More seconds. More of that time that means so little to me. And her face.
Waving hair in the water.
A frown, as she tries to hold her breath for me.
Lips that tremble.
Eyes that haunt me.
That’s all there is.
Beautiful.
Dead.
No.
I let go of the rock and kick us upwards, incensed with the thought of losing her to this. She immediately gasps for air, but not one piece of her lets go of me. The legs are tight on my waist, and her arms are wound around my neck in a death grip.
“Asshole!” she chokes out. I pull us closer to the shore line until my legs hit the ground, then try taking her off me again. She doesn’t let me. “Asshole. My Malachi.” I roll onto my back, pulling in my own breaths to come back to reality. “Hunt, find!” she spits, still clinging to me. I look at the rock face above us, one hand resting on her back. She doesn’t let me do that either. She gets in my face, slinging wet hair around in the process. “Found you. Saved you.”
She moves suddenly, tramples the ground and then screams so loudly the cavern shakes with her sound. And then she’s dancing, waving her knife around at the very noise she’s still creating. It’s sounds out again, and again, and again until the echo ricochets like a song of its own.
“Not alone,” she shouts. “Two. Part of two.” She comes back to me, gets in my face again with her knife. “Not alone. Two, Malachi. You and me. Two. No dying.” She crouches and spins, looks at the tunnel we came in from. “Bad men. And wives. Where?” One of her legs goes between mine, as if trying to cover me. “Safe together. Two. Us. No fly. Stay.”
I do stay in that moment, uninterested in doing anything other than letting her cover me. I’m just listening to her breathing, letting the feel of her roll over me like a wave of hope. Two, she said. More than one. Not alone.
We should fuck.
“Take your clothes off, Alice,” murmurs out of me. She spins to look at me, opens her mouth. “Don’t speak.” Her head tilts. “Don’t think either.” She waits, still tilting her head around. It’s enough for me to get up and use my size to help her decide. “Let me think for you.” My hands reach over my head, gripping the wet shirt to pull it off. “Let me think for both of us for a while.”
Slowly, she pulls upright and starts tugging her clothes, her head still snatching glances at any other thing she can concentrate on. “Alice?” She looks back at me. “We’re safe. I’m alright now.”
A shiver lands on her, but she starts peeling the dress slowly. I keep watching, more interested in the shiver than I am the skin that begins showing the more time passes. It stays there the entire time, showing her nerves, her concerns, and the bitter bite of cold water still clinging to her.
Good.
She should be fearful.
She’s about to feel hands she’s never really felt before.
Weight she’s never felt before either.
“Kneel,” I murmur.
She looks at the floor, slowly lowers with her knife in hand. “Don’t know why I’m doing this.” She shakes her head, snatches more glances at the walls around her. “Not for me. For you. For my Malachi. Freaky. Bad men!”
“Relax, Alice. Do you want that orgasm or not?”
A huff blows out of her, petulance attempting to show both me and her that this is under duress. It isn’t. She’d like someone to look after her, to guard her and take the responsibility away.
I can do that now. If I choose to.
Her gaze flits around the pebbles on the floor, shivers still riding her. It’s amusing. She is. But it’s also endearing, something I can barely remember being affected by through my time being who I am. “No dying. Why try?”
Unsurprised by her effort to regain some element of control, I answer as swiftly as I can to remove the barrier. “Because there’s been nothing worth living for.” I suppose she wouldn’t understand that. Money and power seem to be all the lower classes are after, as if those things alone can solve all problems. They can usually, but not our private disillusioned thoughts.
I catch her chin in my hand, tugging it upwards. “There might be now. You, Alice.” Her jaw goes slack in my hold. “If you search with me. I can’t do this on my own.” She moves, shuffles her knees as if that was nothing like she expected. “Honest enough for you?” More movement and she settles again, resting her head in my hand. “Make yourself come for me.”
