Page 68 of Star Claimed Omega
He wasn’t sure what pulled harder, the quiet luxuries of his home or the serene allure of the woman waiting inside.
One who embodied a softness he never knew he craved, until now.
SOLEIL
Soleil spent the day letting the serenity of the lake settle into her bones.
She wandered down the stone path that curved along the lake’s edge.
The sunlight was gentle on her skin, filtering through high clouds that glowed peach at the edges.
The air was clean and sweet, with the scent of pine and freshwater.
A scent so different from the recirculated sterility of the lower decks that it made her chest ache with unfamiliar joy.
She kicked off her shoes and sat on the soft curve of the lagoon’s beach, letting her bare toes sink into the cool, silty sand.
The water lapped against her feet, crystalline and just cold enough to jolt the last of the lingering fever from her skin.
For a while, she just stared at the waves and let her mind go still.
When her stomach rumbled, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded bundle.
In it were two fig bars, a delicious croissant, and a wedge of cheese.
She ate with slow satisfaction, as tiny waterbirds skipped over the shallows and ripples marred the mirrored surface of the lake.
No one else came by.
The privacy was a rare gift.
When her limbs grew heavy, and her eyes fluttered, heavy with grogginess, she stood with some effort and moved back up the garden steps into the house.
Her legs trembled, her balance wobbly, and she realized she was still weaker than she thought.
She scarcely made it to the guest bed before sleep claimed her.
Some time later, a sound, a crack, brief, distant, like gunfire, broke through her slumber.
She jerked half-awake, heart thudding, eyes scanning the room.
The house was silent. The lake beyond her window was undisturbed.
Just a dream,she told herself groggily. Or a power surge.
Maybe even someone testing engines at the loading docks.
She turned over and curled into the bedding and sank back into sleep, this time deeper, without dreams or distractions.
When she woke, it was dusk.
She rose, splashed water on her face in the bathroom, wandered into the living area, and checked the terrace.
The house was quiet, still warmed by the day’s sun.
Santi had yet to return.
So she moved through the kitchen, grounding her mind in the rhythm of familiar motions.
