"Kiss me?"

 

 

 

 

“It is not you that wills it. It is I,” I said nonsensically,
stubbornly.
“I suppose nothing is supposed to make any sense,”
he said with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. 

He was a handsome young man, taller and stronger but
similar to my waif in the soft features that had
become masculine beauty. 

New emotions.

My waif was like a pet I
loved fondly, he seemed like someone that received
adoration by natural inclination, his every beautiful  gesture demanding it from me. 

I frowned
thoughtfully as I watched him.
“I am a prince,” he said simply, as if reading my thoughts. “I rule
admiration and simple affection.”
“I did not ask you,” I replied, lowering my eyes and hiding a smile.
“You are a hostile stranger, aren't you?” he asked amusedly, lifting my
chin to stare into my face thoughtfully like I had
done, mimicking me.  “We do not often have strangers here.
How did she find you?”
“I cannot seem to remember.  I think I was searching for her.”
“And she brought you here to meet me.  I wonder
why," he said.
“She did not bring me here to meet you.  I was
looking for her.”
“But then why were you looking for her. Do you remember?”
I frowned. “  No.”
“Then I shall tell it to you, stranger.  It’s because you were looking for me,” he said
with a charming smile.  "Infact, I shall show it to you," he continued.

He drew me to a stop and kissed my forehead with the affection that he ruled.

The mirrors spun.  I struggled to pay attention to what we were saying as we stood still.
“You are such a vain prince to make everything your
own reality,” I said, realizing that somehow it was
true, somehow it was true ... but angry that he could be so smugly right.        
“You were searching for simple affection and you
wanted her to help you find it.  So she came and she
brought you here. Here to me," he said.

My eyes were growing heavy.  My body was growing heavy.

He held me up in the water, his arms my support.
“And what else do you know?”
“That I am supposed to help you to remember," he continued.
He held up my hands, studied them carefully and then
placed them on his chest. “These are hands that are
curled into fists, withered up and almost dead from
starvation.” He lifted them and kissed every one of my
fingers, drugging my senses, warming them with his breath and whispering
words to them softly.
“You intend to perform a kind of magic on my
hands?” I asked drowsily, swathed in well-being.
“Indeed not," he replied, gazing into my eyes.  "I intend to make the warm so that
when I kiss you and you touch my neck I will not
freeze to death.”
“Kiss me?” I asked, his face a blur through my lashes.
He cupped my face in his palms and did so.

I  tasted the wonderful fruit all over again for his lips
were as potent as the essence of sweetness. 

My hands  did touch him then, reaching out, holding on. 

He lifted his head and  smiled.
“I… it was a question, not a request,” I said  faintly.
“But shall I do it again?” he asked mischievously.
I nodded, gulping hard.
This was another journey into a lost world, sensual
and beguiling, and still the music continued, and the
dance, as we swayed through the water and I could
finally abandon my dance with the surge of this new
feeling and let myself be led by the rhythm and the
feeling and the beautiful lights.

The kiss was a dance  that went on an on. 

 

Reviews

[Lauren Xena Campbell]

Indeed, romance and delightfully done! Oh, I feel all tingly, and so very excited! What a wonderful chapter, so effervescent! I love the cheekiness of the male character, the mystery surrounding this prince, and all of it in fact! I love this story, and you have written it so very well! I'm of to the next passage, for I can't wait!!!!