Henri
In your past life, I’d intended for this to be a honeymoon of sorts. And then, when you were reborn as a Nephilim, a homecoming. But now, as we walked side-by-side along the sandy trail which lead to the coast, I was less certain of what this might mean to you, what it might mean forus.
“I’m afraid I may have built them up,” I said, my insecurities pricking me like thorns.
You didn’t smile, not yet, but there was mirth in your expression. “They are a little bit legendary in my mind. Your islands.”
“I’d like for them to beourislands,” I said with shaky confidence.
“Depends. Is there WiFi?”
I chuckled. “No, I’m afraid not here either. The Shade Vale prevents it. But there is a dormant volcano.”
“The perfect place to dump me when you get sick of me.”
“Never.” I pulled you close enough to kiss the top of your head. Our affection toward each other had been limited to gestures such as this. I wasn’t making any assumptions. At my brief embrace, you emitted a low rumble, your familiar purr of contentment. I doubted you even realized you were doing it.
You stopped walking all of a sudden, and I glanced up to see what had caught your attention. It was your first glimpse of the ocean, breathtakingly beautiful with only a few fluffy clouds dotting the sky. The water shined sapphire in the distance, then bled into a cool aquamarine and finally, lightened to a topaz where the shallows met with the shore. In all my years, and all the places I’d visited, this was still my favorite view.
“That water,” you said, a little breathless. My gaze shifted to you, the only thing that could compete for my attention. “Is that them?” You pointed to my archipelago. Two of the islands were long and flat as a tabletop while the third was a little taller and dome shaped. All three teemed with greenery at their tops and confronted the ocean with tall limestone faces. There were steep, cliffside trails which led from the shore to the apex of each island, but they were hard to make out from this distance.
“See that red rooftop?” I pointed.
“Yes.”
“That’s my villa.”
“Avilla. How fancy.”
“Fit for a king. Or a demi-god.”
“What about a prince?”
I smiled wide. “I hope the prince will find it to his liking, internet or no.”
I was thankful then that I’d heeded Lucian’s advice and tidied up before your arrival, myself and my property both. I didn’t want you to know how I’d been living.
“How does Spooky do on a boat?” you asked, spying the small watercraft tied to the dock, then glancing to where your pet trailed behind us.
“Better with you here, I’m sure.”
During our first excursion across the water, she’d panicked shortly after setting off, and I’d had to bag the animal to keep her from clawing at my throat or jumping overboard. I’d earned myself several bloody stripes for my effort. Your pet was not forgiving.
I assisted you into the boat, admiring the way your light-colored clothing reflected the sunlight and contrasted with your skin. You’d gotten some of your color back, and I estimated it would take only a week or so for the outdoors to return your complexion to its former luster. You were still too thin by my estimation, but I planned to remedy that as well.
I loaded our provisions while you coaxed your cat onto your lap. Predictably, she was tame as a kitten—all fur, no claws—and you stroked her back in a regular rhythm, similar to the way you traced your scars. Ritual and repetition had always been a comfort to you.
“No motor?” you teased when I lifted the oars. “You’re going to row us out there like a real man, huh?”
I grinned, the optimism of the sun and shore infusing my spirit with lightness. That and your presence. “I may not be beastborn but I’m certainly strong enough for this distance.”
“Can you swim it?” You shielded your eyes to judge the distance between the islands and the mainland.
“Yes. Lucian and I used to race.”
“Who won?”
“Me, of course, except for when I let him win.”
