Page 5 of We Were Eternal Once

You lead me to the altar. I balk.

“It is forbidden,” I whisper.

“Have you ever seen your goddess?” you asked.

I shake my head.

“What has she done for you? Have you ever felt her presence?”

“I am no oracle. I am not worthy of their time,” I say.

You frown, your red eyes flashing. I’ve upset you. I think of a way to make it right, of words I can say to get us back on track. No matter how much time we spent together before, there is still that fear you will leave. That one day you’ll find me lacking, that you’ll laugh or disappear without another word.

Oh, that? That fling? That silly girl that sings off-key in a temple? What was I thinking!

(“I’ve never said anything⁠—”)

But you have. You did. Later.

“You are worthy of mine,” you say, your voice a sharp knife through my heart. “They call me goddess, do they not?”

I nod. I’d told you of the whispers, that others knew you came. They thought you were another goddess just passing through.

“Do I speak to any other?”

“No,” I say. I asked once, while whispering with the other workers. They mentioned you, and I asked if you spoke to them. Met with them. Looked at them. They laughed, because what a stupid, senseless thing to say.

Except…

“This is our altar,” you say, pointing to it. “This is where I show you eternity. It shall be you and I, bound by ancient blood. They will worship us, and we will show them no mercy. They will age and die and we will be eternal, beautiful, as we are now.”

You were always so good with words.

I sit on the altar. You sit next to me, pushing my hair off my face. No sweat lines your brow, no bit of your white-blonde hair out of place. I put my hand over yours, if only to remember that you are real and not a ghost.

“Will it hurt?” I ask. I remember asking that, though I don’t remember why. Did you tell me what my life would mean after? Did you explain the cost, the lives, the weight of it?

(Your silence speaks volumes.)

“Yes,” you breathe, your mouth opening enough to show off those long, pointed teeth. “But for only a moment.”

You kiss me. I feel sure we’ve done it before. I see flashes of it now, of the first time, when I stood on my toes to press my lips to yours—my first kiss was our first kiss. Of heated kisses in the trees around the temple, of my hand trailing between my legs at night.

Your teeth poke my lip, but I don’t care. Your kiss is soft, reverent. I melt into you on that altar. You are unhurried, your touch trailing over my face, my neck. You cup my breast and I moan into your mouth, my legs spreading for you.

Even though you are cold, warmth follows your touch. You kiss my jaw, my neck. When your teeth dig into my skin, I gasp. It does hurt, and I want to pull away, and then…

The first bite is the best between lovers. Heat fills my body, numbing my edges while sharpening my pleasure. You’re no longer dragging fingers across my body, you’re strumming me like an instrument. Each pluck on my skin draws another note. I am reduced to the feel of you, of your lips on my neck, of your hand moving up my thigh.

When your fingers finally touch me I fall apart, whimpering and gasping into you. My hands are in your hair, keeping you against my neck, doing anything I can to bring you closer. I cannot let go of you and I don’t want you to let go of me.

Your hands don’t stop.

You enter me, spreading me open, working me in that expert way of yours. Each long drag from your mouth is accompanied by a pump of your fingers, your thumb against my most sensitive spot, and I spiral.

My edges go dark.

My vision fades.