"I feel like I've been wandering in a land with no water," I confessed to Hollis as I rebandaged his hands and forearms. We stood in the moonlight behind his truck, which I used as a surface for the first aid supplies.
"We're in the desert," he replied flatly.
"Smartass. I meant, before I saw you. All soaking wet and radiant by the on-ramp."
"Ya got on," he chuckled. "Now it's you and me, girl..." His bright tone finished with a sour note of doubt.
"You don't sound sure yet."
"Maybe let me sleep and wake up with you twice before we make the... decide we're soul mates."
I think he might have caught himself reaching for a phrase like "blood pact," but, of course we had just taken care of that--three times over, not counting the blood he'd first taken from me. Suddenly the violence of our lovemaking looked like the cover of a romance novel by comparison to the scene we'd just left over at the cave. Hollis had left Reyna there. The way he'd grounded her where she sat in the dirt using only the word, "Stay!" did things to me. I wanted to be obedient to him like that, to be lavished in commands I could turn into expressions of my own devotion.
Hollis now scrutinized my face. His intent, systematic gaze made me think of a mother animal cleaning its cub and it felt nice, despite his scowl.
"You look dehydrated. I put the water in the tent. Go on, now."
I walked over to the nylon dome that was light reddish-brown, like the environs (and like my hair, come to think.) I stooped, unzipped the door, and went inside. It smelled the same as every tent I'd ever been in: Close, weirdly bodily and also synthetic, summery. I liked it--it evoked intimacy and adventure, too.
Hollis followed close behind, flipping gracefully onto his back from his knees. It was a move that suggested he had a dangerous ground game. Thought of struggling with him, MMA style, invaded my mind. I wanted to give everything and lose to him. How good would that feel!
"The water's over there... thirsty girl," he grinned as he saw me ogling his prone body. He was shirtless and partially cleaned of blood and dirt, but enough remained to make him look... heroic. What we'd done was not heroic. I do know that. This I mention just to convey how far under his spell I am, not so you'll think better of me that I know right from wrong. It's worse that I do, isn't it?
I took one of the liter bottles and guzzled tepid water. It tasted horrible and also completely satisfying. I stopped--better to pace one's intake of a water supply out here where humans are not meant to live, just to be safe.
"More. Ya need it, and you look good drinkin' it like that. I like watchin' your throat work, and when some of it spills out of your mouth, down your front..."
I did as I was told; when I spilled a little, I made it count. Holly stretched his body as much as the confines would allow, arched his spine so hedonistically I nearly choked.
I had been in a parched land where there was no water. Now my cup ran over with Master's water.
I undressed and lay down next to him. That night, the darkness around me belonged to him; it was his darkness that absorbed me as we slept next to each other a second night.
Late the following day, I drove back to my apartment... alone. Hollis' place was in those canyons, not in my bed every night as he must have known I'd have preferred. For now, I'd be able to remain low maintenance, give him his space because, despite the intense closeness we'd shared, he was wild. I understood this. That didn't make it easier to say goodbye. I hoped we wouldn't be apart too long.
I made sure he had my phone number and asked him to call me when he got a new burner phone. He agreed and I did believe him, but I feared he was pulling away from me. He'd been vague about where he'd stay, who'd help him with his wounds. That wasn't a good sign, I knew.
In our last conversation of that first encounter, his biggest concern was that I'd freak out once it hit me that I'd been part of a gruesome triple homicide. This was a valid concern and to say that Holly has a strong survival instinct would be an understatement. I assured him I'd be okay. I'd return to work as if nothing had happened. I had bite marks on my mouth and neck--not hickeys, but evidence of a passion that most normal people (my co-workers) would find indecent. I'd have to hope that my powers of invisibility would keep anyone from noticing.
"I'll keep it together. You've really never been suspected?" I asked.
"Why? Do I look like a killer?" he asked while looking directly into my soul.
"A little, yeah. It's hot. But, I meant, it seems like a small town, isn't it? Doesn't word get around about what you do?" I asked.
"Well, it has to--how else are we gonna sell our product? As for everything else... nobody lives in fuckin' Meggido 'cause they love to talk to cops. 'Sides, I get the idea most folks are scared of me for some reason." His grin never failed to make my pulse race.
"If you did get caught--it would never be because of me. And if you went away, I'd still be yours."
"If I were 'caught,' as ya say, I'd get the chair or whatever they do these days. We wouldn't be havin' no conjugal visits, babe."
"If that happened, I'd confess to my part in it. I'd follow you there, too."
It was a lot to hear. Then again, he'd asked me to see a lot that was hard to process. I figured he could handle my love. What kind of man is scared of a little girl in love? Not mine.
We stood by the open driver's side door of my car. Our kiss goodbye was surprisingly awkward. For some reason, neither of us seemed to know if we did that. Then we couldn't make it stop! We devoured each other, moving our mouths as if speaking so much we couldn't say aloud. I wasn't the one to break the kiss. When I pulled back for air, he advanced to pin me against the side of the vehicle. He rolled his hips into me and kissed me deeper, filthier. It was possessive and I left feeling like his property. I drew on that moment any time I missed him or needed reassurance that I wasn't crazy, that he returned my feelings. I worried more about that than the crime, I admit.
I went to work the next morning. It was a typical Monday, cleaning up weekend chaos. I did my job well, as usual. I had no conversations that weren't work-related and didn't register any peculiar looks my way. Tuesday I was just on autopilot. By Wednesday, I was dragging. I couldn't sleep due to lovesickness. Pathetic, I know. Thursday, I felt like I was going to collapse, so took a sick day on Friday. I was tempted to drive to Meggido just in the hope I'd see him. He still hadn't called and I didn't know how to reach him. I was worried sick about him and angry at the same time, then weepy, then horny and needed to masturbate yet again to fantasies and tactile memories of my lover.
I was taking a hot bath with a bottle of red wine when he finally called. The phone rested close at hand just to mock me.
"Hello?" I said frantically when I saw an unknown number.
"That my property I hear?" replied a sultry gravel voice. My heart pounded even harder.
"Is that you, my love?" I said, not sure using his name on the phone was safe. He has always appreciated my paranoia.
"Yes, darlin'. How 'bout a visit?" he asked.
"Of course! I'd love that. When?"
"Now. I'm outside."
"Like, right outside?" I asked, freaked out by being taken by surprise. I was not at my best.
