Page 37 of Omega Island
Senta stretched his legs out with a groan. I kept my arms around him, side by side, pulling him to my chest. He came willingly, which shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.
“You are so lovely,” I whispered.
“Thank you.” His eyes were closed. He sounded out of breath, distant.
The room was shadowed in purple hues. Thousands of droplets of rain sounded like the whole house was trying to purr, to enclose us in a world of two lovers clinging to a memory of a place they’d both been to that did not exist on Earth but only in the heart and mind.
I had a single wish that I’d met him years ago. All my strife would have been alleviated. Because this—this somehow, some way, was meant to be.
15
Senta
Iwoke to the sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore outside my bedroom window. It was still night. I stretched my limbs, the heat still coursing through my body, but at a level of simmer for now. I was sore and tired, but in a satisfying way, more satisfied than I could ever remember.
A low light came from the bathroom. I turned to look at Raimi, his arms thrown over his head as he slept on his side, legs pressed up against mine.
What a beauty he was. How lovely he’d been as a lover. I had not expected that. Not that I thought he’d be terrible in bed. The time and care he took with me had surprised me.
Had he felt compelled to say yes to me? I wondered, now that my mind was temporarily free of the flames of heat, if he’d felt taken advantage of—if I had taken advantage without enough control left in me to show proper concern for his well-being.
Guilt was an odd thing, like shame. I never liked the idea of it. I didn’t rule by it, teach with it, or believe in using it to sway others to my way of thinking. It gave an unfair one-dimensional appearance to reality. It stained the truth.
But right now, I wondered as I watched Raimi sleep if I had done the right thing. I hadn’t sent him away immediately. Should I have?
Raimi’s eyes opened, solid blue and bright, his sweet face framed in blond waves. A hardness formed in the back of my throat. I moved out of his grasp and pushed the covers away, sitting up.
“Senta, wait.” Raimi reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it down to the sheet.
When had we gotten under the covers? I had no memory. He must’ve done it—tucked us into the coolness of clean sheets, throwing the stained towel, which I could see out of the corner of my eye, across the room and toward the bathroom door.
“I need a shower,” I replied, trying to extricate myself from him.
He held my hand tighter, his knees brushing my thigh.
“Just wait.”
I held myself still, looking down at the top of the comforter in my lap.
Voice soft as a breeze, he asked, “Are you angry?”
“Angry? Why would I be angry?”
“For me not leaving right after your shower. I think you might have wanted me to. But you were so deep in the heat I—I am sorry. You said you could consent, but I might have believed you too easily.”
Oh, he was sweet. Far too sweet right now for my own good. I tried not to laugh. Not at him but at the ridiculous situation where he might think for one minute I was angry, or that I hadn’t wanted him to stay with all my heart.
“It should be me apologizing.”
“No. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“You came here in good faith to relax and heal and find peace. I crashed your vacation. I should have said no to you, but I couldn’t. If anyone deserves to be angry, it’s you.”
“Not at all. I’m in awe, if I can be so blunt.”
I looked at him now, the sleep leaving him. He rolled up on his elbow, still clenching my hand in his. I wanted to smile, but I sensed he had more to say.
“I didn’t know I could do that anymore.”
