by Loren, Celia
She reaches her hands out, one to Rusiko and the other to the little girl, who smiles and giggles in spite of what must have been the most traumatic day of her young, sheltered life. Their faces are all radiant, full, and beautiful as hell.
Oh crap. I feel the tears coming again.
Now Rusiko looks at me, her gaze searing me like a laser beam.
“And you Knox Cole,” she says, “Do you have everything you need?”
She says it like a challenge, and my heart starts hammering in my chest. Is that a challenge—or an invitation?
This is probably the only opportunity I am going to get to say it.
This is my chance.
I’ve got to do it.
Ok, I’m doing it.
I’m doing it now.
Alright.
Ok.
Here I go.
Hey, it’s hard, alright!
Give a guy a minute.
And you, Knox Cole, do you have everything you need?
“Not unless I can have you,” I say. “Not unless you can forgive me, Rusudan, and believe me when I say that I love you. I love you. You’re everything I need. I want you, and I love you, and I need you.”
The sister lets out a low whistle and laughs.
“Not a bad speech coming from an American,” she says. “He sounds just like the movies, Rusiko. He has the courage. Natalia, you remember when you grow up that you need a man who is willing to say all those things to you, ok? And more, one that is willing to do them. One who is willing to risk his life for you, like this man just risked his life for your Aunt Rusiko, and for us.” The sister turns to look at me. “You, are you willing keep doing that? Keep your life on the line for her?”
I turn to look at Rusiko, smiling when I answer.
“Yes.” Somehow it’s the easiest, most natural answer in the world.
Rusiko is staring at me hard, her poker face impenetrable.
“What do you say, Rusiko?” I ask.
“What can I say? You love me?”
“I love you.”
“You want me?”
“I want you. You Katja, Jana, Tatiana, Rusiko, Mystery Girl. I don’t care who you are or where you’re from or where you’re going. I want you. And I want to go with you.”
“You want to be with me now? After running away and leaving me in the middle of the night, you expect me to believe that you want me? What’s to stop you from doing it again?”
“I’m not afraid anymore. I want to be with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“That is what you need?”
“Yes. I need to be with you.”
“I told you I am leaving to Georgia. I have to go. My family were princes there once, and still a very powerful family. With our violent father dead Keto and I have responsibilities, destinies, and an inheritance to manage there. A legacy to claim.”
I’ve always loved that she doesn’t give up easy, that she doesn’t settle for less. I know she needs me to be clear about my intentions. She needs something tangible.
I shrug. “Take me with you. Take me with you to Georgia. Let me be a part of your life, if you’ll have me. There’s nothing for me here without you. ”
Rusiko’s inscrutable face ripples and changes, the broadest smile I have ever seen taking over all her features until she is beaming at me as brightly as the sun. The happiness radiating from her is so intense and immediate it is hard to picture the same reserved, careful Mystery Girl. This new mystery, this love she’s showing me, is even more beautiful than the mysteries I’ve seen in her before. She throws her arms around me and kisses my cheek, raising a deep belly laugh out of me.
“Then I have all I need too,” she shouts. “My family.” She steps back and looks at me again, reaching out her hand. “And my family includes you, Knox, if you are willing.” She winks. “And if you’ll convert to the Orthodox Church.”
I don’t even care if that is a joke. I’d promise anything in this moment. I’d do anything for her. With a thundering heart and a buzzing high, I reach out and close my hands around hers, only then remembering that my wrists are still tied together.
“A little help for the hostage?”
We laugh, and Rusiko wrestles with the knot until the bonds fall to the ground and I am free.
I am free.
Freer than I have ever felt before.
The first thing I do with my free hands is grab Rusiko, pulling her into my arms: kissing her as deep, hard, and long as I possibly can.
“I am willing,” I murmur. “I am willing to do whatever it takes to be with you. For good.”
Epilogue
Rusudan Tsetsilia Dadiana
Samegrelo Province, Georgia
We are laughing as we run through the sun shower, the light spring raindrops invigorating and caressing my skin, making my silk dress cling to my body like a lover. Behind us the view of the Egrisi Mountains is stunning, heartbreakingly beautiful, seeming to rise straight to heaven. In front of us, my family’s country home sparkles like a jewel before the glistening coast of the Black Sea. The deep blue-green waves calm, deep, and rich.
It is more than I have ever dreamed of, to be here again and whole: to have some of my family’s land to myself, to have my sister and niece around me, and most of all, to have love.
Real love.
My body, spirit, and mind have never felt more unified—more alive. I’ve never been stronger or feistier than now, breathing my native air and thriving in affectionate intimacy. It had been so long since I felt the joy of home, that I had forgotten the feeling. And even the memories of joy I used to live off of, alone in New York, were nothing compared to the reality of my life now. I never dreamed I’d be this happy to be home, and even happier to make my own home as a woman. My own life—mine to share, to give, and to create with those I love.
I’d never dreamed I could be so eager to run to this door I’ve already passed through a million times, and will pass through a million times more. It is the front door that I remember from my childhood, the front door of my forever home.
But this time approaching it is different. This time I am more excited than ever before. This time I am wearing my wedding dress: I am rushing to my wedding night, my heart light, my mind at ease, and my future bright.
I can’t get there fast enough.
No matter how fast I sprint I cannot outrun Knox—he gains on me, laughing as he snags his arms around my waist and lifts me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“What are you doing!?” I squeal, giggling.
“What do you think I am doing,” he growls in mock sternness. “You don’t think I’m going to let my bride walk over the threshold herself, do you? I told you when I got here, that from now on, I’m going to do everything right. Prepare yourself for the most amazing husband ever. Ready? Are you ready? Do you think you can handle the most amazing husband ever?”
So help me, he always makes me laugh. What is his secret, his charm? It never stops thrilling me.
He slings me forward so that I am carried in his arms like a child. I can feel his strong arms around my body, his broad chest supporting me, and I stare up into the handsomest, most satisfied face I have ever seen.
“I’d never guess you were such a stickler for tradition,” I tease. “In that case we probably shouldn’t have slept together last night. Or the night before that. Or the night before that or the night before that…”
He kisses my lips lightly, tauntingly, making a guttural noise in his throat.
“My commitment to tradition comes and goes, and I wouldn’t give up a night with you for anything. That’s why I’ve reserved you for every night you’ve got left until you’re dead. All mine. No backing out.”
“And you’re all mine,” I remind him. “No backing out, and no sharing.”
“It’s a deal.”
His expression goes hilariously serious as he ceremoniously steps through the front door of the villa,
as if he is pretending we really are the Prince and Princess Dadiani, the ancestral rulers of Samegrelo. In keeping with my family’s former status, the staff of the house have lined up to greet us in the entry hall, and as soon as we burst through the door they are cheering, tossing white flower petals in the air and whistling. Knox remains stoic and stiff like an actor in a period piece as he bows formally.
“You didn’t tell me I’d be performing for a group,” he whispers. “I thought tonight was a private show for your eyes only.”
“You said you like traditions,” I laugh. “This is very traditional.”
He grins impishly, taking my hand in his. “I know another tradition.”
“What is that?” I ask innocently.
He kisses my cheek, his lips tickling towards my ear as I feel his hot breath form the words: “A long, long wedding night. Come on!”
He starts running then, jerking my hand and body along behind him, and we are all laughing—the servants laugh and whoop after us, I can’t catch my breath for giggling. Even Knox is chuckling happily as he dashes up the stairs, down the hall, and to a large familiar door.
The bedroom.
He slams the door behind us, panting, and he faces me with an animal hunger that still makes me feel hot and weak in the knees. We are both grinning like idiots. His face is full of promise as he grabs my hips and slams me up against the door, rowdy and wild, his kiss a fierce possession that frees and enflames me.
“I love you,” I breathe, already wet and eager as he kisses my neck, runs his hands on my breasts.
“God I love you, woman. I love you forever strong.”
His hands work furiously to lift the skirt of my wedding dress even as I desperately strain to wrap my legs around him, my arms around him, my tongue around his.
Each touch of his rough, tough hands through the silk of my dress feeds my hunger for more. I can’t get enough. No matter how many times we make love, I need at least one more. It is merciful that he is mine, that I can spend the rest of my life loving him. I need it, a life with him. I yearn for it.
I am ready for it, as I can tell he is ready for me. I can feel his body yearning for mine, restless, needing me like a ship seeking a safe harbor. I can feel his cock, hard and ready. I can feel our future trembling between us like a secret, ours, sacred.
And I can feel his love.
“Every night, love,” he murmurs, entering me, “For the rest of our lives.”
THE END
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