Chapter Thirteen

 

 

“Come here,” Praxis whispered to me as he motioned me over.

I'd been on my way back to the tree from picking berries for Drakon. He wanted to make a pie with the supplies we'd got from the Indians and the spices from the pirates. I had a basket full of ripe fruit, which I set down before I hurried over to Praxis.

“What is it?”

“Shh,” he hushed me and pointed.

We were behind a wide oak, and in the clearing before it, Erastos was lying in the sun; hands behind his head and a smile on his face. He looked peaceful and so very handsome. I smiled and started forward.

“Hey,” Praxis hissed and pulled me back. “Hold on; you'll ruin everything.”

“What are you up to now?” I grimaced at Praxis, who was always playing pranks.

“Look.” He pointed into the trees where a contingent of pixies was flying, a bucket held between them. “I bribed the pixies with honey.”

“What's in that bucket, Prax?” I asked as I watched the pixies fly above Erastos.

“Just water,” Praxis chuckled. “From the mountaintop.”

“Praxis!” I hissed as the pixies overturned their bucket.

“Praxis!” Erastos shouted right after me. “You vicious child!” Erastos stood and flung water from his face as he searched the woods around him.

“Oh, the cleverness of me!” Praxis ran off.

“Praxis!” I called after him, laughing a little despite myself.

“Which way did he run?” Erastos asked me as he came striding up.

“Uh ...” I gestured vaguely as I looked over Erastos's wet hair, dripping over his nearly see-through tunic which was clinging to his muscles like a second skin.

He followed my gaze, his own heating as he watched mine. Then he began to smile. Erastos took my hand and led me back into the clearing. The scent of wildflowers sprung up around us as the giggling pixies flew away. Erastos went to his knees before me, his hands sliding down my body as he went, then stared up at me longingly. My hands went his wet hair, pushing it back as he closed his eyes in pleasure. I bent to kiss him gently, and he pulled me down into the sweet grass, easing me back on the blanket he'd been laying on.

There were wet patches, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the heat in Erastos's dark eyes and the way his curls fell forward when he eased above me. I brushed them back, but his hair was long enough to reach his shoulders, and it kept dangling down. I smiled as he kissed me and his wet locks brushed my cheeks. The sun was warm upon us, so the water felt good, and I found myself licking the droplets from his neck. It was just what I had once longed for; a lover kissing me as we laid in the sun together.

Erastos groaned and rolled so that I was above him. He took my hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing each fingertip.

“You are glorious, backlit by sunlight,” he said. “I would be happy to spend eternity in your shadow.”

“Erastos,” I said softly as I lowered my body and nestled in against his chest, “tell me about your life before Neverland.”

“Why do you want to know about that, love?”

“Because I want to know you.”

“You already know me.”

“I know this you,” I protested. “I don't know the you that made this you.”

He chuckled, and it vibrated into my cheek.

“I don't want you to know him,” he finally whispered.

“Why not?”

“He was not someone you could love.”

“Were you a mean man?” I asked. “Drakon said he was rougher before.”

“Rougher? No, I was quite the opposite.”

“You were softer?” I asked in surprise.

“I don't want you to know my past, Pan.” He sat up abruptly, forcing me to sit as well.

“Erastos,” I said gently. “Nothing in your past could change the way I feel about you.”

“You say that now ...” Erastos looked away, something haunting his eyes.

“All right,” I angled his face back to mine as I climbed into his lap. “You win. Keep your secrets.”

“Pandora,” he groaned as he laid his cheek on my chest. “I want to share everything with you, but some things are just too shameful.”

“Whatever you've done or was done to you”–I kissed the top of his head–“it has made you into this man that I'm holding, and I'm grateful for it.”

“Do you know that place between sleep and awake, where you still remember your dream?” Erastos asked me softly as he looked up at me, and I nodded. “That is where I'll always love you, my Pan. That's where I'll be waiting.”

“Don't wait for me there,” I whispered. “Show me here and now what your past has forged. Make the shameful into something beautiful.”

Erastos laid me back among the flowers, and we made something beautiful together. We loved past the memory of dreams.