19. Yvonne

19

YVONNE

Aroutine has developed between Oarus and me. I can feel my body growing healthier, the consistent meals and his caring behavior having triggered this miraculous transformation.

Color is blooming in my cheeks again, my complexion no longer translucent. I am even sleeping and rising with the dawn, feeling refreshed and inspired to begin the day.

Our private little nook is adorned with sparkling seashells and trinkets left abandoned along the shoreline. Oarus uses fish hooks to hang the glowing stalactites to light the tunnels. They light my way as I relieve myself or venture through the winding passages to dip into the hot spring.

I have taken to the sea in a way I couldn’t have envisioned. I swim with Oarus when the waters are calm, sometimes exploring the grand depths, the wonders of the underworld, and a plethora of captivating enchantments.

It feels very much like a fairytale I ambled through in my mind during the many years of enslavement. But now it is real, tangible as the sea salt that streams through my hair like stardust.

Oarus has been teaching me to hunt as well. He is hesitant to leave the activity on my lonesome, so I accompany him many mornings at daybreak. The trapping of various crustaceans seems rather plain to me – casting out a big cage tethered to the coastline, then waiting. The poaching of larger creatures is up to Oarus and his lean and agile aquatic form.

I find myself admiring the elegance of the capture and the method he applies. His anatomy is something that strikes me not only with high regard, but a riveting inclination toward the lascivious.

It gives me a feeling of power unbeknownst to me before our cosmic meeting.

We have climbed down from the rocky edge where the mouth of the cave gapes and linger at the shoreline where the crab and bigrul cages are tethered. Oarus stands tall, his armored chest wide and heaving, the polychromic spin between jade and teal making him look more and more like a conquering King.

I watch him nearby, holding the spear he helped me carve a few days before. I am only wearing a long shirt and undergarments thieved from affluent locals.

He points down into turquoise waters, a sheen of robust red twinkling over the glassy surface.

“Those ones come up in the shadow areas,” he says, watching a speckled trout sway. “They are likely the best ones for you to practice on.”

He is determined, which makes a warm burst in my belly sprawl down my thighs and up over my collarbone. I’m thankful that he isn’t looking.

“Okay,” I respond, clearing my throat. “And how long should I stalk them?”

His words are lost to the wind as my eyes wander down past his sturdy shoulders, his commanding jawline hard as iron, the seaweed locks flickering in the breeze. When he looks at me, he has an eyebrow cocked. Attraction strikes me like lightning.

“Are you well?” he asks, tone mild.

“I am, I’m not sure what’s wrong. Perhaps I didn’t eat enough."

He gazes over my form and smirks. His eyes feel like a painter’s brush, stroking the canvas of my flesh.

“You are filling out, dear one. I like to see that. Soon enough, you will be a meal of my own.”

Once, a comment on my physical form in a salacious manner would have made me bristle. But at this moment, the opposite happens. It sends me spinning.

My cheeks sting red hot. Under duress, I spin around, handing him the spear before I begin to climb back up the rocky fixture.

“Yvonne!” he calls to me. “I was having a laugh! Please do not run!”

I yell back to him, not in anger but in an earnest loss of understanding.

“It’s okay! I’m going to the hot spring. I’m fine!”

I crawl up with my strong thighs, having made the climb more times in the last week than I care to count. I head back into the cavern, retrieve a blanket and fresh clothing, and then trudge off to the hot spring.

Once alone in the cavity, I strip naked and sink into the aquamarine lagoon. As the warm water envelops my body, I feel my muscles going limp. I dip my head all the way down into the pool until I am completely immersed.

While underwater, my mind is whirling. There is no way to deny how I yearn to be close to Oarus. A mere look washes carnal heat through my bones like a volcanic spill. I am not used to these feelings.

I have always thought of sex as debase – filthy, dirty, indecent. That’s all it was and would ever be. Something to be endured. But with Oarus, I am free. And that has given me the space and grace to crave him. It feels poetic how much I ache for him.

It isn’t merely the physical that I desire. I want to possess him in every form, on every plane of existence that humans and sea creatures can possibly define.

What on Protheka does all of that mean?

Thoughts of endless pleasure swarm my mind, dizzying me as I run out of breath. I shoot up from under the hot spring waters feeling breathless, panting with contradictory notions. Is this what it feels like to care for someone? To feel? To do as the fairytales have long foretold and fall for someone?

“You missed a good catch."

Oarus’ voice echoes through the hot spring chamber, startling me. I clasp my chest, then in my self-consciousness, shield my nudity from him.

“You scared me,” I say, vexed. “What are you talking about?"

Oarus is smiling. His glowing eyes do not leave mine, but I can tell that he is intrigued by my nakedness. I have a difficult time admitting that I enjoy it, too.

“This."

Oarus pulls three thick trouts, their rusty scales brilliant under the torchlight, from his satchel and holds them out to me like an offering. He is radiant with pride.

And, oh, how I long to kiss him.

“When you left, they came in droves. Rows upon rows. I think you will be ready next time.”

I use my forearm and hand to conceal my breasts and do a spinning motion at him with my finger. To tease him is one thing, but to fully reveal myself willingly is another matter. He stares at me, obtuse. Will the right time for it ever come?

"Turn around, please. I’m getting out of the spring.”

Oarus’ countenance changes. He does as I ask and spins around, shoving his game back into the satchel laced around his waist. I ascend from the hot spring, water trailing along the pink ridges of my bust and hips, and for a moment, I consider asking him to turn around.

But I do not. And he grunts, impatient as if he picked up the signal in the air.

“Why do you hide yourself from me? You are superb, Yvonne. I hope that my flippant comments at the shoreline have not ruffled you.”

His words are clunky, but there is a candidness to them. The creature is far more gentle than when he first met, having taken to courtship like – well, like a fish to water.

But is my body the prize to be won? Am I a mere fleeting pleasure? Are all of his efforts committed in the name of a conquest?

I pick up the blanket I brought and swathe it around my body, pulling it to my chest.

“You can turn around now.”

When he does, he appears dumbfounded. I do not want to answer his question, as it is accompanied by various implications.

“I’m going to go back and start chopping wood,” I say, skirting past him. “We are starting to run out.”

Oarus gives me an approving and solemn nod.

“I will return to my hunt.”

I make my way through the tunnels with him trailing behind me, lumbering on his human legs. There is an energy of confusion surrounding us, but I cannot reassure him just yet. I have to do some thinking.

“Do not stay out very long,” Oarus says once I step into the shadows to change. “Darkness falls early. And I feel a storm in the air.”

“I will be careful."

Oarus spends the rest of the day doing just as he claimed, hunting, and likely brooding. He is a great creature to provide for me despite our contention. Guilt plagues me as I head to the dense forest area across from the collection of caverns.

I swing the hatchet with meaning. My arm strength has grown from the consistent chopping and subsequent carrying. I feel the vacant sky begin to cloud over, a personification of my own muddled thoughts. The night will fall soon, so I take what I can manage. I toss the bag of lumber over my shoulder and begin the trek back to the cavern.

I have broken out into a sweat, but I am not depleted. That is how I know I am only growing more and more powerful by the day. I store lumber in the shadowy corner of the cave, where all of our cooking utensils and stored foraging reside, and begin to strip down again due to the sweating coating my skin. I don’t realize that Oarus is there again, peeling an apple with a wooden knife.

I am only topless, but I feel completely vulnerable. I veil my breasts with my hand for the second time in one day.

“Why are you skulking in the dark?” I ask.

He continues to peel the apple, sliding the pieces into his mouth with nonchalance. He isn’t looking at me, but his eyes are rich with contemplation.

“I want to speak with you, Yvonne. Put your clothes on.”