Lion Head Mesa goddess-born [m]

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A command he too obeyed, rounding the edge of the wellspring as his wife descended beneath the waters mantled in steam. He watched as flaxen wavelets floated upon the surface from her neck, crowning her blonde face in a disc of divine golden light.

Firelit eyes said he wanted her, that he might with one grab have her bent against rocky embankment and the vanta-black cloak of her king. He settled at the side of her bath and observed instead the languid fluidity of his wife as she appeared underwater.

“Show me, Toula,” he whispered, lusty eyes too engrossed by this private dance to do anything more than lay impossibly still and stare.