Two Eyes Cenote [m] Burrowing

He would not accept her attempts at apathy, with a shift he weds their eyes and Eset startles, daunted by the intensity of his luminance; a dried sandbed ill prepared for his rush of rain.

“Yes,” pours abruptly from her mouth, “but it is Pharaoh who has given me refuge. I cannot leave her.” She would not. The coy was her hebsut; her ushabti; eternal servant.

It did not stop Eset’s mind from striding down an indulgent path where she did return with the creekwolf to his lush valley, hidden from the Gods beneath autumn boughs. Out from the ceiling of stone and into a limitless vault of wild starlight. And perhaps, in this dream, she would awaken to kisses, and join in hunts, and learn the untested limits of her own body.

“You are the only person who has ever asked me that,” she realizes, stricken, eyes shuttering for the span of a shaking breath as if in a dream.

And here is how the coy had repaid him. Less than wolf; less than woman; a girl with faulty genetics that would only foul a man’s cubs. She did have reasons to apologize- she had failed him so utterly. “I knew what I was doing with you. I did it anyways.”

The amber gaze glossed again, beneath them the image of his strong face held. “I am grateful you came when you did. You have a good heart, Akavir.”

Now she dared to look up in full. Her lips sought his own. She’d have placed them there had she been able to reach. Instead, it is his chest Eset grazes with her mouth. Beneath her kiss she feels all the life that drummed through him, so insistent, so strong, as she rests against his heart.

And in the gentlest voice she confesses, “I had wanted them to be like you.”