42. Caleph
42
CALEPH
S he's driving me fucking crazy. It’s as if she has taken up residence in every corner, every crevice of my thoughts and I just can’t shake her off. She's like a drug that I can't resist, slowly consuming me from the inside out, her image stubbornly etched into my brain. I can’t see past that image to appreciate anyone or anything else, and I can’t find a way to navigate this new life apart from her.
If she had taken a sword and cut me down at the knees, that would have been easier than hearing her say she wanted to leave. If only I’d been more diligent when cleaning up that traitor’s mess. I should have done it in the jungle. Anywhere she didn’t have eyes. Instead, she stood at that window and watched as I turned into that other side of me; that side that walks in the darkness and does what needs to be done to protect what’s mine. A side I’d believed long buried.
I walk into the house, pause with my hand on the door to my office, then turn and start towards the stairs. I take them two at a time until I find myself rapping my knuckles on Ariadne’s door. I know she saw me through the window with my lawyer Elizabeth this morning. Other than that momentary glance, I haven’t seen her today, and on other days, glimpses of her are fleeting as she goes about her days trying to avoid me.
She doesn’t know it’s me at the door, otherwise I’m sure she wouldn’t have called out, allowing entry. I don’t know why I’m here, have no idea which way I’ll take the conversation, but I don’t want her to spend the rest of her time here locked in her ivory tower while I wilt away over her loss.
She gasps when I enter, not expecting me. I lean against the door, my hands behind my back as though to ensure it remains closed. She lifts a delicate hand and rubs it against her neck slowly. Nervously. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but her mere presence destroys me. She blinks rapidly; if I look carefully, I can still see the shadow of the bruising under her eye. The cuts on her face have almost healed, a stark reminder of the time she spent away from me.
“You weren’t expecting me, were you?”
My voice is thick and heavy, drowning in darkness as I look at her from beneath hooded lids. She will always be the woman that corrupted my heart and ravaged my soul.
She shakes her head; one short shake as she regards me with an elevated level of caution.
“What do you want, Caleph?”
Her voice is like syrup to my burning heart; a remedy I was not aware I needed. What do I want? I want so many things. Most of which I can’t share with her without giving rise to her fear. I want her. I want her soul and I want her being. I want her ins and her outs, and everything in between. I want to drink from her wine and drown in her air. I want so many things.
“You think leaving me will mean this is over?”
I can’t ignore the desperate undertones in my hoarse voice. I will do anything to keep her by my side.
“You made this over when you showed me you’re exactly the way the world perceives you. You’re a monster. And I don’t want to play in your jungle.”
She spits her words at me angrily. I think she’s angrier that I’ve destroyed something beautiful before it even started than she is that I’m not who she thought I was.
I push off the door and take a slow step forward, my eyes tracking her like a lion would their prey. She counters the movement and takes a subtle step back, lifting her chin in defiance. I take another step. Her eyes are dilated. She may push against everything I am, everything that society tells her is wrong with the world, but she’s as affected by me as I am by her. Her eyes can’t hide that.
I advance slowly towards her, step by step, until she has taken her last step backward and reversed into the wall. A flicker of fear enters her eyes, dancing alongside her excitement. Our faces are mere inches apart. The only noise in the room is that of our heavy breathing.
“I told you I’d let you go home,” I remind her. “But this,” I wave a hand in the space between us, “is far from over.”
We’re so close that I can smell her scent, the heady notes of orange blossom and patchouli assailing my nostrils. She smells sexy and spicy and captivating. She’s wearing a low-cut button up burgundy blouse that shows just the right amount of skin, and my eyes can’t help but strain in that direction. I’m so busy staring at her that she takes me by surprise when she lifts her hands and plants them into my chest, pushing me back with a heavy shove. My foot moves just an inch, her small form no match for my bulky frame. I move my feet back until I’m breathing in her space again. No one could accuse me of not admiring a challenge.
She looks like she could stab me in the eye if she had the means when I invade her personal space again. I lift a hand to her face and pinch her cheeks together, coming closer like I’m moving in to whisper something to her. And I do. I keep my eyes on her and move my lips toward her ear. Desire floods my body; I want her to know how much I want her.
“You and I will never be over, little girl,” I whisper.
Then I move my lips towards hers and I take her. I devour her mouth, my tongue diving into her wonderland, remembering that first kiss we had in the lagoon that made her mine. And every kiss that came after that outdid the one before. And this kiss right here and right now, after the strain of being apart, it outdid all the others.
Her mouth is lavish, its decadent walls surrounding my tongue, until I feel a little flick and her tongue moves with mine trying to find purchase. She’s not immune to me. And if she’s honest with herself, she’d admit that we belong together.