A sudden shift in the wind woke Melita. Night had fallen already, and the moon shone lonely. The wind blowing from the open sea made the leaves flap and whip around. She threw more driftwood onto her fire, but the wind kept the flames low.

The wind both burned and froze exposed skin. Spreading her fingers, Melita felt the faintest tingle in the air. Magic. Taking her walking stick, she set out towards the beach under a magical light.

Over the water, a thick fog crept towards the beach. Her throat tightened, choking her breath out of her chest. Ever since that day in the Black Chamber, fog terrified her. This fog’s movements betrayed purpose and intelligence. It surged towards her, charged with a massive amount of magical energy. Raw power.

Melita thought about running from the beach and taking her chances in the forest, but she forced herself to control her breathing. She was a sorceress, after all. Like a flame, she could learn to control and channel its energy. Perhaps it might help her understand the stone without losing control.

The fog stopped at the shore, forming a wall of gray that muted the sound of the waves. Melita held her breath and took two steps back.

A roar of thunder. A splash off to the right. Thrashing in the water. Coughs! Someone! Melita gripped her walking stick tightly as the fog curled back like a predator reconsidering its prey. Someone stumbled outside the water.

“Who are you? I’m armed!” She called out, wanting to sound threatening.

“Melita? Is that you?”

Arakos!

Melita walked out from behind the tree, still holding the stick. The moonlight did not reveal the man’s face. She took tiny steps towards him. What is true? Was she dreaming? She thought of dropping everything and leaping into his arms, but it could be a trick.

She stood an arm’s length from him and examined him. A few white hairs hid among his auburn mane, but his beard looked the same. She poked him gently with two fingers. Twice, to make sure he was real.

He said nothing and opened his arms, inviting her into his arms.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Melita collapsed into his embrace, her fingers gripping his tunic as though he might vanish if she let go. She rested her head on his shoulder as his scent, mixed with sea salt, filled her nostrils. “You came back,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I thought you forgot me.”

“I promised.” He replied, cradling her tenderly and kissing her forehead.

She wanted to scold him for using such short sentences, but there were many important things to discuss. Her mind raced in a thousand directions, and she had so many things to tell him. Aree. Her voyage. The shipwreck. Icarius. Queen Elysia. Her studies. Her home. The voyage of the Endoxos. And she had so many questions for him. Where had he been? Did he remember anything? How did he return? But she said nothing; there would be time for those questions later. Now was the time to hold him and never let him go.

His knees buckled, and he leaned on her. Melita slung his arm over her shoulder. “You look exhausted. Come to my camp. Sit by the fire. Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Melita spoke faster than a galloping horse, not allowing him to respond to her questions. She took his hand and led him to her camp by the lagoon. He collapsed with a long sigh before she offered him water from a coconut, which he accepted with a smile.

“Your hair, it’s longer. I like it.” His eyes lingered over her. She did what she could to cover herself and maintain her modesty, more out of habit. But to her delight, the more she shifted her tattered clothes, the more his eyes licked her body. She kept putting her hair behind her ear, but it fell onto her face.

“Leave it. Sit by me.” He patted the ground next to him.

Melita reveled in the compliment and forced a meek “Thank you” as she sat, her thigh touching his.

His calloused hand took hers as he leaned into her. His breath flowed around and into her ear as he nibbled her lobe. “I missed you.”

“Arakos…” she moaned.

He made his way down her neck, first blowing, then planting his lips tenderly. Her skin burned and shivered whenever his breath caressed it. She squirmed, wanting more than his titillating teasing. Her lips searched for his, but he continued with the lightest pecks down her shoulder. She opened her eyes, not realizing she closed them as he made his way to her breasts.

Unable to take anymore, she grabbed his face, gave him a deep kiss, and pushed him onto his back. Their lips joined, and she fumbled to bunch her skirt and sit astride him. She made love to him like an enraged panther, growling and scratching his chest as they gave in to passion. Melita had prayed for this moment for so long, and now he was here with her. He returned to her. She could touch him. Feel him.

She howled as orgasm crashed over her. The emotions bottled in since he vanished came out in that scream. She collapsed on his chest, listening to his breathing. “Thank you, Great Hera!” she said under her breath.

Thunder cracked in the distance.

Once their breaths slowed down, they made love again until sleep came over them. He cradled her, and she melted into him. Before drifting into the sweet embrace of sleep, Melita thanked Hera again for bringing him back to her.