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He led her down the road to a pub where they drank cheap liquor and danced to live music. Kaleo tripped and stumbled over her feet. She laughed. He flashed her a playful scowl, attempting to walk off the dance floor, only for her to tug him back into place against her waist.
By the end of the night, they had crossed into unfamiliar territory.
Kaleo’s hands went from holding her fingers to her hips and twirling her around. She spewed out deep-soulful-belly laughter when he lost his balance and stumbled over his feet more than a few times. It was the first time she witnessed a real smile from Kaleo, revealing a set of plush cheeks with perfectly engraved dimples.
By the night’s end, when the alcohol was a steady stream in their veins, they stumbled home.
Kaleo escorted her to her room, his hands slowly releasing hers as he backed away. She caught him by the hem of his shirt. He slightly turned to look back at her, and she pulled herself into his chest.
All night, she’d grown accustomed to his closeness, and the way his gaze made strides between her mouth and eyes.
With his shirt bunched in her fingers, she pulled him into a kiss.
He tasted of spice from the whiskey he’d sipped. His touch was cold, something she’d noticed the few times he guided her hands on how to mix dough.
As her palms flattened against his chest, he leaned into her, tightening his hold around her neck, enhancing their kiss.
Life with Kaleo was rainy days and steaming cups of tea in the confined walls of his inn; long walks and horse rides along the packed-dirt streets of the island; frequent trips to the local bakery where she got to know the owner and his young son; locals dipping their chins and smiling at Naia as she traveled with haste, arms full of brown paper bags of fresh fish, pacing back to the inn where Kaleo awaited for her to start preparations for dinner; early mornings tangled in his sheets; evening hikes up a mountain peak, casting a magnificent view of the emerald landscape of the island and the glittering turquoise water.
She never told Kaleo she was a deity, or that her parents were High Gods; that the land he called home was forged by her father, and the sea surrounding him belonged to her mother.
Naia’s time on the island was the peaceful, meandering journey of a turtle, finding she preferred the steady, grazing life of a mortal rather than one of a goddess.
The air held a chilly twinge to it in the month of February. A slight drop of temperature, but nothing drastic enough to bundle up for.
Naia pursed her lips to keep from smiling as she watched Kaleo button up his coat.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he huffed.
She made her way to him and tugged on the hem of his coat playfully. “I would never.”
“It’s freezing out there.” His expression was comparable to a sullen child’s. It was adorable.
She slid her arms around his waist beneath the thick fabric of his coat. “I will keep you warm.”
His eyes flared as they fell to her mouth. “Careful, Naia, or we won’t go anywhere tonight.”
A tremor zapped down her chest and sparked low in her belly.
She removed her arms back to her sides, turning her head away from him to hide her flushed cheeks.
It was another occasional lull in the inn. No one to occupy the rooms.
“I want to try the restaurant down by the docks.” Naia turned her back on Kaleo and reached for her hat on the hook by the door. “The owner advertised cow steak when I saw him at the bank yesterday. He said he received a shipment from a merchant who came in from overseas.”
She straightened the crooked flower on the brim and made a mental note to touch up on the stitching of the crocheted dahlia Kaleo had gifted her, before putting the hat on her head.
When he didn’t reply, Naia spun around. “Kaleo?”
His eyes were suspended on her, wide and bloodshot, as he choked on his breath.
Naia’s heart lurched up in her throat.
Towering over him from behind was a phantom-like, menacing figure. A low growl rumbled from it, exposing rows of teeth in the folds of its swirling black face. Its long, twine fingers protruded through the front side of Kaleo’s ribcage, the place where his heart was.
Naia flung herself towards him, but a forceful grip yanked her arm back. An inhuman grip.
“It seems the fruit truly does not fall far from the rotting tree.”
