by Milly Taiden
“I won,” he said and leaped to his feet. He grabbed her around the waist and walked toward the water. “Therefore I get to wash you.”
“Wash me?” Still spitting sand, she wiggled in his arms. “Let go of me.”
“As you wish.” He took a few more steps and released her.
Into the ice-cold water.
Yelping, she flailed about until she broke the surface. She gasped for air, then laughed and coughed.
“You’ll pay for this.” She choked on a giggle. “Bastard.” She launched herself at him and wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his shoulders.
Kai laughed, a low, musical sound that vibrated through him. “Payment will be in champagne, I assume.”
“Damn right.” She hummed happily, still wrapped around him like a limpet. “You’ll be so sorry you met me.”
His laughter faded and he drew a long, shaky breath. “I doubt that,” he said softly.
*
Kirsten sent another message as they drove back, asking where to meet for dinner. Kai said he’d picked them all up and take them to a nice place.
Olivia sent off his reply, looking at him sideways. That faint smile was still on his face. It was cute. And sexy. And it made her heart soar.
“Your friends,” he said as they drove through the low hills. “Where are they from?”
“Germany. Southern Germany, in fact. Half the time I don’t understand a word they say.”
“You speak German.” He sounded impressed.
“Yes. That’s the sum of the foreign languages I know.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. She’d lost her hair-band in all the mock-fighting. “What about you? What languages do you speak?”
“Some Greek. Very badly.” He frowned. “I tried to learn French but gave up.”
“And you don’t read anymore.”
He gave a half-smile. “That’s right. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
He swallowed hard. “Because books remind me of someone. And I don’t want to remember.”
Uh oh. Ex-girlfriend alert? “Fair enough. How old are you?”
“I’m twenty. You like asking questions, don’t you?” Said without heat.
“You said I could ask,” she reminded him. “Before we date again.”
“You make dating sound dirty.” His grin spread from ear to ear. “Dirty in a good sense. How old are you?”
“Nineteen. My birthday is next month. When’s yours?”
“It’s passed. It was in August.”
“Did you party all night long into the morning of your birthday?”
He shook his head.
Right, of course not. A hermit and all that.
“So what do you do when you’re not working? In your free time?”
“I swim.”
She waited until she realized he wasn’t going to say more. “Come on, there must be more things you do.”
His eyes narrowed on the road ahead. “I fish. I think. I dream.” He cast her a sidelong glance. “Of girls like you.”
“And what am I like?”
“Like sunshine.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re a poet at heart, aren’t you?”
His brow furrowed and he didn’t answer. He drove fast but carefully, slowing down if another car approached. They quickly left the peninsula behind and drove along the coast, passing Kissamos Kastelli with its Venetian castle.
“Your friends,” he said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “They don’t mind us spending so much time together, do they?”
“Stressed about dinner with them?”
He gave a soft snort. “That obvious, huh?”
“They like you.” She put a hand on his leg. “Stop worrying. It will be fun.”
He sighed. “Yeah. Not used to going out anymore.”
That meant he hadn’t always been that way. He’d been carefree once; outgoing. Living among people, not running from them.
“Kai, why are you here? I mean, I know this thing of the sea brought you here...” Whatever it was. “But you used to live in New York. You said so. Why not go back?”
“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.”
