51. Sage
Sage
Istood under the scalding spray of my apartment shower, my eyes closed, letting the water beat down against my tired muscles.
The steam was thick, fogging up the glass and turning the small bathroom into a stifling, humid box.
I was a world away from the strobing red lights, the sirens, and the smell of death in air. I was safe back in Emeralds Grove.
I leaned my head back, the water plastering my dark hair down my back, and surrendered to the same dangerous thoughts that had consumed me, every single day and night since I arrived back home.
Julian.
I was completely possessed by the memory of him.
How he looked under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, his chest framed by blood-splattered tactical gear, sent a thrill down my spine.
The way his eyes had tracked me with starving desire made my breath catch in my throat, my lips still burning from the moment he pinned me against the side of the bus and devoured my mouth.
A heavy, pooling heat settled low in my stomach. My breasts felt heavy and overly sensitive, The heat of the shower flushed my skin, but it was nothing compared to the intoxicating memory of his strong hands gripping my waist.
I let out a slow, trembling breath, my hands sliding down my wet skin.
I traced the curve of my body, right over the ink of my tattoo, imagining the tender feel of his mouth instead of the water.
The tension in my body pulled tighter, a wicked, suffocating kind of longing that made my legs feel weak.
I wanted him here. I wanted that beautiful ruin he promised.
Water streamed down my face, blurring my vision as i imagined him standing there, all rough edges and controlled violence, his blood-smeared skin pressed against mine, marking me with his depravity.
My fingers slid lower, through the slick heat of my thighs.
I was already dripping, my clit swollen and desperate.
I circled it with two fingers, slow at first, then faster, my hips jerking in time with my touch.
The shower head still hung in its cradle, but i reached for it, twisting the nozzle until the pressure increased.
The moment i angled the stream between my legs, my knees nearly buckled.
*Oh fuck.*
The pulse of water against my clit was relentless, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through my body.
I braced one hand against the wall, my free hand gripping the shower head tighter as i rode the sensation.
My moans echoing through the bathroom, raw and needy, my body tightening like a bowstring.
I was so close—so fucking close. My breath coming in ragged gasps as my orgasm coiled tight in my belly.
BANG BANG BANG
My eyes flew open. The sudden knock at my front door shattered the fantasy like a brick through a window.
Startled, I jerked backward, my wet foot slipping wildly on the porcelain tub. “Who the fuck—?!” I hissed, my arms flailing as I barely managed to catch myself on the cold tile wall before wiping out and splitting my head open.
The shower head clattered to the floor as i fumbled to turn off the water.
The adrenaline immediately killing the sensual haze I had been lost in. Who the hell is at the door?
I quickly got out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy white towel from the rack and wrapped it tightly around my dripping body. I didn’t bother to dry my hair, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the floor of the hallway as I hurried to the front door.
My legs were shaking, my body still trembling from the edge of climax.
I peered through the peephole and let out an annoyed sigh. It was just the mail carrier.
I unlocked the deadbolt and cracked the door open, shivering slightly in the cool air-conditioning of the apartment.
“Sorry to bother you,” the mailman said, holding out an electronic clipboard. “Need a signature for this.”
I quickly scribbled my name on the screen, taking the package and the small stack of regular mail he held out, as he looked me up and down. I offered a polite, hurried thank you, shut the door, and locked it behind me.
I stood in the entryway, water dripping from the ends of my hair onto the floor, and carelessly thumbed through the stack of envelopes. Electricity bill. Water bill. A glossy flyer for a local pizza place.
I Froze.
Tucked right between the junk mail and the bills was a thick, cream-coloured envelope. It wasn’t printed. There was no return address stamp. In the centre, my name and apartment number were written in a sharp, elegant, heavily slanted script that looked like it belonged to another time.
My hands started to shake. I dropped the rest of the mail onto the entryway table, ignoring the package and the puddles forming at my feet. I stared at the dark ink on the heavy paper, the memory of a battered field notebook and a promised phone number flashing in my mind.
It was a letter. From him.
Julian.
I didn’t even make it to the living room.
My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the letter right into the puddle forming at my feet. I tore the envelope open, practically shredding the thick paper in my desperate rush to get to whatever was inside.
I let the torn envelope flutter to the wet hardwood floor and leaned back against the wall, my knees suddenly too weak to hold my own weight. I slid down the drywall until I was sitting on the floor, pulling the letter closer to the dim light of the entryway.
The handwriting was breathtaking—sharp, precise, and heavily slanted. It looked like the script of a man who belonged to a different century.
I held my breath, my heart hammering a frantic dance inside my body as I began to read the letter.
Sage,
I told you I’d write.
My mind is a wasteland right now, but you are the only thing that remains untouched. I haven’t stopped thinking about our few days together.
The way you felt against me in the quiet of that church, and the way you looked at me when you should have been running.
This place is a nightmare, but I find myself closing my eyes just to see you again. That memory is the only thing keeping my mind quiet. I’ll call you the second I can. Until then, stay safe for me.
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
Always,
Julian
I read it once. Then I read it again, the words blurring as a hot, overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over me.
He hadn’t forgotten me. He hadn’t just kissed me in the adrenaline of a war and pushed me out of his mind.
My eyes dropped to the neatly inked stanza at the bottom of the page, and the breath caught sharp and tight in my throat.
Poe. He had recognised the ink on my skin.
A dizzying wave of warmth rushed through me, nearly overwhelming in its intensity.
Just when I thought he couldn’t get more perfect, he proved he could reach right into the quietest, most guarded corners of my soul.
It felt dangerous. It felt entirely too good to be true, like a beautiful mirage conjured just before the world collapsed.
A massive, breathless smile broke across my face.
I couldn’t stop it. It was the kind of dizzying, ridiculous smile that physically hurt my cheeks and made me feel like a stupid teenager fawning over my first boyfriend.
A swarm of butterflies erupted in my stomach, fluttering so wildly I felt lightheaded.
I scrambled up from the puddle in the hallway, clutching his letter to my chest like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. I practically ran to my bedroom, shedding the damp towel and throwing on an oversized, worn out, white button down shirt and a pair of soft shorts.
I bypassed the kitchen and went straight to the small, sunlit corner of my living room that I used as my art studio.
My hands were still trembling as I pushed aside a half-finished charcoal sketch of a gothic archway and pulled out a fresh sheet of heavy, textured drawing paper and my favourite black ink pen.
I dug into the pocket of my jeans from earlier, pulling out the battered, folded piece of paper he had torn from his field notebook. There it was: his address.
Outside my apartment window, The clouds had churned into a mottled purple, looking like a fresh bruise across the face of the world. The first heavy drops of a summer rainstorm began to tap against the glass. It was the perfect, moody backdrop for the storm of emotions raging inside my chest.
I took a deep, shaky breath, hovering the pen over the blank paper. I wanted to be honest. I wanted to match the raw, starving intensity he had given me.
I pressed the pen tip to the paper and let it all pour out.
Julian,
I was dripping wet and freezing in my hallway when the mailman handed me your envelope, and I tore it open right there on the floor. I couldn’t wait. You have no idea what seeing your handwriting just did to me.
How did you know? Annabel Lee is one of my absolute favourite Edgar Allan Poe poems, or rhymes, or verses, whatever the technical term is for it. Seeing those words from you at the bottom of the page completely took my breath away.
I’m safe back home, but I haven’t really been here. My mind is still in that cathedral with you. I haven’t been able to focus on my art, or my new classes, or anything other than the memory of you pinning me against that bus. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a single second.
You saved my life, Julian. I’m not afraid of the blood you had to shed to do that, and I am certainly not afraid of you.
Take care of yourself out there. I’ll be waiting for your phone call. And I’m counting the days until I see you again.
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
Always,
Sage x
I exhaled a long breath, staring down at the drying ink. It felt incredibly vulnerable to put those words down on paper, to admit that I was completely, hopelessly infatuated with a man I hardly knew.
I folded the heavy paper carefully, sliding it into a crisp white envelope. I copied down the address he had given me, my handwriting looking ordinary compared to the elegant script he used.
I pressed a lingering kiss to the back of the envelope, sending it off with a quiet promise. I didn’t care if it was pouring rain outside, I grabbed my keys and my umbrella, determined to walk down to the post office this exact minute.