Page 136 of Nemesync
Zanae’s eyes sparkled with happiness and nostalgia.
“Luna loved the sea.” With a sad smile playing on her lips, she continued, “She used to say that one day we would buy a house by the sea, place a bench where we could talk, cry, laugh, appreciate the beach and the sky at all hours, and listen to music all day long.” She chuckled, her eyes sad, grabbed my arm to settle against me even closer, “And she always insisted on drinking our asses off on wine and whisky.”
Zanae doesn’t often open up about her life with Luna, not much at all to be honest. But every now and then, she’ll share a story, and she gets so caught up in her memories, smiling as she gets lost in them. I just listen, letting her speak, because I want to understand her past—her struggles, her joys, every little detail.
I’ve only seen one side of it, and I know there’s so much more to discover about her.
She turned to me, a smile playing on her lips, but her eyes betrayed a hint of melancholy. “She would have found you insane, dangerous of course, but completely insane,” she said, and I couldn’t help but smile at the remark.
“We would have had something in common,” I replied.
She looked at me, still smiling, still killing me with that face, and asked, “Oh, really? What’s that?”
I gently grabbed her neck and drew her closer. “Wanting to buy you a house by the sea to see you swim all day, listen to music, and appreciate the sound of the sea, and on top of that, I could kiss you all day and make you scream my name all the time. Plus you would practically always be naked,” I said before planting a sweet kiss on her rosy lips.
She chuckled, those pretty amber eyes that haunted me shining with affection.
“What a smooth talker you are, Eli.”
“Care to let me show you how smooth I can act too?”
A laugh escaped her lips as her fingers traced the lines of my neck tattoo.
“What do you believe in Elijah?” She asked, looking back at the sky.
“Nothing,” I replied without even thinking about the question too long.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Can I ask you why?”
A long sigh escaped my lips, desperately trying to find words to express my thoughts, reminding myself of everything that made me a non-believer.
Why would God leave someone alone this young? Why would God let a child hug his dead father or watch the picture of his dead mother without understanding that it would be the last time? Why would God make him do horrible things, like kill the last member of his family for him to take the power. Why would God take the life of a child?
“Religion is the remedy of hopeless people, I surpassed hopelessness Zanae, I touched despair before you.”
At the end of the day I do believe in something, I believe in her in a blasphemous way.
“And you? Do you believe in something?”
Her eyes closed, a long pause marked her contemplation, and she finally let out, “I believe in destiny, but I lost faith in divinity when I died yet kept breathing.”
I just kissed her, because my heart broke from that confession and I needed her to feel her life beating inside my chest. “I’m glad you’re still breathing.”
And she just smiled, snuggling even more against me.
I could see the fatigue in her eyes. She was tired, so after a few more minutes I got up, took her hand and brought her up, then scooped her in my arms and turned back to the car with our clothes.
I playfully tossed her over my shoulder, grabbed my jacket and draped it over her back. The car roared to life, and I adjusted the heater to chase away the chill on her beautiful skin. With our heavy breathing filling the car, I couldn’t help but study her face.
Her cheeks glowed with a rosy hue, her dark hair glistening with water, and the moonlight reflected in her hauntingly amber eyes.
“You’re beautiful,” the words slipped out of my mouth effortlessly.
Zanae looked surprised for a moment before a soft smile played on her lips. “That’s not something you’d usually say out of the blue,” she remarked.
I leaned in, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose, and whispered, “I’m trying to corrupt you with compliments.”
“Why would you do that, Elijah Volkov?” She asked, her laugh filling the car.
