Page 115 of Retrograde

When we break apart, Aron is crying. He’s sobbing loudly and violently, the immense bulk of him quaking in my hold, tears streaming down his face and landing on me like raindrops.

“Shhh.” I roll on top of him, kicking the covers away. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

I drag my hips lower until my entrance is aligned with his pierced tip, finding him hard and ready for me.

“No, you w-will leave.” Aron grabs me, stopping me from taking what I want. “Y-you’re not staying for me. You need to be alright.” His voice grows steadier as words rush out of him. “I need you to finally have the life you deserve more than I need you to be in mine.”

I fight in his hold, my knees braced, trying to break his resistance. His piercing is grazing my core every time I buck and shift, teasing me, driving me mad.

“But it’s you I want, Aron. I need you.” I scratch his chest, digging grooves into his skin with my nails. But he doesn’t even flinch. He is still keeping me at a distance.

“You bastard! You do not get to deny me!” Fingers tangled in his hair, I yank at it but then relent. “Please!” My throat constricts. “You’re all I have left. No one can give me what I want but you.”

His features stay impassive, but his eyes are like smouldering coals. “And what is it that you want, Hotshot?” he nudges me softly, nothing betraying his turmoil except the slight tremor in his voice. “You tell me in your own words.”

The truth slams into me like a freight train, the unstoppable force of it makes me gasp. I straighten, locking my gaze onto his as I give him my reply.

“I want to be your wife, Aron.”

He sucks a breath in through his teeth, molten eyes searching my face. He doesn’t utter a word—he doesn’t seem able. Instead of replying, he loosens his grip on me, allowing me to take him and claim him slowly, feeling every ridge of him, every inch. The burn is intense and overwhelming, the sheer size of him an anchor, keeping me tethered to a world threatening to slip between my fingers.

I make him sink deeper and deeper into the centre of me until there’s nowhere further to go. He gasps, pulling me to his chest, keeping me close, like he’s scared I’ll disappear.

“I want to stay like this,” he begs, a thousand more words contained in that plea.

“Then stay.”

I clench around him without the spasms of a culmination, holding on to him on the outside and on the inside, never wanting to let go. In the warm depths of me, the rhythms and pulses of our bodies brush against each other like soft heartbeats.

With our arms locked around each other, we embrace, clinging to one another for dear life. We let hours pass us by, rocking gently on the waves that summon the ghost of motion where there is none, an illusion of friction that keeps us both hungry and sated. Both longing and satisfied.

I’m woken up by the sunlight streaming in through the window, caressing my face the way a lover would. With a sheet wrapped carefully around me, I’m alone in bed. Last night is nothing but a memory. All that’s left behind is his phantom touch on my skin and the ache deep in my core, like soreness but comforting.

There is also an unfamiliar tightness around my finger, a weight that wasn’t there before. With my breath hitching and my heart fluttering, I glance down at my left hand. At the large emerald set in a band of diamonds that reflects light, sending it dancing across the ceiling.

“It’s a family heirloom,” Aron’s voice commands my attention. “I sold everything else I had to help fund our cause. But not my mother’s ring.”

He’s by the window, his elbow propped against the ledge.

“Was it meant to go to your sister?” I only manage a sorrowful whisper.

I swallow heavily to soothe the inferno raging in my throat.

Aron steps closer to the bed, his large presence sucking all oxygen out of the cabin and filling it instead with something softer, warmer, electric.

“Yes and no.” He cups my face gently, his thumb tracing my lips. “It would have belonged to her if she hadn’t died, it’s true.” His fingers whisper as they brush my hair, his hand at my nape already pulling me in for a kiss. “But then I look back at all that has led us here. All that we have lost. All that we have sacrificed. And I’m not so sure anymore. It feels like it was always meant to be yours.”

EPILOGUE

6 MONTHS LATER, RILEY

The ceramic tile floor is cool under my bare feet as I walk down the hallway. The terracotta walls are lined with my framed photographs of the island’s nature and wildlife, some award-winning, others taken for private use only. Aron’s most recent abstract wood-and-clay sculpture flanks the arched kitchen entrance.

I round the corner, wondering when he’ll be back home. He had to drive all the way to the town to deal with errands, most of which he’d been postponing since we first got here, so as not to leave me alone for a full day.

I’m eager for him to get back, anticipation buzzing under the surface of my skin. But my rare day solo isn’t the reason.

About a week ago, I finally got around to organising our main bedroom wardrobe. I was putting away some of his clothes when his skull balaclava fell to the floor from in between the folds of his old leather jacket.