His breath is at her ear. She feels the nip of his teeth on her lobe. She wants to scream. A sound escapes him. Or was it from her? She feels like a balloon being filled, stretched to its limit. She wants release, but she is between the hardness of the wall and him. There is no escape. Her body is melding into his, changing.
The floor is hard on her back, but Aris makes no move to get up. She looks over to Metis. His cheeks are pink. His chest moves up and down from exertion. A light smile decorates his face. He looks content. Her heart swells knowing she put it there.
She realizes now it is he whom she has been missing. The reason for the unexplained moments of sadness. The melancholy she learned to live with this cycle—the “emptiness”—is gone.
“I love you,” she says and kisses his shoulder.
He turns to her. The spot between his eyebrows scrunches together. His eyes have an indecipherable expression in them. He pulls her to his chest and kisses her hair.
“And I love you. Always. No matter what. Remember that.”
She hopes she can.
Chapter Twenty-One
Although small, downtown Elara at night shines brightly. The low-slung buildings are lit with twinkling lights on all sides, making them look as if encrusted with stars.
Fast-tempo music surrounds them, sending tremors through the ground. Bars and restaurants line both sides of the street. They are all filled to the brim with people—mostly young. Some overflow to the sidewalks. They sit on curbs and lean against walls, chatting energetically with each other. Everyone is out furiously spending the last of their entertainment points.
A squad of young women staggers out of one bar. They make their way across the street to another. One trips and falls. Her friends rush to her side and pick her up, laughing all the while. The scene makes Aris smile.
“Is it heavy? I can take it if you want,” she says of the backpack on Metis’s shoulders. In it are the helmet and computer. She does not know if Bodie will let them use the helmet on him, but the least they can do is ask. She pats her jacket and feels the vial of Absinthe Benja had given her. A failsafe.
“No, I’m fine,” he says and brings her hand up for a kiss.
They walk past the bright downtown area and up the dark hill. The image is a big contrast to the place they just left. The land is barren but for the shadows of scraggly shrubs and sun-scorched balls of tumbleweed. Wooden homes climb up the winding road. All dark. Everyone is downtown.
Bodie’s is the only lit one in the neighborhood of houses overlooking downtown Elara. It is the shape of a barn with vertical siding. The weathered wood looks as if it could use a fresh coat of paint. The land around it is tamped dirt with nothing but shrubs.
They can hear noises coming from inside. Metis knocks on the door and it opens. It is Bodie. Up close, he looks bigger and more muscular than Aris remembers. His blond hair and white clothes contrast with his deep-brown skin. He gives them a big smile.
“Hi, I’m Bodie.”
He thrusts his hand out. Metis takes it and shakes. Bodie turns his attention to Aris.
“May I?” He lifts her left hand and brings it to his lips.
“Beautiful ring,” he says and steps aside to let them through. “Come on in!”
Metis and Aris look at each other. Metis steps over the threshold of the door, and she follows. She is taken aback by what she sees. There is a gathering of about twenty people. They are scattered around the large room, chatting and laughing with each other. Everyone is wearing white. Aris scans her and Metis’s gray and black clothes and feels out of place.
“We’re about to get ready,” Bodie says and leads them toward the group.
For what?
Aris leans into Metis and whispers, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
The interior of Bodie’s house is open and airy. The walls are a happy yellow. One glance and Aris can tell the pleasant space belongs to an artist. A long worktable sits in the middle, separating the area into quadrants. A desk with multiple drawers is by a window. On it lie stones of different colors and spools of silver and gold chain.
Paintings of various sizes are stacked up against the wall of one corner. A wheel for throwing pottery sits in another. Wide shelves run along one side of the room. One is filled with drying vases and pots. Another has those that have been fired. They are organized by color. Greens and blues on one side, the warm colors on another.
She looks at the people. They appear to be couples, either holding hands or with arms wrapped around each other. They are chatting enthusiastically. The excited energy in the room is contagious.
“Metis!” a surprised voice speaks.
Aris turns toward it and sees a woman in white. Her brown eyes are wide with shock. In her chestnut-brown hair are wildflowers from the desert. Her pale skin makes her stand out from others in the room.
“Seraphina?” Metis rushes toward her. Aris follows.
He knows her?
“Why are you here?” the pretty woman says in a hushed tone. Her face is fear-stricken.
Why is she so afraid? Who is she to Metis? An ex-lover?
“How do you know my—?” Metis asks in a low voice.
Seraphina looks at her feet. “Benja told me about you.”
“Wait, you know Benja?” Aris asks. Her voice is high in her ears.
A surprised look crosses Seraphina’s face. “Who are you?”
“This is Aris. My wife,” Metis says. “Benja’s friend.”
Seraphina’s eyes well up. She turns to Metis. “Does she know?”
He nods. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my wedding,” says Seraphina.
“Oh! Congratulations,” Aris says.
Seraphina ignores her and steps closer to Metis.
