by Sophia Lynn
Something about how she said that made Trinity take a closer look at her.
“Actually, I'm not sure that I do,” she said. “Ana, is there something wrong between you and Augustine?”
It didn't surprise Anastasia at all that Trinity had guessed about her affair with the Greek prince. Her friend had always been on the perceptive side, and it wasn't like she and Augustine had been subtle.
“Of course everything's fine,” she snapped, and then she clapped her hand over her mouth. That little burst of temper had likely told Trinity everything that she needed to know about what Anastasia had been feeling.
“All right, what's going on? You've been so happy lately, and now this. What are you hiding?”
“I'm not hiding anything,” Anastasia said firmly, wishing she were half as sure as she sounded. “I guess I'm just a little glum that my vacation's almost over and I have to go home.”
“But that's the thing,” Trinity said, puzzled. “I'm saying you don't have to…”
Anastasia forced a laugh. It sounded tinny and fake even to her ears.
“I have had an amazing time, but the truth is that I have always known that this wasn't going to be forever,” she said. “This is too much, and I knew it even when I was having a good time. No one can live like this. I have important things to be doing back in New York, initiatives that I left undone. This is fun. That's real life.”
Trinity frowned, starting to say something, but then she looked over Anastasia's shoulder.
“Hello, you two,” she said. “Come to watch the sunset with us?”
Apolo stepped forward to kiss his wife lightly on the lips, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“We thought it might be nice,” he said with a grin. “After this, perhaps we can play some games, something just for the four of us?”
Anastasia turned to Augustine only to realize that his dark brows were drawn in a ferocious frown. He was watching Anastasia in a way that made her feel distinctly hunted, as if at any moment he might take a bite out of her, and not in the good way.
“Actually, I think I have lost my taste for games,” he said shortly. “If you three will pardon me, I have work that I believe I need to attend to. Real life waits for no one, no matter where they are.”
The three of them looked after Augustine as he strode away. Apolo was the first to break the silence.
“My brother can be a mystery sometimes,” he said, shaking his head. “Just a few minutes ago, he was talking about how nice it would be to introduce the two of you to some traditional Greek games.”
Trinity wasn't looking at Apolo. Instead she was looking right at Anastasia with a thoughtful look on her face.
“Well, some things are just a mystery, even to the people who are directly involved in them.”
“And how do they become less mysterious?” asked Anastasia hopelessly.
Trinity squeezed her friend's hand comfortingly.
“You think about what you really want, and not what you think you should want,” she said. “And the moment you know a thing for sure, you tell others who might be affected by the same mystery that is plaguing you.”
Anastasia nodded slowly, even as Apolo watched the interplay between them, mystified.
“Good advice,” Anastasia said, gazing at where Augustine had disappeared. “Definitely food for thought.”
After saying goodnight to Trinity and Apolo, Anastasia made her way to her cabin. She felt as if she were moving in a daze, her head stuffed full with conflicting voices.
On one hand was her life in New York, the one she had always known. There were her parents, the safe and rather dull man she eventually suspected that she would marry, her work with the clean water initiatives and the world as she understood it.
On the other hand…She didn't know.
She and Augustine had deliberately avoided talking about anything related to the future. They never planned anything beyond where they wanted to eat, when they wanted to swim, how they wanted to touch each other. He had made her no promises, and she, in return, had refused to make him any, either.
The result was the ability to exist in a golden now, a time when they never had to worry about anything hard. At this point, however, she could not escape the fact that the future was coming, and that in reality, it was coming far sooner than she wanted it to. Real life was breathing down their necks, and she didn't know what to do about it.
Finally, close to midnight, she shrugged her robe over her nightie and padded to the cabin at the top of the yacht. For a moment, she hesitated, but then, gathering her courage, she knocked on the door.
Augustine opened it immediately, and she knew right away that he hadn't been asleep.
“You're here,” he observed. He didn't move to let her in.
“I am,” she said. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Why?” he asked bluntly.
The shock she felt must have registered on her face, because he unbent slightly.
“No. I'm sorry, Anastasia, but…I don't know if I can do this right now.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her heart beating a little faster. Despite all of the safeguards that they had set up, all the planning that they had done to protect themselves and each other, it felt like everything was crumbling down around them.
He looked at her, and now she could see something agonized in his eyes, something that could drop her to her knees if she wasn't ready for it.
“I promised you once that I would always tell you the truth,” he said, his voice low. “I want to keep that promise, but there are things that I want just as much now. Those things…well, you're right. Soon, our time together will be over. Real life is coming, and it is breathing hard on our heels. That is the truth.”
“It's not here yet,” she said, reaching tentatively for his hand. When he pulled back, she felt as if she had been stabbed through the heart.
“Please,” he said. “Tonight I need to be on my own.”
“All right,” she said numbly.
She turned to go, but then he touched her shoulder, feather-light.
“I'll come to see you tomorrow morning. Will you wait for me in your room?”
For a moment, she wanted to ask him why. If he didn't want to see her tonight, why would he want to see her in the morning?
She thought that if she were really looking out for her own emotions, she would ask. Instead she bit her lip, nodding slightly. “I'll wait for you,” she said, and she fled into the darkness.
It wasn't until she made it back to her own cabin that she felt as if she could breathe again, and with her first breath, she began to sob.
Anastasia crawled into her bed, pulling the cool sheets over her head and cried as she hadn’t done since she was a child. She felt as if she had lost something of tremendous importance to her. She felt as if a part of her had been torn out and she would never get it back.
She cried herself into a thin and restless sleep. She dreamed of phantoms that taunted her from every direction, and just beyond them was something that she burned with need for but could never quite reach.
Chapter Seven
Though Anastasia tried to sleep longer, the light of dawn woke her. Sleep had proved futile after that, so she showered and dressed. When she saw herself in the mirror, she made a face. The dress she pulled on was a white silk with a fitted bodice and a bell-shaped skirt. Embroidered here and there on it were delicate blue flowers. It was certainly a pretty dress, but on her today, it made her look surprisingly fragile.
She was just getting ready to address the dark shadows away under her eyes when there was a knock at the door. She opened it to find Augustine there. In his simple gray linen suit, he looked almost unbearably handsome, and when he smiled slightly at her, she thought her heart was breaking.
“I didn't expect you so early,” she found herself saying.
“I'm glad you're ready,” he said, taking her hand. “We're getting off the Wild Waves in just twenty minutes
.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“You'll see.”
She saw that he had a large wicker hamper by his side. They walked up on deck, where he greeted the crew by name, giving them calm orders in Greek.
They rapidly approached a green island, and when they were close enough, he turned to Anastasia.
“Come on. Into the rowboat.”
“Are we getting off here?” she asked in shock. “What about everyone else?”
“They are going on to Kyros, which is another forty minutes away. We can be alone here.”
He paused for a moment, as uncertain as she had ever seen him.
“You can go to Kyros if you want. I…I would understand.”
“No,” she said firmly, holding his hand tighter. “I'm staying here with you.”
The smile he gave her was almost shy, and he gestured to the crew.
Uncertainly, she climbed into the rowboat, gasping a little as they started to lower it.
“The water is too shallow close to this island for them to dock. We'll have to do this the old fashioned way.”
She watched in silent appreciation as he expertly detached the rowboat from the yacht's moorings before taking up the oars. When he rowed towards the small island, she could see how naturally he maneuvered the craft.
In next to no time at all, he had landed the rowboat on the shore. She helped him drag it above the high tide line, and then she looked around.
“This place is beautiful,” she said. “What is it called?”
Augustine shrugged. “I'm sure it has at least a numerical designation on the nautical maps. As far as I know, though, it doesn't have a real name. There are many islands off the coast of Greece that are like this. Beautiful but nameless.”
“Have you been here before?”
“A few times. When I first got my own craft, I started to explore up and down the coast. It got so my parents could barely keep me at home. This was one of my favorites. Come with me, I'll show you why.”
Mystified, she followed him. Augustine, she was beginning to see, was a man of many moods. He was like the ocean he loved so much. One moment, he might be tempestuous and raging. The next he might be as calm as a beautiful pearly sea. She could learn to predict him, though, like the sea. Nothing happened without a reason, after all. If she stayed close to him long enough, she might find herself as able to predict his moods and wildness as easily as any other canny old sailor. The thought appealed to her, though she did not quite understand why.
They walked up the dunes, and to her surprise, she saw the bleached white ruins of what must have been a little temple. Following Augustine's lead, she explored the site, her eyes wide and wondering.
There was a round tiled floor ringed with what had once been narrow graceful pillars—they had broken off at various heights sometime in the past. At one end was a thicker pillar and on it was a woman's bust. When she ventured closer, Anastasia could see the woman's graceful shoulders and neck, make out something of her elaborate hair style, see the dark hollows where her features had been before they were worn down with time.
“She's beautiful,” Anastasia whispered. “Who is she?”
“That's a very good question,” Augustine said with a shrug. “I have brought back dozens of pictures for a friend at the university, and he says she could be one of any number of goddesses. She might be a representation of Juno or Aphrodite or Artemis, but due to how far out from the mainland she is and how small her temple was, there is a chance she was some minor goddess that we have forgotten.
“You haven't, though,” she said quietly, still gazing at the ancient goddess's smooth face.
It was incredible to think that thousands of years ago, when her face was fresh and new, this was a goddess worshiped by people who came to this island. Perhaps they brought her a sacrifice of fresh-caught fish or flowers from the distant mainland. Perhaps they danced for her, or perhaps they wept and begged her for favors.
She turned to see that Augustine was reclined in the shade close by, watching her with calm dark eyes. Somehow, despite everything that they had done together, she felt shy.
“May…may I come close to you?” she asked hesitantly.
He paused long enough to make her wish that she had never asked that, but when he spoke there was a kind of weight to his words.
“I want you to, and at the same time, I am very afraid,” he said softly. “I know what we have agreed upon, and I know that at this point, it is what is right for both of us. You belong in New York and I belong in Athens. Right or not, however, I have given you a piece of myself.”
She felt as if her heart were a goblet that was full to overflowing. Without thinking, Anastasia stepped closer to him, reaching for him, but he warded her off.
“If you come to me, I will touch you, and I will do my best to make you feel incredible. I'll touch you and be as sweet as I can be when I want you so much. But…Anastasia, I think this has to be the last time. I am not sure if I can bear more of this.”
“I think I know what you mean,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. “Why did you bring me here?”
He looked surprised, as if she should have guessed. “This is a sacred place. It was for the people who built the goddess, and it has been for me ever since I started coming here. In all the world, nothing feels as…as intimate to me as this place. This is something that I wanted to share with you, no matter what you decide.”
“And the choice is mine?” she asked huskily.
He nodded, dropping his eyes as if he were a supplicant and she a goddess.
“It always has been,” he said, his words hollow.
Her thoughts fluttered in her head like small wild birds. There was too much to take in, too much to think about. One part of her told her to go to him. The other part told her to get as far away as she could while she was at least mostly whole.
Then she saw that his hands, his beautiful dark hands, were shaking with the emotion of what was happening, and she knew that there was only one thing she could do. She came close to him. She leaned down to kiss him, and as she did, he rose and lifted her in his arms. All over again, she was impressed by the power in his body and the way he carried her so easily.
In the shade of some prickly olive trees, there was a marble bench, wide and solid. From the hamper, he drew a tightly wrapped foam pad that expanded to cover it, and over that, he threw a fine weaving of deepest black.
“That's the one you bought for me on Santa Olivine,” she said in surprise.
“It is,” he said. “I still have the other on the Wild Waves. I'll make sure you get it back.”
She started to respond, but it seemed that at that point, he was done talking. With strong sure hands, he pulled her dress from her, and after a moment he seemed to spend admiring the contrast of her black underthings against her pale skin, he removed those too. Instead of dropping them by the wayside, he set them neatly on a broken pillar nearby before turning to her.
There was nothing wild or savage about this seduction, she realized. Instead it was something gorgeously deliberate and planned. He was a man of many resources, and right now, he wanted to offer her the best of them and himself.
With a gentle touch, he pressed her back on the weaving, running his hands down her naked body as if he couldn't get enough of her. Blissfully, she closed her eyes, more aware of the world and her place in it than she had ever been before in her life. She could feel the heat of the day and the cool of the shade. She could hear the thunder of the distant waves. She was perfectly naked in a Mediterranean paradise, and she never wanted to go back to the real world.
When Augustine came in to kiss her, his mouth was soft and sweet. He explored her mouth with deliberate care until sweet waves of pleasure broke against her body. The beauty of what was happening was almost unbearable. She couldn't take how gentle he was, and how kind his hands were. Without thinking of what she was doing, she reached up to fist her hands in his clothes.
&n
bsp; “I want these to come off,” she whispered. “Please. I need you naked too…”
He made a sound of agreement in his throat, and he stood away from her. She turned onto her side to watch him. With a few practiced motions, his clothes were dropped to the ground, and now she could see him, gloriously naked in front of her. In the pure light of the day, she could see how perfect he was, from his broad shoulders to his narrow hips, to his well-sculpted feet. His cock stood out from his body proudly, and a part of her warmed to realize that he was already aroused just from the light touching that they had done.
“I need you.” She barely knew that she had said those words until she saw the shudder go through his body.
“You have no idea how much I need you,” he responded, coming lie behind her. He spooned her body. She could feel his heavy cock pressed against the curve of her buttocks, and the warmth of his body against hers.
With one arm pillowing her head, the other was free to stroke her throat, her breasts, the tender rise of her belly and the roundness of her hips. He kept his touch light, almost teasing, but it didn't stop the tingles of pleasure that ran through her from turning to true flames. When he ran his hand along her thighs, she couldn't stop herself from propping one leg up so he had access to the sweet wet flesh between. He chuckled a little, but there was a deeper note in that sound that made her breath catch.
At first, Augustine started as slowly and as gently as he had elsewhere. His fingertips, calloused from his work at sea, stroked against her tender flesh in the gentlest way, driving her slowly but surely out of her mind. It seemed like hours before he was willing to ease a finger even partially into her, another eternity before he grazed her clit.
By then, her hips were rising and falling with the beat of her heart, restlessly pressing herself up against his touch and yearning for more. Finally, she grabbed his hand with hers, pressing it more firmly against herself.
“Please!” she said, turning her head to look at him.
