Page 6 of I Will Always Find You
Instead, he aimed to unearth the well of suppressed emotions buried deep within Rufus, those attached to his soul: the boundless, undying love between two young men whose lives had been cut short by the Wheel of Destiny’s cruelty hundreds of years ago.
“I—I am sorry, sir, but I cannot recall your face. Perhaps you mistake me for another.”
A look of profound frustration sat upon the Romani witch’s brow. He had tried with all his might to awaken the soul of Aeneas, caged within this similar yet different flesh, but once again, a power greater than himself thwarted him. The forces of luck and fortune may not be conspiring against him, but they had once again yielded to the uncompromising Wheel of Destiny.
Not every lifetime was this way, but more often than not, that arcane celestial power’s grip on Aeneas’ fate was unyielding,seemingly mocking the Romani witch’s efforts to alter his beloved’s predestined path through the power of his witchcraft.
What should I do now?
In times past, when his magic failed him, the Romani witch would stay close to Aeneas, using his charm, attentiveness, and affection to rekindle the love and passion that existed between them. And it always worked—eventually, but he knew this situation was entirely different.
Aeneas—Rufus—has an immortal protector and guardian. What will this ancient being think of my quest? Will he see it as honest and pure, devoid of malicious intent? A sincere and authentic pursuit of love, untainted and true?
Or will he interpret my intentions as aggressive, untrustworthy, and predatory, much like those Roman scum whose skin tone and physical features I embody in my current form, however superficially? Italia is no friend to these lands or their people. Still, this immortal does bear a striking resemblance to Roman-kind, so perhaps I judge too harshly, too quickly. Regardless, I will not leave without Aeneas, and no god will stand in my way!
“Perhaps I have mistaken you for another,” the Romani witch stated solemnly, yet he delivered the words without any sense of defeat. If it took time, effort, and patience to reunite with Aeneas, so be it; he would get there in the end. “You have a gentle, inviting disposition and a devastatingly handsome face that spoke to me from the very first glance. I recall feelings of such joy in your presence, something I have not felt in a long time. I could not help but believe we must have shared a deep happiness in our past.”
Rufus blushed, having never heard such lofty, passionate words spoken about him. He was no stranger to passion, having briefly been intimate with another village youth and even engaging in a fling with a visiting foreigner, now gone. Still,neither man had meant anything to him. They never once looked deep into his eyes, his very soul, as this stranger did, this man he had only just met.
Oddly, Rufus began to sense they perhaps had met before; there was simply no memory of it, only feelings of something—more.
“I—I should get back to work now and leave you to dry off and rest.”
But that was not what the Romani witch desired. “What if I preferred for you to sit with me, instead?” He extended his arm, fingertips brushing softly against Rufus’ hand before enveloping it in a gentle grasp. With a tender squeeze that spoke volumes, he conveyed warmth and reassurance.
“I would very much like to get to know you, Rufus. Who knows, perhaps we share many things in common. Why, something tells me you enjoy a good game of Senet, that ancient game beloved particularly by Egypt’s Pharaoh Tutankhamun and Queen Nefertari, I hear. I happen to carry a set in my bag.”
A surprised look sat upon Rufus’ face. “How—? Well, yes, I do! Father and I play. I do not recall much of my past, but I remember an older woman with black hair and bronze skin teaching me the Egyptian game. Maybe she was my mother. I cannot remember—I—”
“Do not fret about it, Rufus, for it matters not,” the Romani witch stated soothingly, still clasping his beloved’s hand. “We can play it together and create new memories as we learn about each other. I would like that very much.”
“Yes, I think I would like that too.”
As Rufus stayed by the Romani witch’s side to continue their intimate conversation, an ardent heat radiated off him, for his attraction to the dark, tall, handsome stranger was undeniable and intense. The air between the two young men crackled withfervent excitement and sensual engagement, a warmth more succulent than the roaring fire before them.
Rufus found himself uncontrollably fascinated by the stranger’s sheer masculine presence. It stirred something within him—a deep affection. Yes, that, but also something far more erotic.
The tension was palpable, as each word exchanged between the two young men felt charged with unspoken possibilities; the prospect of a game of Senet loomed playfully between them, adding to the intoxicating,oddly familiaratmosphere.
The Romani witch felt a surge of vitality; with each heartbeat, he awakened to a newfound wholeness. Now that he had found Aeneas, everything else faded into the background. All that mattered was the precious moments he could share with his beloved, longing to intertwine their souls in a lasting connection for as long as this lifetime permitted. The future remained unknown to him, for he was no oracle, but he hoped they had oceans of time ahead of them.
But the witch quickly remembered he was not the only one in Aeneas’ life. Or, more to the point, he was made to remember! As the hairs on his arms stood raised, he felt an emphatic compulsion to look past his suddenly loquacious beloved toward the dark, foreboding rear of the tavern.
There, the immortal stood alone, ominously surrounded by shadows; his eyes were again pools of black ink. The witch quickly realized that a power emanating from Gian was holding his gaze—his very head—in place, directly within the immortal’s sightline.
“Be careful with his heart, witch,”the immortal stated, again projecting his thoughts across the room and into the witch’s head. “Rufus is precious to me, and though not of my flesh or my enchanted blood, he is my son in all the ways that matter. I may be a god of darkness, but I recognize the radiance of a purelove when I see it. And I do now see with my godly sight what I did not perceive before: your threads are entwined, though there is chaos about them.
“I will not interfere, for I have learned not to meddle with the Wheel of Destiny. I wish you luck and happiness on this journey of love you take together. May neither of you ever experience disappointment or—or the burden of a cold heart.”
The Romani witch nearly spat on the ground at the immortal’s reverence of the infernal Wheel of Destiny, for the enigmatic celestial power had nothing to do with his and Aeneas’ fate. At least, nothing good. It sought to end their love, and continued interfering with them through each of Aeneas’ unending reincarnations. However, this knowledge the Romani witch kept to himself, known only to him and the goddess who had helped him defy the Wheel’s cruel plan, one that would have kept his beloved from him forever.
And he would continue to defy it for all eternity.
Fueled by a passionate fervour, the Romani witch delicately peeled away his beloved’s garments, each article slipping from his fingers like autumn leaves drifting to the ground. A playful grin danced across his face as the worn leather belt, loose woollen tunic, and linen undergarments fell away, revealing the smooth contours of bare skin beneath.
With a pointing finger toward his own clothed form and a conspiratorial nod to Rufus, the Romani witch silently beckoned him to mirror the act, inviting the same delightful exposure of flesh as the air around them thickened with a charged anticipation of lovemaking.
When both of them were completely naked on top of their thick wool blanket, one placed upon the pebbled shore near theirvillage, they eagerly entwined their limbs. As hands roamed sensuously over tingling bodies with abandon, the lustful men groped and clutched at each other. Each tug and pull was a testament to their shared enthusiasm, their fervent motions fueled by an insatiable desire for closeness.
