My head hangs. “Yes.” There is no pain, only a feeling of fullness.
His slow, deliberate thrust sends warmth blooming through my lower belly. My fingers curl into the sand. As his thighs slap against my bottom, I choke for breath, arms trembling. At the next thrust, my vision slides out of focus.
Faster, harder, wickedly deep, Zephyrus finds his rhythm as the heat builds. What am I? A vessel for the West Wind’s pleasure. He squeezes my breasts, bites my shoulder, teeth hooked into my skin. I take it all. I release myself from shame. I become my bones and skin, heart and breath. I simplybecome.
“You feel so good, Brielle. So damn good.” He hits a spot that makes my nerve endings sing. “I’m close.”
“Zephyrus.” Drenched in the heat of lovemaking, I remember only his name.
My core clenches around him as a second wave hits unexpectedly. I moan through the pleasure, as does he, riding it out until my arms can no longer bear my weight. Together, we collapse onto the sand, reality returning in fragments of color and light.
Unbidden, a sob wrenches itself free of my mouth.
Zephyrus freezes, his eyes snapping to mine. “Did I hurt you?”
I grab fistfuls of his tunic. “It’s not that.” I know only this: I am changed. I have seen the world. I have felt another’s heart beating in time with mine. To think I might have missed the feeling of being held close by a man I have grown to care for deeply. “Sorry.”
He soothes me with long strokes up my back, his concern plain. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He kisses my cheek. “You need not hide from me.”
In time, my emotional high returns to rest, and our bodies cool. It doesn’t take long before the West Wind’s breathing evens out. Sleep, however, eludes me. I have traveled far. I have fought and overcome.I have fallen and risen again. I have pushed myself to the extremity of what I believed I could sustain, and now, lying beneath the stars, I can’t help but wonder.
What if I have seen my god in another?
36
TIME IS NOT MY FRIEND. Stars wheel overhead in the lengthening hours, yet despite Zephyrus’ presence, I’m unable to sleep. I know how this night will end. Eventually, moon will give way to sun. The star-dusted sky will brighten to a rosy hue, and my time with the West Wind will begin to reach its end.
Dawn, however, is still an hour off. Moving quietly, I retreat to the damp bank of the oasis, where I kneel, my journal resting beside me. The water sleeps.
The distance between who I was then and who I am now is vast. I am Brielle, changed. Brielle, transformed. The prayers I’d once spoken do not sit comfortably in my mouth. They pile up like sharpened rocks, cutting into my tongue.
“Hello, Father. It has been some time since we last spoke. I hope you will forgive me for the oversight.”
Eyes closed, palms pressed to the moist sand, I retreat inside myself. My heart is full of tiny, snarling knots. Ithurts. That is something no one tells you. Faith is not separate from your life. It touches upon every aspect. When you begin to question how it fits, small tears form in its fabric, and the slightest pull threatens to unravel the painstaking weave.
“I returned to Under, Father, but not for the reason you might think. While the Daughters of Thornbrook awaited the tithe in Miles Cross, I stole away. My duty was to Zephyrus. But I fear I have come too late.”
Tears collect along my eyelashes, and I gaze upward, soothed by the sky’s paling hue. “His body fades. Today, the paralysis will likely reach completion. We have no choice but to return to the Orchid King.”
If I hadn’t killed off the nightshade… but how was I to anticipate the consequences of removing Zephyrus prior to the ritual’s completion? All I saw was a man in need.
“I have failed you, Father. You, who have never turned from me, even in my darkest hours. You see, I have given my heart to another.”
The night’s stillness claps upon my ears, yet I go on. I cannot stop a flood in motion.
“It was not my intention,” I murmur, staring into the glassy water, “but in opening my heart, I realized I have grown beyond Thornbrook’s walls. I ask, can I not keep the faith without giving all of myself to it? Can I not be your DaughterandBrielle?”
I am no singular entity. I have spread beyond my bounds. But I am not afraid. For that is an even greater strength, to look at something you once valued and decide,That is not for me.
A subtle breeze skates across the water, stirring the surface into shallow waves. It smells of the incense used during service. It settles over my shoulders, the warmest, thickest cloak. I do not know what this day will bring, but I’ve learned the difference between what one should be and what someone is. I will only ever be Brielle. It’s time I embraced that.
I end the prayer with a softly uttered, “Amen.”
To the east, a sleek object arrows over the dunes, shadows rapidly evaporating in light of the rising sun. Quill and journal in hand, I inscribe my thoughts about last night. Silence does not necessarily mean peace. I have learned the distinction over the years. Silence lacks, yet peace is full.
There is no peace within the desert.
With a heavy heart, I return to find Zephyrus sitting upright, knees drawn to his chest, peering across the oasis in contemplation. “How are you?” I whisper, kneeling beside him.
