23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
T hrax
The world spins, reality crumbling around me as Skye storms away. Her words echo in my ears, each one like a knife stabbing my gut. Whore? Inappropriate? The carving I poured my heart into, the symbol of protection and luck I gave as a gift, made her feel disrespected. The words stultus and asinus circle my mind, mocking me.
My legs give way, and I sink to my knees in the soft grass. The necklace lies there, mocking me. With trembling hands, I grab it, wanting to destroy this physical example of my stupidity.
A strange rumbling sound fills the air, growing louder by the second. My gaze is drawn skyward, and there it is—a metal bird, just as Varro described. An airplane. It soars overhead, stark silver against the blue sky. The sight hits me like a blow to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs.
This is real. This is now. There’s no going back.
The weight of two thousand years crashes down on me. How can I possibly belong here, in this world of flying machines and misunderstood gestures? Every step forward seems to push me two steps back. Perhaps it would have been better to remain frozen beneath the sea, lost to time and memory .
Voices drift from open windows, snippets of conversation in languages I don’t understand. The scent of flowers mingles with the harsh smell of cleaning products. Even the grass beneath my fingers feels wrong, too soft, too perfect, too even.
“Thrax!”
Skye’s voice cuts through my haze of despair. She’s running toward me, her face a mask of concern and regret. Part of me wants to stand, to meet her, but my body refuses to cooperate. I remain kneeling, the necklace clutched in my fist.
She drops to her knees in front of me, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I’m so sorry, Thrax. I was wrong. I jumped to conclusions without understanding. I ran into Laura and she saw I was upset, so I told her what happened and she explained. The necklace—it’s a symbol of protection, isn’t it? I didn’t know. In my time, it’s… vulgar.”
Her hand reaches for mine, hesitates, then gently pries my fingers open. The wooden phallus lies in my palm, a silent testament to the vast gulf between our worlds.
“If we’re going to have a relationship,” Skye continues, her voice softening, “we’re going to have more of these miscommunications. We’re two thousand years apart, with different cultures. I’ll try not to jump to conclusions in the future.”
The words “relationship” and “future” cut through my gloom, sparking a flicker of hope in my chest. She still wants this—wants us —despite my blunders?
“Skye,” my voice cracks with emotion. “I never meant to offend. This… all of this…” I gesture around, then point at the now-empty sky, “it’s so much. Sometimes I fear I’ll never truly belong here.”
Her warm eyes, the color of the coffee she loves to drink, soften, and she cups my cheek with her hand. “You do belong, Thrax. With me. With all of us. We’ll figure it out together, I promise.”
The sincerity in her gaze is overwhelming. Without thinking, I lean forward, capturing her lips with mine. The kiss is desperate, hungry, a lifeline in a storm. Skye responds with equal fervor, her fingers threading through my hair.
When we finally part, breathless and flushed, I rest my forehead against hers. “I saw it,” I whisper. “The flying machine, the airplane. It was…”
“Amazing? Terrifying?” Skye supplies, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Real,” I finish. “It made everything real.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. She runs her knuckles down my cheek, her gaze fearlessly holding mine.
“Yep. Real. We’re both here, in the twenty-first century. It’s scary and beautiful and complicated. Just like what’s happening between us.”
Her fingertip traces my top lip, her eyes filled with a look that tells me she’d rather be kissing it. Then she takes the necklace from my hand and, with a determined set to her jaw, slips it over her head. The wooden phallus rests against her chest, a bridge between our two worlds.
“There,” she says, her tone brooking no argument. “I’ll never forget that with every scrape of your blade you were making this for me, so I’ll always have your protection with me.”
A lump forms in my throat, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. This woman, this impossible, wonderful woman, is willing to wear my gift despite the misunderstanding. Despite the vast differences between us.
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out.
Skye’s smile is wide as she helps me to my feet. “Come on,” she says, intertwining her fingers with mine. “I think it’s time we had a long talk about Roman customs. And maybe you can tell me more about what life was like back then. The parts you’re ready to share. But… ”
Her pause makes my gaze fly to her, to see if she’s changed her mind, but she has a mischievous look in her beautiful brown eyes.
“But maybe we’ll do that after just one more kiss?”
Some odd, bubbling feeling swirls in my chest. I freeze for a moment, trying to identify it. Is it physical? An emotion I’ve never felt before? Yes. That’s it. I think this is… happiness.