And he seemed to need them, too.He whispered in her ear hot endearments without end.Princess, goddess, beauty, divine little thing, temptress.
My sun.
My lovely.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
And so busy was she gathering them up like jewels scattered carelessly, she could not give him words of her own.
Don’t leave.
Don’t leave.
Please.Do not leave.
She dragged her lips down his neck, and that seemed to hit him like a runaway horse.His hips bucked, his muscles flexed, and he flipped them both, pressed her into the mattress and thrust hard and deep inside her.No more words.The silence grew with the pleasure.Each stroke and touch, the melody of breath and bodies, its own language; a necessary one when they could not say the only words that Sybil wanted to hear.
I’ll be back.
Not over.
Impossible.This thing between them had always only been temporary, a comet scorching across the sky.
When her climax hit her like a fallen star and she cried his name, he kissed her to silence it.He came quickly after that, a frenzy of thrusting then hard release, kissing her like he could sip life from her lips.
He remained inside her, holding her close as their hearts raced together, calmed together, too.This would be the last night he held her.It wouldn’t last forever.
And she wished she didn’t want it to.
21
THE FUTURE
Apollo watched Sybil sleep.Her face soft, her hair spread around her like a halo, like one of those old paintings of the Virgin Mary with a burst of light behind her.
Sybil was a renaissance divinity, pure art.
Pure soul.
Pure.
And not for him.
He slipped out of the bed and pulled the blankets tight around her shoulders.He hovered nearby until he was convinced she still slept, then he dressed and returned to his room down the hall.He packed only what he could easily carry in a satchel, then he made his way downstairs to the conservatory.He trailed his hands along palm fronds and checked the soil of the herbs he’d been growing in a back corner.
He avoided the table in the middle of the room.The one where they had their tea.The one where, squat as a spider, the device lay.Innocent, unassuming, as if it wasn’t even capable of changing the world.
Or a single man’s life.
The sky beyond the glass was brightening, but not enough yet to break through the already rolling fog.He found Governor Grimm and stroked one long, flexible stem.
“I have to leave.”A breath.“I’m not taking you with me.”Another breath.“You have to remain here in case she needs you.You didn’t belong to me anyway.I stole you.I stole…” Her.These foggy days and golden nights.
Working his throat was almost impossible, but he managed to swallow a lump lodged there.
