren call to the humanity that slumbered deep within his soul.

But as quickly as the connection was made, it was severed. Rosemary's withdrawal was a sharp snap back to reality, the shock in her eyes a mirror to the astonishment that surely showed in his own.

The moment of vulnerability hung between them, a delicate bubble that had burst too soon.

"Oh no...Oh no, no, no! What have I done?" The horror in her voice was mirrored in his reaction, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable facade. But how could he possibly regret such a perfect moment of connection, magically charged thought it might have been? Though the flames may have influenced them, the desire was all too real beneath the haze of seductive magic and Perseus knew it in his bones.

A growl cut through the air.

Perseus’ gaze shifted just in time to see Liam approaching, taking in the bookstore owner's aggressive stance.

He cleared his throat, preparing to address the situation, but Rosemary was quicker, her magic flaring out protectively.

"You're obviously not affected by this magic," Rosemary muttered, pushing him away, her face betraying a storm of desire, confusion, and embarrassment.

Perseus felt a twinge of empathy; her mortification was palpable, and he knew too well the weight of many eyes upon him.

Liam lunged forward, and Perseus prepared to meet the challenge but found it was already diffused by a defensive blast from Rosemary, sending Liam tumbling backwards.

Another growl, this one from the fire, drew their attention back to the magical threat. "What...was that?" Rosemary's question was almost rhetorical, her focus shifting to the flames.

Perseus watched, silent now, as she commanded the water with renewed vigour, her actions precise and powerful. The water arced, redirected by her will, and Perseus found himself, along with Rosemary and Liam, in the path of the deluge.

The fire sizzled and hissed, a great cloud of steam marking the end of the magical blaze.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the fire was extinguished, leaving behind nothing but the memory of heat and the scent of charred magic in the air.

As the steam cleared, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the grass, Burk shared in the collective relief.

"That was a close call," Rosemary said.

Perseus remained still, his clothes clinging to his frame.

Rosemary’s cheeks were still flushed, scarlet, in embarrassment now, rather than desire. He felt a pang of empathy for her plight, understanding all too well the burden of public scrutiny.

For a fleeting moment, he considered reaching out, offering a word of support or a gesture of solidarity. But the wisdom of his years held him back, recognising that some moments required solitude to process, and Rosemary's strength would find its way through the vulnerability.

He watched as Rosemary composed herself, her strength evident even in the face of her embarrassment. And as she contemplated her next move, he knew his role was to withdraw, to return to the shadows from whence he came, always observing, always waiting.

In the quiet aftermath, as the last wisps of steam rose into the night air, Perseus Burk stood apart from the dissipating crowd. The fire was a reminder of the potent allure of raw power, the thrill of chaos, and the seductive dance of danger. He knew then, with absolute certainty, that he would never be able to forget the even more potent allure of Rosemary Thorn.