“There’s nothing for me there.”
“But your friends? Your parents?”
“Not there anymore.”
She bit her lip and looked away. He said he’d tell her everything. Patience, Liv. Give him some time. He was already telling her things about himself.
For a hermit and a recluse, he’d begun to open up. In fact, for a hermit, he was too damn handsome.
And she was in too damn deep.
***
Kirsten and Markus settled in the back of the pickup, talking excitedly about the monastery and cave they’d visited, located on steep hills over the sea. Markus passed her the camera to see pictures. It was impressive, though it couldn’t compare to Balos where Kai had taken her.
Kai’s presence might have played a role, too. Maybe. She hid a smile.
“Hey, man.” Markus reached around the seat to shake Kai’s hand. “What’s up?”
“Where are we going?” Kirsten folded her arms behind Olivia’s head and leaned forward so she could speak in her ear. “You look happy,” she whispered.
Olivia batted at her, exasperated and unable to stop grinning.
“There’s a very good place I know,” Kai said, setting off and turning east. “You’ll see. The food is typical Cretan.”
“Sounds good,” Kirsten purred.
Markus recounted their hike to the cave inside which a chapel had been built in the Middle Ages. Meanwhile, Kai drove in the cool night air on quiet roads in the countryside with the dark shapes of trees outlined against the starry sky. The cicadas still sang, their song more subdued as the truck climbed higher on the hills, a scent of oregano and thyme wafting through the rolled-down windows, mingling with Kai’s musk.
“What’s that?” Markus said suddenly, half rising and leaning over to point. “Looks like a bridge.”
“It’s an aqueduct,” Kai said. “Ottoman, although the original one was Roman.”
It stretched over a riverbed, its high arches illuminated faintly by the lights of a taverna that perched like a bird on the side.
“Wow,” Markus breathed. “Very cool.”
Kirsten fairly hung out the window as they approached, Markus wedged between her and the back of the seat, snapping pictures with his super camera.
Kai drove the truck into the parking lot — a field with a couple cars already standing under the lights of the taverna. Steep steps led up to a terrace which overlooked the dry riverbed and the aqueduct.
Kirsten and Markus bounded up like little children, chattering in German about how to take the best photo of the place and which one of their friends back home would love to be there.
Hopping out of the truck, Olivia went around to join Kai who was running his hand through his messy short hair.
“It’s a fantastic place,” she whispered, taking his hand, and was rewarded with one of his faint smiles. “Do you come here often?”
He shook his head and tugged her up the steps to the terrace, below which the lit-up aqueduct stretched like a ship in a dark harbor.
Markus came over and clapped Kai on the back. “Great choice, man.”
Kai seemed to relax a little.
They took up a table right over the aqueduct and a young girl arrived to take their order. She only spoke Greek and apparently there were exactly ten dishes listed on the menu, their names unfamiliar.
“They’re typical dishes from here,” Kai explained, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. “I know there isn’t much choice but I thought you might like to try them.”
“Yes, please.” Kirsten beamed.
“Whatever you like.” Markus didn’t even look up from his camera. He was still taking pictures of the aqueduct.
“Let’s have everything,” Olivia said. “A bit of everything, I mean. And salad.”
Kirsten arched a brow. “Olivia in the mood to eat? A miracle.”
Olivia glared, her face heating, but Kirsten didn’t seem affected. She had become immune, obviously.
“You don’t normally like eating?” Kai looked from one to the other, frowning.
“She doesn’t, so watch it when you’re with her,” Kirsten said, oblivious to Olivia’s dark glower. “She tends to skip meals, especially when she’s stressed. She almost stopped eating when—”
Olivia kicked Kirsten hard.
Kai’s eyes were a bit wide. He shook his head. “I had no idea. We didn’t eat much when we were away. I—”
“I’m fine. I mean, I eat.” Olivia avoided Kirsten’s wounded look. “And we did eat together. You took me to that taverna and we had fish.” When Kai seemed about to say something more, she glanced around for the girl. “Should we order? I’m starving.”
***
An hour later, the table was littered with polished dishes, bread crumbs and half-full wine glasses. They’d tried a pie filled with a sort of wild grass, rabbit stew, lamb with a bitter green accompaniment, fried mushrooms and a huge salad with goat cheese. Olivia couldn’t remember what else she’d eaten but between Kai surreptitiously pushing dishes her way, and Kirsten not so surreptitiously, she was stuffed. She could start renting her stomach to be used as a drum for pagan rituals.
Okay, maybe she was a bit drunk, too. The wine was local, white, dry and crisp, and it flowed easily down one’s throat. Sneaky wine.
Olivia giggled to herself. She knew she should be more worried about the way she felt toward Kai, about leaving soon, about his secrets and the angry sea. But everything looked fine right now, with the foliage of olive trees rustling below and Kai’s smiling eyes across from her.
“Cheers”, she said, raising her glass.
Kai nodded, raising his, which, she noticed, was still full.
“You’re not drinking,” she said.
“I don’t drink.” He shrugged. “Besides, I’m the driver.”
“Good thinking,” Kirsten said, chewing on a cheese pie. “You don’t drink at all?”
He shook his head, turned the glass in his hands. “Haven’t in a long while.”
Markus put down his camera. He’d been snapping photos all evening. “I sense a story there.”
“Not really,” Kai said.
“What is past is prologue,” Kirsten said, waving a hand vaguely at him.
Kai lifted a brow, glancing at Olivia as if in question.
“Try to ignore her,” Markus said. “She’s a Shakespeare-maniac. Wine only makes her condition worse.”
“Yeah, we’ve been looking for a cure,” Olivia said. “It’s a terrible disease.”
“You could sonnet me to death,” Kirsten suggested. “Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all, wherein I should your great deserts repay, forgot upon your dearest love to call, whereto all bonds do tie me day by day.”
“See what I mean?” Markus sighed.
“She can quote Shakespeare all day,” Olivia said, sipping her now lukewarm wine.
“Is that a challenge?” Kirsten grinned.
“Oh god, no.” Olivia rolled her eyes.
“So tell me, Kai,” Markus said, turning his back to Kirsten, “are you Cretan?”
“My father’s side.”
“Now I sense a romantic story,” Markus said, tapping his fingers on his lips. “How did your parents meet?”
“At an archaeological dig. Not far from here.” Kai shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His jaw tightened.
“Your father’s an archaeologist?” Kirsten leaned forward, and Kai nodded.
Was that why he knew about the ancient religions and the temples? “My mother’s the manager of a pharmaceutical company.” Olivia shrugged. “Specialized drugs for rare diseases. And my dad’s an attorney.” Boring, safe jobs. Taking up most of their time and energy. Jobs they didn’t like but did anyway.
“Kirsten’s mother is an actress,” Markus said. “Hence the obsession.”
“By that sin fell the angels,” Kirsten slurred.
“She’s drunk.” Markus said.
“It is the stars, the
stars above us, govern our conditions,” Kirsten said thoughtfully, staring into her empty glass. “And thou, of the sea... What seest thou else in the dark backward and abysm of time?”
“Maybe we should drink to that?” Olivia raised her glass. “To the abysm of time!”
“To the abysm,” Markus said solemnly. “And the abyss. And all the dark backward.”
“We all were sea-swallowed, though some cast again.”
“Enough of your sonnets.” Markus picked up his camera again.
“Actually, this is from The Tempest,” Kai whispered. “Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air.”
Olivia gaped at him. Seriously?
“I long to hear the story of your life, which must captivate the ear strangely,” Kirsten said.
“I’ll second that,” Markus said.
“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.” Kai’s gaze was distant, looking inward.
“I know this one,” Olivia muttered. Why were they still quoting The Tempest?
“And then, in dreaming, the clouds methought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again,” Kirsten replied.
“This is getting depressing,” Markus observed. “Kai, was your mother a literature professor or something?”
Kai said nothing, his fingers clenching around the stem of his wine glass.
“The abyss is beautiful,” Markus waved a hand in the air, “and your fears swim deep, flashing their fins.”
“Myra Crow?” Olivia cocked her head to the side.
Kai made a hacking sound, as if he was choking. As she watched, the blood drained from his face.
“What’s wrong?” Olivia frowned. “Kai?”
But he didn’t seem to hear her; he was staring at Markus.
“Full fathom five thy father lies,” Kirsten whispered. “Of his bones are coral made; those are pearls that were his eyes: nothing of him that doth fade, but doth suffer a sea-change into something rich and strange.”
Kai pushed back his chair and got up, upturning his glass of wine. “Excuse me,” he stammered and strode toward the restaurant.
What the hell? Olivia got up, starting after him.
“What did you say to him?” Markus was asking.
“Not me.” Kirsten sighed. “Shakespeare.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
For my part, it was Greek to me.
Shakespeare
The words were thin and hollow.
Myra Crow
“Kai?” Olivia entered what looked like a kitchen, with pots bubbling on stoves and counters with chopped vegetables on slabs.
A cat hissed and ran out. Olivia followed its trembling tail outside to a back terrace, facing toward the road and the coast. Olive trees cast ominous shadows across the terrace, their leaves silvery when caught in a moonbeam.
Kai stood there, hunched over the rail, a hand on his head. His posture screamed wrong and she hastened to his side. The happy fuzz of alcohol was quickly evaporating. “Kai. Are you okay?”
He straightened. “Yeah, I’m...” He struggled to breathe, his face still pale and drawn. “Sorry.”
“Jesus, Kai.” She stepped closer, laid a hand on his back. His heartbeat raced under her fingertips. “Are you asthmatic?”
He shook his head, rubbed his chest. “It will pass.”
In fact, he looked like he was having a panic attack. “What scared you?”
He stilled and she didn’t think he would answer, but he did, his voice a whisper. “Memory.”
“Of what?” She tried to gather her thoughts. “This doesn’t have to do with the sea.”
“Everything,” he said, pulling away, “has to do with the sea.”
“I don’t.”
He gave a shaky laugh. “I don’t know what you are.”
“Never seen a girl before?” She slipped an arm around him. “Terrestrial? Two legs, no fishtail?”
He turned into her hold, wrapping his arms around her waist. “There will be a price to pay for having you here. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Is this because of what the guys said? I know they’re odd, okay? You saw Kirsten with her Shakespeare craze, and well, Markus has this new obsession with Myra Crow and...”
He shuddered against her, his breath stuttering. “Stop.”
“God, what happened to you?” Olivia whispered, rubbing circles on his broad back.
“Can’t, dammit. Not tonight.”
“Hey, I’m sorry.” She didn’t know how to help. “Forget it. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I want to.” He closed his eyes. “And I will. But please, not tonight.”
“Not tonight.” She thought she heard the sound of the sea, even though she couldn’t see it. The hills towered on either side, darker than the night sky.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, his arms tightening around her. “I want to do it in daylight. Not in the dark.”
“And far from the sea,” she said, breathing him in, his saltiness and pine scent. “Someplace land-bound.”
He nodded, his cheek resting on her hair. “I’m so fucked-up, Liv. How can you even pretend to believe—?”
“Kiss me,” she said, rising on tip-toe, pulling him down, and he did, moaning softly against her lips. “Hold me.”
His hands moved down her back, down to her hips. He kissed her again, slow and soft, then hard and wild, teeth scraping and tongues exploring.
Yeah, like that. It made her body heat, her blood sing.
“Liv,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her throat. “I don’t want to think tonight. Don’t want to remember.”
Some nights were made for forgetting. So she nodded, clutching his arms, holding on tight.
***
They drove back to the hotel in silence and parked in Kai’s customary place. Kirsten and Markus thanked Kai and kissed Olivia goodnight. It was a subdued conclusion to the evening. Kirsten was still wobbly on her feet and Markus guided her to the hotel entrance, stealing glances over his shoulder at Olivia, clearly not happy with leaving her there. He’d obviously liked Kai, but was against her spending more time with him.
Tough.
She waved goodbye and turned toward Kai. He caught her hand, studying it, his gaze traveling up, following every curve, heating her skin like a physical caress.
“My place?” he whispered and she nodded, letting him lead her up the path to his cabin. She wanted to sink into his world, to see what he saw and feel what he felt.
The sea boomed on the rocks below. The door creaked when he pushed it open. He released her to light the lamp and a breeze fluttered the old fishermen nets hanging over the windows. A gecko slithered up a wall, a pale streak.
Kai reached behind his head, pulling off his t-shirt, and the light picked out the muscles playing across his back. He toed off his shoes and turning gave her a sidelong glance, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones.
She bent to undo the clasps of her sandals and stepped out of them, toes curling in the fine sand of the floor. So this was it. She’d stand naked in front of him and she was nervous, self-conscious as hell. She took a step toward him and stopped, wiping her hands on her short dress.
Ridiculous, Liv. It’s not like it’s your first time. And you did make him come this morning.
This wasn’t helping. Heat rushed up her face and it was suddenly difficult to breathe.
He looked delicious, his bare chest perfectly muscled, his swimmer’s shoulders well-padded. His dark hair stood in unruly spikes around his handsome face.
“Liv.” He came to her, lifting a hand to her cheek, his eyes turning to dusky amber in the lamplight. His thumb ran from her temple to her chin, leaving burning imprints behind. He traced the line of her throat, slid his fingers under the halterneck straps and stroked the sensitive spot on her nape.
Her head fell ba
ck and he bent, kissing the arch of her throat. Pleasure rushed through her, making her light-headed. She gripped his forearms, afraid she might fall, and he pulled her up, crushing her to his chest.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered and her worry melted away. He walked her backward to the bed, his mouth hovering over hers, and he lowered her on the hard mattress. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first saw you. Can’t believe them now.”
She stared up into his dark eyes and felt herself melt. She ran her hands over his chest, following every contour, feeling his heart thump under his ribs. Then she reached for his belt and undid the clasp, touching the lines of his hips.
His breath gusted out and he leaned closer, his hands moving to the knot behind her neck. He tugged lightly. “Can I?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
She nodded and he pulled at it, pulling down her dress, lingering over her bikini top. Then he dragged the straps off her shoulders, kissing her skin. His hands wormed under her back, undoing that clasp, peeling her top off, his face rapt like that of a child wrapping a present. His hands moved over her, cupping her breasts, trailing fire down her belly. He tugged down her dress all the way.
Dressed only in her bikini panties, she shivered. Not cold. She was too warm all over.
Kai sat up, his tousled hair streaked with gold in the flickering light, his torso a shifting landscape of planes and ridges, his eyes narrowing in concentration when he tugged her panties down and all the way off.
Now she was bared to his hot gaze, laid out on the bed, and he blew out a soft whistle. “Are you real?” he whispered and touched her, mapping her body with his fingers, then his lips, stealing her breath.
She arched and clung to him, begged him not to stop, and he didn’t, licking and kissing.
“You’re salty,” he murmured and she chuckled. She still had the sea on her, but the sea couldn’t have him now. He was with her.
“I bet you’re salty, too,” she whispered and licked his mouth, tasting and wanting more. “And overdressed.”
“You said not to stop.”
She pushed at him and he straightened, his eyes uncertain. When she started undoing the buttons of his shorts, he helped, making quick work of them, then wriggled out of them, and out of his swim trunks.
Azure (Drowning In You) Page 15
