The morning had gone up in flames.
Croe breathed deeply through her nose, pacing the rise and fall of her chest as her body’s demand for air settled in the aftermath of their long-overdue sex marathon. Mallos’ head was a comforting weight on her belly; her own head was comfortably numb. The heat and the white noise created a kind of sensory deprivation chamber, where the only input was her lover’s presence, the hum of her magic as it wound down to stillness, the slow drip of a bead of sweat. Her hands played absently through his damp hair. She managed a grunt of approval when the air conditioning kicked on, then a sigh when Mallos sat up, exposing her stomach to a breath of cooler air. Croe rose onto her elbows, smiling faintly, her heavy eyelashes casting long shadows across her cheeks.
“Such a gentleman,” she commented as she plucked a cigarette from the pack, and let him light it. She took a long drag and exhaled through her nose, the plumes twining around her face like dragon’s breath. Her smile turned to a grin at his comment, her lips parting to blow out the remaining smoke. “Heavenly,” she agreed. And it was. An undeserved paradise, maybe, but Croe wasn’t going to waste this time alone with him mulling over her worthiness. She’d think about that later – a few years from now, maybe, when Ángela no longer demanded her every waking thought.
Or thirty years from now. Or never.
Croe returned the cigarette to her lips and climbed to her feet, padding to the kitchen as quietly as she snuck around their chambers on Shaman. Embers glowed at her mouth, smoke trailing, as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a water pitcher. She filled two glasses and carried them one-handed back to her reclining paramour, using her free hand to retrieve the cigarette long enough to speak.
“Where is this slice of paradise, exactly?” she inquired, handing him one water glass and sipping from the other. Though it was the first time Croe had set foot in this place, everything about it felt familiar. It was the particular color of the light, she thought – the mediterranean heat. Her dark eyes drifted over the well-appointed interior, then settled with curiosity on the far windows. But she did not approach them, sprawling instead on the couch above Mallos, one leg draping down against his side. There would be opportunity to explore this place later, and in the meantime, she was more interested in what was right in front of her.
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