Page 138 of Crimson Promises
The ocean's waves below swayed as if dancing in harmony with the breeze. Occasionally, one reached up to meet the swooping feet of the birds hoovering nearby, hoping their dinner would pop up from beneath the sea.
I felt the cool breeze on my skin, carrying the salty scent of the sea. It tickled the slender piece of skin exposed between the hem of my leggings and the start of my black socks. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below was soothing. A reminder that we were so small and inconsequential in this life.
The sky was a canvas of vibrant hues, with shades of orange, pink, and purple blending seamlessly. Ben was embroiled in his own quiet reverence.
As the sun sank lower and lower, I couldn't help but admire the angel beside me. Maybe I had a friend all along. He was supposed to guard me, but he had done so much more. A wave of fondness washed over me. I scooted towards him and leaned my head on his shoulder. He laid his head over mine. The world seemed to slow down, and for a moment, everything felt whole.
The peace and tranquility didn’t last long. Once the stars began peeking through the navy sky, Ben pulled his head away from mine and brought himself to full height. He looked towards the last quarter of the burrito I was still holding in my hand.
“You have five minutes to finish that before we get started.”
“Get started?” I balked. “Don’t you mean before we start heading home?”
“You wanted training, baby. This is it.”
“I wanted training. As far as I know, I didn’t join the Marines.”
Ben tapped his finger against his chin. “Now that I think about it, they have a rigorous training program. Might be worth you joining their ranks.”
“Be serious, Ben, as muscly, and I’m sure well rounded with tactile training and combat skills they are, I don’t think the Marines will know how to combat a demon attack.”
“Precisely, that’s why we are here doing additional training. So, scarf down your burrito, Aurora, and then we’re starting.”
I chewed each bite slower than the last. Ben wasn’t my father. He didn’t get to boss me around. Plus, there was no way I would let any part of this mouthwatering sushi burrito be tossed out.
“Why does it look like you’re professing your love to your last bite?”
“Because I am.”
“Huh?”
“I guess you wouldn’t get it with your tendency to not require sustenance, but in some cultures, food isn’t scarfed down. It is eaten slowly, sometimes with wine or water, normally paired with interesting conversations. Meals are a way to connect. Plus, the Shipwreck Shrimp sushi burrito is on my top ten lists of last meals.” It was a dream with its boiled shrimp, tempura bits, avocado, and teriyaki mayo.
“I repeat: huh?”
“For inmates on death row, they are granted whatever they want for their last meal. Growing up, anytime my dad and I would go to a restaurant, and the meal was mouthwatering, we would add or rank it in our top ten list of meals we would choose from if it were our last meal.”
“Uh…okay. I don’t understand why you would have a top food list or your last meal if you weren’t inmates. You could have whatever you enjoyed whenever you wanted. Being a prisoner isn’t something to joke about.”
“The aim was not?—”
Ben cocked his head to the side. He didn’t always understand the human thing, it seemed.
“You know what, never mind.” I shoved the last bite in my mouth and wiped my hands on my leggings. “Ready now.”
“Finally.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Has anyone ever told you how devastatingly funny you are?”
“They have actually.” Ben looked deadly serious.
“Poor you. Maybe you should ask Connor for some pointers,” I smirked.
“Now, who's the funny one.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Incredibly mature,” Ben rolled his eyes. “Let’s get started. We should move closer to the shadows.”
