Page 4 of The Build Up

Little One inside me must’ve woken from a slumber because I’m suddenly assaulted by a vigorous flutter of tiny legs and feet.

The rain becomes a torrential downpour.

The heavens have really opened up this time.

And the Master of the Skies is standing beside me, as close and familiar as ever, and heknowsthat when it comes to him, I have not even the slightest inkling of fear or mistrust.

Enough to be able to tease me.

Him.

A Kordolian.

Ha.

It’s as glorious as the rain itself.

The day was a scorcher. Baking hot and dry enough to turn tears to dust. Once the sun sets, it would normally cool down fast, sometimes to near-freezing temperatures.

But this evening was surprisingly humid, and the temperature of the rain is pleasant, not freezing cold.

I have a sudden urge to feel the rain against my face, to rub my feet in the desert sand—which has turned to mud—and to bury my toes and burrow down into the warm, dry earth underneath.

Anchoring myself to this world.

I look to Tarak. “Are we here now… for a while?”

“For as long as you wish,” he rumbles. “I did what was necessary so I could give this world to you.”

“I know,” I murmur, savoring his warmth and his steadfastness as the roar of the rain drowns out my voice. “And I know what it cost you to get us here.” Unable to help myself, I capture his lips in a brief, tender kiss.

The warmth intensifies a little. “Let’s go out there.”

“There?” One pale eyebrow curves questioningly.

“Yes.” I’m feeling a little spontaneous. Reckless. Because I’m by his side, and I’m perfectly safe, and nothing in the Universe can touch me.

Tarak inclines his head. “As you wish.”

He moves swiftly, silently, as powerful as the storm itself, sweeping me up into his arms as if I’m lighter than a feather. Effortlessly, he steps over the balcony railing and walks out into the rain, away from the house—just far enough to reach a patch of unspoiled vegetation.

There, he sets me down on the ancient red earth of home, the two of us drenched.

I taste pure rainwater on my tongue.

Little One is kicking again.

Heputs his arms around my neck and presses his forehead against mine; silver stillness in the dark of night, in the relentless rain.

Taking all the time in the world.

And I laugh in pure joy and relief.

TWO

ABBEY

Cool rainwater soaksthrough my hair and my clothes. My face is wet. I taste it on my tongue. It’s fresh and faintly metallic.

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